Cerca:thrum

First-time repress of Thrum's 1994 cult classic Rifferama, newly remastered with enhanced depth and clarity. Features Monica Queen (Belle and Sebastian / Snow Patrol), the album offers a signature blend of shimmering hooks and fuzzed-out guitars. The long-awaited reissue of Rifferama, the acclaimed debut album by Glasgow indie trailblazers Thrum. Out on Fire Records, the remaster revisits one of the most revered cult records of the 1990s UK guitar scene (the vinyl release includes an exclusive digital download of the band's reunion show recorded live at Airdrie Town Hall in 2025, along with a new studio version of 'Hey Joe'). Originally released to critical acclaim, Rifferama captured a moment when melody, distortion and emotional urgency collided to create something timeless. Now newly remastered from the original recordings, the album returns with enhanced depth and clarity, reaffirming its reputation as a lost classic of the era. Fronted by the unmistakable voice of Monica Queen (known for her work with Belle and Sebastian and Snow Patrol), Thrum's sound blended shimmering pop hooks with driving, fuzz-laden riffs. Alongside Johnny Smillie's distinctive guitar work, the band forged a sonic identity that stood proudly alongside the era's most influential alternative acts. This reissue is dedicated to the late great Phil Vinall, who mixed the album.

Garefowl is a project connected to the archipelago of St Kilda, Scotland. Ewan Macdonald and his father Murdo, relatives of one of the men who killed the last Great Auk (Garefowl), conceived the project to reflect on and mark this family history. Garefowl is an international collective of musicians combining strings and electronics: Nathan Bontrager (viola da gamba/harmonium/banjo), Stuart Graham (bouzouki/harmonica/harmonium), Chris Jones (concertina/mandolin), Ewan Macdonald (fiddle/smallpipe drone), Richard O’Flynn (island sounds/percussion/XRD drones), Jess Whelligan (cello).

Things That Vanish was recorded on Hirta, the main island of St Kilda, at night. The soundscapes of Hirta breathe across the record: a quiet rolling swell of winds, waves, birds, and the otherworldly thrum of the snipe. Taking influence from the traditional folk music of St Kilda, the tunes on the record are inspired by the threatened seabirds of the islands. The band were intrigued by the folk stories around these birds, and how they often are depicted to imbue a primal, dark and haunting nature. In such tales, the birds retain a quality akin to a sea monster: preying upon calves and sheep, and believed to be the pelagic souls of drowned sailors or the cursed spirits of cruel captains.

No synthesizers were used on the recording. Instead, the production draws entirely on sampled and processed field and hydrophone recordings collected on St Kilda. Additionally, drones were created through a process pioneered by Richard O’Flynn and Joe Gardner. Rock or bone samples are analysed using X-ray diffraction (XRD), which creates a spectrum with peaks corresponding to the sample’s chemical composition; this spectrum can then be mapped to sine waves, forming a drone.

A quick scan of the world’s favourite crowdsourced discography reveals that Sonic Youth co-founder Lee Ranaldo was not a total stranger to crackling electric experimentation in the years following his songwriting turns of the 20-teens. Yet »The System«, ingeniously culled and sequenced from Ranaldo’s soundtrack work for Dutch filmmaker Joris Postema’s ›eco-doc‹ of the same name, nonetheless feels like a reawakening. Quietly released in a vastly different (and much more ›filmic‹) form by Doxy Music/Riva Media Records in 2025, this LP reimagines and reconfigures the initial release, including unreleased material written and recorded for the film, to lend it new stature as both a return to drone-improv form and a reunion with introspective Downtown angst.

Given the state of the world, it’s not surprising that the film Ranaldo scores – a documentary on three climate activists bruising their fists on the black iron prison of techno-fascist deathkultur – is a study in despair and futility. But rather than wallowing in navel-gazing doom and gloom, the film documents the unstoppable spirit that has animated human resistance since the time of the Pharaohs.

As it turns out, the gorgeous scope of Lee Ranaldo’s guitar palette is a perfect manifestation of the hope and despair that animates the film. But like other high-water marks in the guitar-centric soundtrack canon – the high plains raga of Bruce Langhorne’s »Hired Hand«, Neil Young’s sparse and ghostly solo transmissions on »Dead Man«, or the monolithic mantras of Popol Vuh’s »Nosferatu« – its devotion to spectral gestures and meditative song forms launches it firmly outside of the OST orbit into a universe fully its own.

It might seem like a long journey from the Lower Manhattan rhythmic grime of the album’s opener »Tajikistan (Nice to Meet You)« (reminiscent of guitar opuses like Robert Quine and Jody Harris’s »Escape«) to the ringing cowboy chords of the final track, but the narrative logic of the LP pulls the listener along as solidly as a pack horse. As the LP unwinds, and collaborators like Jim Jarmusch, cellist Leila Boudreil, Yeah Yeah Yeahs snare shaman Brian Chase, and guitarist Yonatan Gat take their places, new vistas unfurl: the ritualistic thrum of »Berlin Blockade«, the haunted overtone palaces of »Bergelmir«, and the cavernous acoustic strumming of »Instruments of Violence«. It all winds up with the high lonesome standard »Cool Water«, each unhurried note trailing off into long-tail reverb, layers of shifting vocal harmonies pulling everything skyward – a hopeful note in an album where existential dread never lurks too deeply below the surface.

In the end, »The System« functions both as a film score and a hallucinatory (mostly) instrumental guitar record, revealing a sensibility not too often spotted in the 21st century – a liminal space where the song, the jam, and the meditation merge into a blurred whole. »The System«’s expansive fabric, emerging from a collective sound circling around Ranaldo’s signature tones, envelops and ampl amplifies the contributions of its community of creators – the perfect antidote to narcissistic despair. Much like the subjects of the film light the way towards intra-generational resistance, the music of »The System« reveals a path through gathering darkness. The world could be yours if you follow.

– Tom Carter

A quick scan of the world’s favourite crowdsourced discography reveals that Sonic Youth co-founder Lee Ranaldo was not a total stranger to crackling electric experimentation in the years following his songwriting turns of the 20-teens. Yet »The System«, ingeniously culled and sequenced from Ranaldo’s soundtrack work for Dutch filmmaker Joris Postema’s ›eco-doc‹ of the same name, nonetheless feels like a reawakening. Quietly released in a vastly different (and much more ›filmic‹) form by Doxy Music/Riva Media Records in 2025, this LP reimagines and reconfigures the initial release, including unreleased material written and recorded for the film, to lend it new stature as both a return to drone-improv form and a reunion with introspective Downtown angst.

Given the state of the world, it’s not surprising that the film Ranaldo scores – a documentary on three climate activists bruising their fists on the black iron prison of techno-fascist deathkultur – is a study in despair and futility. But rather than wallowing in navel-gazing doom and gloom, the film documents the unstoppable spirit that has animated human resistance since the time of the Pharaohs.

As it turns out, the gorgeous scope of Lee Ranaldo’s guitar palette is a perfect manifestation of the hope and despair that animates the film. But like other high-water marks in the guitar-centric soundtrack canon – the high plains raga of Bruce Langhorne’s »Hired Hand«, Neil Young’s sparse and ghostly solo transmissions on »Dead Man«, or the monolithic mantras of Popol Vuh’s »Nosferatu« – its devotion to spectral gestures and meditative song forms launches it firmly outside of the OST orbit into a universe fully its own.

It might seem like a long journey from the Lower Manhattan rhythmic grime of the album’s opener »Tajikistan (Nice to Meet You)« (reminiscent of guitar opuses like Robert Quine and Jody Harris’s »Escape«) to the ringing cowboy chords of the final track, but the narrative logic of the LP pulls the listener along as solidly as a pack horse. As the LP unwinds, and collaborators like Jim Jarmusch, cellist Leila Boudreil, Yeah Yeah Yeahs snare shaman Brian Chase, and guitarist Yonatan Gat take their places, new vistas unfurl: the ritualistic thrum of »Berlin Blockade«, the haunted overtone palaces of »Bergelmir«, and the cavernous acoustic strumming of »Instruments of Violence«. It all winds up with the high lonesome standard »Cool Water«, each unhurried note trailing off into long-tail reverb, layers of shifting vocal harmonies pulling everything skyward – a hopeful note in an album where existential dread never lurks too deeply below the surface.

