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Axis Expressionist Series

A collection of vinyl and limited digital releases, curated by Millsart, an alias of Jeff Mills, of his most eclectic and transcendent compositions that derive from his Every Dog Has Its Day project as well as new unreleased works. Vernacular creations that fall off from the "other side" of the Electronic Music tree, this project is designed for the experienced Techno music listeners, and its goal is to reflect upon the pure artistry of the craft of storytelling. A realization between music and life. Whereas "dancing" is the goal of Dance Music, the goal of this music is about "reflecting on the complexity and simplification of life".Soundtracks for people in their evolutionary process.

This release 'Drifter' is about 'Hype'.



Hype

An animal that prowls on the vulnerable - it excites those who might be looking the other way or with their eyes and minds wide shut.

What is life without hype?

As a transitional tool, hype can be most effective especially when impulse reactions are at play. Something of a psychological currency, there is a lot to gain by giving people what they want - the rush that comes with taking part in a process of making something bigger, more successful and more preferred. Even if there is nothing there.

What's wrong with getting exciting about something?

There are only a few rare masterclass cases that have lasted a lifetime.

As Andy Warhol proclaimed that "everyone will be World famous for 15 minutes" rings darkly true in an era when each one of us can be the talent scout, artist, critic, audience.......and then a revisionist, hoping to bring hype back again by reminding people how great the first round felt.

We are all free to use our attention and time anyway we please. This is the freedom we have, right?

In most cases, we wake up and at some point, the question of justification becomes a debate between those who found unconditional solace and those who re-discovered the subject of substance and "kicked the tires".

Should I care if others like or dislike something?

For some, the hype of something never ends. It hardens and becomes part of a foundation like a cement podium. Something to be stood on to speak over all dissenting voices.

Two decades have passed in the land of Gnod, yet the psychic travelogue only becomes more enthralling as it goes on. And whilst this band has flourished via dauntless conviction, hive-mind magic and a fierce and uncompromising spirit, one ingredient has served as a crucial fuel for the fire – the monolithic singularity of the riff. 



This second chapter of Gnod’s sort-of-anniversary trilogy also originates in the same six day sessions as the first, at Hellfire Studios near Dublin with producer Spud Murphy (Lankum, Black Midi etc). Yet the focus this time is on the transcendental heaviness and repetition that the band have often used as a primary fulcrum of their approach. This volume captures the sound of strings flayed, throats shredded, skins punished by the organic chemistry of this formidably powerful band in a room.


The results are amongst the most fearsome and kinetic material that Gnod have summoned to date. As has often been the case for a band heavily driven by serendipity and intuition, the best plan is no plan at all. “We find quite regularly that spontaneity and the no thought approach works better than over analysis and detailed planning” clarifies the band's Chris Haslam


Maximal yet minimal, claustrophobic yet expansive, free in approach yet mercilessly disciplined in their intensity – Gnod like every truly great band are a mass of contradictions. On Chronicles Of Gnowt (Vol 2), this thunderous paradox has never sounded fiercer. To paraphrase Nietzsche: “Is man merely a mistake of Gnod's? Or Gnod merely a mistake of man?”

There's something about summer that makes everything fall into place. Maybe it feels even more significant to us, especially if you know MM Discos through its Balearic leanings. It's that time of year when the whole scene reaches its peak, with everyone dreaming of being in Ibiza-or at the very least, somewhere on a forgotten beach or island in the Mediterranean.
For that very moment, Desert Island Disco make their MM Discos debut with a record tailor-made for the summer of 2026. Splitting their time between London and Lisbon, the collective have already shown a deep affinity for African-rooted midtempo sounds through releases on Shades of Sound and Mister T Records, alongside a steady stream of sought-after self-released edits on their Bandcamp.
This time, Desert Island Disco dive headfirst into South Africa, drawing deeply from the worlds of Kwaito and Bubblegum to deliver a record steeped in the warmth, groove and unmistakable spirit of both genres.
From its South African foundations, *World View* reaches far beyond, weaving together tropical textures, Caribbean flavours and Balearic sensibilities into something fluid and difficult to pin down. A borderless collection where geography becomes secondary to feeling, yet every track remains firmly rooted in the dancefloor.

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


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


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


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


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


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

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


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


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


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


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


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

On their third album, FANGS, London collective HMLTD have created an entirely new genre: Götherdammerüng (or ÜberGöth). Predictably unpredictable, it could not be further away from their last outing, 2023 rock opera The Worm. The sixteen-piece orchestra has been traded in for Ableton, the timpani and violins replaced with side-chained four-to-the-floor and rave synths, and the gospel choir swapped for guttural gothic howling and black metal screams. The result is both unique and terrifying: a total reinvention and rehabilitation of the goth genre, through the looking glass of modern electronic and doomscroll-era dance music.

This new beginning was accompanied by a change in personnel, with Theo Spark and Andrei Martynchyk joining the fray alongside original members Henry Spychalski and Duc Peterman. Decamping to a ruined château in the Loire Valley, the quartet became obsessed with vampire lore, and the EBM and goth sound that inspired their early work: Fad Gadget, DAF, Nitzer Ebb, Suicide and Bauhaus. FANGS also points to more contemporary influences like Crystal Castles, German hardcore, 2000s blog-house a la Justice, and 2020s sleazepop.



The world crafted in FANGS is full of cosmic pessimism, glowing horror, imperceptible evil and digital dismemberment, ancient curses and ruined castles, Vampires. But it is also a thoroughly fun, and funny, record, as danceable as it is deep. Born of the club, some tracks would not sound out of place on Brat. Like a Smiths song which sounds happy and carefree until your brain tunes in to the misery of the lyrics, it can be listened to - and enjoyed - on two levels. One can get lost in the throb of bass and ludic synths, or tune into the horror of the lyrics which overlay them.



FANGS attempts to offer up a reflection to a culture that - like a Vampire - has lost its own. The result is something not only thoroughly modern, original, and inventive - but that feels genuinely dangerous and potent. FANGS delights in this ambiguity: simultaneously indicting decadence, decay, and moral rot, while luxuriating in its intoxication by it. Cacophonous sub-bass becomes a chthonic call of the void; seraphic rave synths become the screech of Valkyries; four-to-the-floor becomes a deathly funeral march. Vampire apocalypse.

On their third album, FANGS, London collective HMLTD have created an entirely new genre: Götherdammerüng (or ÜberGöth). Predictably unpredictable, it could not be further away from their last outing, 2023 rock opera The Worm. The sixteen-piece orchestra has been traded in for Ableton, the timpani and violins replaced with side-chained four-to-the-floor and rave synths, and the gospel choir swapped for guttural gothic howling and black metal screams. The result is both unique and terrifying: a total reinvention and rehabilitation of the goth genre, through the looking glass of modern electronic and doomscroll-era dance music.

This new beginning was accompanied by a change in personnel, with Theo Spark and Andrei Martynchyk joining the fray alongside original members Henry Spychalski and Duc Peterman. Decamping to a ruined château in the Loire Valley, the quartet became obsessed with vampire lore, and the EBM and goth sound that inspired their early work: Fad Gadget, DAF, Nitzer Ebb, Suicide and Bauhaus. FANGS also points to more contemporary influences like Crystal Castles, German hardcore, 2000s blog-house a la Justice, and 2020s sleazepop.



The world crafted in FANGS is full of cosmic pessimism, glowing horror, imperceptible evil and digital dismemberment, ancient curses and ruined castles, Vampires. But it is also a thoroughly fun, and funny, record, as danceable as it is deep. Born of the club, some tracks would not sound out of place on Brat. Like a Smiths song which sounds happy and carefree until your brain tunes in to the misery of the lyrics, it can be listened to - and enjoyed - on two levels. One can get lost in the throb of bass and ludic synths, or tune into the horror of the lyrics which overlay them.



FANGS attempts to offer up a reflection to a culture that - like a Vampire - has lost its own. The result is something not only thoroughly modern, original, and inventive - but that feels genuinely dangerous and potent. FANGS delights in this ambiguity: simultaneously indicting decadence, decay, and moral rot, while luxuriating in its intoxication by it. Cacophonous sub-bass becomes a chthonic call of the void; seraphic rave synths become the screech of Valkyries; four-to-the-floor becomes a deathly funeral march. Vampire apocalypse.

There's a moment during every great dance floor experience when the music takes over and everyone becomes part of something bigger. "SHOUT!", the latest release from 2SoulFusion Presents Ascension, captures that feeling in its purest form. Featuring the powerhouse voices and ad-libs of Dames Brown and Dawn Tallman, along with an all-star ensemble of master vocalists including Josh Milan, Rahsaan Patterson, Lisa Fischer, Cindy Mizelle, Audrey Wheeler, Ramona Dunlap, and Lea Lorien, this joyful anthem is an invitation to let go, lift your spirit, and celebrate through music.

Produced, written, arranged, and mixed by 2SoulFusion—Louie Vega and Josh Milan—"SHOUT!" draws inspiration from the communal spirit of gospel while embracing the energy and freedom of house music. Driven by simple yet powerful affirmations—"Shout," "Sing," "Move," "Love," "Get Up On Your Feet," "Listen Up," and "Let This Music Take You Higher"—the song transforms into an experience where every voice becomes part of the celebration. It's a journey of anthemic hooks, soaring harmonies, infectious grooves, and unforgettable melodies designed to ignite dance floors, uplift hearts, and remind us that music has the power to unite people through rhythm, joy, and love.

The inspiration for "SHOUT!" was born from a creative exchange between Louie Vega and Charaf Tajer, founder and creative director of the internationally acclaimed fashion house Casablanca. Introduced by longtime friend Joseph Capriati, Charaf shared a bold vision—to bring together the worlds of fashion, gospel, and house music for one unforgettable Casablanca runway presentation in Paris.

Louie Vega recalls: “Charaf was introduced to me by my friend Joseph Capriati, who said Charaf was looking to meet me about an idea he had. His vision was to marry fashion, gospel, and house music within Casablanca's collection. At first, he wanted me to DJ and play gospel house music. I said, 'Instead of playing existing music, why don't I create an original song with a gospel house flavor?' I immediately got together with my 2SoulFusion partner Josh Milan, and together we came up with 'SHOUT!'”

