quête:think of one

2025 Repress

Wide Yonder’ is a truly remarkable album, offering as much depth and soul as it’s predecessor, yet sounding ultimately fresh and different. Above all, the ten tracks show an artist that’s willing to take risks, find in- spiration in new places and move beyond the sound of his previous album. Trentemøller: ‘Of course I didn’t want to make the same record twice. So the album is for me a logic development from ’The Last Resort’’. Instead he just started to collect new ideas, without thinking too much about the direction the music would take him: ‘The only thing I knew was that I’d want the music to sound more organic and analog.’ Compared to the intimate electronic mood pieces of ‘The Last Resort’, the ten tracks on the new album indeed have a more strange, mystic and dramatic vibe, with a lot of dynamics, distorted, driving twang- guitars, real and electronic drums mixed with haunting synths. With ‚Into The Great Wide Yonder‘ Trentemøller is not only exploring new moody and atmospheric universes, but combines his sense for glorious soundscapes with a firm melodic and tonal touch. The original chord progressions and feel for melodies is fundamental to him, and that‘s also the reason why most of the instruments are played by Trentemøller himself on this album. ‚I like the possibility to be surprised that chords and melodies change into something new. The music that I like most lets the themes and sounds come back in different disguises‘. The Danish multi instrumentalist and producer shows an unexpected talent for finding vocalists that fit the mood of his songs. The first single of the album, the beautifully tender ‘Sycamore Feeling’, featuring Marie Fisker, is a typical highlight. In fact, all the vocal tracks are stunning. Trentemøller chose to collaborate with the English artist Fyfe Dangerfield from UK based Guillemots and Danish singers Solveig Sandnes and Josephine Philip from the debuting Danish indie girlduo Darkness Falls. They all manage to add their own sound and flavour to the album, while their voices blend perfectly with Trentemøller’s atmospheric songs. This is an album that keeps growing for a long time, as every track works its way stealthily under your skin. The sound of ‘Into The Great Wide Yonder’ might be one step ahead of his previous work, but we still easily recognize the hand of Trentemøller, in this inspired collection of songs and atmospheres. The sonic richness, sharp contrasts and daring musical colours are vintage Trentemøller. Into The Great Wide Yonder’ might demand more from the listener than ‘The Last Resort’, as it ended up being quite a dramatic album. This album is more noisy, there’s more happening.‘ But getting to know the tracks definitely is a rewarding experience, as the album will keep growing and growing for a long time to come and its safe to say that Anders Trentemøller has managed to create

Follow-up album to cult-classic debut, Mantra Moderne.

‘Melodi’ is the second album from captivating duo Kit Sebastian (aka Kit Martin and Merve Erdem). Those familiar with the band's cult classic 2019 debut record 'Mantra Moderne' will instantly recognise their unique sound that blurs boundaries of world music, jazz and psychedelia. Not to be content replicating the same album, sonically the feel of ‘Melodi’ is a maturation. It is more diverse and provides glimpses into many different worlds from the Italian Riviera to the mountains of the Caucasus, the beaches of Bahia to the city streets of Istanbul and Paris. This joyous merging of soundscapes evokes a borderless planet with music as an international language, belonging everywhere and nowhere.

‘Melodi’ is imbued with Kit Sebastian's love of vintage records and world cinema, but it is not a retro homage. It celebrates its influences but is very much a modern record, being simultaneously brand new and retro. This is a credit to the duo's craft as musicians and songwriters, presenting their influences as a circular interaction between the present and the past rather than a linear one.

The music was written during the first UK lockdown and recorded that summer, a time of opening up that only briefly existed. In a world with a slower pace than before the Covid crisis, the band were able to spend more time experimenting in the studio. The album’s range of instrumentation has expanded from the previous record to include zithers, harpsichords, congas, bongos, bulbul tarang, and a mock-up choir on top of the synthesizers, balalaikas, organs, and saxophones. Session musicians and friends were also booked to introduce trumpet and string sections giving the album an added depth and orchestral texture. Despite the added complexity, the album was recorded using the same techniques employed for the previous album with various tape machines, bouncing back between cassette and ¼” tape for practicality and sonic abstraction. To pierce through this abstraction, the vocals are intentionally more expressive. Merve took cues from the Turkish singers of her youth, adding a slightly more melancholic, darker and more reflective style than 'Mantra Moderne’. Rooted in observations from everyday life, they speak often about the worlds and thoughts that arise from the end of the night.

Like with many of the best albums, the record seems over all too soon and has you instantly wanting to play it again. On each listen you decide on a track that you think is your favourite from the album only for it to be replaced with a different one on the next listen. The songs and production have hidden depths that seem to evolve and morph the more you devour them. Moments of pure pop, moments to fall in love, moments to contemplate. This journey is rich in musical vitamins and nourishment, but like all the best things still leaves you wanting more.

If you know anything about me – as in Andrea, the record label’s head – you know I have a thing for Oi since I was a teenage skinhead.

And with Avant! being a coldwave/synthpop label, our next release couldn’t be more special. No Filter are three children of the French region of Dauphiné, active in the black metal scene for 20 years through different projects.

They created No Filter with the aim of exploring punk, Oi and coldwave sounds. They started by singing in English but after their first demo they decided to opt for French to improve their lyrics by singing in their own native language. Themes addressed in their songs are violence, hatred, party nights, the countryside, their roots and friendship. “Synth punk, bagarre et blousons noirs” in their own words. Musically speaking they somehow fit in the current Cold Oi French scene (Bromure, Syndrome 81, Cran, Kronstadt) but they exaggerate the synth/wave element ending up sounding like one unprecedented, fresh as hell mix between New Order and The 4 Skins.

If you think you’ve heard this one before it’s because one year ago they self-released a 10-track cassette called “Sans Filtre” which is exactly what we are pressing now on vinyl for the first time because this was simply too good to stay only on tape forever.