In the end, »The System« functions both as a film score and a hallucinatory (mostly) instrumental guitar record, revealing a sensibility not too often spotted in the 21st century – a liminal space where the song, the jam, and the meditation merge into a blurred whole. »The System«’s expansive fabric, emerging from a collective sound circling around Ranaldo’s signature tones, envelops and ampl amplifies the contributions of its community of creators – the perfect antidote to narcissistic despair. Much like the subjects of the film light the way towards intra-generational resistance, the music of »The System« reveals a path through gathering darkness. The world could be yours if you follow.

– Tom Carter

Following on from his electric appearance on Diamonds in the Night, Tallac returns with a four‑tracker of low‑orbit elation. Tessitura blends floor‑facing energy with sleek space synths, elegant undercurrents washed in bold bars to produce a one‑of‑a‑kind sound. Drums hit hard on “Carbon Copy,” driving percussion providing the launchpad for synthlines to swoop and soar. Tempos are taken down a notch for the analogue embrace of “Kiss Me Quick.” Notes bend and flow in this smoky dreamscape, samples pulling the listener ever deeper. The rumbling kicks and hissing hi‑hats of “Pythia” are punctured by a throbbing beat; gliding above the rolling snares and luxurious breaks is a melody that thrums with palpable intensity and unbridled joy, a track made to ignite audiences. Never adhering to genre tags or style pigeonholes, Tessitura closes with “Cybersyn.” Touches of cosmic melt into late‑night glow‑stick energy, dawn’s light piercing the warehouse windows while the speakers continue to bounce blissfully.

2026 Repress


DJ Koze's 2013 album opus Amygdala has continued to bewitch all who encounter it since its release. Tipped as his own personal Sgt. Pepper, the sublime long-player revealed a fully-realised and personal body of work, complete with a classic songwriting at its core, House in its heart, and veins coursing with psychedelic color. La Duquesa' was the album's dreamy single standout, a journey into deep, tropical ecstasy. XTC' begins in the same spirit, and captures the all the blissful allusions of its name, but its initial gentility belies the deep intensity to come. Floating pads glow with celestial ambience as a kick drum is gradually coaxed into solid form, and the introduction of spoken text begins the second act. Many people are experimenting with the drug Ecstasy,' it says, ...is the drug like the lie and meditation the truth Or am I missing something that could really help me". XTC' then transforms: sweetly imploring tones become demanding, gentle gradients between chords turn hard-edged, and sharp hi-hats cut through the haze. Complete with Koze's signature percussive quirks, it drives towards the track's final pay off: an undeniable, all-consuming, irresistible high. Knee On Belly' recalls Koze at his most tongue-in-cheek and overt, it is bright, bold and literally brassy, using cut-up horns of all shapes and sizes to patchwork together his own unique arrangement. With the highs and mid ranges accounted for, Koze adds in a swollen, thrumming bass line to mix to bring this floor-filler to life. Knee on Belly' recalls a raw, filtered and funky approach to groove, with a nod to disco house and the art of artful sampling, as it orbits between its own neon highs and simmering lows.

2026 Repress

Chlar returns to his Primal Instinct label with 'Modern Survival'

Following the widely praised Funk Assault (Chlar & Alarico) 'Minimum One Post A Week' EP, which kicked off the Primal Instinct label last summer and won the support of the likes of Rodhad, Tasha, and Luke Slater, as well as routine plays from Sarah Story on BBC Radio 1, Chlar now returns to his imprint with solo venture 'Modern Survival'. While the first Primal Instinct release saw references to artist urges and behaviours on social media, this next instalment explores a modern recontextualisation of humanity's hierarchy of needs in yet another high-concept EP.

First up, 'Internet Soulmate' boasts a crunchy bassline as its drum work chugs along the track playfully. The groove twists and turns before the hypnotic and tribal 'Supermarket Hunting' continues with sounds of nature, loopy rhythm and syncopated bleeps.

On the B-side's 'Body Control Officer', human-made grooves intertwine with machine-like thrum, synths whirring and zapping, while 'Competitive Influencing' takes off with rolling percussion, subtle whistles and distorted vocal one-shots. Closing out another stellar offering from the Primal Instinct frontman, Chlar brings the dark 'Scout My Algorithm', a brooding slow-burner offset by smooth arpeggio snippets and warped slices of digital noise.

"In an era where technology entwines our everyday existence, where the virtual realm shapes our interactions, and where the pursuit of influence takes centre stage comes an EP that delves deep into the modern tapestry of human existence. 'Modern Survival' is not merely a collection of songs and visual clips, but a poignant reflection on the intricate dance between our primal instincts and the brave new world we navigate today. The EP invites listeners on a journey of self-discovery and reflection, prompting them to ponder the fundamental essence of our existence in an environment of fast-paced technological evolution." - Chlar

'Nicolò's Static forays deep into liminal space, where signal decays, rhythm stutters and sub-pressure thrums.
'The four-track EP is the inaugural transmission from Nicolò’s own Exploring Records. Melancholy bleeds through the frequencies, yet the pulse remains restless, insectoid, off- kilter.
'Here we pace darkened corridors of flickering projections and half-remembered futures, setting the direction for what’s next...'

Dr. Caligari was notoriously out of his mind — a genius fixated on experiments and a former lecturer at the Department of Experimental Phonetics. His students, Spacelunch included, spoke of him with cautious admiration: “Too smart to be normal; too bold to stop.” His laboratory looked like a hand-welded cosmos: cables everywhere, diodes, and the soft hiss of electricity.

“What’s that?” Spacelunch nodded toward the large glass dome.
“My new invention that allows sound to become tangible. Care to take a look?”

The Professor and Cat carefully stepped inside.

“You’re about to be the first to witness the voice of space!”
“Hey, we didn’t sign up for this!”
“Doesn’t that make the experiment more interesting?”

Caligari smiled and turned a dial. Their bodies stretched like strands of pasta and vanished. An instant later, they found themselves in another dimension: towers of transistors and coils rose into the sky, the air thrummed with low-frequency oscillations, and every flash of light carried the rhythm of a sonic lattice. Almost at once, the image wavered like old film, went black, and then snapped back to the laboratory. Caligari sat at the console, eyes fixed on the monitors. “It worked,” he whispered. “Perfect phase alignment!”

