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■ The latest installment in the popular ocean themed compilation series “SALT... meets ISLAND CAFE”, curated by the beach life magazine/media SALT...,
is DEEP BLUE the series’ first ever ambient music compilation. Centered around the title concept inspired by the deep, tranquil blue of the ocean, the album
presents soothing music tailored to modern lifestyles, spanning chillout, Balearic, meditation, and healing sounds.

■ Ten artists each highly trusted by discerning listeners across the ambient, chillout, Balearic, and surf‑music scenes have created brand‑new, original ambient
tracks inspired by the theme. From pioneers active since the ’90s to cutting‑edge trackmakers, this compilation brings together a stunning collection of
ocean‑themed ambient music.

■ Mastering is handled by ambient/Balearic maestro Calm, who is also featured as one of the contributing artists, delivering an exceptional sonic experience.
Enjoy all ten tracks, each expressing its own unique interpretation of DEEP BLUE.

■ The artwork features an artistic photograph by Pedro Gomes, a Brazil born, Japan based surf photographer, with design by Masato Maekawa (tAnkers inc.),
known for his work across apparel and outdoor brands. Under the supervision of SALT..., the visuals perfectly capture the compilation’s immersive world.


[b] a2. [.que] / deeply

Very limited numbers, orders will need to be confirmed.

For his new album, Irreparable Parables, Andrew Wasylyk felt a strong desire to write a set of songs featuring an element hitherto rare in his work: the human voice. Equally strong was the conviction that he did not want to sing them himself.

The Scottish multi-instrumentalist and composer set about assembling a group of guest singers, sending out the songs to wherever they were in the world. The vocals were recorded remotely and then, like migrating birds, winged their way back to Scotland. The result is an album of great beauty which, perhaps preeminently in Wasylyk’s work, expresses the vulnerability and resilience of the human spirit.

Six singers appear on the record, represented by six songbirds illustrated on the sleeve by Clay Pipe Music’s Frances Castle. The cuckoo is a nod to Belle and Sebastian’s 2004 single ‘I’m A Cuckoo’, that band’s Stuart Murdoch being the first voice you hear on the new album. When the vocal for ‘Private Symphony #2’ arrived, says Wasylyk, “it was everything that I was looking for and more. But this is Stuart Murdoch. Of course he’s going to make something incredibly beautiful and thoughtful.”

The song lyrics were, for the most part, written by the singers. The music is Wasylyk’s creation. He navigates a sound world that lies somewhere beyond the borders of classical and jazz, ambient and abstract. It is difficult to describe, but easy to understand, which is to say to feel. That is the way Wasylyk’s work is experienced: as a feeling. It takes you back to childhood, perhaps, to feelings of comfort and safety, or to memories of walks at sunrise and sunset, or to the way a shadow falls on a particular field in a particular place at a particular time in your life. This is consoling music. That is why, though pretty, it is not merely pretty. These are songs to shore up the soul.

Wasylyk writes in a room, in his native Dundee, full of “half broken” instruments. He picks these up, plays a little, seeking an idea, a feeling, a door that lies ajar. The musical palette of Irreparable Parables includes brass and woodwind, a six-piece string section, guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, tape loops, synthesisers and percussion. The strings were arranged by the cellist Pete Harvey, a long-term collaborator.

Among the other guest vocalists are Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, Saya Ueno from Japan’s Tenniscoats and Peter Brewis from Field Music. Wasylyk himself takes the lead vocal on the title track, though a throat infection and touch of pitch-shifting have altered his singing in a way that even he, having fallen out of love with his own voice, finds acceptable.

The heart of the record can, arguably, be found in two tracks, ‘Love Is A Life That Lasts Forever’ and ‘Spectators In The Absence of God’, sung respectively by Molly Linen and Kathryn Joseph. The former, bright with trumpets, was inspired by the writing of Derek Jarman. “I was feeling deeply upset about the world and wanted to try and write some- thing that was obviously hopeful,” Wasylyk says.

‘Spectators …’ offers an emotional counterpoint. It is an “apocalyptic hymn” that seems to grapple with watching human suffering from afar, too distant to be at physical risk, but experiencing the psychological wounding, and feelings of helplessness, even complicity, that come with constant awareness of other people’s pain. “Kathryn’s a pal, I love her dearly, and she’s a brilliant artist who really feels what she writes,” Wasylyk says. “The cracked tenderness of her voice is spellbinding.”

The album closes with an instrumental piece, ‘Soul Enters The Ocean Sun Climbs Out Of The Sea’, all piano and strings, that offers a sense of resolution and ascension. A good moment, too, for Wasylyk to reflect upon the artistic companionship that he enjoyed while making this record – the songbirds that answered his call: “These humans are incredible at what they do. I’m deeply grateful and feel so lucky. It blows my mind.”