To make this even more special we have recruited Canadian multi-instrumentalist and artist Nakkabre (Conifère, Spleen, Vespéral, HazeHound) to do a brand new artwork and spice things up for the occasion!

Black vinyl LP edition limited to 400 is out 22 November.

30D Records celebrates a decade of modern sonic exploration. Since its inception at the end of 2014, and initially taking inspiration from 40's & 50's science fiction culture, the label has been offering to listeners a vast array of genres, being experimental, creative and forward-thinking dance music its main mission.

For its 10th anniversary, the cutting-edge electronic music label very proudly announces five distinctive releases, each one across their respective sub-labels.

And he did it again! The talented Calum Lee AKA Paleman / Fresnel Lens, one of our favorite producers by far, is back after his acclaimed Exalted EP (2023). Although stylistically speaking 'a bit different' to the previous release (in his own words), our innovative sound designer delivers a sick collection of dark, abstract and experimental broken-beat tracks as only few artists can afford, where impossible percussive rhythms and tons of raw energy go hand in hand, challenging listener's perception and placing him at the forefront of electronic music. Another must have release.

30D Records celebrates a decade of modern sonic exploration. Since its inception at the end of 2014, and initially taking inspiration from 40's & 50's science fiction culture, the label has been offering to listeners a vast array of genres, being experimental, creative and forward-thinking dance music its main mission.

For its 10th anniversary, the cutting-edge electronic music label very proudly announces five distinctive releases, each one across their respective sub-labels.

Close Encounters, 30D Records sub label, keeps its initial main purpose of delivering four tracks from four different producers under the same musical concept. And exceptionally for this 10th anniversary, and for the very first time, also under the same musical style. Julia Govor, Amotik, Yogg and Electric Indigo, all of them close friends to the label, dive into the broken-beat territory, offering their particular vision of the genre, as personal and varied as interesting, and not only dance floor focused.

Adam’s Bite label manager Martinesuqe delivers his new EP ‘Curtain Call’ this November via the label, comprising two original compositions and one instrumental mix.

Basel, Switzerland’s Martinesque has been etching his mark into the underground over the past decade through releases on Adam’s Bite and as an integral part of the Swiss scene, heading up the bookings of the widely beloved Elysia club on his home turf up until 2023.

Here, Martinesque makes a welcome return to Adam’s Bite following on from his debut album ‘Think Outside The Box’ on the label in 2023.

‘Drama’ leads the EP and sees Martinesque lay down twitchy synth lines, squelchy acid bass tones and resonant flutters alongside spiralling dub echoes, murky vocals and crisp, shuffled drums.

The ‘(Instrumental)’ version of ‘The Final Hour’ follows next, shifting gears down to deeper realms courtesy of airy chord sequences, intricate off-kilter percussion and gritty bass notes all dynamically nuanced throughout. Lastly the ‘(Vocal)’ mix of ‘The Final Hour concludes the package, introducing a hypnotic spoken world vocal to the composition

ReKaB drops another strong four-track EP, rooted firmly in the Detroit sound with a nod to the soulful techno styles that shaped the UK underground in the 90s. His second EP for Cologne's YORE Records. The production, as always, is spot on—sharp, detailed, and endlessly listenable. While the tracks carry the weight of tradition, they’re not stuck in it. There’s a fresh, forward-facing energy here that keeps things exciting.

My Inspiration opens with classic metallic strings and a tight, robotic square bass that locks you in straight away. Just when you think you know where it’s going, the vocal drops—a bold touch that shifts the track into more human territory, giving it an emotional pull without losing its edge.

Soul Brother is a late-night cruiser. Rhodes chords, rolling bass, and lush strings set the scene for a proper cityscape vibe. It’s smooth, it’s warm, and it glides effortlessly, all while keeping enough groove to move.

Future Times kicks things up a gear with more tempo and bite. Acidic basslines and a writhing lead sit alongside deep chords, making it equal parts hypnotic and urgent. It’s the kind of track that turns heads in the club—direct and effective without being predictable.

Wrapping it up, Random Fragments pulls things back into a more reflective, dubby space. The layers are rich but restrained, with chirps and analogue echoes drifting through a hazy atmosphere. It’s introspective but not sleepy, the perfect comedown to round off the EP.

ReKaB’s consistency is something else—each release feels like it’s levelling up, pushing his sound forward without losing its roots. This EP is no different. It’s a tight package of ideas, all executed with precision and style. One for the heads, no question.

Repress!

'Pacific Rhythm returns with a slight deviation from the Vancouver sound to explore transmissions from the Eastern corners of Canada. Four introspective yet club forward dance tracks from one of Canada's finest producers (and a remix from his flatmate) are the result. Have a listen, we think you'll like it!'

Buckle up, electronic aficionados! Queen of Coins is about to drop a six-track sonic odyssey that’s your one-way ticket to Electro, Italo-Disco, and Detroit Techno nirvana. This isn’t just an album, it’s a masterclass in psychedelic dancefloor alchemy, tailor-made for DJs who crave cutting-edge sounds while paying homage to the genre’s founding fathers.

From the slow-burning hypnosis of “Head Tension” to the heart-racing throb of “16K Cal,” this release is a BPM rollercoaster that echoes the spirits of legends like Legowelt, Drexciya, and Francisco. But make no mistake – Queen of Coins isn’t just rehashing the past, the Queen is propelling these influences into the future.

“Bring it to the top” is pure condensed energy, engineered to shake every powerful soundsystem while maintaining an emotional depth that’ll hit you right in the feels. Speaking of feelings, “Damaged Souls” is the track you didn’t know you needed – a poignant electronic love letter to all those “what if” moments that haunt our dreams.

But don’t think for a second that Queen of Coins is all melancholy. “Oreo Cake” swoops in with its irresistible bouncing bassline, serving up a fat slice of low-end theory that’ll give your mind, body, and soul the workout they’ve been craving. It’s a reminder that in the realm of Queen of Coins, the future is bright, and the beat goes on.