That vision came to life during Casablanca's spectacular Paris presentation inside a breathtaking cathedral, where Louie Vega premiered the original twelve-minute and nine-second composition live. As the music echoed through the cathedral, Dames Brown joined the London House Gospel Choir in a soul-stirring performance while the models walked the aisle on Casablanca's carpet made of their signature green color and a dashing vibrating giant mirror echoing the runway visually. Renowned DJs Luciano and Chloé Caillet were among those who walked the runway, while friends of Charaf Tajer and special guests—including Jaden Thompson, Folamour, Dimitri From Paris, Kapela, and many others—were in attendance, making it an unforgettable gathering where music, spirituality, fashion, and culture merged into one extraordinary experience.

Inspired by that magical evening in Paris, Louie Vega and Josh Milan returned to the studio to expand the original composition into the powerful recording heard today. Built around rich live musicianship, Josh Milan's keyboards, organ, piano and synth bass provide the foundation alongside Axel Tosca's expressive grand piano recorded live, Sherrod Barnes' soulful guitar, and Gene Perez's unmistakable bass groove. Together they create an infectious, organic driving sound that allows the vocals to soar while delivering the unmistakable musical depth and musicianship that define 2SoulFusion.

Leading the celebration are Dames Brown and Dawn Tallman, whose commanding performances are elevated by an extraordinary choir of world-class vocalists. Dames Brown's spirited sermon and ad-libs, and Dawn Tallman’s powerful ad-lib vamping out together with the soaring harmonies of Lisa Fischer, Cindy Mizelle, Audrey Wheeler, Rahsaan Patterson, Ramona Dunlap, Lea Lorien, and Josh Milan, recreate the feeling of a joyful gospel congregation—not confined to four walls, but alive on dance floors around the world. Every chorus encourages listeners to get up, listen up, feel it, sing, move, love, and become part of the experience. Recorded between Honeycomb Studios in Pennsylvania, The Hub Ibiza and Manhattan Center Studios, New York City, and mixed at The Hub Ibiza, "SHOUT!" reflects the continuing vision of the Ascension project, where spirituality, musicianship, community, fashion, and dance music become one.

Pablo Volt and J.G.G. make dub-folktronica the unpolished way: guitar, horns, drums and synths, recorded loose, drenched in echoes and tape saturation. They met in Barcelona over a shared love of experimental beers and even more experimental sessions, determined to see how far their musical chemistry could take them. "Mordida", their 2023 tape, spent months on repeat at the Pingipung office. Now comes the debut LP: Aqui me quedo. It's a record built on the gap between two childhoods. Pablo Volt (aka Pope, as producer) grew up in Mendoza, Argentina; Jordi Gege aka J.G.G. in a suburb of Barcelona. What they share is a language and a curiosity about each other's memories and musical roots - the studio is where they embrace their different origins in improvisations. A ditch from Pablo's childhood becomes "Zanjon". A mountain Jordi used to roam becomes "Emisora". An ice cream shop, a Sunday market, a football club: small doors into a past the other never lived, but somehow recognises. Aqui me quedo, "I'm staying here", is also the name of the Barcelona bar where they toast after a good session. Two friends, tracing their way back through the past, decide the present is where they'd rather be. Handmade, melodic, unashamed of a smile as they greet from the LP sleeve: this is the spirit in which Pingipung was founded 24 years ago and these two guys, muy simpatico, are living proof of it.

The songs of Jules de Corte are condensed, folky gems with an almost effortless charm. Poised between the intimate and the universal, between lightness and darkness, they touch on religion, love, loss, and the small dramas of everyday life. Yet they resist easy translation. Packed with wordplay, de Corte’s signature alliterations, humor, and local cultural references, the songs inevitably lose something in another language. Still, when a Belgian quartet of improvisers takes them on, joined by American songwriter Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, the songs are reborn rather than merely transposed: literal fidelity gives way to interpretation, and what is lost in words is often gained in spirit.

Even without tracing every change, their overall effect is fascinating. Songs are slowed down, often doubled in length, and filled with unexpected musical intrusions. They gain fuller arrangements and are placed in an entirely new context. Replacing de Corte’s piano with guitar can create a radically different vibe, as in “Mariska.” An added solo can heighten the contrast between childlike perspective and the almost matter- of-fact brutality of “Little Anita.” In “The Stranger,” another use of contrast unsettles the everyday harmony, transforming it with a subtle, disorienting twist.

Ultimately, these performances show that interpretation is not successful simply because it is literal. With the groundwork laid by Linus, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy further liberated the songs from their original versions. Lyrics and melodies become malleable, shaped by his recognizable cadences, timbre, and personal quirks. Like his collaborators, he allows himself the freedom to bend the material to his own approach. There is no radical break between this performance and his other records. Listeners familiar with the originals may be puzzled at first; for those new to de Corte, it is a wholly different experience.

Does it really matter that the original “Little Jesus, Mighty God” is a 100-second nugget combining playful naivete with biblical fervor? In the hands of these five explorers, the song becomes an intriguing contemplation, with subtle musical shades and a recitation in which every syllable carries a maturity that offers a new perspective. Then there is “The Outsider,” which feels as genuine as any original American folk song. The musicians’ process is more than reinterpretation—it is reimagination, bringing new musical compatibility and emotional depth. Whether that depth was there from the start, waiting to be uncovered, or created in the process is beside the point. What matters is that Linus and Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy have made the essence of these songs their own, paying homage yet dancing to their own tune.

Linus is the Belgian duo of guitarist and banjo player Ruben Machtelinckx and reedist and synthesiser player Thomas Jillings. Across five previous albums — Onland (2014), Linus + Skarbø / Leroux (2015), Felt Like Old language at the crossroads of folk, jazz, minimalism, chamber music and free improvisation. Their music is adventurous, shaped by a particular sensitivity to texture, timbre and the subtle interaction between musicians.

What began as a duo gradually grew into a flexible musical world, bringing Linus together with musicians such as Nils Økland, Ingar Zach, Niels Van Heertum, Øyvind Skarbø and Frederik Leroux. Yet each new constellation has remained recognisably Linus: music in which carefully considered forms leave space for intuition, interaction and the unexpected.

For their sixth album, Linus takes a new step by moving into the world of song and text. Inspired by a shared love for the late Dutch songwriter Jules De Corte, the album is a reimagining of De Corte’s unique repertoire. More than simply interpreting De Corte’s songs, they absorb and reshape them, bringing them into dialogue with their own musical language. In keeping with this open approach, they are joined by celebrated vocalist Bonnie “Prince” Billy. With albums such as 1999’s I See a Darkness appearing on several greatest album lists, Bonnie “Prince” Billy is a cult figure in the alternative folk scene, and his highly intuitive way of singing seamlessly matches the subtle interplay Linus has developed over more than a decade.

You know the pattern: someone calls their album "Balearic," and you immediately expect chill-out terraces, pan-flute samples, and the umpteenth return of the Café del Mar sunset. Devi G. refuses this reflex almost maliciously. The title is a trick—an invitation to disappointment for those hoping for postcard exoticism. What is actually being negotiated here is erosion, but that of the body itself: the abrasion one inflicts upon oneself in the excess of the night, when partying turns into wear and tear, and a rush becomes a graze that only becomes visible in the morning. No backdrop, then, but a wound one has voluntarily acquired.

Instead of the usual Ibiza xylophones, Devi G. digs into the rift between idyll and wear. The result reads like a séance—less José Padilla, more as if Kevin Martin had re-recorded a Manuel Göttsching record on a dying four-track deck. The target area lies somewhere between the waterlogged ambient sketches of Huerco S. and the faded dub-afterglow of Actress, but Devi G. remains consistently on his own, grainier frequency.

Balearic Abrasions (title track) opens without haste, demanding almost without impatience: no motif, no rhythmic handhold, just a slowly tilting balance between warm texture and rough surface. The grain never feels forced—it is not a lo-fi costume, but an integral part of the statics themselves. Where other ambient producers strive for perfection, Devi G. consciously seeks the breaking point. Rhythm remains a tool, never an ambition. Those expecting quick resolution will be disappointed; those willing to listen will receive a depth effect that is rarely this vivid.

Exit Through Thee Gift Shop tips into harder territory: dub-techno reduction meets industrial edge, carried by a stoic kick drum that knows no mercy. Metallic textures slice through the sub-bass, while repetitive chords hypnotize like a defective loop. Central to this is a rare Terence McKenna recording, which functions less as spoken-word ornamentation and more as a disruptive spirit between memory and media archaeology. The title—Banksy reference included—turns this into a biting punchline: radical electronic abstraction positioned against the hyper-commercialized art world.

Morning Depth pushes the claustrophobia further, somewhere between post-industrial and deep-sea dub. The track refuses any peak-time logic, preferring to disintegrate into itself, subcutaneously, methodically. At the end, a casual, almost banal vocal sample (“i defiantly prefer chocolate”) breaks into the cool machinery—a small, profane fissure that makes the coldness of the rest of the piece all the more apparent.

Desiré Algorithmic is the album's most calculated moment: a stoic, repetitive bassline as a foundation, topped with fragile melody fragments that flash like glitches in faulty code. The title reads like a promise from nightlife—a figure that suggests much and delivers nothing, because behind the façade there is simply nothing, only simulation. The track carries exactly this principle: promise without substance, desire without body, just rendering. Only in the final third does a melancholic saxophone break into the sterile structure—organic, imperfect, and for that very reason more credible than everything before it. It is the moment in which the real briefly flashes through the surface of the dummy before it closes again.

All-inclusive Residue concludes the album as sedimentation rather than dramaturgy: dub-techno remnants, industrial patina, salty ambient surfaces that settle rather than compose. The refusal of consumption as a sonic principle—brittle, stubborn, with a gravity that lingers long after.

Verdict: Balearic Abrasions is not easy listening with a sea view, but an exercise in patience and friction. The restraint with which Devi G. avoids climaxes will frustrate some—for everyone else, that is exactly where the record's strength lies. No sunset. Rather, what remains on the rocks afterward.

