Buscar:towards green

This record is part of "Be The Change", a project conceived and developed by Rude Cares, aiming at raising awareness towards climate change and environmental impact within the Music Community. We envision a global economy that uses business as a force for good.

And we are on a mission to make our Earth a better place through music! We’ve selected Artists who share this vision, and we designed exclusive and limited ecofriendly variants of one of their records to offer to fans globally.

For each release, a donation to Green Future Project will be made, and 100 new trees will be planted. 2 LP Printed on eco-friendly LP, sustainable production process. Hand-numbered. Exclusive
gatefold w/ varnish inserts. INDIE ONLY!

When the grunge explosion of the early `90s elevated Seattle's flannel-clad misfits out of the divey clubs of downtown and into the mainstream, a new generation of restless artists filled the void left in the Pacific Northwest's underground music scene. The under-21 crowd making music in the wake of Nevermind seemed even less enamored with the slick production values, classic rock nods, and testosterone-fueled moshing culture that came with the Zeitgeist, favoring their own kind of Revolution Summer-style pivot away from the popular sounds of the era towards a more emotionally nuanced, melodic, and inclusive style of punk. The Puget Sound trio Lync perfectly captured the spirit of that era, blending the passionate chaos of the DC and San Diego scenes with the rough-hewn DIY pop sensibilities of Olympia's thriving indie community into one unified sound. Though they were only a band for two years, they helped define the next era of the Northwest underground, inspiring countless other artists and instigating the creation of beloved records from the region. After being out of print for over a decade, the band's sole LP These Are Not Fall Colors has been remastered and expanded into a 2xLP with the inclusion of "Can't Tie Yet"_a compilation track from the album's recording session_into a deluxe edition available courtesy of Suicide Squeeze Records. Originally released on K Records in the summer of '94 just a few months before the band called it quits, These Are Not Fall Colors is a boisterous collection of scrappy basement-show anthems played on duct-taped-together gear. Led by the off-kilter melodies of late singer/guitarist Sam Jayne and hammered into place by the driving bass of James Bertram and drum battery of David Schneider, the album's eleven songs channel that undefinable sound of the early `90s before descriptors like "post-hardcore" and "emo" became pejorative terms. Sure, you get a sense of the more sophisticated mid-tempo punk approach on songs like "B" and "Silverspoon Glasses," and maybe catch wind of wistful songwriting on "Pennies to Save" and "Cue Cards," but Lync seemed to cull their ideas from whatever bits of inspiration they could find in the gray gloom and geographic isolation of western Washington, absorbing it all and churning it together into a style uniquely their own. Despite Lync's short existence, modest aspirations, and DIY approach, their work had a ripple effect. Jayne would go on to make music under the moniker of Love As Laughter. Built to Spill's Doug Martsch was so enamored by the album that he enlisted Bertram and Schneider to serve as his rhythm section on the There's Nothing Wrong with Love tour. These Are Not Fall Colors engineer Phil Ek would go on to help record and produce records by Fleet Foxes, Band of Horses, and The Shins. Early bassist Isaac Brock and These Are Not Fall Colors album art contributor Jeremiah Green would go on to form Modest Mouse. Bertram and Green would also go on to form the revered indie rock group Red Stars Theory. At times it feels like you could pick any major Northwest indie rock group from the `90s and `00s and trace their DNA back to Lync. The deluxe edition of These Are Not Fall Colors comes pressed on 180g vinyl and packaged in a gatefold cover with printed inner sleeves and expanded artwork by Jesse LeDoux. The 2xLP also features an 18x24 poster with extensive liner notes by Brian Cook. Altogether, this new version of These Are Not Fall Colors not only brings this celebrated classic back into analog libraries of old fans, it also provides new context and appreciation for Lync's ongoing impact on both a local and international level.

Suffolk-based singer songwriter James Varda’s fourth and final album before his death from a long battle with cancer in 2015, Chance And Time, set for a vinyl only reissue on Unspun Heroes is an astonishing aural document of a creative, forward -thinking musician coming to terms with a life slowly evaporating away. There is hubris, melancholy and an undeniable weight of sadness in these ten songs but, miraculously, there is also a stoic realisation and acceptance from Varda that is both heart-wrenching and deeply affecting. On Chance And Time Varda reconnects the human spirit to the land, a heavy, fearful heart to an optimistic soul, and in a beautiful poetic flourish gives a real tangible sense of loving and hope to his family and friends offering genuine reassurance and even, at times, a green light for celebration.