Remember the mantra, ravers: Queen of Coins is “Music to grow with Expanding your soul Thriving in Prosperity.”

This isn’t just an album release; it’s a coronation. Long live the Queen of the electronic underground!

Roberto Musci, born in Milan in 1956, studied guitar, music and electronic instruments. From 1974 to 1985 he traveled the world studying African, Indian, Arabic and Oriental music, recording ethnic music “in the field,” studying and collecting ethnic musical instruments from all over the world. His self-produced debut album, “The Loa of Music,” is a seminal work of staggering originality and extraordinary beauty in which field recordings, musique concrète, electronics, synthesis and instrumentation are interwoven, drawing on the countless musics from around the world that he has recorded. The subsequent “Water messages on desert sand,” composed with Giovanni Venosta, was nominated for a Grammy in the UK in 1987. In the 1980s and 1990s he broadcast ethnic and electronic-experimental music from Rai and Radio Popolare radio stations. He has also composed and played music for videos, commercials, dance, poetry, theater, composed soundtracks and accompanied silent films live. From 1980 to the present, he has played with many Italian and European musicians: Giovanni Venosta, Claudio Gabbiani, Walter Prati, Giorgio Magnanensi, Massimo Cavallaro, Massimo Mariani, Moni Ovadia, Roberto Zorzi, Chris Cutler, Jon Rose David Moss, Steve Piccolo, Elliott Sharp, Keith Tippett and the Third Ear Band.

The theme of travel, ethnicities and mysticism are a pivotal point in this new album of his as well, demonstrating once again how music needs absolutely no sharp lines of demarcation. The music is one.

It goes from the search for deep meanings in a time spent in a Hindu monastery (Ashram) listening to mantras and studying Buddhist philosophy (The Principle Of Things) to space explorations and human settlements on the Moon or Mars wondering how man will live and what he will bring to the new worlds imagining that Sufism, an Islamic mystical religion, will accompany him in the discovery of new worlds (Derviches On Mars). In Goodbye Monsters, harmony and peace are sought. Memories Of A Piano Player is a tribute to Keith Tippett, a great pianist (King Crimson , Centipede, Mujician) with whom he played in several concerts and with whom I spent evenings talking about music, food and Italian wine. Quantum State focuses on how quantum mechanics is creating a revolution in the way of thinking and dividing reality into infinite Parallel Worlds. Panthalassa is the vast ocean that surrounded Pangea and blends South American marimba music and traditional Chinese music. Burn The Shadows is a tribute to the fascinating Indonesian shadow theater, from the stories told and the atmosphere created during the long plays told in the sacred Indian texts of Ramayana or Mahabharata. Shadows are also more or less pleasant memories to which one is attached, and to burn them is still to move on with one's life.

Torajan Funeral Chant: The Toraja are a people living in Sulawesi (Indonesia) who have a special worship of the dead. Funerals are festivals that last several days, the corpses are protected by Tau-Tau (small dolls that watch over cemeteries), and over the years, they exhume the corpses of their relatives and keep them in their homes with them for a time to remember them.

The experimentation goes all the way to modern Artificial Intelligence that 'interrogated' to create something new by inserting conflicting inputs joins them together but nonsensically creating interesting insights; hence A.I. In Confusion. Pangea, named after the continent that contained all the land that emerged between 540 and 200 million years ago, in the Paleozoic and Mesozoic periods, imagined as inhabited by man without divisions created by borders, wars, religions or ethnic groups, is also a tribute to Steve Reich, one of the fathers and a great musician of minimal music. Prophecies, a reading of sacred texts and religious songs from evangelical sects in the United States filtered into granular synthesis with percussion music from South India, closes.

Schlammpeiziger, who had previously only been known to us for his top hits and T-shirts, burst upon us like a wild boar in search of affection in the middle of the coronavirus lockdown. He nested in our fully vaccinated home, drank our Eversbusch, ate from our plates, slept in our bed (wait - wrong fairy tale) and repeatedly urged us to organise egg runs with his testicles (after some contortions, we gave up trying). Childish faecal humour, far-fetched obs(t)enities, juicing, a desire to dissolve, composting of thoughts. In excesses of lack of concentration, the chains of associations curled and meandered like Jo's famous curlicue drawings. Every evening, after we had forcibly levered him out of our flat, he would ‘walk’ home to put together very unique , dreamy pieces. In the blissful brainfog of those days, for example, ‘Handicapfalter’ was created, for which the congenial °Bär° made our flat into the corresponding video. Among other quirks of the little gut-breather, we were fascinated to observe his phobia of literature and books. Just hold a printed page in front of his face for a few seconds and he writhes on the floor crying. A level of phobia that only my own laughable disgust and fear of writing myself can compete with. Jo shudders at the thought of reading sentences that build on each other in a meaningful way, and I shudder at the thought of having to write them down because I have something ‘to say’. A certain affinity cannot be denied. We are much, much more pleased by snatched-up, misunderstood or misheard snippets, hollow but unforgettable phrases, the diamond stoner humour of our ancestors. ‘From one turn/ I stop/ to walk on/ in all directions’ (as it murmurs in “Selten Gesehenes”), describes the process quite nicely. After all, Jo is ahead of me in that he can simply break off every tedious sentence and let it fade into music. Back to the essentials. It's five to 12 for the Schlammpeitzger (scientifically Misgurnus). The shy goby is under threat from climate change, so perhaps this vinyl is the last expression of life of the specimen that we have been allowed to look after sporadically since the lockdown phase of the corona epidemic. And it's turned out pretty. Even the aesthetically gutted like me and my beloved husband can THINK about sex when they see these sublime, silvery fart bubbles! It's tender as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Do you have words. Do you have sounds. Impertinently harmless piano tinkling turns into tugging zounds of increasing severity. It is not dubbed (would be unethical) but dubbed. Sounds dubby, as you can imagine. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht: Possibly vaguely misogynistic. Could also be that there was simply no light in the hole. The sparse snippet of lyrics (‘du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht’) sounds like one of those stroppy Cologne replicas whose anti-charm is hard to resist. Buzzing and grooving.