Extinction Burst! is the new invocation in album-form by Guttersnipe, Leeds’ premier and pre-eminent XFCER (XFCER: Xenofeminist crisis-energy rock)* duo. Slamming at full speed to multi-dimensional oblivion, Extinction Burst! is the most full, hidefinition lurid dream-mare yet spewed out by Uroceras Gigas & Tipula Confusa. Engineered and mixed by Ross Halden at Hohm Studio in Bradford and mastered by Rashad Becker, Extinction Burst! follows 2018’s My Mother The Vent, which garnered universal critical adoration. Nevertheless, this long-awaited follow up is more extreme: it is wildness beyond reason, splitting new tears in the reality gauze, ultimate hallucination through sound ecstasy. 2026’s Guttersnipe are evolved, mutated by 8 years of touring together and with the labyrinthine network of groups both Guttersnipe members are involved with - Tristwch Y Fenywod, Nape Neck, Petronn Sphene, Yexxen to name a few. On Extinction Burst!, as with previous material, the duo are heavily augmented with technology. Tipula Confusa's drum kit triggers chasm-causing synth pulses with thumping low end attack.. Strafing from all over the stereo field the constant shatter of the cymbals and toms feel like Sunny Murray or Rashied Ali in full flight during a John Coltrane session in 1967. Uroceras Gigas’s guitar + synth storm is by-now similarly an instantly recognised tool kit in underground music. Switching from screeching guitar atonality to intricate riffs from the black metal/Voivod hinterland to ultra-distorted synth meltdown, it’s an utterly overwhelming, essential and vital pouring-out of the full emotional spectrum. Both artists vocalise, ecstatic and primal, drawn out or yelped in pain or pleasure or panic. Alive On Tuesday begins with some of the only space on Extinction Burst! Digital crackles and tight-delays blow out into a fullthrottled death-dive into sweet opaqueness, offset by the duo’s vocals. There’s a popular believe that Guttersnipe is chaos, but over 9 mins here the group are clinical in their control of the simulated entropy. Mincing while the Maelstrom Churns’s guitar is modulated into jagged atonal atonement, duetting with the virtuoso drum patterns before it thuds into gear at quadruple the speed. Threads Of Radical Unaliveness veers close to the extreme Metal influences with blast beats and guttural vocalisations until the track exhausts itself into unaliveness. Keep Honking summons a demonic digital panic, with the duo reincarnating in real time as haunted versions of themselves, almost translating the lurid, ultra vivid, simultaneous hell+heaven of being alive in this dimension. Primordial Invagination harnesses No Wave’s dissension of normality before the structured collapse of Skra¨ckblandad Fo¨rtjusning, in which Tipula Confusa’s accelerating drums simulate a bouncing barrel of brimstone descending into a primordial gunky ooze, a respite in the middle before the record splutters to a stuttering finale, both members’ vocals out there in the neon realness, alive with crisis energy. There is nothing on this cursed earth like Guttersnipe. For over 10 years they have whirled in a wiggliness both woebegone and wonderstruck on a mission of radical mutant exaltation using rock music weaponry loaded with a queer hysterical ammunition to rupture the fabric of the known Rock universe and unleash a tendril-soft hallucinatory violence; thrumming with the bracing vividness of insect bodies, crazed with alien synaesthetic emotions, harnessing jagged excoriating illogic as a face meltingly snazzy affront to redundant macho mediocrity with the hope to break minds, squeeze hearts, explode pelvises and maybe even reset the parameters of reality. Addendum: xenofeminist : proposing and creating a world defined not only by sexual/gender equality, queer empowerment and the toppling of the racist heteropatriarchal hegemony and it’s tyranny of phallogocentric signifiers, but a philosophy of radical queerness that explodes the basic notion of embodied existence itself beyond even the human, where we see bacteria, invertebrates, reptiles, marine life, animalia in general, inanimate objects, quantum phenomena and as yet inarticulated bodies and minds as social and political equals that may inspire and inform our concepts of self, feeling and meaning as we labour to build a collective reality that doesn’t completely suck!! crisis energy : a term borrowed from the weird fiction author china mieville to describe a type of extreme concentration of power which emerges when a system or organism is pushed to it’s absolute limit; the point of rupture, chaos, entropic overload, just before it all breaks apart. rock : Rock ’n’ Roll, rock music, the devil’s music, sex, guitar, drums, voice, rhythm, riffs!

Also Playable Mono, the nom de guerre of Rafał Lachmirowicz, channels musical greats and the romance of Italy with the Firenze EP. “Neverland” reimagines Giorgio Moroder’s iconic introduction of “I Feel Love”, undulating arpeggios and clean kicks giving way to an addictive tongue-in-cheek melody of laser futurism and eastern influences. “Firenze” follows. Broad analogue bars call to mind the works of Patrick Cowley, disco funk flirting with a spoken word tribute to Florence in this bright and bold track. Our next stop off is “Bergamo.” Low-slung, this smoky number is primed for the night. Thick thrums of bass are punctured by piano keys and toms, robotic pulses and trills adding a 1970s sci-fi groove to the proceedings. Turning the tables is “Breakfast Date.” Slow and dreamy, this early morning lounge affair lowers the tempo. Considered and thoughtful, meandering melodies border the blurred lines of jazz and funk. The words of “Firenze” are left in the wings for the instrumental close, Lachmirowicz’s synthesizers taking the limelight in this uplifting finale. A 12” that encapsulates the expansive sound of Also Playable Mono.

Plying refracted rhythms with an exacting poise, Aerae arrives on Samurai Music with a fully formed sound that plumbs the depths between techno immersion and D&B beat science.

An accomplished, palpable tension runs throughout Nefanda, Aerae's second solo release. Following up on the meditative pulse of her debut album on Annulled Music last year, the Paris-based artist digs deeper into ominous atmospheres filled with evocative reverb decays and taut, dynamic drum work - tools she wields to Redner tracks with specific meaning, coded by the Latin framing that runs through all aspects of her musical output. Contemplating the ancient language as an inescapable part of her European roots, on Nefanda Aerae ruminates on external trials and inner impulses, and conjures a jaw-clenching soundtrack to match.

'Mons' (translation: 'Mountain') speaks to challenges, strength and spiritual ascent, marked out by an urgent thrum of conga slaps and a 4/4 kick around the 170 BPM mark that finds power in minimalism even at the relatively high tempo.
The title track opts for a more broken framework, pivoting pointed percussion around a deft sub pulse while turning up the intensity with an exacting poise.

'Nefanda' translates as 'unspeakable,' or 'too horrific to name,' and the fraught, synthetic wraiths contorting through the track convey the dread the title implies.
'Fovea' (translation: 'pit') burrows deeper into spatial design with a looming low end rumble and subliminal sound sculpture, shaping out a dark, introspective chasm tipped towards disassociation. It's a powerful statement in any setting, but the all-consuming bass feels especially crafted for full, physical sound system immersion.

'Phrenesis' (translation: 'frenzy') rounds the EP out in fierce form, building up a high-pressure arrangement from ambient beginnings with ruthless control. There's a sense of duality in motion between half-time and double-time rhythmic elements, every incremental shift adding to the intensity of the track with the elegant, impactful touch that has fast become Aerae's calling card.

Finding her own language within the dialogue between techno, D&B and dark ambient, Aerae's music makes a vivid impression thanks to the ideas and intention that drive her in the studio. Nefanda confirms her status as a leading light in deep, psychedelic dance music, making something extremely personal that also reaches out beyond notions of the self like all the best transcendental music.

Drumsauw returns to DCLTD for the second time this year with 4 new tracks off his new EP 'Empire.' The title track 'Empire' is a thrumming blend of high speed percussion keeps up techno pressure, counterpointed by a soulful female vocal intoning with Middle Eastern sounds giving a melodic element. Followed by 'Cycles,' a demanding percussion like hammer blows races along, while spacey horns with doppler FX and dark, plangent synth tremolo arps bring an otherworldly, sinister vibe in a huge breakdown/drop. Next comes 'Collision,' rampant, bounding beats, loud rattling backbeat, with a robotic spoken female vocal riff changing pace, slowing in breakdowns before the racing tempo reasserts itself. And lastly 'Comet' that has the fast layered percussion, interspersed with pizzicato melody, varies pitch, becoming frantic, distorted, in the breakdowns. The vocal riff running through adds to the drama; nervy, hyper, disturbing.

Review: Three German instrumental talents - Chris Haertel, David Nesselhauf, Julian Gutjahr - make up The Drawbars, whom together describe their music as 'off jazz'. Following up their prior outing for Basel's BurningSole, on which two instrumental originals stuck out like raw thrums, their latest is an unexpected curveball in the form of a standout rare groove version of Billie Eilish's modern classic 'Bad Guy'. Riffing of its madhouse hooks by way of a watery high electric keyboard part, the essence of the track pairs timely well the Northern-soulful form of breaks, fills and bass jaunts. The B, 'Smokes & Mirrors', returns to OG songwriting and hears electric glisses and portamento synths dance across sultry, incense-filled rhythmatic rooms and navy-noted blueses.