Since first forming in 2016, London's High Vis have steadily polished their palette of progressive hardcore with shades of post-punk, Brit pop, neo-psychedelia, and even Madchester groove, mapping a middle ground between hooks and fury, melodies and mosh pits. Singer Graham Sayle describes their third album 'Guided Tour' as an axis of competing forces: "It's trying to be a hopeful record, while also being incensed." Rounded out by drummer Edward 'Ski' Harper, guitarists Martin MacNamara and Rob Hammaren, and bassist Jack Muncaster, the band's deep roots in the UK and Irish DIY hardcore scenes have kept them grounded but growing, inspired equally by restlessness and righteous anger. As Sayle puts it, "Everyone's scratching, everyone's working all the time, and their idea of relaxing is just getting fucked and avoiding reality. This album is an escape from that."From its opening seconds of a cab door slamming, a car revving away, and a baggy rhythm swinging to life, 'Guided Tour' sounds like a band reaching for new heights, bristling with energy. Recorded across a few weeks at Holy Mountain Studios in London with producer Jonah Falco and engineer Stanley Gravett, the results feel dynamic and dialed-in, like anthems burned into sense memory through sweat and repetition. Harper cuts to the chase: "We had a clear idea going in, every moment got used. Maybe when we're 60 we can sit around and get a drum sound right, but for now it's about getting things done."The album's 11 songs span the spectrum of contemporary guitar music, sharpened by experience, camaraderie, and societal frustrations. From swaggering street punk ("Drop Me Out," "Mob DLA") to jangling indie sneer ("Worth The Wait," "Deserve It") to heavy alt ("Feeling Bless," "Fill The Gap") to shoegazey spoken word ("Untethered"), the group's chemistry transmutes any style to their unique intensity. Sayle champions this evolving fusion: "For years coming from hardcore, we had pretty clear boundaries - other scenes were separate worlds. Now things are getting more blended, drawing from different places."Nowhere is this sentiment flexed more boldly than on "Mind's A Lie," a dance- punk anthem inspired by Harper's love of house, garage, and pirate radio. Stabs of sampled female vocals (by celebrated South London singer and DJ Ell Murphy) build into a razor wire rhythm of low-slung bass, tense drums, and sparkling guitar before Sayle's staunch voice starts barking harsh truths ("Face to face with all I've known / I can't call these thoughts my own"). After a sudden breakdown, the track regroups and takes off, cruising into the horizon in a haze of chiming guitars and Murphy's ascendant voice, from the streets to somewhere beyond.

Joji returns with long-awaited 4th studio album ‘Piss In The Wind’ via Palace Creek. The new LP cements his place as one of the most distinctive and genre-defying artists of his generation, balancing haunting melodies with gritty yet atmospheric production. The album captures the quiet contradictions that always defined his music, wrestling inner turmoil into something strangely beautiful. Features “PIXELATED KISSES,” “Past Won’t Leave My Bed,” and more.


Joji kehrt mit seinem lang erwarteten vierten Studioalbum „Piss In The Wind“ zurück. Die neue LP festigt seinen Platz als einer der markantesten und genreübergreifendsten Künstler seiner Generation, der eindringliche Melodien mit einer rauen, aber atmosphärischen Produktion in Einklang bringt. Das Album fängt die stillen Widersprüche ein, die seine Musik seit jeher auszeichnen, und verwandelt innere Unruhe in etwas seltsam Schönes. Mit „PIXELATED KISSES”, „Past Won’t Leave My Bed” und weiteren Titeln.

Following their 2023 LP Presents, Nathan Nelson's American Cream Band bring the Twin City heat back to Quindi with an album rooted in duality. From the yin and yang party-starting A side and meditative B side to the dual-attack boy-girl vocals, the nature of opposites and equals steer the expansive, artful strain of rock n' roll that spill out of this wholly unique Minnesotan export. For the ever intriguing Quindi, it's a strident step into Spring after the frosty introspection of Roudi Vagou & Läuten der Seele's Taghelle Nacht. While the world burns and injustice prevails, Twin is a celebration of unity and radical expression-all the more urgent against the backdrop of authoritarian overreach and righteous protest that has whipped through Minneapolis in recent times.
Twin continues Nelson's drive at the helm of American Cream Band to draw in a colourful cast of players to feed into his orgiastic sound, meshing the trance-induction of krautrock with the irrepressible funk of the post-punk-new-wave explosion. But principal among the cast of characters and forming a central tenet to the identity of this album is Liz Buhmann, lead vocalist and a formidable, playful foil to Nelson's own Midwestern twang. Around the electric spark between Buhmann and Nelson, a heavy duty ensemble wrangle guitar, bass, sax, a cornucopia of synths and a battery of percussion into all manner of sonic forms.
The double-sided concept manifests throughout Twin. On 'Call Me' Buhmann sings in French to contrast Nelson's English, while the strident strut of the NYC disco groove is offset by an inherent dreaminess that turns the track into a more cosmic kind of dancefloor workout. 'Ethical Vampire' is a spiky cut with a garage rock patina that spirals into a psychedelic, synth-soaked get-down. 'Don't Burn The House Down' is a loose and limber roller that captures Can at their funkiest along with the hypnotic vibe of other such esteemed long format jammers, but American Cream Band boils that energy into a hook-laden art pop sensibility before a gentle, drawn out landing.
Even the more pensive moments on Twin find space for friction. For all its tender, smoky temperament, 'Leda and the Swan' lets the electric piano and guitar fray at the edges and bleed into the red while Mat Heinrich's tumbling drums lurch with pent-up intensity on the one. 'No Funeral Necessary' skirts around the mellow pools of new age but prefers to let liberally doused Tape Echo tweak out Alex Meffert's honeyed sax inflections and Buhmann and Nelson's disparate sermons.
Nelson describes Twin as "an oppositorum coincidentia" - a reference to the mystical Latin concept of the coincidence of opposites that suggests contradictory ideas 'fall together' in a higher reality. Beyond the sound of the album, this idea also manifests in the cover photography by Sho Nikado and the swans on the LP labels by Autumn Garrington. As freewheeling and wide-open as American Cream Band feels, nothing appears by accident. The end result feels like a nourishing whole - rich with substance and nuance, deep enough to be explored and absorbed yet also so brazen and immediate you can't help but feel its surface charms from the first thrusts of 'The Hive Is Pissed' to the last ripples of 'We're Not So Sinister'.