Selten Gesehenes: Casual. Confident. Soft. Fragrant. Thoughtful but lively.

The Arabian Vietmanese (instrumental) is probably the food we trust in the case of the munchies we get when we watch other people smoking weed. Transcendental and psychedelic states casually permeate the humdrum of everyday life. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marches and floats at the same time. Klebt Runner: Soundtrack to the cult film of the same name. Tyrrell Corporation loosens up. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks somehow, because there is dangerous proximity to comprehensible and then also critical statements here. Instead, the sinister electronic cheapness of Carpenter soundtracks can be heard. Parzipan: Actually, the time of origin was not so roaringly funny and simple, but for Jo it was also a gruelling, slow letting go of his brother. Here he sends him off with a gentle nudge into the vastness of a hopefully happy beyond.

Clara Drechsler

Schlammpeiziger, der uns bislang nur durch seine Top-Hits und seine T-Shirts bekannt gewesen war, brach mitten im Corona-Lockdown über uns herein wie ein wilder Eber auf der Suche nach Zuwendung. Er nistete sich in unserem durchgeimpften Zuhause ein, trank unseren Eversbusch, aß von unseren Tellerchen, schlief in unserem Bettchen (Moment - falsches Märchen) drängte uns wiederholt dazu, mit seinen Hoden Eierlauf zu veranstalten (nach Verrenkungen gaben wir den Versuch auf). Kindischer Fäkalhumor, weit hergeholte Obs(t)zönitäten, Entsaftung, Auflösungswunsch, Gedankenkompostierung. In Exzessen der Konzentrationsschwäche ringelten, kringelten und schlängelten sich die Assoziationsketten wie bei Jos berühmten Kringel-Schlängel-Zeichnungen. Jeden Abend, nachdem wir ihn gewaltsam aus unserer Wohnung gehebelt hatten, „ging“ er dann heim, um dort sehr eigene, verträumte Stücke zusammenzubasteln. Im seligen Brainfog dieser Tage entstand z.B. „Handicapfalter“, für das der kongeniale °Bär° aus unserer Wohnung das entsprechende Video machte. Neben anderen Marotten des kleinen Darmatmers beobachteten wir fasziniert seine Literatur- bzw. Bücherphobie. Halt ihm nur sekundenlang eine bedruckte Seite vors Gesicht, und er windet sich weinend am Boden. Ein Grad an Phobizität, mit dem sich nur meine eigene lachhafte Abscheu und Angst vor dem Selberschreiben messen kann. Jo schaudert beim Gedanken, sinnvoll aufeinander aufbauende Sätze lesen, mir wiederum beim Gedanken, sie hinschreiben zu müssen, weil ich irgendetwas „zu sagen“ habe. Eine gewisse Verwandtschaft ist nicht zu leugnen. Viel, viel mehr freuen uns aufgeschnappte, falsch verstandene oder misshörte Fetzen, hohle, aber unvergessliche Phrasen, der diamantene Kifferhumor unserer Vorfahren. „Aus einer Drehung/bleibe ich stehen/ um in alle Richtungen/weiter zu gehen“ (wie es in „Selten Gesehenes“ raunt), beschreibt den Prozess schon ganz schön. Immerhin hat Jo mir voraus, dass er jeden leidigen Satz einfach abbrechen und in Musik ausplempern lassen darf. Zurück zum Wesentlichen. Es ist fünf vor 12 für den Schlammpeitziger (wissenschaftlich Misgurnus). Die scheue Grundel ist von Klimawandel bedroht, vielleicht haltet ihr mit diesem Vinyl also die letzte Lebensäußerung des Exemplars in Händen, das wir seit der Lockdownphase der Corona-Epidemie sporadisch betreuen durften. Und die ist hübsch geworden. Selbst aus ästhetischer Erwägungen Entdarmte wie ich und mein geliebter Mann, können bei diesen sublimen, silberhellen Pupsbläschen DENNOCH an Sex denken! It´s zart as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Hast du Worte. Hast du Töne. Impertinent harmloses Klavierplätschern geht über in ziepende Zounds von zunehmender Strenge. Es wird nicht domptiert (wäre unethisch) sondern dubtiert. Klingt dubtig, wie ihr euch vorstellen könnt. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht. Möglicherweise vage misogyn. Könnte auch sein, dass im Loch einfach kein Licht war. Das sparsame Textfetzchen („du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht“) klingt nach einer jener pampigen kölschen Repliken, deren Anticharme man sich schwer entziehen kann. Schwirrt und groovt.

Selten Gesehenes: Lässig. Souverän. Softig. Duftig. Nachdenklich aber beschwingt.

Beim Arabischen Vietmanesen (Instrumental) gibt es wahrscheinlich die Speise unseres Vertrauens im Falle der Munchies, die wir kriegen, wenn wir anderen Leuten beim Kiffen zusehen. Transzendentale und psychedelische Zustände durchziehen beiläufig den schnöden Alltag. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marschiert und schwebt zugleich.

Klebt Runner: Soundtrack zum gleichnamigen Kultfilm. Tyrrell Corporation macht sich locker. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks irgendwie, weil hier gefährliche Nähe zu nachvollziehbarer und dann auch noch kritischer Aussage gegeben ist. Dafür klingt die sinistre elektronische Billigkeit von Carpenter-Soundtracks an.

Parzipan: Eigentlich war die Entstehungszeit gar nicht so brüllend lustig und einfach, sondern für Jo auch ein zermürbendes, langsames Loslassen des Bruders. Hier schickt er ihn mit sanftem Schubs hinaus in die Weiten eines hoffentlich schönen Jenseits.