ASEC reveals the 'Group Dynamics' record, two hypnotic techno tracks and remixes from Inland and Kaiser.

"'Group Dynamics' is inspired by this kind of captivating energy you feel in a crowd--think sports fans, a packed dance floor, a mass of humans--people aren't themselves in crowds. I was interested in capturing that invisible social group dynamic that makes many people move as one." - ASEC

On the A-side of ASEC's 'Group Dynamics' EP, dropping via his eponymous imprint this February and following up a series of releases supported by the likes of Rodhad and Tommy Four Seven, as well as output on BPitch and MORD. The title track enters the fray with a mystifying energy, percussion clicking and shifting while cavernous synth hits echo across its evolving soundscape. 'Scala Naturae' then continues with rolling drums shot through with bleeps and squelch, the steady beat of weighty kicks footing its looming psychedelic sequences.

Side B invites Counterchange Recordings founder Inland and KSR boss Kaiser to remix the original tracks. First up, Ostgut Ton, Figure, and Nonplus+'s Inland remixes 'Group Dynamics' by adding scratchy textures and the thrum of long-forgotten machines before Kaiser reimagines 'Scala Naturae'. The Key Vinyl and Soma artist turns the track into a prime-time, tripped-out dancefloor cut.

Lastly, Inland provides a dub techno version of his contribution as a digital bonus, with ASEC dropping the excellent 'Enough Is Enough' on online platforms. In this track, typewriter-like hats skitter over imposing drums while warped melodics twist and turn on top, closing out yet another mind-melting techno offering from the Berlin producer.

In Walter Benjamin’s seminal essay “Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”, he posits that the aura of art objects is destroyed by the ability to photographically reproduce them. When you had to make a pilgrimage to a work it remained elusive, charged, ever distant; but when you can easily see a reproduction, such aura dissipates. What Benjamin did not anticipate is that in the age of AI and the frictionless fount of digital content, we have imbued mechanical and analog means of media production with aura. Film cameras from the last 100 years are in high demand (the point and shoot Olympus Mju I featured in Wim Wenders film Perfect Days still sells for $200), vinyl sales continue to grow year by year, 35mm and 70mm film screenings have become aura-drenched events people travel across country for, and as to the world of vintage and analog synthesizers, when a friend asked for the price on the Yamaha CS-80 synth used on Toto’s “Africa”, the answer was a cool $60,000.

Despite the ability to simulate almost any synthesizer on a computer, the original physical units retain their mystique. Perhaps this lies in the physical process, many of these synths are temperamental and difficult to fully utilize, and the effort and ingenuity can be felt in ways that will always be absent from easy digital simulacra. Perhaps there is an aura in their imperfection, as Brian Eno wrote: “Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit - all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided.” Some may call this nostalgia, but such sonic imperfections are the sounds of humans interacting with the physical world, and it is understandable to feel a pang of emotion and attachment in a time of exponential alienation.

Marche 22 was recorded over a week at the Museo Del Synth Marchigiano in Macerata, Italy. The museum is filled with rare and obscure synths (especially CRB, GEM & Elka) as well as salvaged materials from a nearby shuttered Farfisa organ factory, including MARS, an unfinished realtime audio processing application developed by IRIS - similar to the now well known MAX/MSP. Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein play a suite of pieces that encompasses the last sixty years of synthesizer music—there are nods to Cluster, Tangerine Dream, Jean Michel Jarre, and Morton Subotnick. Dixon and Stein are like jazz masters playing the American songbook with their own riffs and quotations. What shines through in these varied works that are sometimes rhythmic, sometimes melancholic, and sometimes both, is a soul, a spirit, an emotion vibrating through the tones like the charge of coming rain or the thrum of a distant train on the tracks. - Neil Fauerso

Following releases on Longform Editions and her own Paralaxe imprint, Dania descends on Somewhere Press with crepuscular, quixotic pop that hits a sweet spot between Mark Clifford’s Cocteau Twins remixes and Massive Attack.

Parked next to Alliyah Enyo, Slowfoam, and Angel R, Dania’s found an ideal home at Somewhere Press, and »Listless« is her most confident, transcendent set to date. Her last few albums were steeped in meaning – a way for the Iraq-born, Tasmania-raised artist to explore her identity and probe the impacts of colonisation. Here, she gives herself more room to breathe, thriving in the mysteries of nighttime – a direct reference to her nocturnal existence as an emergency doctor in Australia. The album was completely composed in the midnight hours, but it’s not self-consciously dark in the way you might expect. Opening track »On a Grassy Knoll« is one of the prettiest – and poppiest – tracks Dania has released, cracking open her voice with thrumming harmonies that she complements with granulated, Guthrie-esque guitars and, most unexpectedly, half-speed drums. It’s the first time Dania’s used percussion, and it suits her extremely well.

In fact, even when the powdery breaks drop away in the album’s final breaths, you can almost hear an outline of where they might remain. On »Write My Name«, Dania loops her voice between waved strings and slippery piano phrases, and the hypnotic closer »A Hunger« is a thudding, sub-heavy 4/4 away from being Peak Oil-style contemporary dub techno.

But the big draw here is Dania’s batch of hazy dream-pop miniatures, like the Seefeel-adjacent »Heart Shaped Burn« (with Rupert Clervaux on drums), and the Bristolian »Car Crash Premonition«, that features a rolling bassline taking us right back to 1998. Very strong – peak listening if you’re into Bowery Electric, MBV, or Mark Van Hoen.

An enthralling weave of cathartic, introspective spirituality and thrumming, industrial darkness; The Wounded Healer is the first full-length from PREYRS, the new incarnation of Irish singer-songwriter Amy Montgomery and her band as one formidable entity. From the fourpiece's new janiform name; a twisting, conflicting play on the tenderness and innocence of prayer and the deadly dance of prey and predator to the band's fiercely independent journey, PREYRS is a project already steeped in story. After breathtaking album opener `Humble Eyes', lead single `Wave of Wisdom' immediately lays this concept bare as Amy's incandescent delivery of uncertainty, "lesson learned / don't know how / but here I am again / stronger than before", soars over a defiantly discordant clash of alt-folk slide guitar and Mormecha's pummeling industrial percussion. Elsewhere, the high-octane `Zeros, Ones & Lies' wrestles with the spiritual toll of being fed constant footage of atrocity and catastrophe by a media that accepts no responsibility for their part in the global race to the bottom. As such, the track bursts into furious life with urgent, double-time drums met by guitars distorted to the brink of destruction before the song all but caves in on itself as Amy quietly asks of us "Can you feel it? / like a river / it flows so silently / it flows so violently". By contrast, `Bring Ur Bruises' radiates resplendent, self-empowering positivity. Centred once again on the concept of the wounded healer, `Bring Ur Bruises' implores the listener to welcome their trauma in, to own it and wear it as a paradoxical means of ultimately letting it go as triumphant, reverb-soaked guitars soar ever higher. If it wasn't already clear, PREYRS are no strangers to doing things differently and, across every iteration, the band have always taken a DIY approach to every aspect of their existence. From covering themselves in paint and rolling over every single early album cover to, until recently, booking all of their own shows and festivals as diverse as Glastonbury, Green Man (UK), Blizzarrrd Rock (GER) and Bloodstock (UK), last year the band found themselves touring the UK as Amy Montgomery in support of musical heroes and British post-punk legends New Model Army. In November 2025 they will be joining New Model Army again on tour across Europe, but this time as PREYRS performing tracks from The Wounded Healer, the same four people but an entirely different beast. FOR FANS OF Nine Inch Nails, Chelsea Wolfe, Sonic Youth, Julie Christmas, Alanis Morissette, My Bloody Valentine, Siouxsie and The Banshees, Melvins