Every so often in music, we come across voices that achieve a certain timelessness, so naturally do they encapsulate both past and present. Laure Briard is one of these voices, retro in form but contemporary at heart, spanning a career rich in aesthetic twists and turns, never without her signature magic, a special kind of eternal filter. Her first album, Révélation (2015), reveals her yé-yé influences, a testament to her love for ‘60s French pop music. Her second studio album, Sur la piste de danse (2016), follows in this vein and finds Laure accompanied as always by her long-time bandmates who share an affinity for warm, catchy arrangements that never lose their appeal. Her tour of Brazil marks a turning point in her career, introducing her to the local indie scene and thus launching her collaboration with the band Boogarins, as well as inspiring the release of multiple EPs composed and performed in Portuguese. Today, her music is embellished by touches of bossa nova and a folk sensibility, boasting increasingly intricate arrangements, as exemplified by her 2019 release, Un peu plus d'amour s'il vous plaît. Several years later, the Californian desert captures the musician’s imagination with Ne pas trop rester bleue, a poignant musical journey inspired by the rich history of Western legends and the role they play in shaping our collective consciousness.

In Voyage Mental, Laure Briard draws upon an inner energy unearthed during a new stage in her life, where the thrill of spontaneous adventure is not accessible in quite the same way. The result is a collection of sophisticated, introspective songs, narrating a young mother’s quest for balance in the face of routine. The album, nostalgic but always tethered to the present moment, is also the fruit of her collaboration with Gaëtan Nonchalant, a talented musician known for coaxing poetry out of the mundane. The two of them co-wrote and recorded five tracks at Studio Nocturne, accompanied by her long-time sidekick Pieuvre, aka Vincent Guyot, Léo Blomov, Pierre-Louis Vizioz, and Hedi Bensalem. The gentle pop opener “Rocking Chair” sways steadily to the rhythm of dynamic drums, followed by “Train,” a ballad that extends an invitation to set sail and daydream alone. The folk escapade continues with “Golden Sun,” a duet featuring the 1960s cult American musician F.J. McMahon, who Laure contacted via the internet on a whim. “Golden Sun” is an unlikely encounter between two generations and two cultures, giving new life to an old forgotten demo on the other side of the Atlantic. And while Laure sings of wide open spaces, cowboys, and sunsets sinking into the sea, we feel the city surrounding her in “Miroir,” a song composed by Hedi Bensalem that laments the suffocation of living in a crowded metropolis where the sky is a distant gray smudge. This pressing need for air, this search for rest and total disconnection, is one of the album's central themes. It may also explain the ever-present sense of nostalgia that pervades the songs, a welcome respite in our current era of doomscrolling and darkness. Along the way, Laure soothes us with melancholy guitar, delivers poetry set to scattered piano notes, and takes us by the hand during lively, uptempo passages. We climb onto her wings, never straying too far from the ground, soaring joyfully above her moods.

If – in some parallel universe (or perhaps a not-so-distant-future version of the one we’re already sentenced to living in) – the evil overloads of artificial intelligence were actually successful in their attempts to create convincingly enjoyable “original music,” more specifically tasked with wholly encapsulating my own personal tastes by data-chugging some cocktail of – oh, I don’t know – the posters on my wall, the records in my “most listened to” pile, the mixtapes I made for others, intensive physical scans of my auditory cortex, amygdala, hippocampus, heart strings, whatever else they have splayed out on their autopsy table with the intention of generating one all-encompassing “perfect band” based on the fruitful sum of their findings – that band, for me, would be (or would at least sound exactly like) the Tara Clerkin Trio. It is, quite simply, without exception, the music I wish to hear.

