Cerca:together alone

Carrying on their longstanding dedication to the seminal output of Merzbow, Urashima returns with what is unquestionably their most ambitious release to date: “Collection 001-010”, a deluxe, 10 LP vinyl box set limited to 299 copies, gathering together the entirety of the project’s first ten releases, originally released in 1981. Encountering the band in its early incarnation of the duo of Masami Akita and Kiyoshi Mizutani, raw, exposed and bristling with energy, foreshadowing numerous trajectories they would follow over the coming years, these astounding full lengths - the majority of which have never been released on vinyl - come housed in a beautifully produced, deluxe wooden box, with each LP in its own individual sleeve reproducing the original artwork, and a LP-sized 32-page book containing reproductions of artworls and collages by Masami Akita, an interview conducted by Jim O'Rourke, and liner notes penned by Lasse Marhaug, Thurston Moore, and Akita himself, amounting to what is unquestionably one of the most historically significant releases we’re likely to encounter in 2025.

Deluxe Edition of 299 copies, remastered from the original analog tapes by Masami Akita, each LP comes in its individual sleeve reproducing the original artwork, also includes a LP-sized 32-page book. ** Since its founding during the late 2000s, the Italian imprint, Urashima, has become a definitive voice in the landscape of noise. Bringing forth beautiful limited edition releases, they’ve sculpted a singular vision of one of the most vibrant and revolutionary bodies of experimental sound to have graced the globe. Among the many projects that they have supported over the decades, there has been an undeniable dedication to the output of the seminal Japanese noise outfit, Merzbow, making a significant amount of the project’s out of print back catalog available across a range of formats. Now they return with what is arguably their most stunning and ambitious release dedicated to the project to date: “Collection 001-010”, gathering the entirety of Merzbow’s first ten releases, largely privately released by the band on cassette across 1981, in a deluxe, 10 LP vinyl box set. Representing what is effectively ground zero in Japanese noise and collectively amounting to some of the most sought after releases ever produced within that movement, Urashima’s truly beautiful collection comes fully remastered by Masami Akita himself from the original tapes, presenting all but a small number in their first ever vinyl pressings, with each LP housed in its own individual sleeve reproducing the original artwork, alongside a LP-sized 32-page book containing reproductions of artworks and collages by Masami Akita, an interview conducted by Jim O'Rourke, and liner notes penned by Lasse Marhaug, Thurston Moore and Akita himself. Towering with energy and groundbreaking creative vision, within the realms of noise and experimental music, releases don’t get more monumental or historically important than this!

Merzbow came roaring onto the Tokyo scene in 1979, and remains, to this day, one of the most prolific and aggressively forward-thinking projects in experimental music. Eventually becoming the solo vehicle for the efforts of Masami Akita, in its earliest incarnation the project was the duo of Akita and Kiyoshi Mizutani, taking their name from German artist Kurt Schwitters' pre-war architectural assemblage, The Cathedral of Erotic Misery or Merzbau, and quickly set out to challenge entrenched notions of what music could be. Embracing technology and the machine, even in its earliest iterations, Merzbow pushed toward new territories of the extreme, arriving at a space of pure, unadulterated sonic onslaught that has continued, for over 40 years, to set the pace for the entire genre of noise, and has remained one of the movement’s most important, definitive voices, continuously laying the groundwork for countless artists who have followed in its wake.

When dealing with historical gestures, there’s an invertible aura surrounding original line-ups and early statements, and rightfully so. It is often within a band’s debut that we catch the purest glimpse of the raw energy and creative ferment that made them what they are. This is certainly the case when regarding the coveted early releases of Merzbow, capturing the emergence of the project in its form as the duo of Masami Akita and Kiyoshi Mizutani as they helped set the blue print from the then emerging movement of Japanese noise. Over the course of its nearly five decades of activity, Merzbow has always been noted for how prolific and ambitious the project is. This was no less the case in the very beginning. While they were active for roughly two years prior, in 1981 alone they issued ten self-released cassettes numerically titled “Collection 001-010”, albums which have both individually and collectively become holy grails in the realms of noise, with only two - “Collection 007” and “Collection 009” - ever receiving vinyl reissues prior to now.