Hanne Lippard and Renato Grieco's Today's Special is a suite of language works synthesising melody and diction that integrates the literary and the audible in a repertoire of songs that bask in the melody of voice and the punctuations of structured composition. Working with methods of reduction rather than opulence in both tonal composition and rhetoric, each piece pegs the poetic to the musical with compositional schematics and methods. It is important to state that there is little to none improvisation here, instead, the duo set up matrices, rules and structural links that facilitated meaningful locus of exchange between their two practices. Lippard's texts are a collection of new and previously completed works. In these, as is typical for her work, she enjoys the easy pleasure of wordplay, iterative language, and decontextualised anecdote, as in opener Portrait of a Betrayal, a piece about the loss of a phone and the way it haunted the owner who dropped it, based on a lived experience. Grieco's instrumentation works with Lippard's language art as a form of acoustic typography. "I studied graphic design and I think about how you can express typography through voice," she says. "Renato's use of the viola da gamba becomes like an underline, or a font's brushstrokes, in ways that feel typographical." In this, the classically-trained composer Grieco often finds and echoes the pitch movements of Lippard's voice, intonation mirrored and revealed, linguistic meaning doubled and shadowed by plucked, strummed or bowed strings. His main instrument is the viola da gamba, the instrument considered closest to the human voice for its tonal range and ability to mimic inflections and timbre, and here he brings it even closer to the voice, building systems by which it moves with and around Lippard. He also plays piano and Wurlitzer, and joins her in speaking on Receiver and in conversation for final track The Black Rose. "Hanne's voice is an artist's voice, embodied as the artwork itself," he says. "But where my approach is from the perspective of a composer, hers is around rhetoric and language. We worked towards each other in this sense, Hanne finding a space to welcome my voice, and me designing an acoustic space to enhance her vocal persona." In some tracks the structural connections are obvious - the matched tumbling delivery and stepped pitches of voice and piano in Aficionado sounding like two tipsy friends descending a staircase. In others, like the triptych of tracks Three Rungs Ladder, structured with rules derived from nursery rhymes, or cumulative song (akin to the 12 Days of Christmas). For the Colour 1 and Colour 2 pieces, the duo worked from palettes of colours connected to clusters of harmonies, which underlined the power of the word and its articulation. The absurd Labradorable personifies a people pleaser, A Story About Being Blue is an imagined playful monologue from the Deep Blue supercomputer - requesting in sing-song stop motion to be called Debbie, and Larry - as Grieco echoes in factual reportage. Hurtbeat unpacks and recomposes a tweeted non-apology by a Russian art collector about owning a piece of racist art, Grieco shadowing Lippard's generating a third `drop-shadow' performer from the resonances between the duo, typographic re-articulation of the source material. The Receiver includes lines from Robert Ashley's Improvement (Don Leaves Linda), Ashley existing as a spiritual parent of sorts to the practices contained on Today's Special, and here interpolated as if he is being quoted and written through within the audible world of the piece in a palimpsest of borrowed sentences. Closing track The Black Rose contains its own self-aware comedy, a lightly distorted conversation sourced from a Reddit thread about whether black roses exist, recorded as if it were an internet radio or a low budget podcast, the casual exchange stilted in the delivery of platitudes as scripted speech. Today's Special was developed in person over the course of a series of small residencies - at Deutsche Akademie Rom Villa Massimo, Rome; Fondazione Morra, Napoli; Callie's, Berlin. In these limited periods that rarely stretched beyond a week, Lippard and Grieco developed strategies for the works, keeping tightly locked to musical concepts. This, for Grieco, is about maintaining a solid, meaningful connection within the compositions, and committing to everything having a purpose for existing within the work. Each element pulls its weight; has something to say, literally and metaphorically speaking. In the same way that Lippard's work leaves nowhere for her to hide, he wants the music to exist with its own naked purpose: "It's is about exposing nudity via reduced materials," says Grieco. "This is a form of courage we want to embrace. Once we take off everything, it needs to be extremely precise to maintain a connection with the audience. We have a lot of tools to hide behind now, to protect ourselves and our identities as artists, performers, and in life more generally. It's something I don't want to do. I want extreme reduction: no hiding."

Josh Ludlow - one half of MAKE A DANCE - one of London’s most beloved duos - steps out on his own for a rare solo outing on legendary London imprint Rhythm Section International.

A late contender for EP of the year - the record meanders menacingly across four tracks of mind-altering, dissociative Brain Music, precision engineered to transport a listener and hypnotise a crowd without losing any dancefloor impact.

Interestingly, Bradley Zero (RS label boss) and Mr. Ludlow have a connection dating back to the late 2000s, when they were both drummers in rock and roll bands...almost 20 years later - a shared love of experimental electronic music has brought them back together, resulting in this spellbinding EP.

Channelling a much darker, heads down, aggressive sound than the uplifting house M.A.D have become known for, the record begins with 'Brain Music’, which serves as a Detroit techno-inspired wormhole of a track, guiding us into a parallel, inner dimension.

Time Upside Down is next up and it becomes apparent we have entered another realm entirely. The introductory bars of the song feel like a long journey down a dark tunnel. The sound design and acoustic backdrop are so evocative you can almost see it. Obnoxious bass notes reverberate through the space created by the track, slowly giving way to flurries of high-pitched, resonant acid lines - the sum of which escape easy classification. It would be lazy to call it house music, misleading to call it techno - but it’s definitely not tech house. Elements of disco, electro, post-punk, balearic and Weatherall-esque chug are all in the mix but essentially, this is its own thing - this is Brain Music.

The record continues to the penultimate track “The Kettle”, which starts off in more familiar upbeat, bongo-house territory before the calm is betrayed by a hovering intensity which grows out of nowhere before making space for a humungous bass synth melody - so big in fact that it has never once failed to elicit club-wide bass-face; which for a mid-tempo track is no mean feat. We round things off with ‘Mean Mother’, the most playful of the bunch: a Chicago house-indebted workout reminiscent of Paranoid London at their most visceral. The track feels familiar and almost safe until the synth-work is cranked up to 11, creating a cacophonous SH-101 build-up into a disco-esque drop that would get even the most reluctant raver jumping up and down for more.

Besides all the theatrics and acoustic world building, the evocative sound design and the insatiable, no-nonsense grooves - the thing that makes these tracks stand out is the attention to detail. No two fills are alike, every embellishment is EQ’d and polished to perfection - yet no immediacy is lost. The tracks feel alive, intentional and constantly evolving. Hyperbole aside - we have a serious, generational talent on our hands whose mastery of the equipment, understanding of the dynamics of the dance and unabashed
playfulness is being harnessed into something that stands out head and shoulders above the crowd.

Step back to the mid-1960s with NOW Yearbook Presents – The 60s – Volume 3: 1965–1966, featuring 54 essential tracks across a 3LP set, pressed on beautiful blue vinyl.

LP1 opens with some of the decade’s most iconic vocal performances; Dusty Springfield leads with ‘You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me’, a UK No.1 hit that also reached the US Top 5, followed by The Righteous Brothers’ classic ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’’, a chart-topper in both the UK and US. The Walker Brothers’ ‘The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore’ was a UK Top 3 hit, while The Beach Boys follow with ‘God Only Knows’, widely regarded as one of their finest moments. Huge chart hits from The Moody Blues, Manfred Mann, Small Faces, The Kinks and The Animals with ‘We’ve Gotta Get Out Of This Place’ completes the first side…and flip the LP over for The Mamas & The Papas with ‘California Dreamin’, a major hit on both sides of the Atlantic and The Byrds and capturing the rise of folk-rock with ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’, another US No.1. Cher announced one of the most successful and enduring careers in music with ‘I Got You Babe’ – a #1 duet with Sonny, and is followed by the pop brilliance of Sandie Shaw with ‘Long Live Love’. Following The Mindbenders and The Fortunes, LP1 closes with a pair of soul standards: ‘My Girl’ from The Temptations was a US No.1(and eventually a UK #2 in 1992), and Percy Sledge’s ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’, another US chart-topper and a UK Top 5 hit in 1987 when it featured in a TV ad campaign.

LP2 opens with the explosive sound of 60s soul and crossover pop. Ike & Tina Turner kick us off with the timeless ‘River Deep – Mountain High’, a UK Top 3 hit. Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons had a huge hit with ‘Let’s Hang On’ and Motown is strongly represented with The Four Tops, whose ‘Reach Out I’ll Be There’ hit the US No.1 spot, alongside The Supremes, who scored another US chart-topper with ‘You Can’t Hurry Love’, plus Martha Reeves & The Vandellas, Stevie Wonder and a future Northern Soul Classic from Gloria Jones. Following James Brown, the side closes with the enduring soul classic ‘What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted’ from Jimmy Ruffin… while over on the other side Horst Jankowski’s instrumental smash ‘A Walk In The Black Forest’ leads in to pop classics from Tom Jones with ‘It’s Not Unusual’, a UK No.1, alongside Georgie Fame & The Blue Flames’ UK chart-topper ‘Yeh Yeh’ and Chris Montez with ‘The More I See You’. Sophisticated easy listening pop from Andy Williams and Frank Sinatra’s iconic ‘Strangers In The Night’ come ahead of Elvis Presley’s ‘Crying In The Chapel’, with LP2’s closer’s coming from Roy Orbison and Roger Miller, with the essential ‘King Of The Road’.

The Righteous Brothers’ undeniable ‘Unchained Melody’, a hit on release and a #1 in 1990 following it’s feature in the film ‘Ghost’ opens LP3 ahead of a wealth of huge pop hits from The Walker Brothers, Cilla Black and Cher – and rock oriented chart-toppers from The Troggs with ‘Wild Thing’ and The Spencer Davis Group with ‘Keep On Running’. The Everly Brothers’ ‘The Price Of Love’ leads into era-defining hits from Barry McGuire and Bob Dylan’s hugely influential ‘The Times They Are A-Changin’ reflecting the growing social awareness and changing approach to songwriting…and over to the final side opened by The Supremes with ‘Stop! In The Name Of Love’ ahead of The Toys with ‘A Lover’s Concerto’ and The Shangri-Las’ legendary ‘Leader Of The Pack’. Classic singles from Marianne Faithfull, Petula Clark and Sandie Shaw feature before the collection closes with a trio of timeless tracks: The trans-Atlantic top 5 ‘Sloop John B’ from the Beach Boys is alongside The Mamas & The Papas’ ‘Monday, Monday’ (a US No.1 and UK Top 5), whilst the aptly titled ‘Homeward Bound’ from Simon & Garfunkel – their first UK hit - signs off this superb collection.