Clara Drechsler
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Gospel melts into Soul in this dazzling collection of sides originally released by the Chess subsidiary.


Devised by the same team supporting the likes of Muddy Waters and Etta James at Chess, the vintage of Checker Gospel celebrated here is distinguished by its expertly raw, rugged, live feel — thumping bass and pounding drums, bluesy guitar and horns — and its keen engagement with contemporary realities and politics, with an underlying, unwavering commitment to the Civil Rights movement. Not forgetting its sheer, startling, richly diverse soulfulness.

Key architects of the Chicago Sound and Motown are amongst the scores of contributors: Charles Stepney, Gene Barge, Eddie Kendricks, and Leonard Caston Jr. are in the house… Morris Jennings, drummer on Curtis’ Superfly and Terry Callier’s What Color Is Love… Louis Satterfield from The Pharaohs and Earth Wind & Fire… Ramsey Lewis’ guitarist Byron Gregory… Phil Upchurch… Laura Lee…

Producer Monk Higgins joined Checker in 1967, bringing his experience of R&B and Gospel hit-making for the labels One-derful and Satellite, together with a loyal cohort of musicians. A protege of Willie Dixon, engineer Malcolm Chisholm set up the Ter Mar studio as if preparing for a live gig, carefully teasing measures of bleed into the microphones. With Ralph Bass from King Records running A&R, they knew exactly what they were after. ‘I’m using horns and an R&B sound in gospel recordings,’ said Bass. ‘We have no charts. All the musicians are given the chord changes. I want the cats to think when we’re cutting. I want spontaneity, and that’s what we’re getting.’ And: ‘There is more to gospel than just finding solace in the church. This follows the same message of Martin King, who was fighting for a new way of life. Kids are tired of hearing Jesus Give Us Help. They want a positive message.’

Focussed on the late sixties and early seventies, the twenty-five recordings here are all killer no filler, but try these four, random entry points: the heavy funk ostinato of the Violinaires’ Groovin’ With Jesus, working itself up into a post-James-Brown brass frenzy, sure to knock your socks off; Cleo Jackson Randle’s title track, for those who like their Gospel straight-up and hard-core; Eddie Kendricks’ achingly timely choral call-to-arms, Stand Up America, Don’t Be Afraid; the East St Louis Gospelettes’ heart-stopping, fathoms-deep rendition of Bobby Bland’s I’ll Take Care Of You.
A beautiful gatefold sleeve; a full-colour booklet with excellent notes by Robert Marovich; top-notch sound. Another knockout selection by Greg Belson and David Hill.

A shoo-in for soul compilation of the year.

The world was a different place in June 2020. Most of us were coming out of a first lockdown and accepting limitations, new fears, and changes in our lives. There was some hope things were going to be better, optimism in the summer, a new beginning. For some, like Molero, it was. He released his first album in June 2020, one he had been working on over the previous years. “Ficciones Del Trópico” felt like a discovery, the synths approached a new world, raw, full of wonder, fresh. It was the sound we needed, the horizon we were longing for.

Four years have passed. Molero spent most of that time thinking about and creating the music for “Destellos Del Éxtasis”. If “Ficciones Del Trópico” lived in the depths of the Amazon jungle, “Destellos Del Éxtasis” releases itself from a physical location/idea and creates upon symbolism and the abstract. The more we listen to it, the more we get lost in how he created music that is shapeless, no angles, constantly morphing, transforming into something else.

Like magic, alchemy, but also like visions, hallucinatory visions, or dreams if dreams could step out into reality. And the more we get lost, the more we are convinced the music from “Destellos Del Éxtasis” is part of us, of our body, present as a permanently passing cloud. It gets into dark places, moving constantly into new ground, testing feelings, emotions and how they gravitate with sound. There’s something different in each track. Like magic. Not magical music (but there’s an argument for that). We prefer music for magic. Ritualistic, celebratory, transformative and increasingly visual. Close your eyes, it will open your perception. Follow the ecstasy, let yourself go. The reward is here.

Hybrid is a word used indiscriminately in our daily lives. This record isn't a hybrid; it's beyond hybrid, post-hybrid, so to speak. Does this phrase sound complicated to you, and are you never overly convinced by music theory and its caricatural aspect? Then forget what you’ve just read and listen to both sides of this record. You'll soon realise that these tracks are deliciously deft, drawing their essence from dub while leaving room for some skillful jazz writing. For those of you intrigued by melodies, the art of musique concrète or the exploration of dub music’s deviant angles, this record will easily find its place on your turntable.

The two sides of the record are cut with play, improvisation and effects, while leaving room for themes and ideas. If this record’s first chapter was born from a request to remix and pay homage to Jackie Mittoo, its themes tell another story. They have been declined and even reduced to an explosion point. The tracks are also driven by subtle details of musique concrète, giving the record the effect of an intimate musical production – but, above all, one of uncategorisable beauty.

In Androo’s case, this is hardly surprising. He is a craftsman who is unassailable in every respect, a poetic dynamiter and, for this reason, one of the most unpredictable musicians in Geneva (and beyond). His appetite for dynamite is perhaps an indication of his conception of music as, first and foremost, an experience. His highly personal and inventive tribute to figures from free jazz and contemporary music proves the point. But perhaps it is also an indication of his attachment to Jean-Luc Godard. You'd have to imagine Androo at his mixing desk without a pre-written script. The idea of editing infuses the record. The two sides are very much in this style and spirit: (un-)shot, meticulous, (ir-)reverent. In this respect, this record is a formidable proposition, and perhaps difficult to understand, but not striving to be understood.