Carrying a certain air of mystique, that same sense of a ‘other worldliness’ if you will of say a Karen Dalton or a Jeff Buckley, Varda’s delivery and tone carries huge emotional weight here and an unique ability to add an honest perspective and warmth to the starkest of realities. The hard hitting impact of the opening tracks is blunt and sharply defined. There is pain, hardship, and fear wrapped in these tales - ‘The Doctor Spoke, Two Hearts Broke” - made all the more hitting as this is a real life journey in the here and now being catalogued. As we move towards the second half of the record there is something even deeper and truly incredible at play. Varda’s whole demeanor is one of understanding and acceptance - hear the celebratory shamanic vibe of the extraordinary ‘Pass It On’ and the poignantly reflective, chokingly sad finale ‘We Won’t Dream’ - bringing to an end a record that will leave a mark on everyone who hears it. Real art is both timeless and omnipresent, these songs from James Varda will hang in the air forever and be there for those who look to find understanding, joy and a sense of hope. Chance And Time is both an extraordinary record and poignant study of life and living, of death and what comes after.

James Varda released four albums between 1988 and his death in 2015. A fledgling career beginning on the singer-songwriting folk scene where his arrival was met with both curiosity and critical acclaim as was his debut, the John Leckie produced Hunger. Any momentum was lost however as it would be ten years before the next, In The Valley was met with a ruffle of applause. Cancer took hold of the troubadour and for a number of years Varda lived life and wrote songs until The River And The Stars appeared like a phoenix from the flames as he began to wrestle with the realities of his situation. It’s a record that beautifully lays the ground for this his masterpiece that was to follow.

Unspun Heroes, a new label set up by Simon White, has the sole purpose of finding and reissuing albums that he considers both undervalued and seemingly ignored.  All releases will be on vinyl only complete with Obi strip and extensive liner notes. Each will be individually numbered and limited.

For a few years Leo Robinson was the sort of hidden secret you sometimes come across in local music scenes. First in Manchester and now in Glasgow, he’d pop up regularly on DIY bills or as local support to a touring act, quietly blowing them off stage with his rich baritone vocal and homespun lo-fi tales of folklore and animism. With The Temple – his debut on PRAH Recordings – he looks set to cross over from being a cult concern.

“There's a spectrum within the album between fully mythologising or symbolising my lived experience, and just stating it in very matter of fact terms - that push and pull between the need to abstract and the need to break through the abstraction and have an honest moment with oneself” he explains. “This is one of the themes of the album as well as part of the process. The aim was to take all these anecdotal or symbolic elements and merge them into one narrative and one world, in a way that you can find your way through the record as if it were a landscape or language with its own logic.”

The record takes on a pastoral, slightly baroque nature that Robinson partly attributes to a friend screening a lot of ‘70s BBC material in his book shop that they used to hang out at. There are also elements of jazz, flickering to life in “The Spring”’s piano-led finale and coda.

Thematically, Robinson likens it to a Jungian ‘Hero's Journey’, his voice possessing a character who goes through several defined stages of consciousness. From conception and the beginning of an earthly life, the first half of the album recognises the development of the protagonist’s narrative and identity, before “The Pink Light”’s freeform departure from the hitherto more song-based suite devastatingly shatters this. The second half of the album then sees the protagonist witness “the uncontainable” water; learning that true divinity lies not in the individual self or lofty notions of gods and temples, but in the unremarkable nettles, insects and dogs on the roadside riverbank - referenced on tracks “The Cormorant” and “The Spring”.

Although now residing north of the border, The Temple was written while Robinson was finding his feet in Manchester, having moved there to go to art school as a teenager (as a visual artist, he has exhibited at the Tiwani Contemporary in London and Cardiff’s Chapter Arts Centre). As a result, many of the tracks bear out the shadows of his experiences in the northern city – at their most visible and explicit on the beautifully fragile storytelling of “The Pavement”. Written the day after the Manchester Arena Bombings, it recalls Robinson waking up to go to work on a hot summer’s day to discover that his street had been blocked off for terrorism investigations; it then progresses through the rest of his day, amidst the grimly surreal aftermath of the previous night.

Having written the chords, melodies and lyrics to the album, Robinson fleshed out the tunes by scoring out parts for the additional instrumentation, but it was only when a friend sent a demo to PRAH that he was able to fund its full recording. Guitars, vocals, piano and French Horn (the latter recorded by Lauren Reeve-Rawlings) were put down at Green Door Studios in Glasgow. Microphones were placed around the room and the sound of the musicians stepping on creaky floorboards and opening creaky doors were left audible to further the record’s live feel. The harpsichord heard on “The Serpent”, meanwhile, came from University of Glasgow lecturer David McGuinness. Strings were then recorded at PRAH Studios by Francesca Ter-Berg and Raven Bush, the Social Singing Choir adding their choral vocals to “Temple II”.