NOW Yearbook Presents – The 60s – Volume 3: 1965–1966 – a snapshot of a rapidly evolving pop era where pure pop, soul, rock, beat, easy listening and songwriting sophistication converged.

Rekombinant is the solo project of Rome based composer and sound artist Alfonso Montagnese. Blending electroacoustic composition, analogue electronics, magnetic tape and sound design, his work explores the physical qualities of sound, embracing imperfection, transformation and degradation as expressive compositional tools.

Borrowing its title from the physical principle of parity symmetry, the album is less interested in scientific theory than in the possibility that an identity may endure even after profound change. Sound is treated as matter, it is stretched, reflected, saturated, compressed and displaced, yet never entirely separated from its origin.

Magnetic tape is the medium through which this question unfolds. Magnetic tape does not preserve sound faithfully, it reshapes the sound. It compresses, saturates, colours and gradually erodes it, producing not a copy but another state of the same material. Every recording becomes both document and transformation.

Most of the instruments used throughout the album were selected from more recent generations of electronic equipment compared to previous works. Their character is not defined by nostalgia, but by their functional and sonic qualities: instruments chosen for how they behave under pressure.

The album consists of fourteen compositions, each one approaching sound as a material in continuous state of alteration and was conceived within what feels like a new Middle Ages, one that is still unfolding. An era marked by increasing fragmentation, uncertainty and the erosion of shared cultural references. The music does not illustrate this condition; it absorbs and inhabits it.

Throughout these fourteen pieces, sound continuously changes its appearance without abandoning its identity. What remains after every inversion, every saturation and every layer of magnetic degradation is not certainty, but persistence.
Parity Symmetry is Conserved is ultimately an exploration of that persistence: the fragile possibility that memory, identity and human experience may continue to exist, even after passing through irreversible transformation.

2026 Repress

Irish techno producer, Kerrie, returns to Tresor Records on the 24th of October 2025 with her second EP for the label. Entitled Echoes Of The Live Wire, this collection captures the beauty and essence of live performance; a moment in time never to be repeated.
This fixing of time is also given a different meaning as the EP explores the ways in which intense moments in our lives, both joyful and painful, are crystallised into memory, both beautiful and haunting, lingering long after they've passed.
Layered meanings are employed throughout as Kerrie explores this idea: Live Wire draws connections between circuit boards and the human nervous system, whilst also toying with multiple meanings of the word “live”.
Echoes Of channels classic Detroit techno influences, resonating with the distant hum of memories that refuse to fade, while Moment To Memory is a beatless, floating piece which slowly builds to an ecstatic crescendo.
Digital bonus tracks Recircuit and Reclaim add further depth to the core metaphor: the former a driving, minimal yet building techno work-out, and the latter a cathartic and emotionally open track that delivers intensity with vulnerability.
Echoes Of The Live Wire reflects on memory as a complex, dual-sided force where joy and pain coexist with equal weight. Her creative process becomes a form of meditation and emotional processing, using machines to process, reflect, and let go. The result is a body of work that loops back on itself, telling a story of fleeting moments and their lasting emotional imprints.

2026 repress!

Here is the debut, self-titled album from a.s.o., singer/songwriter Alia Seror-O'Neill, and producer Lewie Day. 'a.s.o.' is a thematic consolidation of the previous three singles and an impressive artistic progression. Day and Seror-O'Neill show they've mastered the format of the radio-friendly pop song and found how to subvert it completely. Across eleven songs, they have built a rich and compelling body of work.

We know where we are now, emotionally complex, trip-hop torch songs for club freaks. But the palette has broadened to encompass ethereal dream pop à la Cocteau Twins, slow- burning AOR-soul, and dubwise stylings. As a result, 'a.s.o.' is a satisfyingly coherent listen but never a musical monoculture. Variously there are nods toward Julee Cruise, Fleetwood Mac, and the uneasy listening of Portishead. It's an album that wears its influences lightly, is never weighed down by them, and always sure of its own identity.

It's anchored by Alia's unique voice. Her words speak of restraint and release, taking us from the elegiac to the euphoric. This elegantly crafted, perfect pop music sounds like it has had enough of your shit. And Day's music is the perfect foil; deep, slightly menacing, restrained, and powerful. The album has a cinematic texture, as with David Lynch; the seemingly familiar becomes uncanny and strange the closer we look. a.s.o. take our emotions for a joyride before leaving us floating in space.

'a.s.o.' is a journey; by its end, we all are changed

Andreas Tilliander released »Ljud« in 2001 as the first full-length album under his real name. The year before, the Swedish producer’s »Cliphop« album under his Mokira moniker had established him in the world of adventurous electronic music and the clicks’n’cuts scene. »Ljud« was just as minimalistic, warm, and playful as its predecessor while also notably inspired by house music. It is a timeless record based on happy accidents, playful loops, and lively spontaneity. For its 25th anniversary, Keplar presents a vinyl reissue with adjusted artwork by graphic designer Marc Hohmann and updated mastering by the artist himself.

Tilliander laid the foundation for his two first albums when he got rid of most of his music gear in 1998 after meeting Joel Brindefalk, who was already releasing music on the legendary Börft label. Brindefalk was using a computer as his main instrument and introduced Tilliander to the audio editing suite Sonic Foundry Sound Forge. »What he did with that software is what made me sell most of the hardware except my Nord Modular and a Korg MS-20.« The former synthesizer played an integral role while Tilliander made the tracks for »Ljud,« working primarily in the modular studio environment Jeskola Buzz.

»Ljud« came together in an intuitive process. »It’s still how I work 25 years later: I first make loops, create bits and pieces, and build up my own sound library as a foundation,« Tilliander explains. The Nord Modular and Buzz, which allowed him to swap samples and produce new sounds out of pre-existing ones, provided him with material for loops that formed the basis of the ten tracks. »I would start with a few elements, add more into the mix, then take them out again—arranging the pieces in real time while recording.« The casualness and vivacity of this improvisational approach becomes tangible throughout »Ljud.«

»Ljud« was released on Achim Szepanski’s Mille Plateaux, which had published the seminal »Clicks+Cuts« compilation in 2000. »I was part of that scene and I liked the digital aesthetic of the label,« says Tilliander »Coming from a very analogue setup, working with computer music and this kind of minimalism was very inspiring.« When preparing »Ljud« for the Keplar reissue, he ran the music through an analogue outboard and noticed he was still happy with the way it sounded. »It brought back fond memories. I hope the same is true for people who heard it back then, and that everyone who discovers it now will enjoy it, too!«

FatCat was recorded in a single session-live, with all four musicians together in the same place. What you hear on the record isn't a polished production, but a one-of-a-kind recording of four people playing at the same time in the same room.
This is not a nostalgic gesture. It's a stance. As music is increasingly understood as the output of a prompt, the question of what actually makes music becomes urgent again. Not flawless, efficient production, but the imperfect moment and its context. Not the result, but the process in which four people listen to each other, react to each other, misjudge, and find one another. This fallibility - the hesitation before an entrance, the slight pull in the timing, the glance between musicians that signals a turn - is not a weakness but the substance itself. It cannot be synthesized, because it isn't a data point but a lived relationship: between the instruments, between the people, between their shared history and what emerges new in this one take. The album is thus also a statement on the question of where, in the age of generative music, authorship and art can still be located: not in the result alone, but in the shared risk taken in creating it.
"The question was always: how do I bring my work as a producer and beatmaker onto the stage? How can something that usually happens alone behind closed studio doors become a live experience?" With the album FatCat, Sepalot pursues this question to its logical conclusion: what began as a live performance now becomes the recording itself - the studio becomes a stage for a day, and the stage becomes the definitive version of the album.
The love for electronic music remains, the raw pressure of hip hop is still palpable - and yet everything on FatCat sounds like a fresh start, captured in the very breath in which it was played.
On stage as in the studio, the four characters fit together like a puzzle. Sepalot's signature as producer and mastermind is unmistakable. On drums, Fabian Füss, longtime partner behind the kit and the voice that makes Sepalot's radio hit "Rainbows" so unforgettable. On bass, Robin Jermer. On trumpet, Matthias Lindermayr, multiple award-winning jazz virtuoso with his own albums on Enja Records. And then there's Sepalot himself, who turns it all into more than just the sum of its parts.
The eclectic beats, the pulsing bass, Sepalot's passion for atmospheric sound design - all of it remains, now joined by an element of jazz and captured in its most immediate, unpolished form. The album shows what four people in one room are capable of: a sound born of shared experience, and precisely for that reason, unique.

Spacebased Recordings 003 - Prâslea.

Where there is love there is life.

We are taught to hold a shape. To repeat, to conform, to control. Over time the repetition becomes us - rigid, fearful, grasping for power, emptied of feeling. We live without living. The mechanical overtakes the organic. We lose ourselves, and in losing ourselves we lose our connection to everything.
This is the psychosis we call normal.
Yet something remains underneath. A flicker. A recognition. The long effort of reopening begins with glimpsing what we have become.

The 41st release on TECHNO Records marks a defining milestone: the first full- scale solo record by the label’s founder, Nastia, in her music career. It opens up a new depth of detail within the character and identity of both the artist and the catalogue.

Rather than making a loud statement, Nastia focuses on a restrained and functional approach to techno, shaped through subtle shifts in tension, texture, and rhythm. The tracks move with intention, avoiding obvious peaks in favour of gradual development and controlled energy—a familiar methodology and a direct analogy to the evolution of the label itself. Crafted with dancefloor energy in mind but not bound by it, the release offers a fresh perspective on the author’s persona, stripping away excess and overexplanation. It leaves ample room for the listener’s imagination and a versatile, expert application within a DJ set.

The trajectory of ascents and shifting attention in an artist’s career is the only honest path, providing material for reflection and the anchoring of values. This depth of experience cannot be replicated by overnight success or short-lived peaks—only decades of exploration, trial, and error can forge a work built to endure. Studio work becomes a new instrument for Nastia to build value capital, while her debut solo EP stands as an artefact marking a historic point for the author and the label.