Formed in Bristol UK (where none of them are from yet all of whom are deeply engrained) in 2020, the Tara Clerkin Trio – as it somewhat democratically exists today, despite the singular authority implied by its name – consists of the titular Tara Clerkin, her partner Sunny Joe Paradisos, and Sunny’s brother, Patrick Benjamin. I’ll confess, I don’t know what their respective roles are within the operation and there’s only a very small part of me that cares to learn, as one of my favorite qualities in an objective listening experience is the mystery of who is playing what, which sounds are “authentic” versus synthesized, which chunks are performed “live” in a room together versus meticulously Frankenstein’ed from measure to measure, or how exactly the overall sound is so (seemingly) effortlessly achieved. Though, I suspect, if and when I do witness a live performance by this band at any point, my enjoyment of the music will not be lost in my better understanding of it.

With two extraordinary mini-albums – In Spring (2021) and On The Turning Ground (2023) – making a splash on London’s formidable World of Echo label in wake of their self-titled 2020 debut, this upcoming Somewhere Good LP is, in many ways, the band’s most realised work. In running their usual gauntlet of idiosyncratic (*an overused adjective for which here there is regrettably no sufficient alternative) approaches, Clerkin & co. colour in and outside of compositional lines over the course of 40+ celebratory minutes - never wallowing, despite inherently somber subject matters of self-defeat, disease, displacement, restlessness, gentrification - allowing their arrangements and improvisations ample space and time to situate, stretch out, breathe, cross-pollinate, and ultimately take deeper hold on the listener’s imagination – all while somehow sounding more like themselves than ever before.

Of course, there are traceable influences herein, if one felt that such comparisons were necessary to properly examine and enjoy this music (they aren’t)… Being the big dumb American from the small boring town that I am, cornfed on ‘90s alternative radio with the enchantingly exotic sounds of Maxinquaye and Mezzanine emanating from my chunky tube television, I can’t help but to make a blatantly obvious reference to a “Bristol sound”, ie the whole trip-hop trip, the pastoral crooning over the suggestive urban grime of cracked electro/piano treatments, the digitally-yet-primitively reconstructed James Bond soundtrack string-beats, etc.. But the Tara Clerkin Trio is so infinitely much more than that. There are elements of avant-pop, modern classical, kraut-folk, audio verité, dare I say indie rock (and not of the beer guzzling, masturbatory fuzz-flex variety but perhaps more like a Trish Keenan-fronted Faust, Adrian Sherwood at the mixing desk of If You’re Feeling Sinister, or – in expanding on our alternate reality – a world in which High Llamas cut a full-length for Warp Records with Andrew Weatherall on coffee duty).

The hazy, unmappable skyline-mirage of droning harmonium, upright bass, peculiarly accentuated wind instruments, acoustic guitar, hushed yet literally mighty keys combine to hypnotizing effect. The band may make underlying nods to jazz, sure, but it’s not appropriation, it’s that they have the actual chops to build it out. Beneath the janky samples and oddball percussive embellishment lies actually great drumming. Beyond the manipulated vocal witchery and woefully reflective plain-spoke moments are Tara’s subtly inspired melodies, sung with what might honestly be the glue to the whole crazy equation. A calming consistency throughout the otherwise unpredictably dynamic, boldly intuitive, uniquely British exploration of this (their own) universe in song. – Ryan Davis (Chicago, February 2026)

Winding Road Records are proud to present the “Last Disco on Earth EP” from the ever-elusive group of “Mar De Novo” which is M & N, Paraiso and Yse Saint Laur’ant. First up on this EP is the title track ‘Last Disco on Earth’ is a monster slab of modern disco. Fat grooves, cheeky melodies and cool glitchy production. Uplifting, positive and energetic - guaranteed to put a smile on the dancefloor. Next up is ‘Over There’ is a twisted slice of bass-heavy undulating house, punctuated by crazy interludes and samples that fly in from nowhere. Starting things off on the B side is ‘Uncanny Valley’ is a sun-kissed downtempo groover, with dreamy strings and wonderful chilled musicality. Following on from that is ‘Reflection’ exudes space, peace, and calm. Guitars and piano intertwine alongside haunting vocals. Soundtrack bliss. Summer vibes. Finally rounding off the EP is ‘Find Love’ rounds off the package with a dreamy balearic sunset vibe.

Between electronic shadows and cinematic textures, this new album from QUENUM draws its influences from the likes of Massive Attack, Archive, and Burial. Started and produced in London, it reflects a change of time — both in the climate and within.

This project represents a personal and artistic turning point for QUENUM. He wanted to experiment with new ideas, not necessarily music for the club. The album was created in close collaboration with his son Zac, a talented musician who contributed both as a singer and instrumentalist on several tracks. They shared wonderful moments creating this album together.

He also worked hand in hand with his long-time friend Christophe Calpini, who played a key role in mixing and in developing the textures and atmospheres that shape the album’s sound. The result is an intimate, personal, and timeless journey, deeply rooted in the now.