The result is an album that feels both luscious and yet intimately raw; as grand as Richard Dawson at his most panoramic but containing the rough edges and skeletal looseness of a Calvin Johnson work. At times Robinson lyrically moves towards the surreal, but ultimately this is a record grounded in reality; a true showcase of Robinson’s skill as a lyricist and songwriter.

One of the most respected British bands in the mid 80's post punk era, Sad Lovers & Giants played highly atmospheric music made of melancholic melodies and epic guitar riffs. An overtly romantic attitude that slowly developed towards an even more open (pop) sound approach. Originally released in 1987 on Midnight records »Mirror Test«, the band's third studio effort, arrived as the fruit of an updated line up and a clear step in such direction. A very harmonious collection of songs, some of which are still recognized among the best in the band's entire catalog.

marbled green vinyl

A1 - The Cartographer
JLM Productions opens the EP with an inspiring, uplifting intro leading wonderfully towards an intricate old school atmospheric drum loop, laden with sprightly deep bass tones with crisp, clear hats and cymbals. Luscious, long swaying strings weave their magic on the ears as catchy keys sneak around the movements of a cartographer far from silent, to create a composition which will rightly sit atop your playlist for some time to come.
A2 - Fata Morgana
Showcasing his diversity in the genre and an immense ability to seamlessly mix old school jungle sensibilities with a modern atmospheric twist, Fata Morgana sees JLM Productions fuse a medley of swirling, enveloping atmospheric pads and a tight two-step breaks to form a collage of inspired vibes which will fit perfectly within a synth wave-style dancefloor set - or a good old throwback jungle mix.
AA1 - The Navigator
Breaks are on the agenda immediately with The Navigator, bringing forth a myriad of fluid drum samples, filtered and chopped with old school sensibilities shining through. Tense pad work builds the vibe with washes of synths before the breaks switch up, throwing in more surprises to the mix alongside along early 90's jungle inspired melody. We are continually treated with layers of detail and intricacies with FX as the breaks reach their final form. A real treat.
AA2 - Aleya
Closing out the EP, we see JLM Productions deftly toying with the legendary Apache break, which features heavily in the varied cluster of classic jungle breaks on display. A diverse selection of pads and keys tint the engulfing atmospheric soundscape with a quiet Sci-Fi intensity, developing and
evolving towards a stunning breakdown before the breaks
return, eventually exhaling towards a fittingly epic outro.

World Of Echo are proud to announce the long-awaited reissue, on 17th February, of the self-titled debut album by Bristol’s Movietone. Originally released in 1995 by Planet Records and reissued on CD in 2003 by The Pastels’ Geographic Music imprint, this is the first time Movietone has been reissued on vinyl. An expanded double-LP edition, it includes the extra tracks from the 2003 CD (their first two singles, and an unreleased demo of “Chance Is Her Opera”), and adds three more unearthed gems: demos of “Alkaline Eye” and “She Smiled Mandarine Like”, and an early take of “Late July”, recorded in a garden by Dave Pearce (Flying Saucer Attack) in 1993. Taken together, this is the definitive collection of music from the first phase of one of Bristol’s most remarkable groups.

Movietone was the cumulation of a series of events, explorations, and discoveries, starting at secondary school – the group’s core membership of Kate Wright, Rachel Brook, Matt Elliott and Matt Jones met at Cotham School in Bristol. As for many other groups, their early years were all about experimenting, and finding ways to ‘make do’, a DIY sensibility that would inform Movietone through their decade-long lifespan. From formative rehearsals in a shed in the garden of Brook’s family home, to recording early material to four-track in Redland Library, and on into the Whitehouse and Mr Grin’s studio sessions for their debut album, Movietone’s music fell together in a creatively unpredictable, yet conceptually rigorous manner.

By the time they released Movietone, they’d found a home with Bristol’s Planet, run by author Richard King and James Webster, who had both released their first two singles, “She Smiled Mandarine Like” and “Mono Valley”. There was other music happening around them in Bristol, too, from the Jones brothers’ avant-rock outfit Crescent (who were Movietone’s closest conspirators), through Elliott’s jungle/electronica project Third Eye Foundation, and Brook and Elliott’s membership of Flying Saucer Attack. A closely knit community, Movietone are the centre of this nestling architecture of groups.