TECH041

A1 “Indoctrinated” — a masterclass in rhythmic interplay used as a narrative device. It functions as a sonic manifesto: universally accessible yet distinctly individual. A process-driven track, its strength lies in its ability to repeatedly shift the listener’s focus. It serves as an ideal transitional tool, offering a calculated awakening from a hypnotic state.

A2 “Ignorance Is Keelleeng” — a structured dancefloor powerhouse built on a precise understanding of peak-time energy. Functioning as a set-defining anchor, it allows the DJ to pivot the mix in any direction without losing momentum. A true catalyst track that opens up new sonic horizons.

B1 “True Majority” — the most forward-thinking cut on the record, providing a definitive blueprint for the hypnotic techno sound of summer 2026. It presents a multi-layered, all-encompassing sonic tapestry that interacts with the listener while maintaining a strictly restrained narrative. A motif-driven track that subtly exposes an underlying tension.

B2 “Additive Integration” — best conceptualised within an extended set where the goal is to gradually establish the atmosphere and dictate the rules of the journey. A track built on anticipation, it conserves energy and conceals its inner mechanics until the final acts. It compels the listener to decode its sonic language for full comprehension.

Destination Unknown is an EP by Unpronounceable born from an archive of sounds collected between 2019 and 2024—sonic fragments that took shape without a predetermined direction guided only by an open idea in constant transformation. The original track conceived as a “destination unknown” composition developed its own independent identity. However precisely because of its fluid and cross-genre nature Unpronounceable chose not to place it within a traditional EP context instead opening it up to a multiplicity of perspectives by inviting five artists to reinterpret it freely without genre constraints.

The result is an EP that unfolds like an alternative map of the same sonic territory where each remix explores a distinct direction transforming Destination Unknown into a multifaceted and ever-evolving experience.

In Carl Finlow’s remix Destination Unknown takes on a strong cinematic and narrative dimension. Inspired by the title Finlow imagines a mysterious journey toward a futuristic dystopian city turning the track into a kind of electro soundtrack—dark yet ironic rich in character and capable of evoking vivid images and motion.

MANASYt pushes the track toward more physical and ritualistic territories focusing on the dark pads and the more oneiric vocal elements of the original. The result is a hypnotic pulsating tribal-industrial reinterpretation where rhythm and sonic material become central intensifying the track’s most visceral qualities.

With Gay Horror the focus shifts to an emotional and narrative dimension. The vocals are deliberately made elusive and undefined while the structure develops through a slow controlled crescendo that recalls the atmospheres of ’90s trip-hop. This version also reflects a long-standing human and artistic relationship conceived as a story that travels through time and reaches the present day.

Kevin Follet adopts a more conceptual approach overturning the perspective of the original track. Rather than working with its main elements he brings the underlying structures to the foreground transforming what usually remains hidden into the core of his reinterpretation. His remix is elegant and deep balancing sound exploration with a strong attention to songwriting.

Closing the EP is GP The Synth Roller with a radical and highly experimental reinterpretation. The track behaves like an unstable system: parameters shift without warning surfaces lose coherence sudden accelerations collide with moments of arrest. There is no resolution only a sonic condition in constant tension eventually condensing into a dark compact mass.

Taken as a whole Destination Unknown is far more than a simple remix collection: it is a collective exploration of the potential of a single composition. Unpronounceable’s original track and the reinterpretations by Carl Finlow MANASYt Gay Horror Kevin Follet and GP The Synth Roller move across electro techno industrial and experimental territories offering six different perspectives from the same starting point. An open journey with no fixed destination where every detour becomes an integral part of the path.

As the so-called “Latin boom” becomes a new anchor for hard-swung club sounds, it is crucial to recognize that the region’s musical culture extends far beyond dembow edits and the pop-trap hybrids that have edged into the mainstream. Monterrey-born, New York City-based producer and DJ Delia Beatriz, aka Debit, returns to NAAFI with Potpourri, a generous and kinetic collection of dancefloor-oriented tracks filled with percussive flourishes, squelching 303 basslines, and rhythmic mutations that actively challenge the status quo. Rather than rebuilding “Latin sounds” as a fixed category, the album rethinks their internal logic, tracing the evolution of techno and house in cities like Detroit, Chicago, and New York alongside parallel innovations emerging in Mexico, Colombia, and across the wider Latin world. Positioned on the bridge between Mexico and the US, Potpourri does not seek synthesis as a gesture of smooth fusion, but as a site of disruption.

The album can be heard as a loose follow-up to System (2018), Debit’s NAAFI-released EP that expanded the sonic potential of tribal guarachero through triplet-driven rhythms, industrial pressure, and noisy reconstruction. Potpourri retains guaracha as a structural backbone while drawing further influence from veteran DJ and producer Javier Estrada—who also appeared on System—and particularly from his fast-paced, nonlinear style of mixing. That approach becomes a formal principle here: canonical structures are dismantled, repetition is avoided, and tracks evolve without sacrificing propulsion. Coming after the introspective temporal inquiry of Desaceleradas and the speculative historical acoustics of The Long Count, Potpourri arrives as a deliberate surge of energy. As Beatriz explains: “It’s a manifesto for rethinking form and sound in dance music. By stepping outside traditional structures and embracing the potpourri approach, I’m creating new meaning with familiar rhythms. I’ve also been applying this to my DJ sets, using it as a tool to break free from established norms and explore new narrative possibilities.”

Years in the making, Potpourri imagines an alternate timeline in which the psychedelic squelch of acid—echoing pioneers such as DJ Pierre and Mr. Fingers—and the dub-inflected atmospheres of Basic Channel entered into direct and sustained contact with Latin American club mutations. Those references are legible, but never merely quoted. Instead, they are folded into syncopated hi-hats, overdriven kicks, and unstable arrangements that absorb both the intensity of the parties Beatriz remembers from Monterrey and the abrasive edge she sharpened at DIY noise shows in New England. The result is unmistakably a dancefloor record—heard in tracks as forceful as “Pero like” and the peak-time pressure of “tuvesuerte”—but one saturated with grotesque, psychedelic atmospheres, where sounds dissolve into hoarse croaks, acidic smears, and anxiety-inducing growls. Here, the rave becomes not simply a site of release, but a platform for navigating identity, hybridity, and artistic formation across borders. Moving through peaks and ruptures, Potpourri reveals a party narrative that is not linear but multidimensional.

By folding together the fluidity of DJ culture, the experimental charge of acid, and the rhythmic vitality of guaracha, Potpourri proposes a space of formal and political innovation within Latin America’s rapidly expanding electronic music landscape. It is a record that refuses containment, pushing against the templates through which Latin electronic music is often consumed, and insisting instead on friction, instability, and transformation as generative conditions for the dancefloor.

Five years after their radiant debut Ufo Bar, Italian cinematic funksters Banda Maje are back with Costa Sud to take us deeper into their land of ‘Salifornia’—a Southern province of sun-drenched coastlines and decaying buildings where dreams of exotic escapism sprout and bloom.

Once again, behind the eight tracks in the album—and behind the wheel of the fiery red Alfasud on the cover—is composer and keyboardist Peppe Maiellano. He has meticulously tailored each piece to his virtuoso partners in crime: a 'family' of exuberant musicians spread between Salerno and Naples, all bound by deep-rooted ties to the region and a shared belief in the grit of independent artistry.

The Costa Sud (South Coast) imagined by Banda Maje is a shimmering ribbon of sun-baked asphalt stretched between the sea and the ancient pine forests of the Gulf of Salerno. It is a land of enchanting but wounded places, where the grace of Ancient Greek civilization sits in a restless silence alongside the scars of rampant building and neglect. “But if truth is beauty and beauty is truth,” Maiellano explains, inverting Keats’s famous line, “with the right eyes, you can find beauty and poetry even under a layer of moral and material filth."

Conceived and recorded entirely in the South, the album nevertheless looks beyond the horizon. While Neapolitan funk and golden-age Italian soundtracks remain the double helix of the band's DNA, this album welcomes new influences from across the ocean, weaving Italy, Brazil, Africa, and contemporary sounds into its unique vision of the 'global South.'

Side A is an immersion into Salifornian territory and its myths: from the carefree instrumental disco-funk of the title track, which sublimates local contradictions into enveloping cinematic atmospheres, to the mellow groove of “Baia”—a fusion of Neapolitan funk, afrobeat, and disco that pays homage to Salerno’s famous beach, squeezed between millennia-old sea rocks and mountains of shipping containers. The band’s heartfelt sense of belonging shines in their fresh soul-disco version of “Mo…” (a 1981 cult classic by Neapolitan legend Peppino di Capri) featuring Maiellano’s own vocals, while the reimagining of Tonico 70's “Jet Lag” celebrates a fraternal partnership with the Salerno-based rapper/producer, charting a musical itinerary that unites Brazil, the States, and Salifornia through evocative grooves, sharp synths, and Gianfranco Campagnoli’s exquisite trumpet.

On Side B, the sound becomes even more eclectic with the samba-funk warmth of “Samba Maje”, where Mediterranean melodies and lush vocal harmonies marry jazz-funk arrangements and disco-inflected Brazilian rhythms. The next track, “Africana”, is dedicated to a legendary dolce vita nightclub on the Amalfi Coast (and its founder Luca Milano); here, a rhythmic mantra incorporating tribal African elements blends with synths that evoke RAI television themes of the late 70s. The journey concludes under the sign of the silver screen: the disco-funk elegance of “Black Glamour Girl” (from the early-80s road-trip comedy In viaggio con papà), a tribute to the compositional genius of Piero Piccioni, and “Lovebossa”—an easy-listening homage to the "Cine Bossa" atmospheres that characterized so many Italian soundtracks of the 60s and 70s, finally carrying the listener ‘ncopp’ ‘e nuvole (above the clouds—which is basically Salifornian for "somewhere over the rainbow").

Available on LP and Digital from 15 May 2026.

If art is to be exhibited, then Ulrika Spacek will ensure that their art is collective; that even as the world becomes inhospitable to community, their intentions are an act of resistance.

Whether it is Oysterland, the self-curated night the band have been Hosting for over ten years to platform artists of other disciplines in live music spaces, or Total Refreshment Centre, the East London studio Syd runs which connects the dots between the jazz scene and like-minded experimental artists of the capital and beyond, or their creative bleed as musicians and producers over the years with the likes of Crack Cloud, caroline, DIIV, Holy Wave and Slowdive, the band’s existence is inseparable from their community.