As Lasse Marhaug deftly articulates in the newly commissioned liner notes for “Collection 001-010”, despite having been recorded in different location across a span of time, the sum total of Merzbow’s first ten releases might be best regarded as a single release to be listened to in the same, durational sitting, with the material standing well apart from what most came to expect from Merzbow, while foreshadowing numerous trajectories the project would take over the coming years. Not only do these recordings feature a vast array of instrumentation - tapes, acoustic and electric guitar, violin, drums, voice, recorder, organ, found sounds, clarinet, homemade and prepared instruments, a vast arsenal of effects and electronics, and piano, to only begin to scratch the surface - the majority of which would disappear from the project’s active sources of sound generation over the subsequent years, but there is a slow pacing and raw sense of openness and exposure that reveals strong connections to the avant-garde improvisations of groups like AMM, Musica Elettronica Viva, and Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza, the psychedelia of groups like Taj Mahal Travellers and Flower Traveling band (both of whom Akita mentions having seen in youth within his interview with Jim O’Rourke), and rock in general - albeit in fully abstracted forms - unspooling as brittle, pointillistic, textural, raw and abrasive forms, that occasionally flirts with unexpected tonal sensibilities. As Marhaug describes it in his excellent liner notes: «Sonically, “Collection” sounds more sparse and stripped. It’s dry sounding, up-front, no reverb, and there’s less heavy low-end grime and thin on the signature frequency sweeps. Viewed in a 1981 context, musically, it’s more akin to what the LAFMS (Los Angeles Free Music Society) pool of artists were doing at that time than what was happening in industrial music... There’s a strong playfulness throughout, like the sound objects are being explored for the first time, without neither restraint nor hurry. Events are allowed to be fully examined before the music moves on, or simply cuts off. To a large degree, the music on “Collection” feels acoustic in nature, although a Electro-Harmonix ring-modulator features prominently throughout.»

Easily described as a rarely encountered revelation into the original and earlier documented studio sound of Merzbow, “Collection 001-010” collectively amounts to an engrossing sonic journey in its own right, while also allowing for important, often overlooked connections drawn from numerous other creative wellsprings, notably free jazz, underground rock, the output of European and Japanese avant-garde music, as well as Dada, Fluxus, and Mail Art, much of which, beyond the illumination made possible by the sounds, Jim O’Rourke’s fantastic interview with Akita, published in the booklet, further explores, offering great insights into the origins of Merzbow and the thinking behind the project, as well as aspects of the earliest days of Japanese noise.

After dropping hints for months and following the release of their first single "Sugar in the Tank,” Julien Baker & TORRES are excited to announce the April 18 release of their debut album Send a Prayer My Way. The album has been in the works since the two played their first show together in 2016 and at the end one singer turned to the other and said, “You know, we should make a country album.” This is the origin story, the stuff of legend in the world of country music, and the beginning of a collaboration between two artists already admired for their spare, elegant lyrics as well as the courage to share their struggles with those who love their music. It’s also the beginning of creating a work that, like the most enduring country albums, sustains and inspires, reminding both singer and listener that not one of us is ever totally alone in this world, that music is a steady companion. Julien Baker & TORRES’ Send A Prayer My Way was written and sung in the best of the outlaw tradition - defiant, subversive, working class, and determined to wrestle not only with addiction, regret and bad decisions, but also with oppressive systems of power. Mercifully, this is only the beginning of the stories TORRES and Baker are determined to tell. Because these are also songs about radical empathy and second chances, and third chances, and while there’s plenty of struggle and regret in here, there’s also humor and defiance.