The vision in the music, mostly, belongs to Wright, but Movietone ran in democratic creative consort. Listening back to Movietone, you can hear this democracy in action through the wildness of the music, which is balanced by the poetics of Wright’s lyrics and melodies. Full of half-captured memories and entangled abstractions, there’s an elliptical, ruminative quality to much of the writing here that shows the deep influence of the Beat Generation writers, along with a twilight environment captured in the songs that’s pure third-album Velvets, Galaxie 500, early Tindersticks, Codeine. Unpredictable interventions – the crashing glass in “Mono Valley”, the sudden explosions of “Orange Zero” – point towards the noise blowouts of My Bloody Valentine, the unpredictability of Sonic Youth; Wright’s understated vocal cadence suggest a deep, embodied understanding of John Cage’s Indeterminacy.

Movietone would go on to make three fantastic albums for Domino – Night & Day (1997), The Blossom Filled Streets (2000) and The Sand & The Stars (2003) – and their Peel Sessions were released early in 2022 by Textile. Still held in high regard by artists like Steven R. Smith, and The Pastels, whose Stephen McRobbie once described them as “one of the great unknown English groups,” it’s an absolute thrill to listen to Movietone anew – still inspired, still seductive, still magic, still mysterious.

Experimental rock quintet from Los Angeles for fans of Unwound, Duster, Slint, and Lowercase. Mixed and engineered by Tim Green at Louder Studios (Unwound, Melvins, Jawbreaker). Live appearances with Flenser labelmates, Have a Nice Life, Chat Pile, Midwife, and tour dates planned throughout 2023. Since its formation in 2018 by like-minded Calarts students Alex Kent (guitar, vocals), April Gerloff (bass), and Sylvie Simmons (guitar), as well as the recent addition of Clint Dodson (percussionist), Los Angeles-based quartet Sprain has honed its signature flavor of experimentalism to a razor-fine point. Gradually moving from twisting conventions in its early works of minimalist slowcore to now transcending the confines of genre altogether, Sprain's evolution over the past several years has encouraged the band to embrace a sound true to its muse. With its latest record, The Lamb As Effigy or Three Hundred And Fifty XOXOXOS For A Spark Union With My Darling Divine, the band has translated this intent into an ambitious work that pairs its resplendent scale with uncompromising honesty towards the band's artistic and conceptual essences. The most extraordinary of art isn't created without its fair share of trials, of which Sprain faced numerous during the recording process of The Lamb As Effigy, with the sum and circumstances of them nearly sealing the album's fate in limbo. With obstacles including session reschedulings as a result of a line-up change and a major studio electrical failure at the last possible moment, a mixing process that demanded the organization of several years of material across four separate studios, and the recording of the actual songs pushing the members of Sprain to their own physical limits, there were several times where the band considered scrapping the whole thing altogether. But Sprain persevered, applying the knowledge and willpower derived from those struggles to get The Lamb As Effigy across the finish line. Clocking in at nearly two hours, The Lamb As Effigy resembles an aural parallel to the human experience itself, with all the glorious beauty, crushing brutality, and unexplainable chaos that comes with it intact. Explosions of earth-sundering guitars, angelic keys, swirling strings, and bursts of improvised electronic noise coalesce to weave a visceral yet unique sonic tapestry bearing hints of no-wave, sound collage, 20th-century avant-garde, and free jazz. Spanning bellowing howls, emphatic spoken word, and nuanced croons, Alex Kent's dynamic vocal delivery adds texture to these eight meditations on otherwise immaterial topics and the meaning or the lack thereof they embody.

I want to introduce this work ‘Halos of Perception’ to you in the way Lisa introduced me to it, through the sharing of experiences.

Lisa and I met for a walk near South Yarra station to talk about this work, when inclement weather made it too wet to visit the tunnels. Moving almost seamlessly from a world of leisurewear, infinite milk alternatives and blaring neons to stretches of green by the water that brimmed with sounds and life, we saw a few people climbing the Burnley bouldering wall, butterflies suspended in the hot wind and lots of plants I wish I knew the names of. Overhead the cars rumbled like a ceaseless animal as we talked about hidden ecosystems, imagined spaces and networks of care.