Its combination of improvisation and composition is underpinned by a razor-sharp precision and dexterity that's hard to ignore, especially if you're curious about the art of sound mixing and the romantic accidents. It has a dexterity that transforms musical grids into romantic essays and sketches. A romanticism in which Androo takes us on a liberating musical experience that makes us forget the inertia of the ramping formatting of the record industry. In any case, this record is an invitation to (un-)think the category, and will delight any ear curious to wander into territories of intuition where the word hybrid no longer makes sense.

Text by Carl Åhnebrink

T.Recs is back with another salty rub of peak time house goodness on vinyl.

‘Urban Deep’ will ring several bells with the Gen X audience – especially once the iconic throbbing bassline hook and happy-clapping beats kick in. The big surprise comes from the throwback dreamy vocal laid perfectly across the production, which fits like a velvet glove on a well-manicured hand. ‘Urban Deep’ is a 122bpm stomper of a tune that will flood any dance floor at any time of the night, guaranteed.

For ‘Franklin & Marshall’ we head willingly and confidently into ‘classic house anthem’ territory. All the ingredients are in the mix here; from the unmistakeable Prophet 2000 generated piano riffs and Roland TR-909 drum box presenting the beats on a gold platter. You think you’ve got this one in the bag until the gospel sounding, smoky vocal arrives like a packed tram car. Epic, energetic, fantastical and full of pride, ‘Franklin & Marshall’ will be the preferred weekend weapon of many a DJ.

2024 Repress

Fratelli Malibu is an original idea of Andrea De Fazio with the cooperation of Paolo Petrella, drummer and bassist for the “Nu Guinea” live band. Their love for synthesizers and drum machines brought them together to create the shiny world of Ciro Miami.
We could think of Ciro as a neapolitan expat in the american dream, where he discovers a world of excess, flashy cars, cocktail bars, beautiful women, cocaine, gambling, spaceships and videogames that erodes all of his money forcing him to go back to Napoli
completely broke, but with a fistful of wonderful memories.

We’re teaming up with ELUCID and Fat Possum for a limited edition of 300 copies of a Rush Hour black ice coloured edition.

E L U C I D, one half of the illustrious duo Armand Hammer, is here with the full-length follow-up to 'I Told Bessie'. Further experiments in the sonic, expanding on the 'live' side of music paired with the embracing of chaos. Something you haven't heard, or not so for a very long time. E L U C I D is here to reveal the bleakness of reality.



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''There is never time in the future in which we will work out our salvation. The challenge is in the moment; the time is always now.''
James Baldwin

A raw, crackling urgency runs through rapper-producer ELUCID’s new album REVELATOR like an underground power line. There is no space here for sepia-toned reminiscences or indulgent self-mythologizing. Intellectual rabbit holes have been filled in with concrete and rebar ; there is nowhere to hide and no off ramp from the audio Autobahn that ELUCID has fashioned—a renegade Robert Moses with gold fronts, bulldozing the homes of the powerful and the complicit. REVELATOR brims with the energy of now, with a refusal to look away. Carpe diem in a murder one mask.

Born in Jamaica, Queens, ELUCID has been on the cutting edge of New York’s underground scene since the mid-2000s. From the beginning, he has defied both convention and expectation. He ran with Okayplayer darlings Tanya Morgan, but his own music eschewed their throwback charm for glitchy noise experiments and bass-swamped culture jamming. His 2016 debut studio project Save Yourself (re-released in a deluxe edition last year) announced him in earnest. But in recent years, his Armand Hammer releases with partner-in-crime billy woods have received significant attention and acclaim. Serving as a followup to his last solo album—2022’s comparatively balmy I Told Bessie—ELUCID hoped to “re-distinguish” himself with REVELATOR, setting himself apart amidst the increasing attention around the music he and his friends are making together.

For ELUCID, this meant setting bold new challenges for himself. One of these was diving further into live instrumentation than ever before—”getting my Quincy Jones on,” as he puts it. The testing ground for this approach was Armand Hammer’s most recent project, 2023’s We Buy Diabetic Test Strips’ Möbius strip soundscapes, warmed with instrumental flourishes and skin-shedding beat progressions. With REVELATOR, though, ELUCID strove to create an atmosphere of chaos, embracing experimental electronics and atonal sample bursts. He worked on much of the album with co-producer Jon Nellen, who comes from a background in avant-garde and Indian classical music. “I wanted to get as freaky as I could at this moment. I wanted people to hear things, maybe for the first time, or in a way they haven’t for a long while,” the rapper explains.

ELUCID arrived at the studio with a collection of noise sources: non-referential samples, glitches and noises. Together he, Nellen, and others created forms out of them and, as ELUCID recalls, “just started playing drums with it.” Their fried, distorted sound was directly inspired by Miles Davis at his most uncompromising—specifically, the tone-clustering funk track “Rated X” from his 1974 double LP Get Up With It. At times, the pairing of rap with avant-fusion sounds also brings Emergency! from The Tony Williams Lifetime to mind, perhaps in an alternate timeline where the late drummer was listening to Ice Cube’s AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted.

“The World is Dog,” REVELATOR’s lead single, functions as the album’s aesthetic thesis statement. Like the Davis track, the textures are punishing, the tonality is in free-fall, and the driving breakbeat of a groove cuts in and out unceremoniously. Avant-jazz bassist Luke Stewart, who appears throughout the record, holds the whole thing together just long enough for ELUCID to tightwalk over the beat. This tension is exactly where REVELATOR sets itself apart; in a time of drumless loops, and safe soul samples, this is a high-wire act with no safety net. Similarly, the song announces the themes of the album within just a few phrases, evoking the way societies accept and adjust to new levels of debasement and brutality while suffocating under the weight of history: “Can’t clock the kill, all a mystery/Forced past will eating everyone eventually/The world is dog.”