Quenum elaborates: “The idea for my album was born during Covid in London, when concerts, museums, and social activities suddenly stopped. To cope, I started running daily and spending hours in the studio creating music. In our garden cabin I worked alongside my son Zac who was practicing piano, preparing for his entry into Trinity Laban Conservatoire. He listened to my tracks, and eventually contributed vocals with his ex-partner on two songs, ‘Blue Sky’ and ‘Never Like Before’. The album’s dark atmosphere reflects that period. Once it was complete, I asked my longtime friend Christophe Calpini to handle arrangements and mixing.”

A true pioneer of electronic music, QUENUM has been shaping the global techno and house scene for over two decades. One of his most celebrated tracks, “Orange Mistake”, co-produced with Luciano in 2001, became a turning point in his career. The success of this collaboration led them to launch the legendary Cadenza label, which rapidly grew into one of the most recognisable and respected imprints in the scene, known for its vital releases and unforgettable parties worldwide.

Over the years, QUENUM has continued to explore new creative paths and refine his artistic identity, constantly reinventing his sound while maintaining his unique musical signature. His insatiable curiosity and openness to new influences have kept him consistently in demand, from intimate underground venues to the world’s most respected festivals and clubs.

Disco legend Sylvester comes to Dark Entries with Private Recordings: August 1970, an intimate collection of vintage jazz, blues, and gospel. While Sylvester is best known for his chart-topping collaborations with producer Patrick Cowley, such as “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real),” this release reveals his passion for the sounds of the 30s and 40s. In 1970 a 22-year-old Sylvester had moved to San Francisco and found himself involved with the Cockettes, the infamous psychedelic performance art troupe. Among this milieu was Peter Mintun, a pianist and record collector living in a commune devoted to retro culture. According to Mintun, “We were like hippies who lived in the twenties. We lived in a house that didn’t have anything modern in it. Nothing in it was made after World War II.” Mintun and Sylvester bonded over their love of Black singers of yore and were allotted a slot during Cockettes performances reviving the music of the Prohibition Era. One afternoon, Sylvester and Mintun recorded a number of their shared favorites using a high-end microphone a friend had acquired. Private Recordings features 9 songs from this session, including standards like “Stormy Weather,” “Happy Days Are Here Again,” and “God Bless the Child.” Sylvester’s unmistakable falsetto brings depth and a dash of camp to these familiar tunes. The recordings are casual and intimate, even capturing banter between Sylvester and Mintun; their brief rendition of “When My Dreamboat Comes Home” has the duo working out a melody in real time. In addition to their sonic explorations of decades past, Sylvester and Mintun also staged photographic shoots in vintage couture. Private Recordings comes with a 16-page booklet on firm cardstock featuring images from these never-before-seen shoots as well as liner notes from Mintun detailing his friendship with Sylvester and their experiences recording. All this is housed in a metallic silver sleeve designed by Eloise Leigh featuring a 1920’s Art Deco aesthetic. The record will be released on September 6th which would have been Sylvester’s 76th birthday, and all proceeds from Private Recordings will go to the two charities that Sylvester left his royalties after his death: Project Open Hand and PRC (formerly AIDS Emergency Fund). This essential release documents the earliest known recordings from one of disco’s greatest talents.

Jeffrey Alexander and the Heavy Lidders return with their best album yet, and a UK tour this August. Press by Silver PR
‘’On the alternate timeline where the Meat Puppets inherited the bulk of the Grateful Dead’s tourheads when Jerry Garcia died in 1995, none of this would be necessary, because Jeffrey Alexander and the Heavy Lidders are a household name for evolving their own musical space that overlays dusty folk, cosmic jazz, deep psych, free improv, and even (gasp!) indie rock, building an audience that ranges from open-eared curiosity seekers to deep committed music weirdos that’s also yielded the Heavy Lidders, an infamous sub-cult of concert tapers that you’re already sick of hearing about. A lot of other things are better over on that timeline, too.
But in this consensus reality (and probably the other one, too), Liquid Donnon catches the Lidders at their heaviest, “heavy” in the Lidderverse being far from a monolithic musical idea. There’s heavy like the album-opening “From Loch Raven to Fells Point,” one of several tracks with elegant and gnarled conversational jams featuring the core Lidders lineup of Alexander alongside guitarist Drew Gardner and bassist Jesse Sheppard (both of Elkhorn) and drummer Scott Verrastro. But there’s heavy, too, like “Calliope Walker” and “Tightroping,” featuring Gardner shifted to dream-space vibraphone, the former with saxophonist Tacuma Bradley, the latter with Christina Carter of Texas noise-psych legends Charalambides on veil-crossing wordless vocals, her first collaboration with Alexander in some 20 years.
But then there’s also heavy like the cover photo of Alexander’s late friend and album namesake Donnon, taken at a Dead show at Rich Stadium in Buffalo in 1989, a spirit threading through the songs and weaving unexpectedly into Alexander’s life decades later, emerging especially when Alexander passed through a near-death experience of his own. But, taken together, the different heavies of Liquid Donnon add up into a state of musical grace, where all the Heavy Lidders from all the universes come together as one. Just, like, imagine.
Convened in 2019 on Alexander’s relocation back to his native east coast, the Heavy Lidders are the latest hard-touring expression for the guitarist’s music, joining a vast and tangled discography (and tape list) that includes the beloved long-running west coast Dire Wolves Just Exactly Perfect Sisters Band and, before them, the Iditarod and Black Forest/Black Sea, as well as a bushel of solo play-all-the-instruments projects, a stint with Jackie-O Motherfucker, sessions with Kemialliset Ystävät and Avarus and others, and you’ll have to keep digging for the rest.
And while it’s not hard to find tapers at Lidders gigs (and they encourage you to be one), or to track themes and songs over Alexander’s many live releases, Liquid Donnon makes a new primary text, the original versions of six new pieces for the repertoire. The album closes with a devastating pairing of “Reservoir Drop” into “The Summer Song,” floating into a duo between Alexander’s guitar and Carter’s voice. Catch a half-dozen Lidders shows this summer, and you might not ever catch them playing it like that again, but you just might open the doorway back to that better place." - Jesse Jarnow (writer, WFMU DJ, producer and host of The Good Ol’ Grateful Deadcast)