After dropping hints for months and following the release of their first single "Sugar in the Tank,” Julien Baker & TORRES are excited to announce the April 18 release of their debut album Send a Prayer My Way. The album has been in the works since the two played their first show together in 2016 and at the end one singer turned to the other and said, “You know, we should make a country album.” This is the origin story, the stuff of legend in the world of country music, and the beginning of a collaboration between two artists already admired for their spare, elegant lyrics as well as the courage to share their struggles with those who love their music. It’s also the beginning of creating a work that, like the most enduring country albums, sustains and inspires, reminding both singer and listener that not one of us is ever totally alone in this world, that music is a steady companion. Julien Baker & TORRES’ Send A Prayer My Way was written and sung in the best of the outlaw tradition - defiant, subversive, working class, and determined to wrestle not only with addiction, regret and bad decisions, but also with oppressive systems of power. Mercifully, this is only the beginning of the stories TORRES and Baker are determined to tell. Because these are also songs about radical empathy and second chances, and third chances, and while there’s plenty of struggle and regret in here, there’s also humor and defiance.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."

Folding the ambient techno tradition into neatly arranged packets of rhythm and space, Delsin proudly presents a striking new collaboration from Tobias. and Doltz. A project developed from a chance encounter, Versus combines classic synth and drum machine configurations with needlepoint sound design to create a quintessential electronica listening experience. Tobias. is the lead alias from Tobias Freund, the celebrated German techno pioneer who has been actively exploring new territories in electronic music production since the early 1980s. As Doltz, Shun Watanabe has quickly developed his own impressive artistic stamp in the field of leftfield techno and ambient since debuting in 2020. After seeing Doltz perform a live set at Eden Festival 2024 in Japan, Freund instantly invited him to collaborate. After the success of the first collaboration, they went on to develop five of the tracks on Versus together, while Jiawen Wang performed additional vocals on 'We Are Not Alone'. Versus is an album that balances variety and consistency across its finely sequenced run time, maintaining a focus on pointillist, exploratory rhythm from crisp drum machines and twitchy digitalia alike, all backed up by richly rendered atmospherics from gaseous pads to icy drones. It's a warm and inviting sound world, but also fearlessly futuristic, speaking to both Freund's decades of refinement and the startling clarity of Doltz's vision.

The 2 Tone sound was a great period in the aftermath of Punk and included influences taken from Jamaican Ska.

Mal-One had already worked on some Two Tone collages and had them put aside for some future project. He thought it would be fun to record some tracks related to these images and sounds. The first track he recorded was an instrumental track in the style of Harry J All Stars ‘Liquidator’ which he called ‘Rude Boy Shuffle’. Initially to be put out as a stand alone track on some reggae label of some sort. He had a poem already which he called ‘Two Tone Story’, so put that on top of the ‘Ska Train Is Back In Town’ rhythm which he had put together for another song of that name. Finally ‘Rude Boys and Rude Girls Listen Up! ‘came together.

Adding to this a couple of dub mixes and we have a 6 track 12”. Mal-One thought the artwork worked better on a 12” format.

Hope you enjoy the outcome.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Tina Turner’s Iconic breakthrough album is celebrating its 40th anniversary, with the 2015 remaster now available on this limited edition Pearl Vinyl.

Private Dancer catapulted Tina into superstardom, selling 5 million copies in the US alone. It featured the #1 single What's Love Got To Do With It as well as top 10 hits, Let's Stay Together and Private Dancer written by Dire Straits singer/guitarist Mark Knopfler. Tina cleaned up at the 1985 Grammy Awards claiming 4 awards including Record Of The Year, Song of the Year and Best Vocal Performance.

Tina Turner’s Iconic breakthrough album is celebrating its 40th anniversary, with the 2015 remaster now available on this limited edition picture disc.