Stemming from a serendipitous encounter with an original Cave Clan member that led to many underground adventures, this work explores the worlds that exist outside of our perceptions. By the river, I leafed through a selection of tunnel photos Lisa had printed off at Officeworks, revealing alien textures, tunnels that stretch on into abysses of their own, underground flowing streams. Light is sparse and delicate, something reflected by the flickering and wavering in Lisa’s piano compositions.

As we walked, we noticed the ways in which infrastructure is often designed to keep people out—cut doors into fencing and clipped wires show an active and ongoing defiance of this. We spoke about how her Cave Clan friend used to go down to this painted room and read in solitude, using candles for light. The way sound exists underground, encased in these hollow cement tunnels, a painted room with its own deep hum. How people used to hold underground shows, how there were rules for safety (no exploring after rain, never alone) that was shared with each other. This warmth and absorption of other’s experiences is present in Lisa’s work—it’s immersive, like wading in water.

We paused on the walk to eat berries and talk about how The Caretaker creates transitory worlds with recorded sound, how this technology captures memory, and the exploratory pursuits of Pauline Oliveros’ Deep Listening Band. These citations of memory and deep listening inform Lisa’s use of analogue and classical instruments, playback artefacts and acoustic feedback in her own world-building. When speaking about ‘Halos of Perception’, she describes it as a fascination with timbre and acoustic artefacts.

Ideas of networks and enmeshment are felt deeply in Lisa’s compositions, motifs overlaid over each other evoking the image of many hands interlinking playfully, tenderly, softly. The way her compositions delve into refraction and echo makes me think about the tunnels and the way they splinter off into many possibilities. Manipulated textures reminiscent of the chalky, earthy, moss air that perfumes the tunnels’ subterranean air. Tactile details that gesture towards close attention, verging on obsession.

This work is also about imagining ecosystems of potential. Lisa shared with me that during this project, she has been reimagining subterranean networks in dreams, thinking about oral traditions, and the way water moves—from the sky to the earth, through the ground, connecting all these spheres. Realised in collaboration with hyperreal video artist Tristan Jalleh, Lisa’s dream landscape melds waterfalls, leaks, flower graffiti, and hidden messages lit up by imagined light sources with existing subterranean networks. There’s a real sense of wonder in this world she has built, how the city can reveal itself to you with some patience and care, how the city and its secrets can find its way into your dreams.

— Panda Wong

If there’s anything that defines SUDS, it’s friendship. Meeting through their love of the DIY scene currently emerging in Norwich, the band quickly found themselves gravitating towards writing songs together, and by Autumn 2021, Jack Ames (drums/vocals) joined Maisie Cater (vocals/guitar) and Dan Godfrey (guitar/vocals) to form a line-up that felt inherently natural. Stepping in on bass duties came Harry Mitchell, and things seemed to click instantaneously. Driven to keep the spark going they all upped sticks from their far flung edges of the county, pooled together to get a touring van and set to work. Just like their 2022 debut EP, In The Undergrowth, SUDS ventured down to Kent to record with producer Ian Sadler (Roam, Anavae), ready to explore the next chapter of their story. Step forth debut album The Great Overgrowth, a record brimming with addictive melodies and gorgeous moments of optimism. Their evocative and sometimes literary approach to lyrics takes inspiration from midwest emo and the 1960s Greenwich Village folk scene - Cater and Ames would regularly distract themselves while writing, gazing between the pages of books by Woody Guthrie, Allen Ginsberg, Bob Dylan and Brontez Purnell - which appears across their songwriting and would quickly become the foundation for their sound. Finding a delicate balance of sensitive lyricism dripping in warmth and killer guitar hooks, The Great Overgrowth follows on from the EP, telling the next part of the tale, as a tight knit group of twenty-something year old friends struggling and floating through life, to becoming more confident in their everyday lives and friendships while embracing change. The band are already off to a flying start, conquering sets at 2000 Trees Festival, The Great Escape and Truck Festival, as well as sold out shows with Spanish Love Songs, Pool Kids and Martha. Their talent for achingly intelligent, relatable lyricism and a heft for devil-may-care creative output already puts them heads above the rest. SUDS might be fresh faced but have the maturity and drive to become one of the most exciting emerging artists of 2023.