On his new album, Micha Acher rearranged compositions for bands such as Tied & Tickled Trio and Ms. John Soda from previous years.

Why are we interested in ghosts? What fascinates us about the eerie? According to cultural theorist Mark Fisher, the allure that the eerie possesses is not captured by the idea that we „enjoy what scares us“. It has, rather, to do with a fascination for the outside. For that which lies beyond standard perception, cognition or experience, as he writes in his book „The Weird and the Eerie“.

In fact, also none of the 15 pieces from Henry and the Ghost is really scary. On the contrary, they all feel strangely familiar. Like revenants or doppelgängers, which in fact they are. They have all been released before. But in a different form. In different line-ups. With different band projects such as Tied & Tickled Trio, The Notwist or the Alien Ensemble.

With the „Songbook“, Micha Acher's aim was, as he says, to find out how the familiar pieces sound in a chamber music instrumentation. Therefore he met with Theresa Loibl (bass clarinet, piano), Timm Kornelius (bassoon), Markus Rom (guitar, banjo, electronics) and Simon Popp (drums, percussion) in his living room for a musical séance in the summer of 2022. The séance lasted two days. Afterwards, Markus Rom (Oh No Noh), added some haunting electronical ideas.

The mood of most of the pieces is melancholic. There are surprising twists and siren-like melodies. Just as ghost stories should be. However, most of the songs sound very light-footed. With their feet in pop, folk, jazz and classical music. Pieces such as „Johanna“ with its wheezing harmonium and spooky piano, or the dreamy „Modest Farewell“ on the other hand have a cinematic flair. Immediately faces and scenes arise in the mind. But at the beginning, there is „Hamlet“. It starts with ghostly electronics and merges into a calm, almost classical guitar piece. Could it be that the ghost of Hamlet's father is hiding between the strings?

„34E“ begins with a banjo. Then the deep humming of Micha Achers sousaphone and the other brass instruments kick in. In the slow, solemn „Aelita“, the sousaphone starts a dialogue with a children's piano. With the banjo and the other wind instruments acting as mediators. The title of „All Tomorrow's Past“ brings Velvet Undergrounds „All Tomorrow's Parties“ to mind. Another ghost from the past. What connects the two pieces is free-floating percussion, which accompanies the sumptuous melodies.

„Arc“ takes us on an exhilarating voyage at sea, with the sousaphone providing powerful propulsion. Towards the end, things get quite turbulent. With the clarinet stirring up the water, before the sea calms down again. „Henry and the Ghost“ is characterised by a ghostly mood change between major and minor. In „Radio Four“ the banjo with its stoic chords keeps the lively brass section in check. „Solid Ground“ is imbued with melancholy. „Space Minor“ takes us into outer space, with the power of sousaphone and percussion.

„Tomorrows“ is filled with cautious optimism. And the concluding „Nordlead“ turns out to be a revenant of the instrumental „N.L.“ from The Notwist's legendary album „Shrink“ from 1998. In the new version, the piece sounds like a distant echo. One that also brings to mind how Micha Acher's music has evolved. Which new worlds he explored and opened up since the nineties. And yet Acher's signature is recognisable in every single note of this fascinating „Songbook“.

The story of how we heard about D.J. City.
Once upon a time P.P. D.J.ed in Stockholm. Picked up by legend Sling from the airport, with what I recall was a very nice old Jeep, that had a tape deck.
That Tape deck was playing a cassette that quickly caught our attention. We found out, on it was „1- 800 Techno“, a project by another local legend D.J. City. Somehow we received the tape and digital files and have been playing them ever since.
Years later we met D.J. City at a gig for Cocktail D’Amore, it was a brief and pleasant introduction as he was handing over the decks to us.
It took some more time until we really got in touch and started a work relation that quickly turned into friendship. Circa 10 years later, we have the opportunity to properly shine light on this project that started it all.
You can listen to the full release digitally and on Vinyl for the first time. „1-800 Techno“ that is Karl Lihagen & Johan Norling (aka D.J. City) with „For Several Eternals Before There Were Years“. This I guess is what you call a „full circle moment“. Enjoy!