Many of the songs on REVELATOR grapple obliquely with dissolution and disenfranchisement in America and across the world—the grim realities of our domestic sociopolitical climate and our involvement in foreign conflicts. “Much of my artistic and political sensibility comes from the Black arts movement here in New York,” ELUCID explains. “Recognizing the interconnected global struggles against oppression, artists and thinkers created works and actions in solidarity with freedom movements in South Africa and Palestine.” ELUCID cites intellectuals like Amiri Baraka, Kwame Nkrumah, Audre Lorde, Sonia Sanchez, and Nikki Giovanni among his heroes. (One track on the album is specifically inspired by Lorde’s work, “SKP,” citing the scholar’s paper “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic As Power.”) Songs like REVELATOR’s insistent closer “ZIGZAGZIG,” find ELUCID applying up-to-the-minute messaging, making explicit reference to the conflict in Gaza: “Feed a war machine…from river to sea, in lieu of peace.”

Despite ELUCID’s preference for cacophonous system overload here, the rapper also provides moments of respite. Recorded at The Alchemist’s Los Angeles studio, the laid-back, wheezing “INSTANT TRANSFER” is a collaboration with billy woods, which crystallizes their shared sense of creative determination. “With much momentum behind us and even more on the horizon, I knew a purpose, and that every step was ordered to that purpose,” ELUCID said of the experience. Meanwhile, the jittery “HUSHPUPPIES” is a playful anomaly on the track list, providing a snapshot of ELUCID watching his grandparents in the kitchen while preparing for Friday night fish fry dinners.

“Love still rules over on this side,” ELUCID says. ”I’m raising a family. We are making meaning and finding joy in the midst of all the fucked up-ness of everything around us because the alternative is cowardice and slow death. We remain rooted. We celebrate our people and our wins. Struggle is necessary.”

“IKEBANA” is one of ELUCID’s strongest statements of purpose on the record, blending the record’s heaviest themes with its most hopeful sentiments. supported by a shoutalong refrain and an urgent prog-funk groove. Breaking away from images of dissolution and crumbling societal systems that populate REVELATOR, ELUCID notes that the only way to navigate life’s bleakest landscapes is to cling to love and believe in those around you—to look forward toward something better that may or may not be possible. For the rapper, one of the album’s most trenchant lines comes during a centerpiece of a beat drop: “Being alive/I must look up.”

“The lyric ‘being alive I must look up’ is important especially in the context of this album. Much of the album imagery is harsh and reflects the actual doom some of us experience. But still I/we exist,” ELUCID explains.

Every artist is, in one way or another, the product of their time, bound by life’s leaden gravity to operate within the space of that which is already known. But there are some who are able to shake free of these ties, to shape the culture as it unfolds, to make the present their own.
Revelation, as a concept, points to the scales falling from people’s eyes—something that has been hiding in plain sight becoming clear. “The revelator relates to things that have been talked about, things that have been forecasted,” ELUCID adds. “And now they’re really here, and everyone sees it. And there’s no escaping.” REVELATOR plays out with the unmitigated power of those storms, laying waste to any genre conventions in pursuit of a certain physicality. Here, ELUCID develops a wholly distinctive musical language to explore our fractured modernity.

REVELATOR's packaging was designed by longtime Armand Hammer / Backwoodz art director, Alexander Richter.

Michael Mayer albums don’t come round too often, which is one of many reasons why his fourth collection, The Floor Is Lava, is a genuine event. It’s been eight years since his last one, the collaborative & released on !K7; its predecessors, Mantasy (2012) and Touch (2004), took their sweet time, too. It’s no real surprise, given the many hats Mayer wears – globetrotting DJ, revered remixer, inveterate collaborator, and boss of both Kompakt and Imara – that his solo productions are relatively sparing. But this also speaks to their quality: Mayer’s name on a record sleeve is a sign of quality, of music that’s both looking to the future and calling back to the past, that balances the imperatives of the dancefloor and the loungeroom, that’s as exploratory as it is functional.

On The Floor Is Lava, Mayer seems to be taking the temperature of both the music that surrounds him (past and present), and the ides of the industry he works within. There’s that iconic album title, for a start. “The album’s mindset,” he says, reflecting on those four words together. For Mayer, it’s partly a critique of the way the industry boxes in both producer and listener, focuses them on genre, on market, on the next new thing: “Being a free minded spirit that transcends genres has become an uphill battle.” A battle worth fighting, though, and with The Floor Is Lava, the result is an album that’s varied, quixotic, idiosyncratic, charming, and deeply, addictively listenable.

Throughout, Mayer finds thrills in exploration and juxtaposition, allowing unexpected things to blossom and giving them their life, their platform, throwing the listener exciting curveballs: “It’s a DJ album by a DJ that’s easily bored.” Either easily bored, or endlessly curious, The Floor Is Lava is rich with ideas. It opens with “The Problem”, which looks back to look forward, embracing the rickety way early house productions threw samples together with gleeful abandon. Mayer mentions Pal Joey, and the scene around Rockers Hi-Fi and their Different Drummer imprint, as reference points, and you can hear that freewheeling spirit throughout.

It’s followed by “Vagus”, a slinky, sensual minimal house number that Mayer describes as his “musical catnip”. The flow of these two opening cuts defines the dynamic of The Floor Is Lava, defining the dialectical drive at its core: thesis and antithesis leads to synthesis, but with a welcome prickliness that means you’re always excited, always engaged. It’s also productive in the way it derives energy from rubbing genres and sounds against each other, in unexpected ways, for maximum musical frisson. There’s psychedelic techno on “Feuerstuhl”, more minimal techno with “Ardor” (Mayer mentions ‘Immer 1’ era 90s minimal as inspiration), slippery, Shepard-tone breakbeat through “Sycophant”, a lovely, lush vocal turn on the poppy “The Solution”.