Orange vinyl, 100 only

Cardiff-based, DIY-folk-pop collective, Quiet Marauder, are set to release their 5th album at the end of October 2023. This follows on from their madcap 111-song debut album, MEN (2013), as well as the more recent Tiny Men Parts (2020) and The Gift (2021), and continues their long-established relationship both with their label, Bubblewrap Collective, and Canadian collaborators, The Burning Hell.
Recorded in a Snowbird Studios pop-up in Lourinha, Portugal, Introducing Malcolm Del Monte continues the band’s fascination with high concepts and musical, album-length storytelling. At its core, it is an album about self-identity, isolation, and our innate fluctuations as human beings. Set during the pandemic, the album's a very loosely autobiographical (read: almost entirely false) account of band leader Simon M. Read's day-to-day life during Covid lockdowns with partner, Kadesha Drija, and imaginary friend, Malcolm Del Monte.
Choosing to largely avoid the topic of the pandemic altogether, Introducing Malcolm Del Monte instead charts the highs and lows of these living arrangements. These range from outrageous daytime drinking (high) to disagreements on the nature of perversion (low), with the first half of the album covering Malcolm’s emergence and ultimate expulsion from the house. With his absence being sorely felt, the second half sheds light on the alternative voices looking to fill that Malcolm-shaped space: a murderous green giant; a despondent Milk Tray Man; and a broken-necked, hypersexual Jet from Gladiators.
As with their previous story-based albums, the foreground narratives act to enable background allusions to other core concerns: the power of nostalgia; advertising and cultural consumption; well-being and isolation; balancing acts of the self. Ultimately, the album’s message is of striking a balance between self-questioning and improvement, and most of all, not being too hard on yourself when things don’t feel quite right.
Sonically and seamlessly ranging from alt-folk to industrial synth to melodic indie-pop, Introducing Malcolm Del Monte covers a lot of ground. Injected with the musicality of Quiet Marauder themselves, as well as Canadian kindred spirits, The Burning Hell, instrumentation includes flute, piano, chunky bass, acoustic and electric guitar, programmed beats, synthscapes, bamboo clarinet, bongos, and a heap load of vocals. Indeed, alongside the main lead voices of Simon M. Read, Kadesha Drija and Malcolm Del Monte (Rowan Liggett) there are guest performances from My Name Is Ian and The Burning Hell’s Mathias Kom.
The album will be preceded by lead single and video Momma Mia! I Made You Some Sangria! on 22nd September,

Owners Club call themselves a "pub rock four piece" - but they are so much more than that. There's a through line in their taut, visceral guitar sound going from British greats like Roxy Music and Marc Bolan, through The Buzzcocks and The Jam before taking a detour off to NYC and nodding towards The Strokes and The Walkmen. The Dorking-based four piece are a blistering live act, with songs that range from singing about the long discontinued Double Diamond beer to vampires, the occult and an England that feels like a distant memory.

This EP will be the band's debut release on vinyl. Recorded at Small Pond Studios in Brighton in April this year, and produced and mixed by Matt Gleeson of WELLY fame, it presents three songs that brilliantly demonstrate what a ferocious, tightly-wound sound this Dorking four-piece can produce.

The lead single will be Double Diamond - a song that came about after a chance purchase of a Double Diamond-branded ashtray from a car boot sale by Dorking train station. The song is a romantic and messy vision of the life the ashtray’s lived, the pub it came from, the punters who left their fag ends in it and the messy nights and bar fights it’s witnessed. With sprawling synths, punchy guitar lines and tongue-in-cheek lyrics, the song is an anti-advertisement for a drink which no longer exists, as well as a look through rose-tinted beer googles at what Britain's night life - for better or (almost certainly) for worse - was once like. As the advert used to state: you know where you are with Double Diamond. It works wonders.

Bristol multi-instrumentalist, producer and nature freak Will Yates offers a new record from his Memotone alias, an expansive, hypothetical revue titled How Was Your Life?

Launching from terrains recognizable to fans of Will’s extensive, restless discography, How Was Your Life? packs up his penchant for baroque druid folk, homespun electronics and weightless woodwinds and explodes them into glistening, fractal star dust.

Instigated by the purchase of an antiquated Y2K era guitar synthesizer, the record was produced over the first half of 2022, in a large part a result of in-studio improvisation and carved by equipment that offered both possibilities and parameters that Will relished and explored to the nth degree. The Roland GR33 not only provided sublime guitar sounds but also empowered the guitar to convincingly mimic fretless bass, tabla and a vast percussive array, also summoning an artillery of uniquely outre atmospheres over the course of the record. The resulting concoction sounds familiar yet subtly, unshakeably otherworldly, shaping up as perhaps the most honed, energized and beatific Memotone album to date.