After a series of successful outings alongside sidekicks Ofofo and Zongamin, studio wizard MYTRON turns in his debut solo full-length for Multi Culti World Records. With contributions on Invisible Inc, Calypso, Bongo Joe, Kalahari Oyster Cult, LYO, Codek Records and Earthly Measures, Mytron has carved out a name for himself in a carefully-curated left-field quadrant of the indie-dance galaxy. Tuning his oscillators to myriad sounds — from dub and disco to krautrock — the London-based producer perhaps most notably channels the pristine compositional style of Kraftwerk. While most apparent in the use of vocoder, there’s a consistent efficiency of arrangement that recalls the man-machine in effervescent, idealistic fashion. Mytron manages to keep it simple, funky and musical — whimsical tunes that bop along with analog grit, wilderness, and wonk. There’s a warmth and wit that shine through every synth line, an understated confidence that speaks of years spent tangled in wires and waveforms, with an inclusive sonic eclecticism that flattens hierarchies between genres, geographies, and generations. Each influence is invited to the table, treated not as pastiche but invited to dine and dance in a space where kosmische dub disco and Afro rhythms can coexist without borders. The sleeve design echoes this philosophy: video-feedback patterns hinting at our modern screens, both portals and filters — coloured, distorted intermediaries through which we perceive the world. In the trippiest sense, the record is both reflection and refraction — a sonic mirror held up to an interconnected, glitchy reality. Tailored equally for DJ use and home-listening head trip, the album is meticulous, mischievous and merry.

BanBanTonTon review:

On Mytron’s debut long-player for Multi Culti groovy 21st Century leftfield house gear collides with Daniele Baldelli and Beppe Loda’s hugely influential `80s afro / cosmic. The 9 tracks are chunky, chugging and full of funky, funny noises. Old school B-lines mixing with eccentric electronics. Spinning, spiralling sounds.

Sugar is an electro-pop, vocoder confection, cut from the same sonic cloth as cult classics like Codek’s Tam Tam. Created from tough trap drums, splashing effects and a mutant Giorgio Moroder bass arpeggio. The title track, Propellor, pits Kraftwerk-esque hardware harmonised vocals against a bongo loop and a whistling hook. Playground has simian shrieks surround tumbling tom-toms. Highway Maintenance adds kosmische synths to a dance of woodblocks and buzzing bottom end. Keep On Dubbing is an organ-led, clip clopping percussive canter.

Tracks such as Speaker Can Talk, shot through with disco lasers blasts and recalling Curt Cress’ Dschung Tek, also lift the tempo up, but the bulk of the music here is a mid-tempo, techno drum circle. Squelchy sequences gurgling in and out of programmed percussion. On Quasar, spiky acid edges in and slowly takes over.

Key references that come to mind are Baldelli’s own turn-of-the-2000s Cosmic Sound Project productions, and Wolf Müller’s scene shaking sides on Themes For Great Cites, from around a decade later.

For his sixth solo album, Ezéchiel Pailhès returns with a new collection of songs infused by a sunny wandering spirit.
Within each of the twelve songs on SOL is a thread of melancholic happiness that has permeated much of Pailhès’ music and songwriting. He addresses love, the passing of time, hope, lost illusions, fleeting moments of grace, the temptation of forgetting, a need to escape, and desire. All this is
insulated by understated orchestrations that blend acoustic and electronic instrumentation with deft confidence.
The Portuguese and Brazilian concept of saudade—a form of melancholic longing and nostalgia— pervades, thanks in part to Pailhès decision to record the album in Rio de Janiero and to reinterpret some of the finest works of Música Popular Brasileira (MPB). In particular, he revisits a handful of
lesser known classics from the mid-century samba and bossa nova era—originally written or performed by talents including Vinícius de Moraes, João Gilberto, Tom Zé, Dorival Caymmi, João Donato, Os Tincoãs, and Ataulfo Alves.
The shift from Brazilian Portuguese to French and the decision to adapt rather than perform a straightforward cover versions, allows Pailhès to invent a form of prosody and euphony (the musicality and harmonious combination of words) that feels vibrant and unlike anything else in today’s French
chanson landscape.
“Some lyrics are simple translations from Portuguese, in what I’d call an expanded version. For others, I started from a single word or a single phrase and embroidered an entirely new text that carried me elsewhere,” explains Pailhès. “I allowed myself great interpretive freedom, while preserving the humanist dimension of the original songs. I’ve always been deeply moved by the way Brazilians transfigure reality through heightened emotion. I love this visceral and spontaneous country, which always seems to live through emotion. And above all, I love its music both popular and unifying,
bringing together all social classes. In that sense, it’s very political music, but even more so utopian, made by the people and for the people.”
On this new album, however, the French artist was keen to avoid cliché. Each song is therefore built around a carefully balanced interplay between Pailhès’ piano and synthesizers, alongside restrained arrangements of percussion, brass, bass, and cavaquinho (a small four-string plucked guitar). These parts were recorded in Rio de Janeiro with two musicians who regularly perform alongside the legendary Caetano Veloso—Kainã Do Jêje and Alberto Continentino—joined by Thomas Harres, Antônio Neves, Eduardo Neves, and Gabriel Loddo.
Since the 1960s, France and Brazil have shared a long-standing cultural and musical relationship. Some Brazilian artists, most famously Gilberto Gil, took refuge in France during the dictatorship years (1964–1985). But above all, French chanson quickly fell in love with the richness and ingenuity of
bossa nova and samba, translating and reinventing them in the language of Molière. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, albums and hits by Henri Salvador, Georges Moustaki, Pierre Barouh, Pierre Vassiliu, and Claude Nougaro all drew from the MPB repertoire.
Fifty years later, with SOL, Ezéchiel Pailhès reinvents this rich Franco-Brazilian musical legacy, bringing to it a personality and modernity that stand confidently alongside those of his forbears.