In a hyper-individual world, the band’s fourth album, ‘EXPO’, offers an antidote. It’s there, in the shared dream logic of the music, the off-kilter melodies, jagged guitars and cirrus cloud atmospherics. It’s there, in all the things that are said and unsaid between them; there in the writing, producing and mixing processes they share in. And even as each of their parts Moves toward a unified vision, it’s never more keenly felt than in the bigger Picture to which Ulrika Spacek belong.

Though their well-established foundations are in the art-rock world - and though they are inspired by electronic elements more than ever - Ulrika Spacek are interested in the glitch that exists between the two. Their Music reckons with human warmth and digital isolation, equal parts welcoming and altogether alienating. “Our music has always been a collage - a bit patchwork, sonically - but what makes this album a landmark for us is that we went one step further and made our own sample bank,” explains singer / guitarist Rhys. They create their own doppelgängers in a world of almostreal, where the band appear as if in a hall of mirrors. Digital drums are sampled layered upon real drums, and the effect is almost like birth in reverse - pulled from the ether and returned back to the tangible world.

“There’s a lot that can be said about writing when there is no aim, there is a freedom and a purity in it which opens a door to more music, and in this case, it set a mood for a new album, one that would be colder, darker and one that would embrace electronics and new instrumentation in a new terrain,” the band share. “The album’s greater theme is isolation and alienation in an online world where it seems everybody around you is constantly exhibiting themselves, living in public wanting to be seen and heard. The age of ‘individuality’ is lonely, it’s a room of concave mirrors, and with this in mind, we set upon making our most collective effort; ‘It’s back to strength in numbers, count in fives.”

For fans of Radiohead, Moin, DIIV, Astrel K, Slowdive.

LP presented on Crystal Clear vinyl.

“When forty, I was still wearing miniskirts, extravagant patterns, pink, fluorescent colours, star shaped earrings. I walked around with my leopardskin hat, my fluffy bag, my floral outfit, until the gaze of others made me feel like it was not age appropriate anymore. Although I am still the same person I was at 16. It's the others I see changing."
There's no better way to describe ageing than through the gap that arises and continues to grow between physical reality and the specular image of the self : one deteriorates over time, exposed to the cruel laws of gravity and oxydation, while the other never ages, remaining intact and unaltered… frozen in a moment of blissfulness. The more time goes by the more the gap becomes a separate entity (ou “world” pour etre plus prosaïque). It can become so painful that many try to escape it, using and abusing every trickery.
“Youth looks so good on you” is a sonic ballad which bizarrely explores the world that lies between reality and self-fantasy, a world where the aesthetic cult of youth becomes sovereign to the people.
This piece was produced in 2022 as part of the Festival « Les Heures Sauvages - Nef des Marges dans l'ombre des certitudes », at the Centre Wallonie-Bruxelles in Paris.
After "A Story of a Global Disease" in 2022, "Youth looks so good on you" is the second piece of music by Naomie Klaus released on moli del tro records.

Death Is Not The End collaborate with Uzbek label Maqom Soul to deliver an LP counterpart to last year's mixtape of the same title, compiling specially picked & fully licensed individual belters from the ex-soviet studios of Central Asian republics between 1978 and 1989 - incl. Uzbek, Tajik, Kurdish & Uyghur artists pulling traditional folk motifs together with pop & rock and psych elements.

"These recordings do not form a smooth or coherent history. They feel more like a sequence of discoveries made at different moments and in different circumstances. Songs and instrumental pieces that once lived inside specific contexts radio broadcasts, philharmonic programs, touring routes now sit side by side, revealing hidden connections as well as clear fractures between them.

Nasiba Abdullaeva appears here as a voice from the end of an era. Trained within a conservatory system, she worked inside the format of the Soviet pop song while filling it with melodic logic that did not come from Moscow or Leningrad. Her voice is soft and sustained, shaped by Eastern melisma, and it never functions as decoration. Even in tightly structured songs there is a sense of resistance, an effort to preserve a musical language rooted in Uzbek tradition rather than fully adapted to an all Union standard.

The ensemble Sintez, later renamed Navo, represents a different path. Beginning as a student rock group, the band was gradually absorbed into the official VIA system with all its limitations and compromises. Yet it was precisely within those boundaries that Sintez and Navo developed a recognizable sound. Electric guitars and jazz rock harmonies do not overpower the folk material but remain in tension with it. Their recordings feel like negotiations between what the musicians wanted to play and what they were allowed to perform.

The Tajik ensemble Gulshan reflects an institutional approach carried to a high professional level. Formed under television and radio structures, the group treated folk material almost as a written score. Carefully constructed arrangements, close attention to orchestration, and restrained use of pop techniques define their sound. There is less spontaneity here, but a strong sense of discipline and structure, where national melody becomes part of a carefully controlled sonic framework.

Koma Wetan occupies a very different space. Formed in the 1970s, this Kurdish rock group approached poetry and folklore as tools of cultural assertion. Their psychedelic rock never feels like a stylistic borrowing. Instead it functions as a contemporary vessel for language and themes that might otherwise have remained unheard. Even today these recordings sound fragile and stubborn at the same time.

The Uyghur ensemble Yashlik, closely connected to a musical drama theatre, operated somewhere between stage performance and popular music. Their songs are built on folk melodies but shaped for wide audiences. What emerges is a constant attempt to preserve the recognizability of Uyghur musical identity without freezing it in a folkloric frame. Yashlik's music exists in a state of balance between representation and development.

Digging Central Asia does not attempt to establish hierarchies or offer a single wayof listening. Names and dates matter less than the sound itself. Tape noise, abrupt transitions, and unexpected timbres remain part of the material rather than flaws to be corrected. This music existed at the crossroads of multiple routes geographic, cultural, and ideological. Heard today in a new context, it no longer feels peripheral. Instead it stands as a reminder that the history of popular music is far more fragmented, layered, and polyphonic than it is usually allowed to be."

2025 Reissue.



Münchenbuchsee, a suburb of Bern, Switzerland. Stephan Eicher is the youngest of three children. His father, a radio and TV repairman, is also a jazz violinist and a sound tinkerer in his spare time. In the family home's converted fallout shelter turned studio, Mr. Eicher experiments with homemade sequencers, tortures handcrafted drum machines, and abuses reel-to-reel tape recorders—all under the fascinated gaze of young Stephan.

The boy quickly develops a musical curiosity, exploring sound through various experiments and wanderings. Alongside his younger brother Martin, Stephan crafts audio plays on a homemade multi-track recorder (essentially several cassette decks hooked together!), which they write, record, add sound effects to, and perform for family and friends. Just a couple of nice kids, really...

Then comes 1972, and Lou Reed's Transformer album changes everything for the Eicher kids. For 13-year-old Stephan, it's a revelation—especially "Vicious", the opening track, which he plays on repeat for months. He convinces his father to buy him an electric guitar. Not stopping there, his father also builds him a tube amp using an old radio.

Then comes adolescence. A rough one. Stephan leaves home at 16 and moves to Zurich. With obvious artistic talent, he persuades his art teacher to help him get into F+F, a radical, alternative art school—despite his young age. Accepted, he starts learning video techniques, determined to become a filmmaker.

At F+F, Stephan organizes Dada-style happenings and concerts with a group of friends known as the Noise Boys. Among them: one of his teachers on bass, Veit Stauffer on drums (who would later found ReR/Recommended Records), his girlfriend Sacha on vocals, and Stephan on guitar. In one of their early performances, they release a remote-controlled mouse covered in dull razor blades into the audience to create panic and chaos. Keeping with this aggressive, confrontational spirit, they once played a concert while wearing headphones blasting Tristan and Isolde, trying to perform their own songs simultaneously—to maximize the cacophony. The goal was always the same: clear the room.

Their “songs,” if you can call them that, followed suit. Take "Hungeriges Afrika", for instance—performed entirely with power drills and some drum feedback.

To make ends meet, Stephan returns to Bern on weekends to work as a waiter at the Spex Club, the city’s main punk venue. On September 16, 1980, during a show by proto-electro group Starter, the police raid the club and arrest everyone. Stephan, who manages to avoid arrest, seizes the opportunity to “borrow” Starter’s gear left behind. He suddenly finds himself in possession of a Roland Promars synth, a Korg MS20, and a gorgeous CR78 drum machine, which he runs through a Big Muff distortion pedal to get that perfect gritty sound.

He then sets out to reinterpret some Noise Boys tracks, reworking them during impromptu sessions recorded on a dictaphone (yes, a dictaphone—now the lo-fi sound makes more sense, doesn’t it?). He ironically titles the resulting cassette "Stephan Eicher spielt Noise Boys" ("Stephan Eicher plays Noise Boys"). This gem features seven tracks, which are the ones reissued here.

Back in Zurich, he visits his friends Andrew Moore and Robert Vogel, who have a DIY cassette duplication setup. They make 25 copies of Stephan Eicher spielt Noise Boys for Stephan and his friends. Robert encourages him to visit Urs Steiger of Off Course Records and play him the tape.

Without much hope, Stephan shows up at Urs’s office. But Urs is instantly hooked and suggests releasing a 7” single. Due to space constraints, they reluctantly drop two of the seven tracks ("Hungeriges Afrika" and "One Second"). As for the musical score featured on the cover—it was randomly chosen and remains a mystery to this day. Calling all music theory nerds!

The 7-inch is pressed in 750 copies and released in the first week of December 1980—a date Stephan remembers well, as it’s the same week John Lennon was killed. Smartly, Urs sends a promo copy to François Murner, Switzerland’s answer to John Peel, who hosts a show on alternative station Sounds. Murner falls in love with the record and starts giving it airtime. To Stephan’s surprise, sales follow—and people actually seem interested in his music.

Even this modest underground success scares Stephan a bit. He stops making music for a year and moves to Bologna, where he works as a programmer at Radio Città, a feminist radio station.

Meanwhile, Stephan’s younger brother Martin, who’s also involved in the punk scene, joins the band Glueams as a singer and guitarist. Glueams, named after the fanzine run by two of its members (drummer Marco Repetto and bassist GT), eventually rebrands as Grauzone. Stephan is invited to their shows to project hacked Super 8 visuals live on stage.