Private Dancer catapulted Tina into superstardom, selling 5 million copies in the US alone. It featured the #1 single What's Love Got To Do With It as well as top 10 hits, Let's Stay Together and Private Dancer written by Dire Straits singer/guitarist Mark Knopfler. Tina cleaned up at the 1985 Grammy Awards claiming 4 awards including Record Of The Year, Song of the Year and Best Vocal Performance.

‘Insides is a cracking album of shifting ambient moods, riding on the cusp of technology without forgetting emotive credence’ 9/10 FUTURE MUSIC
Originally released in 2009 Insides is Jon’s third solo album and will be made available from the 18th December 2020 on the Just Music label, following on from his first two Just Music albums, Opalescent and Contact Note. It paved the way for both Immunity (his hypnotic breakthrough solo album) and Diamond Mine (his collaboration with King Creosote) which attracted Mercury nominations and for his recently released fifth solo artist album, Singularity.
The epic Light Through The Veins from Insides, which bookends Coldplay’s Viva La Vida album, is always a crowd favourite and is played by Jon as one of the closing tracks at almost all of his venue and festival shows. Small Memory, also from Insides has been streamed almost 57 million times on Spotify alone where Jon has 355, 462 followers and nearly 2 million monthly listeners.
Cited by The New Yorker as “One of the most celebrated electronic musicians of his generation”, electronic artist, producer and composer Jon Hopkins has forged a reputation for music that marries the dance floor to the devotional, and for live performances that are visceral, generous and charged with a rapt, sensuous beauty.
Jon has remixed artists as diverse as Flume, David Lynch, Moderat, Disclosure, Four Tet, Wild Beasts and Purity Ring. Other projects include collaborations with Natasha Khan of Bat For Lashes and Bonobo, as well as productions for London Grammar and Coldplay. His film credits include his Ivor Novello nominated score for the indie sci-fi classic Monsters, The Lovely Bones (scored with Brian Eno and Leo Abrahams), How I Live Now, Uwantme2killhim? and Rob and Vanentyna in Scotland. He also scored the National Theatre Live production of Hamlet and his work has appeared in many films and adverts.
‘Lilting piano and strings give way to industrial glitch with a calculated force, shifting the mood from tranquillity to terror’ 7/10 CLASH
‘Hopkins is a conjurer, an illusionist, symbolically combining imagery and sounds that shouldn’t work together, creating new dimensions of listening’ KRUGER

DREAM DANCE 96Die Dream Dance Vol. 96 steht in den Startlöchern und sorgt bei allen Dance und Trance Fans für Entzücken. Dream Dance 96 erscheint im hochwertigen Digipack auf 3CDs mit den größten Trance und Dance Hits unserer Zeit.Auch das Marketing-Paket lässt keine Wünsche offen: Koop mit "sunshine live", sowie eine massive Online Kampagne inkl. Bannern, Facebook und Youtube Werbung, uvm.DREAM DANCE 96 - folge dem Delphin!

Of all the nicknames given to Elvis, only one of them really seems to reflect his importance in the history of rock: they called him The King.

Together with Chuck Berry, Elvis represented the young generation that vibrated to the music with new rhythms that appeared in the Fifties: Rock’n’Roll. Presley’s personality, not to mention his voice, charm, and a whole series of chart hits, guaranteed Elvis a special place in the hearts of his fans; and not only in his own lifetime, because the same is true some fifty years later.

The thirty titles included in this album are a brilliant demonstration of Elvis’ talents, and the music alone is enough to explain the cult following of his fans, who will worship him forever.

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

Mastered by Matthew Lutthans at The Mastering Lab from a new 30 ips quarter-inch stereo master tape transferred from the original 3-track session tapes. Plated and pressed at Quality Record Pressings for flawless production and superior fidelity! Stoughton Printing Old Style tip-on gatefold heavyweight jacket with scuff-resistant matte finish.