An enthralling weave of cathartic, introspective spirituality and thrumming, industrial darkness; The Wounded Healer is the first full-length from PREYRS, the new incarnation of Irish singer-songwriter Amy Montgomery and her band as one formidable entity. From the fourpiece's new janiform name; a twisting, conflicting play on the tenderness and innocence of prayer and the deadly dance of prey and predator to the band's fiercely independent journey, PREYRS is a project already steeped in story. After breathtaking album opener `Humble Eyes', lead single `Wave of Wisdom' immediately lays this concept bare as Amy's incandescent delivery of uncertainty, "lesson learned / don't know how / but here I am again / stronger than before", soars over a defiantly discordant clash of alt-folk slide guitar and Mormecha's pummeling industrial percussion. Elsewhere, the high-octane `Zeros, Ones & Lies' wrestles with the spiritual toll of being fed constant footage of atrocity and catastrophe by a media that accepts no responsibility for their part in the global race to the bottom. As such, the track bursts into furious life with urgent, double-time drums met by guitars distorted to the brink of destruction before the song all but caves in on itself as Amy quietly asks of us "Can you feel it? / like a river / it flows so silently / it flows so violently". By contrast, `Bring Ur Bruises' radiates resplendent, self-empowering positivity. Centred once again on the concept of the wounded healer, `Bring Ur Bruises' implores the listener to welcome their trauma in, to own it and wear it as a paradoxical means of ultimately letting it go as triumphant, reverb-soaked guitars soar ever higher. If it wasn't already clear, PREYRS are no strangers to doing things differently and, across every iteration, the band have always taken a DIY approach to every aspect of their existence. From covering themselves in paint and rolling over every single early album cover to, until recently, booking all of their own shows and festivals as diverse as Glastonbury, Green Man (UK), Blizzarrrd Rock (GER) and Bloodstock (UK), last year the band found themselves touring the UK as Amy Montgomery in support of musical heroes and British post-punk legends New Model Army. In November 2025 they will be joining New Model Army again on tour across Europe, but this time as PREYRS performing tracks from The Wounded Healer, the same four people but an entirely different beast. FOR FANS OF Nine Inch Nails, Chelsea Wolfe, Sonic Youth, Julie Christmas, Alanis Morissette, My Bloody Valentine, Siouxsie and The Banshees, Melvins

The Nightlife isn’t just a single. It’s a fever dream. Honey Dijon and Chloë have built a sonic peephole into a city that only half-existed—New York’s Meatpacking District in the late ’70s, that liminal wet haze where sweat, leather, and desire commingled under streetlights that flickered like dying stars. Imagine Blade Runner rewritten by Jean Genet, but scored for bodies pressed together at 4 a.m.—that’s the terrain.

And in the marrow of this track, the ghost of Kim English’s Nitelife thrums—an invocation of the 1990s underground, those rooms where freedom was fragile but absolute. Honey Dijon doesn’t just sample it. She resuscitates it, drags it into the now, dresses it in sequins and grief, insists we dance harder because the future is burning quicker.

This isn’t nostalgia. This isn’t homage. This is ritual. A reminder that nightlife was always resistance—radical, erotic, communal. And The Nightlife is a portal, a signal flare, maybe even an omen. Something larger is coming. Consider this the first act.

Relay For Death is the noise project of the twin sisters Roxann and Rachal Spikula. Their hermetic works consistently reflect a bleak nihilism, all the while carving an autonomous space for survival as the rest of the existence crumbles. Previous works have been published by Hanson, No Rent, Total Black, and RRRecords.

The twins offered the consideration that "Mutual Consuming comes from a concept in the philosophies that underpin traditional Chinese medicine theory, where the two opposing states (yin and yang) are 2 states on a continuum and their interactions produce an infinite possible number of states of aggregation. Within this interplay, there is a dynamic balance that is maintained by a constant adjustment of their relative levels. So an excess of yin consumes yang and vice versa." We asked if this has anything to do with the concept of the Ouroboros, to which they responded, "we hadn't thought about Ouroboros, but the eternal cycle of things makes sense too. The gorge fest of existence." Does this relate to previous works? The twins concisely respond to that question in a rare interview in Untitled, "No."

Mutual Consuming is a dire piece of isolationist thrum, spectral caterwaul, and heavy gloom through an oblique and abstracted coupling of electronics, noise, and ominous field recordings. As immersive as Thomas Köner’s haunting ambience but fully entrenched in the industrial meditations of MB. Originally published as part of the instantly out of print boxset, On Corrosion - a 10 cassette anthology from 2019 that was housed in a handcrafted wooden box and featuring full albums from Kleistwahr, Neutral, Pinkcourtesyphone, Alice Kemp, She Spread Sorrow, G*Park, Relay For Death, Francisco Meirino, Fossil Aerosol Mining Project, and Himukalt. The collection stood as the 50th release for The Helen Scarsdale Agency.

Greville returns to Mad Habitat, consorting with the enigmatic Lonely Voices to realize a four-song suite steeped in vivid acoustic psychotomimesis. Each track is underpinned by Greville’s unerring sensitivity to sonic texture and atmosphere. The snappy, febrile drum programming of “I Miss Terry” is a deft counterpoint to the thrumming bassline. The chords of “Purgatory” swirl around the stereo field like hypnopompic hallucinations. On the flip side, vocals bleed in and out of the mix, spectral and elusive, threading through both tracks. “Electric Push” follows the monologue of “Dad’s Folk,” nudging it into even more surreal territory. It evokes a chance encounter between Ifach-era Baby Ford & the occult industrialism of late-period Coil.

Sally Anne Morgan is an artist and naturalist in the purest senses. Raised on old time and Appalachian folk traditions, Morgan"s artistry embodies the rich life of the communities and natural world she surrounds herself with. Based in Alexander, NC on the edge of Appalachia and the Pisgah National Forest, Sally"s blend of traditional technique and distinctly modern compositional approach are infused with the sounds of her garden, surrounding pastures, forests and mountains. Guest synthesis Sean Dunlap (Field Patterns) and hurdy-gurdy player Brian "Geologist" Weitz (Animal Collective) embellish pieces with droning thrums and sonic moss. Second Circle The Horizon is an album built on Morgan"s singular artistic voice as an improviser and composer intertwined with deft intuition. Morgan"s music highlights her bond with nature, and how its beauty and the beauty of artistic creation are interwoven. The album celebrates creation, revels in discovery, and marvels at the complex patterns, intersectional cycles and simple beauty of a creative life intertwined with the natural world.

Sally Anne Morgan is an artist and naturalist in the purest senses. Raised on old time and Appalachian folk traditions, Morgan"s artistry embodies the rich life of the communities and natural world she surrounds herself with. Based in Alexander, NC on the edge of Appalachia and the Pisgah National Forest, Sally"s blend of traditional technique and distinctly modern compositional approach are infused with the sounds of her garden, surrounding pastures, forests and mountains. Guest synthesis Sean Dunlap (Field Patterns) and hurdy-gurdy player Brian "Geologist" Weitz (Animal Collective) embellish pieces with droning thrums and sonic moss. Second Circle The Horizon is an album built on Morgan"s singular artistic voice as an improviser and composer intertwined with deft intuition. Morgan"s music highlights her bond with nature, and how its beauty and the beauty of artistic creation are interwoven. The album celebrates creation, revels in discovery, and marvels at the complex patterns, intersectional cycles and simple beauty of a creative life intertwined with the natural world.