Urs Steiger, now working on a compilation titled Swiss Wave – The Album, asks Grauzone to contribute alongside bands like Liliput, Jack and the Rippers, The Sick, and Ladyshave (Fall 1980).

For the album, Martin tasks Stephan with producing their recording sessions. Under Stephan's artistic direction, two tracks emerge: "Raum" and "Eisbär". During "Eisbär", Martin plays a minimalist bass line borrowed from post-punk band The Feelies (just an open string). Drummer Marco Repetto struggles to keep time. Later that evening, unhappy with the takes, Stephan builds a four-bar drum loop from a ¼-inch tape and uses it instead of the flawed original. He then adds bleepy synths and wind sounds to complete the track’s icy vibe before handing it over to Urs.

The Swiss Wave – The Album compilation is released quietly at first, but things snowball thanks to "Eisbär", which eventually becomes a smash hit—selling over 600,000 singles.

Meanwhile, Stephan plays in a rockabilly band called SMUV (named after Switzerland’s social security agency) and begins producing artists, including the debut album of Starter (1981), which includes a more pop-oriented version of "Minijupe".

By early 1982, Stephan starts spending time with the post-punk girl band Liliput (formerly Kleenex). They’re older than him, and he happily drives them around in his Renault Major, acting as their roadie.

By 1983, Grauzone—signed to the major label EMI, which turned out to be a misstep—is falling apart. Stephan begins to pivot toward a more mainstream pop sound with his debut solo album Les Chansons Bleues.

But that... is already another story.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

Melodize is bringing the world back on the dance floor with Lauer and his 4-track “K1m Fantasy” EP. Behind the label is Brooklyn-based DJ and musician Beartrax, who is known for his groovy yet moody compositions. Philipp Lauer, known as Lauer, is a true veteran in the electronic music sphere, with over 20 years of experience, yet his sound remains novel and fresh.

This time, Melodize and Lauer shape the world of a fantasy dance floor where everything is possible. “K1m Fantasy” starts with Lauer letting his confidence shine through as an experienced professional with a signature sound in the first track “Boss Electro”, which will inevitably showcase why he’s the boss.

The playful tune of “Rabbits” takes the listener on a journey through electro-induced synths much like the image of curious rabbits playing on a grass field. The eponymous B-side “K1m Fantasy,” with its steadily unfolding mellow soundscape, is an introspective piece exploring the fantastical world of the techno dance floor where all becomes one.

Lauer’s last treat is “Choirs,” where brassy exclamations take turns with a haunting choir of electronic voices, reminding us that unity is key to pleasure and existence.

On her fourth full-length album as Shedir, Sardinian sound artist Martina Betti offers a profound meditation on what it means to be human on the threshold of uncertainty.

We Are All Strangers is a series of ambient tapes-tries shaped by duality and introspection, where sound becomes a space to explore the tension between identity and ambiguity, presence and disappearance, connection and solitude. Inspired by the idea that we are all strangers, however, first and foremost to ourselves, Betti crafts seven fluid, slow-burn compositions that inhabit a sociological liminal zone—what she comments as an “inner elsewhere.”

These aren’t songs in the traditional sense, but evolving sonic environments that feel like emotional states made audible. Environmental textures, submerged electronics, and deep low-end pulses coalesce into a dreamlike architecture of sound: immersive, fragile, and quietly transformative.

Rather than offering answers or closure, the album invites us to live in radical openness—to stop trying to define everything we see and feel, and instead bathe in what remains unnamed. In this sense, We Are All Strangers is an invitation: to sit with uncertainty, to embrace the unfinished, and to find resonance even in our collective disconnection.

For listeners drawn to the introspective frequencies of Rafael Anton Irisarri, Félicia Atkinson, or Lawrence English, Betti’s music offers a similarly haunting and immersive experience—one where strangeness is not a flaw, but a starting point. In her hands, ambient music becomes a kind of reflective shelter: a place to brush against each other in the dark and begin to learn, as she puts it, “the difficult art of closeness.”

Vibe Ride is the sixth release of Adam Rudolph's Hu Vibrational project and marks his 60th release as a leader or co-leader. Comes with insert and download code.

“With every record, the goal is to explore new creative territory,” explains Rudolph. Vibe Ride continues a deeper exploration of a trance-like groove and a conceptual framework known as Sonic Mandala. This album marks the most complete realization of that idea, partly due to the group's experience touring beforehand. That time on the road helped to refine ideas and strengthen musical chemistry. The recording process unfolded organically—likely due to the long-standing collaboration within ensembles like Go: Organic Orchestra and Moving Pictures, where the musicians have developed a deep familiarity with the shared musical language.

Sonic Mandala refers to a musical approach distinct from traditional linear structures of theme and development. Found in cultures across the globe, it may represent one of the oldest forms of musical expression—predating written history by tens of thousands of years. Today, it is most vividly preserved in the music of the Ituri Forest peoples (Aka, Baka, Ba Benzele, Mbuti), whose sound traditions revolve in cyclical, orbit-like patterns. Vibe Ride seeks to bring that ancient sense of circularity into a contemporary—and perhaps even futuristic—context.

The ensemble of Vibe Ride—Alexis Marcelo, Jerome Harris, Harris Eisenstadt, Neel Murgai, Tim Kieper, and Tripp Dudley—brings exceptional creativity and skill to the project. While grounded in the sonic languages of today, their performance channels an ancient vibrational lineage, connecting with ancestral sound makers who were attuned to the rhythms of the sun, moon, stars, and seasons. Human beings have always been deeply responsive to natural cycles.

Like a mandala, where the circle reveals itself as a spiral—always returning, but never to the exact same point—the Sonic Mandala musical experience spirals through motion. Refined signal patterns emerge through overtone-rich instrumentation. The groove becomes a threshold, shifting the listener from passive observation into active, even transcendent, participation. With open ears and an open mind, the sound spirals inward—toward a primal center—and outward into the cosmos. When this elevated state is shared among participants, it creates what mystics describe as resonance.

Vibe Ride thrives on the distinctive sonic voices of its players, interwoven with care and nuance into the compositions. Hu Vibrational merges elements of world music, electronica, and improvised jazz into something both funky and spiritual, intense and soothing.

Using signature techniques of organic orchestration, layered arrangement, and electronic processing, the compositions are sculpted from percussion, electronics, and ethereal textures. Rhythmic foundations drawn from diverse traditions serve not as endpoints, but as building blocks. As the saying goes, “Orchestration is the key.” In shaping the sound, the aim was to discover fresh ways of balancing structure and sonic color. As Don Cherry once said: “The swing is in the sound.”

The audiophile LP was carefully recorded, mixed, and mastered by James Dellatacoma—longtime engineer for both Bill Laswell and Rudolph—at Laswell’s Orange Studio.

“This crew artfully blends together to create a seamless tapestry of rhythm… the end results are mesmerizing. Hu Vibrational is all about communing with the groove spirits and creating worlds where earthy rhythms and other-worldly sounds are one.”
— Dan Bilawsky, All Music Guide

“You can be sure that when Adam Rudolph and an ensemble of breathtaking drummers get together mystical and wonderful things will happen.”
— Raul da Gama,

“A stunning effort, enjoyable and grows with repeated listening.”
— Stefan Wood, Freejazzcollective

A surefire Salsoul classic and comfortably one of the label's finest moments, the self-titled LP from The Strangers was originally released in that golden year of 1983 and is one of the greatest albums of the post-disco era. It’s one of Be With's favourite ever LPs and it's a complete honour to be giving it our reissue treatment.

Still strangely overlooked but not for much longer, The Strangers contains flawless tracks with truly top tier production and includes the eternal Paradise Garage favourite "Step Into My Dream."

Are they Strangers to us? Well, no, they shouldn't be. The Strangers were a US electronic-funk studio concept group comprising Edward "Tree" Moore, Howard King and Hubert Eaves III, all key members of Mtume and Gary Bartz NTU Troop and, in the case of Eaves, one half of D-Train.

Now I KNOW you're gonna dig this!

We kick off with the dope electro-funk of "Wanna Take Your Body" which features Gary Bartz on sax (!) and becomes more sensational and irresistible the longer it plays. The wonky super-bomb "Let Me Take You Home" has a punk-funk, post-Prince feel, driving and delicate all at the same time while "Show Me How You Like It" is pure FUNK, the groove just pure fire.

Side B is perfection. It kicks off with the NTS favourite "Love Rescue", a track so slick it positively SLAPS out the gate and, while it bangs throughout, the vocals and melodies elevate this to the status of EMOTIONAL POP.

Next up, "Step Out Of My Dream" swaggers forth, the undisputed masterpiece that was huge with the London DJs and UK Soul fraternity; it's not hard to see why. It's a gliding, smooth, soulful piece of once-in-a-lifetime magic.

The electronic producer Franz Kirmann returns to Bytes for his eighth solo album. The “Almadies” are long wooden boats used by Senegalese fishermen. It is also the name of the neighborhood where Kirmann grew up, in the suburbs of Dakar, Senegal, near the Atlantic Ocean. "These new compositions are the result of sound experiments conducted over the past few months and reflections on the concept of mind-constructed geographies," Kirmann explains. "The way memories and souvenirs shape an image of a place or country that is part reality, part fantasy, part cliché, yet also deeply personal. This experience is influenced by education, social background, history, and other socio-economic factors. " The ten tracks are crafted from collages of electronic sounds blended with field recordings from various places Kirmann has visited — from Dakar to the Caribbean, as well as London and Paris. His aim is to blur the line between electronically generated sounds and real soundscapes, creating music where it becomes difficult to distinguish the real from the constructed. All the sounds on the album were produced using synthesizers and field recordings. No drum machines, percussion or traditional acoustic instruments were used. Influences include Brian Eno and John Hassell’s Fourth World, Vol. 1: Possible Musics (1980), described by Hassell as "a unified primitive/futuristic sound combining features of world ethnic styles with advanced electronic techniques" , which also works in the context of Almadies. Another big influence was Ariel Kalma’s Le Temps Des Moissons (1975) as well as artists including O Yuki Conjugate and Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe to Susumu Yokota and Michael Banabila.