Miles Davis's Kind of Blue was the number-one jazz album in history. It totaled five songs. There are four more songs from that same historic group, recorded in the same time period and at the same studio. And here they are. These songs deserve to stand on their own with artwork to highlight the quality of the music and that matches the time period of the recording. This is a rare opportunity to have a smash follow-up to what many consider the greatest jazz record ever!

Through the years, these four remarkable performances — all from a single recording session in 1958 and all exemplary of the sound of Miles Davis' legend-loaded sextet of that year — have not been served well. They have been largely treated as add-ons for other compilations. Now, for the first time, Analogue Productions, the audiophile in-house reissue label of Acoustic Sounds, Inc., together with Quality Record Prssings, has deservedly given these tracks a stellar stand-alone release for jazz fans to savor!

The once-in-a-generation lineup that recorded these tunes is the very same that would be immortalized for the enduring classic they would record almost a year later, Kind of Blue. Davis played trumpet sublime with his ensemble sextet featuring pianist Bill Evans, drummer Jimmy Cobb, bassist Paul Chambers, and saxophonists John Coltrane and Julian "Cannonball" Adderley.

Undervalued since their recording, the tunes on this album reflect historial and musical significance. They offer early glimpses into the modal jazz that Kind of Blue would bring to the forefront. Using modes common in modern classical music, rather than the chords of popular songs, Miles had begun to experiment with the new approach on the Milestones recording sessions previously.

Analogue Productions is proud to present Birth of the Blue in an exclusive first-of-its-kind stand-alone release that reflects our reputation for meticulous production, capturing authentic sound with clarity, depth and fidelity that exceeds the audiophile standard.

For this release, we started with the original 3-track recording session tapes that were mixed down to a brand-new 30 ips quarter-inch stereo master tape by senior mastering engineer Vic Anesini at Battery Studios. From that stereo master tape, Matthew Lutthans at The Mastering Lab cut the lacquers at 33 1/3 RPM utilizing the legendary Doug Sax's custom all-tube system and cutting lathe. The lacquers were plated and pressed on 180-gram vinyl at Quality Record Pressings. Lastly, the Stoughton Printing tip-on gatefold jacket with a deluxe scuff-resistant matte finish is the highest quality available. The artwork has an incredible spot-on look to a 1959 Columbia records release!

Features:


• Pioneering Ensemble: Captured the same rare and short-lived alignment of jazz legends including Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley, Bill Evans, Paul Chambers, and Jimmy Cobb, as heard on the historic Kind of Blue.


• Innovative Sound: The session represented a crucial transition in jazz, blending elements of hard bop with early modal jazz influences, showcasing the ensemble's experimentation and forward-thinking approach.


• Undervalued Legacy: Despite its historical and musical significance, the session's recordings have been historically overlooked, often relegated to being add-ons in compilations rather than recognized as standalone masterpieces.


• Modal Jazz Precursor: Offered early glimpses into the modal jazz that would later be fully realized in Davis's groundbreaking album "Kind of Blue," laying the groundwork for future jazz innovation.


• Impact on Artists: Served as a critical point of development and confidence for the musicians involved, particularly Bill Evans, who noted the significant impact of this experience on his own identity and style.


• Historical Context: Occurred at a peak moment in Miles Davis's career, following his signing with Columbia Records and his critical and commercial successes with albums such as ‘Round About Midnight and Miles Ahead.


• Revealed backstory: Extensive liner notes by the Grammy Award-winning author Ashley Kahn, who also penned the estential book, Kind Of Blue — The Making Of The Miles Davis Masterpiece

Black Eyed Sons - A New Rock 'n' Roll Collective - Members of The Quireboys and Down n' Outz are joined by an amazing collection of fellow musicians for a joyous collaboration of mutual admiration and musical celebration. Enjoy the debut album 'Cowboys In Pinstriped Suits" released via Off Yer Rocka recordings 31st January 2025. Since the band announced they were working on their highly anticipated new album, "The Band Rolls On", what was already becoming a chance for a musical rebirth metamorphosized into something far bigger and more ambitious. The final cuts feature distinguished collaborations from a multitude of Rock Royalty.