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

Emerging from the Minneapolis underground and heading straight towards the sky, IE arrive on Quindi with a full-length album of sparkling, sophisticated wonder. Touching on kosmische grandeur, Riley-esque cyclical patterns, lounge pop and dubbed out psychedelia, the five-piece allow their songs to unfurl with a natural, hypnotic elegance which can take many different forms.
There's a loose, live quality to the recordings IE's members commit to record, which reflects their steady presence gigging in Minneapolis and the surrounding area. Since putting out their first release in 2016, they've glided from drone and synth-led jam band ambience (2018's Pome) to strung out, stoner-tinted slowcore (on 2023's outstanding Junk Body). For Reverse Earth they strike a smoky note that wraps itself around your skull across extended run times that evolve with a meditative poise.
From the deceptively driving 4/4 thrum of the opening title track through 'Divination Bag's snaking tryptamine mantras on to 'Simplify's slow and smouldering indie-soul, IE's sound is bathed in a sumptuous warm glow that rounds out the lows and the mids, creating a nocturnal shroud in which their nebulous song structures can feel deliciously endless.
Meredith Gill's drums provide rolling and tumbling undercurrents for the slowly shifting phases of the instrumental players, as Michael Gallope and Travis Workman trade keyboard parts and Workman and Sam Molstad chop and pick at their six-strings. Atop the thrum of her bass, Mariel Oliviera's vocal adapts to the scenery, from a distant, dreamlike siren song on 'Reverse Earth' to a spoken word meditation on 'Babel'.
There's space in each track for every instrument to cut through and have its moment, from a spiralling key vamp to a chicken-scratch guitar flex. The gently twisting, head-feeding groove exercises of the first four tracks give way to a slow and powerful march on 'Dark Rome', closing the record on a noirish anti-ballad fit to peal out in the closing slot at Twin Peaks' Roadhouse (circa season three).
As much as the tracks teem with composition, musicianship, and production to savor, a sound like IE's has a soporific quality that soaks in unconsciously. It's an evocative portal where the band feel as if they could just play on each piece ad infinitum - where the time itself seems to dislodge from its moorings.

Spandau20, an imprint named after the Western Berlin district and focused on artists from the area, delivers techno in all diverse forms - from warehouse and electronic peak time beats to breaks and IDM, balancing the old and new school sounds flawlessly. With a focus on vinyl releases, for the collectors, Spandau20 has lately also focused on its label nights, with showcases at Fabric, Bassiani and many others. The label's 10th release features 10 tracks that epitomise the musical diversity of Spandau20 and the progressive musical mindset of its roster, calling on the label favourites and Spandau natives to deliver brand new and exciting music. This special release even features one track that all artists have worked on together: 'Come Closer', a swarming, slithering beginning featured as the VA's opener. Its barely coherent female vocal echoing amidst a cacophony of demon-like effects. The chilling ambience captured at the offset transcends into the first full length track by Elli Acula, 'Floating Eyes', a cur characterised by an authoritative, pounding bass featuring calculated percussive rolls and metallic overtones to make for a face-scrunching opener to this devilish collection of works. FJAAK follow for the first of twin cameo appearances, partnering up with fellow live supremo and hardware aficionado KiNK. On 'Overbridge' the trio deliver a cavernous, rolling number driven by a deep thrumming bass in addition to a razor-edged lead synth, and pulsating technopattern. Dajusch is known for incorporating his years of classical study in with his immersive musical style - and with his VA effort the Berlin native neatly showcases this. Easing the energy slightly, 'Move' escalates from its warm, melodic intro into rumbling goliath of a beat comprising a looping, slew of gassy harmonics. The momentum of the release shifts considerably with the introduction of acutely versatile producer, DJ and sound artist Claus. The artist from Spandau leans his track 'Bloomscroll' towards sparse, dubby sonics in which he intricately ties together to form churning, burgeoning soundscape. FJAAK jolt proceedings back into the techno groove with their signature blend of arresting sub-bass and reverberating rhythms, which come thick, fast and heavy on 'Jackfruit'. The abstract wonder of Anna Z's broken-beat like stylings is fully explored on 'Icy Liq'. It's outlandish and amorphous in its execution, causing a clattering percussive chaos that's choicely pieced together by the modular-extraordinaire. Nikk stealthy moves into breaks territory with his track 'Down In The Shadows', packing a trap-like snare with an acid-flecked melody and dawn-breaking, dream-like textures. The penultimate track on the VA is 'Tufted'. J.Manuel expertly employs a chorus of robot-like sonics that course through a short-circuiting low-end to produce a pacy, inescapable journey via a whirling, merciless beat. He is joined by the legendary producer Tobi Neumann for their menacingly ambient number titled 'Fennec.' In parts a nod to UK dubstep, the duo concocts a fierce admixture of styles bolstering tribal-like components with industrialised overtones and methodically crafted drum-fills.

The Crystal Hum is the debut vinyl release by Taiwan-based artist Yuching Huang and her first release for Night School.
A beguiling dreamscape of crackles, spluttering, love-struck Casios presided over by the the spectral vocal and guitar work of Huang, Yuching sings love songs at the end of this world and the beginning of the next. Recorded during a hiatus from her group Aemong (a duo with artist Henrique Uba) in Berlin, these songs elevate Huang’s unique vocal style and grasp of atmospherics. The Crystal Hum deconstructs balladry, Garage, guitar music and reforms it into a
unified ghostly otherworld version of these languages.

The Crystal Hum thrums with buried desire, trails of nocturnal reverb seeping out of apartment windows, diaristic vocal performances and deeply emotive, evocative Western-style strings. Formulated by Yuching Huang after periods of frustration and experimentation, the album is an exercise in minimalism and paring back, with some tracks like JohnJohn featuring little else than an elastic bass, spring reverb trails, an interjecting vocal and swelling, dislocated synths. The effect is spellbinding, the soundtrack to getting lost in the labyrinthine, closed streets of Venice, Taipei, Hong Kong, or mirror versions of them in the imagination.

On opener Fly! Little Black Thing, a subterranean funk bassline roots Huang’s singing, a rudimentary, unreliable beat floundering in whimsy underneath. Demure, dream Dance music, Huang references classic lo fi experimenters Suicide and Arthur Russell as well as Night School label mates The Space Lady and Ela Orleans. In fact, after the release of Aemong’s third album Crimson, Huang credits the direction of The Crystal Hum to being enchanted by The Space Lady’s Greatest Hits,
the landmark lo-fi recording made by Susan Dietrich Schneider in 1990. The new, minimalist approach to her sound world reveals and shrouds in equal measure. On the heart-melter Love, a sultry mid-tempo Casio + bass backing drops into the ether with Huang’s vocal swimming in preternatural void before emerging anew, in awe at the world. Every chord change heralds new perspectives, every guitar flurry swells and drips emotion, nothing is wasted and space billows out from between the grooves.
Huang never reveals more than necessary, making this an in-between love album: the right amount of mystery and darkened mirror shines wanely on The Crystal Hum while remaining fragile and vulnerable in the sweet spots. Turning over in pillowing smoke and night in the dark corners, Huang sings in both Mandarin and English. The songs speak of earthly matters seemingly at the edge of dissipating into nothing. Distorted, beguiling Sambas warble like sweating dancehalls in an imagined Lynchian 60s, as on Thoughts. Closer You, An Illusion warps a classic 60s Girlgroup bassline beloved of the likes of Les Rallizes

Denudes into a slight ballad on the edge of the void, held back by the teary-eyed, wistful and enveloping vocal cooed by Huang. Each song feels like a love song dedicated to the bits between worlds, between beats, the negative space between people where desires, feelings and loss hangs in the air, resolute and unresolved.

The intrepid composer and field recordist Jacob Kirkegaard is no stranger to perilous and hostile regions of the world. His 4 Rooms invoked the radioactive decay through the amplification of architectural resonance in Chernobyl, Ukraine; and he has ventured to the arctic environments of Greenland on a number of occasions to document that barren, icy territory. His recurrent use of shadow and mystery through his work both as metaphor and as extended sonic technique reflects the complex, existential conditions that cross-contaminate what we consider civilization and what we consider wilderness. Waste disposal, firearms, the decomposition of dead bodies, the eerie stillness of morgues. These have also been the source material in Kirkegaard's formidable work.

With Snowblind, Kirkegaard turns to history, and a poetic, failed attempt for a team of Swedish explorers to reach the North Pole by balloon in the late 19th Century. Perhaps driven by blind adventurism, perhaps consumed by his own delusions, S.A. Andrée launched this ill-fated flight in July 1897, registering only two days in the air before crashing into the ice and ultimately failing to navigate the frigid waters and ice floes. Yet documentation of their expedition - photographic, scientific, and diaristic - survived, to be discovered some thirty years after their deaths.