The Danish/Norwegian duo of Ida Urd and Ingri Høyland believe that music is an extension of one’s immediate sensory environment. Duvet, their collaborative full-length debut, explores the way that creating sounds together is intertwined with various quotidian actions: establishing surroundings, rearranging furniture, moving towards the light, collecting flowers or other objects for aesthetic and sensuous impulses. Through a quiet and attentive process, music becomes a way of nurturing space: a soft architecture for play, writing, care, or simply rest.

Sonically, Duvet feels like an extension of Høyland’s last album, 2023’s Ode to Stone, which also featured Urd along with ambient musician Sofie Birch and visual artist Lea Guldditte Hestelund. But where that album, created in response to an open call for work themed around Denmark’s national parks, suggested rolling landscapes and endless horizons, Duvet turns inward, countering chill winds with glowing warmth. Its eight tracks seek a balance between abstraction and melody, intention and happenstance.

“We had a truly inspiring and rewarding process working with Birk Gjerlufsen Nielsen from Vanessa Amara, who co-produced and mixed the album with us,” Ingri adds. “He approached the material with great care and sensitivity, while also bringing his own distinct presence and creativity into the sound.”

Høyland and Urd both studied at the Rhythmic Music Conservatory in Copenhagen, which has turned out many acclaimed artists over the past few years, including Erica de Casier, Astrid Sonne, and Smerz. Over many years, the two composers have developed a collaborative method based on connection and trust. A practice, they write, “where composing, or rather suggesting, sounds and melodies for one another is a way of carefully talking, mending emotions and obstacles. Saying yes to one another. The compositional space becomes a nest for entangling whatever emotions, thoughts, or barriers one of the composers brings to the given day or moment.”

Quiet and contemplative, Duvet is simple on the surface but rich in timbral, textural, and emotional complexity. Høyland and Urd sourced their sounds from an array of instruments and techniques—electronic devices, modules, pedals, and also electroacoustic treatments of various wind instruments.

Mixing primarily through analog tape units added further mystery and depth, weaving together wordless voices and unknown sounds—breathing, rustling, perhaps the coppery gleam of Urd’s electric bass—into a dynamic matrix. Like a nest, pull one twig and the whole thing unravels.

In the winter of 2023, Ingri Høyland and Ida Urd retreated to a summer house along the coast to create the album. Picture the scene: an abiding quiet all around. Gardens carpeted by snow; beach grass silvery against the silvery sky; a tendril of smoke rising from the chimney. Not another soul in earshot. This sanctuary was the perfect setting to yield this meditation on shelter, trust, and communication. The two composers hope the album can be a similar space for others—a temporary space of residence, it can represent a summerhouse, a cabin in the woods, your favorite bench or wherever you need to go. “The album also works really well when picking out apples in the supermarket” Urd laughs.

Space Echo is proud to present the new single by Derane Obika and Go.Soul.Map., arranged and performed by Sicilian
mastermind producer Salvo Dub - an overwhelming fusion of electronic sounds and soulful vibes. This track is a balance
of pulsating rhythms and enveloping melodies, a sonic journey that invites dancing and reflection.
The production stands out with its electronic soul — a rich blend of synthesizers and deep bass lines that pull the listener
into an energetic and immersive atmosphere. Every beat is crafted to move your feet and light up even the most
sophisticated dance floors.
It’s an explosion of energy, set against the unmistakable voice of Derane Obika. With his warm, soulful tone reminiscent of
Seal, Derane brings a unique spirit to the track, infusing every word with raw emotion and deep.
Here, Derane and Go.Soul.Map. don’t just celebrate dance music — they invite the listener into a full-bodied sensory
experience, where electronic beats meet soul tradition to create something truly extraordinary.
The lyrics expresses the idea of a complete fulfilment found in someone or something essential. It suggests that this
presence — a person, an emotion, or a spiritual guide — is so fundamental and complete that everything else becomes
unnecessary.
It evokes a profound sense of connection, purpose, and clarity. Like a path that leads directly to the essence of existence,
it conveys the feeling of being guided, inspired, and grounded all at once. It is a declaration of absolute trust, of love or
devotion — where the journey and the destination fully coincide.
Side B features a new version of “Walkin’ a Dream” from the debut album “Peaceful Sound for Broken Minds”. The new
rework 25, offers us futuristic and electronic sounds with 70s and 80s disco influences, mixing with space and cinematic
themes - very interesting!

180g
Repress

Supported by Deepbass, Svreca, Pris, A Sacred Geometry, Amandra, Etapp Kyle, Takaaki Itoh and Abstract Division to name a few.

The Hypnus clergy is proud to present the 6th solo record by Feral. 'Ultraviolet Radiation' throws us head first into a sound that's been brooding for a time and now finally started to blossom, revealing the massive potential of this gifted producer. Those who heard his contribution to our latest Various Adepts record or have managed to catch one of his mind-bending live performances will recognize his uniquely psychedelic deep techno sound.

Marked by an awakened sense of depth, Feral consistently carries a thread of spirituality throughout his work. Embodying the sound of deep techno through his passion for audio engineering, hardware experimentation and fascination for percussive instruments, as well as an affinity for the shamanic becomes apparent when we swirl in tribal timbres and rhythms.

Finding comfort in the solitude of his studio; the sounds of Feral unearth the path of his multidimensional world, transporting the listener to a haunting, yet grounding refuge within.

2025 Repress

Dom Dolla makes a triumphant return, with 'Take It', a deep, dark, heaving club mix that combines an evocatively catchy vocal, with a deep groove beat to create one hooky production. Off the back of his 2017 ARIA nomination for Best Dance Release for the huge collaboration with Torren Foot on 'Be Randy', Dom has been busy touring the globe, stewing away in the dark corners of clubs, tweaking 'Take It', until it reached tech-house perfection.

"I put the bones of this tune together in a hotel room while road tripping between gigs in Arizona earlier this year, feeling heavily inspired by the west coast club audiences I was playing to. The vocals were written and recorded while sick in bed, using my tour manager's iPhone earbud microphone and a duvet as my vocal booth. At the time I had planned on replacing my recording with a cleaner take when I got home to Australia, but was never able to recreate something I liked as much, so it stayed! It's been slaying it for me ever since.", Dom Dolla had to say on explaining the origins of 'Take It'.

Having received over 20 million streams and consecutive ARIA Club Chart #1s for the former and Define, his 2016 collaboration with Go Freek, it becomes obvious that perfection is a common occurrence for Dom Dolla. Also, giving reason to why Dom has been cherry picked for official remixes by the likes of RUFUS DU SOL, Flight Facilities, Peking Duk, Madison Avenue, Motez and Sneaky Sound System and ongoing festival slots at Beyond The Valley (closing out the festival 4 years running), Splendour In The Grass, EDC Las Vegas and Splash House Palm Springs.

With Chris Lake, Kyle Watson and Billy Kenny already jumping on board, 'Take It' will be sure to garner a solid amount of support from the big-dogs. This goes without saying when Pete Tong is your biggest supporter, playing a spate of Dom Dolla releases across BBC Radio 1, a guest mix on All Gone Pete Tong and chosen as support for Pete Tong's huge orchestrated Ibiza Classics show at Melbourne's Sidney Myer Music Bowl.

After being tried and tested, this track is 100% guaranteed to rip your heart out and 'take it' straight onto the darkest dance floor out there. Australia, hold tight for a tour announce very soon, otherwise you can catch Dom on dance-floors throughout the US from July.

11 million streams across Spotify, SoundCloud + YouTube
#1 ARIA Club Chart
#1 Beatport Overall
Named as Pete Tong's artist to watch for 2019

AN ATLAS OF LOSS

Do minerals dream of becoming semiconductors? Do they yearn to carry charges, amplify, switch, and convert energy into emotions comprehensible to humans? And what if, from the darkness of the underground, they had been listening to us sing in caves before the emergence of the first flute? Could they have guided us, through the course of history, to find them, extract them, and create new sounds through sinusoidal waves, to form valves and bend circuits?

If so, minerals would transition from what philosopher Eugene Thacker defines as the ‘planet’—that virginal and unreachable realm for humans that we study through geology, paleontology, and environmental sciences—to the ‘world,’ the space we inhabit, interpret, and synthesise in our daily lives. Sadly, we only remember the world when it erupts violently, through climate catastrophes or when a new virus emerges. Sometimes a tsunami collides with a nuclear plant, or viruses are cultivated as biological weapons in high-security laboratories, provoking a deep biological anxiety, hard to quell, which we all feel beneath our skin.

There exists a third realm, disconnected from both the world and the planet: the ‘earth’, an immense, dense rock floating in space alongside other planets, situated in the cosmological dimension. Relating to the earth is so complex that we only do so through theoretical speculations of a scientific nature or through science fiction, interweaving until one becomes the prophecy of the other, in an infinite, pendular dance. Beyond the darkness of space and Lovecraft’s cosmic horror, the fantasy of human extinction is the most recurrent: to reach a collapse so devastating that we do not survive it, even though the earth does, without us.

In a world where we quantify everything through body sensors, financial algorithms, nanometre-scale robots, and surveillance drones—a world in which everything that can be domesticated and controlled can also be commodified—a superior artificial intelligence would survive the collapse of the species (some speculate it might even cause it) and learn from our mistakes, thanks to our obsessive gathering of data.

Long after our voices fade, minerals will persist in the darkness of screens, in the silicon of chips, and in their pure form, still unexploited underground. Over the millennia, this intelligence might piece together fragments of our reasoning, as if an alien civilization finally connected with one of our spacecrafts loaded with messages cast into the void. It would sort through endless streams of data, unable to grasp the depths of emotion behind what it quantified, recreating simulations of our past, stripped of the nuance that once defined us and conducting experiments in sandboxes.

Some remnants of our existence—faint echoes of forgotten beauty—would be pieced together in an atlas of loss, buried beneath layers of numbers, decayed bots, and corroded hard drives. What will follow? Perhaps bison will once again roam—trotting to the strange pulse of techno, their ancient forms framed by the ruins of our cities.

Buildings will crumble, slowly dissolving under the soft touch of ambient music, and a thousand flowers will bloom with that ancient music created through electrical signals and computation. 7 songs for a future both improbable and inevitable—a final message from a world lost to itself, from planet Earth to planet Earth.

Alfons Pich, 2025