In the evolving landscape of modern Southern hip-hop, the pairing of Starlito and Bandplay stands out as a unique bridge between street-level authenticity and refined, calculated musicality. Their collaborative project, Not The Country You Know, functions less like a standard release and more as a manifesto—a masterclass in the chemistry between a seasoned, introspective lyricist and a producer who possesses an intuitive grasp of the region's pulse. It is an exploration of legacy and adaptation, capturing the tension between where they came from and where the culture is currently headed.

Bandplay, long recognized for sculpting the sonic identity of Memphis icons, brings his signature, trunk-rattling 808s to the project, yet he manages to pivot here. The production feels remarkably expansive, masterfully blending the raw, stripped-back aesthetics of classic Tennessee rap with forward-thinking textures that refuse to be confined to a single sub-genre. Complementing this, Starlito operates with his trademark mix of cynical observation and genuine vulnerability. He navigates these beats with the weary grace of an artist who has weathered the music industry's relentless cycles, treating every bar like a necessary piece of a larger, ongoing story.

The album’s title serves as a direct commentary on these shifting tides. Across the tracklist, the duo investigates the growing disparity between the romanticized South and the cold realities of the streets, alongside the inevitable evolution of the music business itself. There is no frantic chasing of streaming-era trends or algorithmic bait here; instead, the project remains a stubborn, confident assertion of artistic identity. By weaving together Starlito’s "voice-of-reason" flow and Bandplay’s evolving, genre-bending sound, Not The Country You Know challenges the listener to abandon their preconceived notions of the region, offering instead a complex, urgent vision of a South that is as haunting as it is vibrant.

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.

Presenting the third thematic volume on the “Aquapelagos" series - a collection of split LPs where selected artists offer their own take into water surrounded cultures and communities. After the initial release of the Anthology compilation Aquapelago in 2022 (Discrepant ,CREP91) and the split LP Atlantico by Lagoss & Banha da Cobra (Keroxen, KRXN027) as well as the direct collaboration LP Índico by Mike Cooper & Pierre Bastien we proudly introduce an the third volume in the series in the shape of no other than two inspiring artists, Vica Pacheco and Pak Yan Lau. Two different sound journeys inspired by the majestic and peaceful Pacific Ocean, the vastest, largest and deepest ocean of our planet.

Vica Pacheco’s composition takes a calm meditation approach where water flutes and synths brush shoulders to create a ever expanding mind journey whereas Pak Yan Lau’s ambitions Neo classical piece, The Ocean in Us, talks about that grand overwhelming feeling, that vast space deep under, on the bottom of the Pacific. Both compositions were recorded and created with the particular wet acoustics of the Tank in Santa Cruz de Tenerife in mind.

From Philip Hayward and Matt Hill’s liner notes: ‘’The Pacific is a complex space, comprising a third of the Earth’s surface. A cascade of islands runs along its eastern flank, down from the Kamchatka peninsula, through Japan, Taiwan, The Philippines, Melanesia and on to Australasia. In its watery heart the islands of Micronesia and Polynesia stretch across huge distances, north-east to the Hawaiian archipelago, south east to Rapa Nui and south west to Aotearoa and Chatham island. Closer to the shores of the Americas lie Tierra del Fuego, the Galapagos Islands, Haida Gwaii and the Aleutians. This is a space that resists easy characterisation. The Pacific laps the shores of Japan and Chile, the beaches of Australia’s East Coast and the cold, damp coasts of British Colombia and Alaska alike. Indeed, the space is so vast that it is a world in itself and one rarely navigated in its entirety. In this manner, strands of genres and the songs that reflect them are components in an intricate mesh of associations.‘’ Philip Hayward and Matt Hill, April 2022