"I wanted to created a cold and hostile album, where there is no escape, no warmth and no happy ending," as Kirkegaard explains about Snowblind. "Yet, I wanted to leave out any immediate drama. It is the creeping shock, the icy feeling from realizing what has been lost and that there's no escape."

Yes, Snowblind is a very bleak album, but one that eschews the isolationist, long-form drone of conceptually similar works by Thomas Köner, Lustmord, Werkbund, and Lull with interconnected constellations of cryptic tone, thrumming reverberation, arctic bluster, and a plethora of harrowing sonic proclamations.

Dieses Album erzählt eine fesselnde Geschichte über Widerstandsfähigkeit und die erlösende Kraft der Liebe. Als SingerSongwriter, Gitarrist und Produzent hat Henry im Laufe der Jahre zahlreiche erfolgreiche Alben veröffentlicht, die sich durch eine reichhaltige Verschmelzung von Folk-, Jazz- und Blues-Einflüssen auszeichnen. Auf Invisible Hour sind einige seiner engsten musikalischen Weƽefährten zu hören, darunter The Milk Carton Kids
sowie Lisa Hannigan. Nun erstmals auf 180g-Doppelvinyl erhältlich, inklusive zweier alternativer Demoversionen von "Slide" und "The Glorious Dead", die ursprünglich auf Henrys 2017er Album Thrum veröffentlicht wurden, sowie das bisher unveröffentlichte Demo "News From The Great Wide World".

Joe Henry’s 13th studio album “Invisible Hour”, recorded over four days in July 2013 at Henry's personal studio in California, tells a captivating story about resilience and the redemptive power of love.This record features several of his closest musical companions, including The Milk Carton Kids as well as Lisa Hannigan, who co-wrote the title track along with Henry and best-selling novelist Colum McCann. Now available on 180g black double vinyl for the first time, the 2024 reissue includes three special bonus tracks: Two alternate demo versions of “Slide” and “The Glorious Dead”, originally released on Henry’s 2017 record “Thrum”, as well as the previously unheard demo “News From The Great Wide World”.

Moon White Vinyl. All her life, Emma Hardyman has wrestled with contradictions. After all, she was practically rendered a living, breathing contradiction the moment she was born into her half-Peruvian, half-white working-class Mormon family. In young adulthood, Hardyman became increasingly disillusioned with Mormonism's righteous black-and-white thinking, as well as its exclusionary elitism, and decided to leave the church. But she also acknowledged that the institution's all-or-nothing philosophy had become a part of her, resulting in a considerable test of grace and unlearning. As the singer-songwriter behind Little Moon, the Tiny Desk Contest-winning, Utah-based avant-folk project, Hardyman uses music as an outlet to illuminate contradictions of all kinds. Following the release of her 2020 debut LP Unphased, Hardyman set out to write a romantic album about her newlywed husband Nathan (who also sings and plays guitar in Little Moon), but the universe had other plans. After Nathan's mother tragically passed away, Hardyman recalibrated her vision and started work on a love-as-grief, grief-as-love album titled Dear Divine. The record serves as a mirror for the darkest parts of ourselves, allowing us to examine our ego_not to dismantle it, but to better understand how we love, process adversity and move through the world. Centering the classical music, folk, video game soundtracks and Tabernacle Choir hymns she grew up with, as well as ephemeral snapshots of personal significance, Dear Divine is an abundant tapestry of Hardyman's life. As enlivening melodies radiate from a string trio, you can envision the classical music that thrums from her parents' radio 24/7, as Hardyman sings in an otherworldly coo, you can imagine her younger self swooning over the tranquil records of Vashti Bunyan and Joan Baez, and as arpeggiated synths twinkle, you can visualize the enchanting kingdom of Hyrule from The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time that she still adores. Songs like "now" and "messy love" embrace the gloriously jumbled stew of life, with the former chronicling Hardyman's arduous quest for love and trust and the latter patiently navigating the ways romantic partners can mirror each other's shortcomings. As Dear Divine attests, Emma Hardyman may not have it all figured out, but that's kind of the point. Through grief, faith crises and all-encompassing love, she's found the most wisdom in life's maddeningly consistent inconsistencies, as well as the subtle ways one can cultivate a feeling of home. Dear Divine doesn't take a red pen to life, it brings an open heart, an open mind and achingly beautiful, opulently weird folk songs.

From the first notes of Symbiont, the radical new collaborative album and document of Black and Indigenous futurism from Jake Blount and Mali Obomsawin, the listener is met with rising tidewaters, massive droughts, and the appearance of an iconoclastic uprising amidst the worlds indifference. Questions of future or present tense swirl around the music as the duo unspools the intertwined threads of racial and climate justice. Amid rumbling synthesizer drones, the thrum of banjo, and the thwack of drum machines, a whisper of truth can be heard: this crisis has been unfolding for centuries.

Black Truffle is thrilled to announce a reissue of Chico Mello and Helinho Brandão’s self-titled release from 1984, the first return to vinyl of this classic of Brazilian experimental music with its original cover art and complete track listing. An under-recognised figure whose work inhabits a singular terrain where radical new music techniques and music theatre meet musica popular brasileira, Mello has lived and worked in Berlin since the late 1980s. A student of Dieter Schnebel, Mello played in the 90s iteration of Arnold Dreyblatt’s Orchestra of Excited Strings alongside compatriot Silvia Ocougne, with whom he produced a radical and hilarious deconstruction of MPB classics on Musica Brasileira De(s)composta (an early and rather atypical release on Edition Wandelweiser).

On this release, his only recording predating his move to Europe, Mello works with the alto saxophonist Helinho Brandão, who appears to be otherwise unknown outside Brazil. The record’s six tracks range from solo saxophone improvisation to densely layered ensemble works bridging minimalism, acoustic sound art and a plaintive melodic sensibility that calls up Edu Lobo or Milton Nascimento. Beginning with a dramatic, dissonant wind and string surge from which emerge ominously pounding piano chords, opener ‘Água’ slowly builds in intensity, a halo of clustered vocal harmonies gradually closing in on Brandão’s squealing sax until the piece opens up to reveal a gorgeous passage of melodic singing. The piano accompaniment reduces to tolling bass notes as the voice begins a repeated incantation, suggesting a ritualistic atmosphere reminiscent of parts of Xenakis’ setting of Oresteia. Dissonant, sawing tremolos on the strings climb to a crescendo before disappearing into the sounds of water being poured and splashed into metal vessels, presented not as a field recording but as a percussive element performed by the ensemble. A child’s voice then appears, singing to piano accompaniment the same melody heard earlier in the piece. After a brief solo alto improvisation from Brandão, working with the guttural pops and fleeting melodic gestures of Braxton or Roscoe Mitchell, the remainder of the first side is dedicated to the leisurely unfolding of ‘Baiando’ over the course of twelve minutes. A trio for Brandão on soprano saxophone, Mello on a very period-appropriate phased nylon string guitar and Edu Dequech on bongos, the performance eases its way hypnotically through subtle variations on a set of rhythmic and melodic patterns, almost derailed at points by Brandão’s wild forays into extended technique but held together by Mello’s droning guitar notes.

The second side opens with another multi-part epic for a larger ensemble, ‘Matraca’, which makes use of strings, electric guitars and a wide range of South American percussion instruments. Rasping violin harmonics hover as drum hits, repeated guitar notes and triangle accompany a slowly descending bass glissando. A sudden change in direction introduces a thrumming, incessantly repeated bowed bass tone, beginning a series of episodes of minimalist phasing and pattern variation, the combinations of electric guitars and orchestral instruments giving the ensemble an ad hoc charm like the early Penguin Café Orchestra but with more percussive drive. Eventually the piece is overrun by a cacophony of the titular matracas (a kind of ratchet/cog rattle). Following a lyrical trio improvisation by Mello, Brandão and Gerson Kornin on bass, the final ‘Danca’ focuses entirely on Mello’s layered acoustic guitars and vocals, using this restricted palette to build up a haunting piece of almost orchestral density, reminiscent of the 70s work of Egberto Gismonti in how it thickens a folkish ambience with harmonic sophistication.