Paradise Drips gently lifts off with wobbly guitar, randomized sequences and unidentifiable percussive elements situating us somewhere in an unearthly realm, before Open World zaps the serotonin receptors and gushes with ecstatic warmth, it’s quietly insistent soft disco shuffle and levitational fretless driving towards a totally blissed and very soft “drop”. Forest Zone sees Memotone deep in the green, with a loose, propulsive groove and dancing flutes stumbling into a medieval ritual in the clearing halfway through, and Glow In The Dark deftly bounces between spacey ambience and an undulating no wave vamp. Carved By The Moon is a delightfully melted classical cut, while Canteen Sandwich offers the record’s most explicitly nod to modernity in the form of a nimble drum workout with samurai synths and melodic percussion that heaves towards a genuine peak. Lonehead immediately backs right off, viscerally melancholic clarinet and bubbling fx making for the records most hefty introspective moment, before Walking Backwards simmers all the way down on an wistful arpeggio, rooting back in earthly reality with charmed rhythms and jazzy tunings. Catharsis complete, Memotone is onto the next incarnation.

Will Yates has been making music as Memotone since 2010, releasing music on labels like Black Acre, Disktopia and Accidental Meetings, also releasing music as O.G. Jigg and Half Nelson. He’s worked as a producer, session musician and live performer on a broad spectrum of projects, and recently provided source sounds that made up Batu’s “Opal” on Timedance.

How Was Your Life? was written, produced and mixed by Will Yates. It was mastered by Chris Wang. Art and design by Hugo Bernier.

Critically-acclaimed, criminally-overachieving Glasgow-based singer and guitarist Alasdair Roberts is known as a superlative original songwriter as well as an interpreter of traditional songs from Scotland and beyond. For the past twenty years, his recordings have alternated between these two complimentary poles, with "pop" records such as The Amber Gatherers and A Wonder Working Stone nestling in his expansive back catalogue alongside "folk" albums such as No Earthly Man and What News (with Amble Skuse and David McGuinness). Additionally, all of these records possess a further dimension, derived from their collation of songs together into one album-length statement. This is part of Alasdair"s great achievement in his career - for him, this thing of music and song hasn"t come the eons it"s travelled to simply entertain. These impulses fully present and well honed, Alasdair returns to his roots with Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall, his fifth full-length collection of traditional song. Recorded live in the studio, it is an entirely solo collection of twelve traditional ballads and songs sparsely arranged for acoustic guitar, piano and voice. The majority of the songs originate in Alasdair"s homeland of Scotland, with a couple from Ireland and one from Prince Edward Island on Canada"s eastern seaboard too. The record takes its title from a line in the final verse of one of its songs, "The Baron o" Brackley" - a ballad of feuding clans and matrimonial betrayal from the north-east of Scotland. Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall: it"s a title which goes some way towards encapsulating many of the record"s themes. Collectively the songs treat of various conflicts and tensions - those of gender; of class, status and position; and of geography and tribal belonging - and the roles and responsibilities expected at the various intersections of these constructs. That we should never forget! As with many of Alasdair"s recordings, Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall contains ballads aplenty: tragic ("Bob Norris"), supernatural ("The Holland Handkerchief") and dramatic ("Eppie Morrie"). There are love songs ("The Lichtbob"s Lassie") and anti-love songs ("Kilbogie"). There are rare, seldom-heard pieces ("Young Airly") and much more well-known ones ("Mary Mild," a version of "The Queen"s Four Maries"). Woven through all of this - a thread of levity, perhaps - is a triptych of zoological allegories - a panegyric to a mystical steed ("The Wonderful Grey Horse"), a lament for a lost cow ("Drimindown") and a paean to a regal waterbird ("The Bonny Moorhen"), which serves to highlight the intersection of the mythic, the eternal and the mundane at which we all find ourselves in every day of our life on Earth. Grief In the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall was masterfully recorded by Sam Smith at Green Door Studios, Glasgow over an economical two days, and mixed in one day. Its brevity on all levels is an aspect of its expression. Alasdair"s renowned acoustic fingerstyle guitar is understated yet questing, ever in service to the needs of the song, underpinning his soulful tenor voice. Three songs eschew his habitual acoustic guitar in favour of simple piano arrangements. The spare setting and Alasdair"s deeply committed performance gently reminds of the meanings and melodies of these old songs, chosen instinctively and with care, for all to hear and sing in 2023, and the world beyond that is ever coming.

Third Pressing of Gilroy Mere's Adlestrop on blue vinyl with a blue cover.

Adlestrop is inspired by the remains of the rural railway stations, that were closed in the wake of the 1963 Beeching Report.