The band, their management and close friends within the industry all agreed that this should be treated as a stand-alone new project, a Rock 'n' Roll Collective going under the name "Black Eyed Sons", a nod to a previous album from their extensive back catalogue. The revised album title, "Cowboys in Pinstriped Suits” is named after one of the eleven tracks and features none other than Def Leppard’s Joe Elliott alongside Alice Cooper guitarist Ryan Roxie and bass grooves from Chip Z’Nuff. Guy Griffin commented "It's been nice to take a break and focus on the writing. Working with our own band as well as so many friends within the industry has done nothing but inspire us to write and create this exciting new project. We've done the hard work getting the tracks laid down, we're now looking forward to going back out on the road as Black Eyed Sons and delivering something entirely new from five musicians who've been playing together for over twenty years. Relationships break down sometimes, that’s Rock 'n' Roll, everyone does their thing, but we want to make sure there's no confusion as to what this is. Whilst we're proud of our musical history, that was then, this is now. It's onwards and upwards, so let the music do the talking. Joe Elliott added, "Having worked with these guys since 2009 in the greatest “other” band I could ever hope to work with, The Down ’n’ Outz, it just felt totally natural for me to reciprocate the love these guys have shown me by contributing to what is essentially a new beginning for them. So welcome to the mad world of Rock ’n’ Roll, you Black Eyed Sons." - Joe Elliott (Cowboys in Pinstriped Suits). Other collaborators had this to say: “This song feels so real and natural. Like a hug from an old friend. I’m proud to be a part of it.” - Charlie Starr (Autumn Reigns) - ‘’My friendship with the Quireboys started a long time ago and each time our paths have crossed, the bond has grown stronger. Therefore, I would lie if I didn’t say that in the back of my mind there always was a wish to do something together. So, I am more than thrilled when I was invited to sing on the Black Eyed Sons new album and that they also gave me a song where I could be who I am’’ ⁃ Mike Tramp (Your True Colours) - “I go back 30 years with these guys. A band that I’ve always loved and respected. To be asked to be part of this project was a great thrill, and proud moment as a guitarist.” - Scotti Hill (Dig Me out of this Hole) - “I’ve known Griff since the beginning of our respective careers…we are both from the old school baby, and Griff has always been the embodiment of rock n’ roll - genuine, classy, trashy, and an attitude that exemplifies what it is to be a rock n’ roll troubadour“ ⁃ Ryan Roxie (Cowboys in Pinstriped Suits/Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory) - “Since you graced us with your presence on the Wolves’ debut album, it’s only fair we should be a part of your debut as Black Eyed Sons. All the best!” - Kyf Brewer / Company Of Wolves (Foolin’ Yourself) - “Not only was it a pleasure to play guitar & sing on this record but it was also an honour to have Griff & the band record one of our songs! - Steve Conte / Company Of Wolves/Michael Monroe/NY Dolls (Foolin’ Yourself) - Band: Guy Griffin (lead vocals/guitar); Paul Guerin (guitar); Keith Weir (keyboards); Nick Mailing (bass); Pip Mailing (drums)

'When the Lamb opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour. And I saw the seven angels who stand before God, and seven trumpets were given to them’’ heres the children of the pope

We wanted to discard the unimportant.

Songs about life and the living and songs about death and the dead.

Songs about God and the heavenly, songs about hell and the unholy.

Sounds of youthful wonder and the melancholy of time.

Love and hate and the opposites of the the great untold, in extreme, melted together in a boundless pot of sweet surrealist molasses.

The all, through the unmodified eye.

Recording the album was an against the clock under pressure process that turned out very fruitful.

We tracked 12 tracks in 5 days in the dead of witner 2022Snow and ice and trying to explore the depths of our minds in a dim lit room, trying to put surrealism to tape.