Arriving in a starkly beautiful gatefold sleeve and sounding better than ever in its new remaster, one might call the stunning music contained on Chico Mello/Helinho Brandão ahead of its time. But what (other than some of Mello’s own work) produced in the years since its initial release has really touched the organic fusion of minimalism, free improvisation, radical instrumental technique and popular song achieved here? Forty years after its first release, Chico Mello/Helinho Brandão remains music of the future.

Review: Three German instrumental talents - Chris Haertel, David Nesselhauf, Julian Gutjahr - make up The Drawbars, whom together describe their music as 'off jazz'. Following up their prior outing for Basel's BurningSole, on which two instrumental originals stuck out like raw thrums, their latest is an unexpected curveball in the form of a standout rare groove version of Billie Eilish's modern classic 'Bad Guy'. Riffing of its madhouse hooks by way of a watery high electric keyboard part, the essence of the track pairs timely well the Northern-soulful form of breaks, fills and bass jaunts. The B, 'Smokes & Mirrors', returns to OG songwriting and hears electric glisses and portamento synths dance across sultry, incense-filled rhythmatic rooms and navy-noted blueses.

A landmark recording and masterful symphony of performance, composition, and execution, Miles Davis' E.S.P. established the template jazz would follow for the following decade. The 1965 record splits the gap between accessible hard-bop and the cutting-edge approach Davis increasingly pursued into the 1970s. Adventurous, sophisticated, and yet altogether cohesive, E.S.P. stands out not only due to its elastic compositions but via its chemistry, interplay, and feeling attained by the instrumentalists. The first album Davis' classic second quintet made together, it's also very arguably the group's best. Never before has the effort been experienced in such transformational sound.

Pressed at RTI, this 180g 45RPM 2LP set of E.S.P. renders the music's dynamics, pitch, colors, and textures with lifelike realism and proper scale. Reference-caliber separation, wall-to-wall soundstages, and distinct images magnify the intensity and beauty of Davis and Co.'s creations. Whether it's the distinctive snap of Tony Williams' drum sticks against the snare head, air moving through Davis' trumpet, acoustic thrum of Ron Carter's bass, or upper register of Herbie Hancock's piano, the sound is better than you'd even hear in the most intimate jazz clubs. Prepare to be swayed on every level.

For many, E.S.P. looms among the decade's best albums if only because of the significance of Davis' line-up. While Hancock, Williams, and Carter are holdovers that began playing with one another on 1963's Seven Steps to Heaven, Wayne Shorter functions as the secret weapon and key addition responsible for this ensemble hitting a new peak. Indeed, the saxophonist helped pen two of the seven compositions here – notably, E.S.P. is entirely comprised originals and clocked in as one of the longest-running jazz LPs issued at the time – and, more importantly, grants Davis the confidence and leeway necessary for the eruption of enigma, steadiness, and tension.

As he did with John Coltrane year earlier, Davis hangs back and picks his moments to solo, with Shorter stepping up to supply the churn. Their bandmates respond in kind, itching to take off into new stratospheres all the while keeping their improvisations grounded and connected to the piece at hand. Guided by Davis' visions and inspired by current boundary-pushing works by the likes of Ornette Coleman, Cecil Taylor, and Coltrane, the magnificent results spark with variation, harmony, emotion, energy, and brilliant movement.

Interlocking lines drive "Little One," alternating rhythms pulse through the funky "Eighty-One," melodies soar on the balladic "Iris," the aptly titled "Mood" broods over minor-key structures, and "Agitation" – goosed by a two-minute percussive introduction by Williams – delivers on its promise. No record – and no group of musicians – have ever balanced coherent themes and exploratory playing in better fashion than Davis' quintet on E.S.P. It's the avant-garde record even jazz traditionalists love, and essential on every level.

Patterns / Threshold, a collaborative split offering from Mesure Divide and Esse Ran, plunges the listener into a disquieting expanse of undulating rhythms and transmuted textures. Here, melodies and harmonies dissolve, fracturing into a heavy, systolic throb that whispers of superposition and entanglement.

Lush synthesizers shimmer with a noetic luminescence, their tones arching and bowing alongside relentless cyclical beats and sloshing electronics. Refractions of rave culture thrumming in stillness, their ecstatic energy dissipating into a radiant hum - a melancholic undercurrent born from the tension between fleeting exuberance and enduring inanition. This is a realm of heady paradox, where rigid structure and fluid intuition converge.

The artists navigate this liminal space with masterful precision, guiding the listener through a landscape of aural oscillations. Perception teeters on the edge of the concrete and the ephemeral; perception dissolves; reality grows soft at the edges.

Patterns / Threshold will be released on physical vinyl records and bandcamp only. No streaming, no bullshit.

"Keady & Vallins" is an all-too-familiar story of potential left unfulfilled -- glorious pop music shunted by the impetuous thrums of a music industry stricken by decadence and a preference for high turnover and rigorous proprietorship.

A tour with the Bee Gees by Vallins and help from Robert Stigwood resulted in a deal with Polydor .

After a pair of singles produced by a young, upstart (now hugely important head of Universal Music Group) Lucian Grange achieved moderate success in France, an album was next: taped by Keady and Vallins during downtime from other sessions. They pulled world class talent from the studio, from the pub down the street from the studio, while also (temporarily) pilfering instruments from the shop below the studio (price tags still affixed) -- to create a striking blend of sepia-toned soft pop / yacht rock and pop disco-lite.

For more than twenty years, Ka Baird has explored the outer dimensions of sound through performance. Extending far beyond their roots in the psychedelic folk movement of the early aughts, Ka is known for their raw, boundary pushing solo performances that bridge experimental sound, performance art, and ritual. Their tool set in the live arena includes extended voice and microphone techniques, electronics, flute and piano. Bearings follows their 2017 debut Sapropelic Pycnic and Respires, their acclaimed 2019 album.

Initially conceived as a twenty minute composition and presentation commissioned by Lampo in Chicago in the spring of 2022, Ka first explored the concept of “bearings” through a series of intimate performances where they shifted guises between magician, shaman, clown, and athlete, all enduring ongoing states of groundlessness through a physically demanding performance that entailed both play and struggle. This piece, in tandem with the heaviness of caring for a dying parent during the subsequent year, laid the groundwork for Bearings, with the album’s final narrative structure revealing itself in the months after their mother’s death the following September.

Enlisting a cast of contributors including Andrew Bernstein (alto saxophone), Max Eilbacher (flute processing, electronics), Greg Fox (percussion), gabby fluke-mogul (violin), Henry Fraser (contrabass), Joanna Mattrey (viola), John McCowen (contra clarinet), Camilla Padgitt-Coles (bowls, waterphone) Troy Schafer (strings), Chris Williams (trumpet), Nate Wooley (trumpet), and their beloved cat, Nisa (purrs) to create a collective hum and thrum, Ka and company create sprawling minimalist densities, punctuated by abrupt starts and stops, complex harmonics and textures, percussive flourishes, and a single, cyclical lyrical phrase: “Here. Disappear. Poof!”

Ka considers the album to be a deviant nod to a song cycle, throughout which certain motifs are repeated in different configurations. In the album’s sonic lexicon, a trumpet blast signifies a birth or death, or a distant string motif denotes a memory. Bearings is a durational work of profound abstraction and focus, within which sonorous elements, structure, and meaning reach a single, unified form. This amounts to nothing short of a creative high-water mark for one of the most dynamic and uncompromising artists working in the landscape of music today.