The album closes with the melancholy “Süßer Schlaf”, where Mayer sets a poem by Goethe to one of his most haunted, moving pieces of music yet, in abstract tribute to a lost friend. It’s one of the most affecting moments on The Floor Is Lava. There’s also an update on 2020’s wild Brainwave Technology EP, with the surrealist glitter-stomp of “Brainwave 2.0” (check out those handclaps!),where Mayer’s thinking about the socio-political precipice of the now: “I’m reading with great interest about this whole complex of how humanity is about to cross so many lines and the implications that the resulting financial and educational inequality will bring.”

That’s The Floor Is Lava: then and now, brainwaves and nerve structures, problems and solutions, genres on fire; the real, the unreal, and the surreal. An album for the easily bored and the endlessly curious. Mayer has the last word, telling us all you need to know about the album’s spirit: “Burning for the cause, being zealous, being addicted to the heat of the night, the exuberant powers of music.”

Michael Mayer veröffentlicht nicht oft Alben, was einer von vielen Gründen ist, warum ‘The Floor Is Lava’ ein echtes Ereignis ist. Es sind acht Jahre vergangen seit seinem letzten Werk, dem Kollaborationsalbum &, das auf !K7 erschien; seine Vorgänger, Mantasy (2012) und Touch (2004), ließen ebenfalls auf sich warten. Es überrascht nicht wirklich, da Mayer viele Rollen gleichzeitig erfüllt – weltreisender DJ, vielbeschäftigter Remixer, unermüdlicher Kollaborateur und Chef von sowohl Kompakt als auch Imara – weshalb seine Solo-Produktionen eher sparsam ausfallen. Doch das spricht auch für deren Qualität: Ein Album mit Mayers Namen auf dem Cover steht für Qualität, für Musik, die sowohl in die Zukunft blickt als auch auf die Vergangenheit verweist, die das Gleichgewicht zwischen den Anforderungen des Dancefloors und des Wohnzimmers hält, die genauso erforschend wie funktional ist.

Auf The Floor Is Lava scheint Mayer sowohl die Musik um ihn herum (vergangen und gegenwärtig) als auch die Strömungen der Branche, in der er arbeitet, zu reflektieren. Da wäre zunächst der ikonische Albumtitel. „Die Grundhaltung des Albums“, sagt er, drückt sich in diesen vier Worte aus. Für Mayer ist es teilweise eine Kritik daran, wie die Industrie sowohl Produzenten als auch Hörer in Schubladen steckt, sie auf Genres, auf den Markt und auf das nächste große Ding fokussiert: „Ein freier Geist zu sein, der Genres überschreitet, ist zu einem steinigen Weg geworden.“ Ein Kampf, der sich jedoch lohnt, und mit The Floor Is Lava ist das Ergebnis ein Album, das vielfältig, eigenwillig, charmant und tiefsinnig, aber auch süchtig machend ist.

Im gesamten Album findet Mayer Freude an der Erforschung und Gegenüberstellung von Stilen, lässt unerwartete Dinge erblühen und gibt ihnen Raum, überrascht den Hörer mit spannenden Wendungen: „Es ist ein DJ-Album von einem DJ, der sich schnell langweilt.“ Entweder langweilt er sich schnell oder er ist unendlich neugierig – The Floor Is Lava ist reich an Ideen. Es beginnt mit „The Problem“, das in die Vergangenheit blickt, um nach vorne zu schauen, und die wilde Art, wie frühe House-Produktionen Samples mit fröhlicher Unbekümmertheit zusammenwarfen, aufgreift. Mayer nennt Pal Joey und die Szene um Rockers Hi-Fi und ihr Label Different Drummer als Referenzpunkte, und dieser freie Geist zieht sich durch das gesamte Album.

Es folgt „Vagus“, eine sinnliche Minimal-House-Nummer, die Mayer als seine „musikalische Katzenminze“ beschreibt. Der Fluss dieser beiden Eröffnungstracks definiert die Dynamik von The Floor Is Lava und den dialektischen Antrieb im Kern: These und Antithese führen zu einer Synthese, jedoch mit einer willkommenen Schärfe, die dafür sorgt, dass man immer aufgeregt und engagiert bleibt. Zudem gewinnt das Album Energie, indem es Genres und Klänge auf unerwartete Weise aneinanderreibt, um maximalen musikalischen Nervenkitzel zu erzeugen. Es gibt psychedelischen Techno in „Feuerstuhl“, mehr Minimal Techno mit „Ardor“ (Mayer erwähnt ‘Immer’ Ära Minimal als Bezugspunkt), gleitenden Shepard-Ton-Breakbeat in „Sycophant“ und einen lieblichen, üppigen Vocal-Auftritt im poppigen „The Solution“.

Das Album schließt mit dem melancholischen „Süßer Schlaf“, in dem Mayer ein Gedicht von Goethe vertont und eine seiner bisher eindringlichsten und bewegendsten musikalischen Kompositionen schafft, als abstrakten Tribut an eine verschiedene Freundin. Es ist einer der ergreifendsten Momente auf The Floor Is Lava. Ebenfalls gibt es ein Update der wilden Brainwave Technology-EP von 2020, mit dem surrealistischen Glitzer-Stampfer „Brainwave 2.0“ (hör dir diese Handclaps an!), in dem Mayer über den sozio-politischen Abgrund der Gegenwart nachdenkt: „Ich lese mit großem Interesse über diesen ganzen Komplex, wie die Menschheit dabei ist, so viele Grenzen zu überschreiten und welche Auswirkungen die daraus resultierende finanzielle und bildungstechnische Ungleichheit haben wird.“

Das ist The Floor Is Lava: Damals und heute, Gehirnwellen und Nervengeflechte, Probleme und Lösungen, brennende Genres; das Reale, das Unreale und das Surreale. Ein Album für die schnell Gelangweilten und die unendlich Neugierigen. Mayer hat das letzte Wort und sagt uns alles, was wir über den Geist des Albums wissen müssen: „Brennen für die Sache, leidenschaftlich sein, süchtig nach der Hitze der Nacht, den überschwänglichen Kräften der Musik.“