Everyhting was was recorded on 2 inch reel to reel in live takes (appart from few overdubs also recorded onto tape)

We did not turn any computer on until the mixing process

Back in December 2016, Jeshi fell asleep whilst driving home from a party at 5am, and he crashed into a park car, only to be woken up by the airbag exploding in his face. This is the inspiration for album two. The new album is a statement of waking up and levelling up from the last period of his life. This is a new era, and full of energy.

SHORT BIOG

Jeshi doesn't run away from fire; he runs with it. The East London artist is on a quest to feel alive in every sense. To him, feeling alive means being present in each experience, no matter how challenging. For Jeshi - who has spent the last few years establishing himself as one of the most exciting voices of his generation - this is what life and art are all about. Chaos, then, is not something to shy away from, but where great ideas are born.
Jeshi's electrifying second album, AIRBAG WOKE ME UP is a collection of moment-capturing songs built to ignite reactions and start conversations. His scene-stealing jaunts to stages worldwide clearly influence its live-wire sound, as Jeshi and his cohorts smash through moods and tempos like kids let loose on funfair dodgems. "I want to make things that have intent and feel like statements," Jeshi declares. His versatile voice is the conductive thread that pulls everything together. "On Universal Credit, my voice was used in one way, whereas on this it's used in ten ways," he notes.
AIRBAG WOKE ME UP is an exploration into what happens when you emerge from tough times, and how they encourage you to view the world a little differently. It's bolder in ambition and built from renewed energy. Chaotic, but in the very best way. "In my head, this is the real arrival chapter," states Jeshi. "The 'I am here, I've arrived' moment."

Belt of Orion by Stockholm-based Isak Edberg is the composer's second solo release on XKatedral, and his first to focus solely on instrumental music in the form of two pieces of extended duration for solo piano. Isak Edberg is a composer of electronic and acoustic music as exemplified by Ondulations from 2017 and Lamé written in 2010 and released in 2022, both on XKatedral. Edberg was also a member of Golden Offense Orchestra, active from 2012 to 2014. Edberg writes that his music is informed by an enchantment of being and a search for holiness, rapture and transcendence through stillness, contemplation, dreaming and an attempt to uphold the present. Edberg regards his music to be an adornment of time. The two works presented here were composed in the south of France and in Stockholm during a period spanning the years 2016-2018. The music was inspired by the cold winds, starry nights and desolate, palely bright landscape of the provençal autumn, as well as reflections during a time of escapism and isolation in the life of the composer. More concretely, this music grew out of hours of improvised playing on an old piano while living alone on the countryside, during which harmonic structures and gestures were slowly worked out by means of performing and listening, assessing and balancing sounds and silences. Stylistically, the music draws on a range of sources, such as Feldman's use of space and resonance as projected through both harmonic and temporal distance, the ritualistic gestural repetitions of Satie, as well as Messiaen's resonant harmony, together with some of the harmonic lushness of Scriabin's late work. Belt of Orion is a piece that explores the contrast of two musical textures, the one being fluid, airy and progressive, the other being static, steady and repetitive. The music sequences through a series of harmonic tensions in search of a place of peace, exposing a rift in the weave of time where everything momentarily stands still. In Vestiges repetitive and rhythmic materials form a major part of the musical structure, while sections of sparse, floating harmonies temporarily interrupt with reflective pauses of stillness. The music thus employs two different and contrasting kinds of musical hypnosis, with the aim of cradling the listener into a dark and perhaps unsettling sleep. The music on this recording was performed by the renowned Swedish pianist Mats Persson, who has for many decades been a legend in the art music scene of Stockholm. Through his languid yet distinct interpretations the delicacy and intimacy of these works are elegantly brought to the fore. The recordings heard here were made over the course of two evenings at Fylkingen in Stockholm. Isak Edberg's music moves slowly through the seemingly endless world that is harmonic sound. In his practice he uses heavily reduced and carefully controlled materials to create states of maximum clarity.