“This record started with Edward Thomas’s poem Adlestrop and a chance visit to the village that it takes its title from. I wanted to see the station, but found it was no longer there, all that remains is the old platform sign Adlestrop, now part of a local bus shelter. However as I walked around the village I was struck that; “all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire” were still singing away - like ghosts from Thomas’ verse.

Visiting Adlestrop spurred me to get hold of a copy of the Beeching Report which, in Appendix 2, lists all the services and stations recommended for closure in the 1960s. The names read like an epic British poem, from halts to branch-line stops and stations and singular terminals for public schools, mines, ferries and even an asylum. There’s Ravenscar where a resort was planned but got no further in its construction than the station, and a hotel - the grid marked out for the roads never laid. Bethesda, a short branch line from Bangor up towards Snowdonia, was used for slate and passengers and is now just a quiet green valley, Christ’s Hospital on the old Cranleigh Line, opened with seven platforms to cope with the daily flood of pupils attending the famous school nearby which never came as it was a boarding school. Many of the stations have vanished, with just fields and car parks left in their place, some are repurposed as houses, or shops, or abandoned as artefacts of a lone-gone industrial past.

Armed with a digital recorder, and with a copy of Beechings Report as my guidebook I made notes and recordings on my travels around the country, and used them as the starting point for a set of pieces that try to capture the fading layers of history, in the areas where the stations had once stood making sure each track retains something of the real place within them. Back in my studio I reacted, improvised, and crafted musical responses to each station, trying to capture the ghosts and former lives of the stations and their imprint on the present.”

Gilroy Mere is Oliver Cherer who trading as Dollboy, Rhododendron, and Australian Testing Labs as well as his own name has meandered his way through the backwaters of left of centre English folk, ambient and electronic music, issuing numerous albums of original music to much critical acclaim via highly regarded boutique labels such as Static Caravan, Second Language, Deep Distance, Polytechnic Youth, and Awkward Formats.

Hotflush Recordings celebrates 20 years in the game this year, with a triple pack vinyl compilation featuring some of the key musical events in the label’s catalogue.

Born in 2003, Hotflush stands as one of electronic music’s most influential labels. A multi-dimensional imprint that helped define the development of bass music throughout the mid-2000s, in the last decade it would evolve towards the liminal spaces between house, techno, and beyond - a journey which has given the dancefloor some of its true underground classics.

This celebratory release covers every era and stylistic area of the Hotflush output. 2005’s proto-dubstep face melter ‘The Knowledge’ by Toasty kicks off Side A, with the key sides of bass music development all covered with tracks from James Blake, Loefah, Sepalcure, and Scuba.

UK techno legend Surgeon appears with his seminal remix of Scuba’s ‘Ruptured’ (2008), while the early Paul Woolford classic ‘MDMA’ reminds us of how ended up working with Diplo.

George FitzGerald and Recondite reprise some of their key formative material, while newer names Lawrence Hart, OR:LA and breakout Seoul artist Closet Yi also make appearances.

Canadian mastermind Jacques Greene rounds off the release with his slamming remix of Kiimi’s Breaking My Mind.

This is a compilation 20 years in the making, containing some of the key tracks from the electronic underground - curated and compiled by label boss Scuba.

Green Marbled Vinyl


Following up to his maiden transmission for the label, "Cosmic Silence", issued a year ago, Italian producer Alessandro Cozzolino AKA Cioz resurfaces on Stil vor Talent with his longed-for debut album "Supermassive Whole" - a ten-track cosmic odyssey in sound percolating staple elements of Cioz's palette of choice, from otherworldly techno to Latin-inflected house, via the obvious injection of kosmische and electronica soundscaping.

The lead single "Wachaka" - recorded in collaboration with Cape Town producer Ryan Murgatroyd, exemplifies Cozzolino's electrifying approach to a T. An inch-perfectly balanced mix of Afro-infused polyrhythmic bravura and seesawing synth moves, the track swells with a blazing fire at heart that keeps on sprawling infectiously with each and every bar. Trading the linear buildup for most sensuous levels of syncopation, "Me Monkey" serves up a warmer kind of funk, perfect for getting snug and cozy before an avalanche of seesawing chords up the ante towards space-opera-esque amplitude. All in elusive sinuosity and processed machine talk, "Harakat" dwells the confines of wonky house templates and polyamorous EBM, while "I Always Wanted To..." goes the slo-burning, counterclockwise route, primed for languid moments in the alcove.

"B1" is perhaps the most spitting avatar of the Italian whiz's hybrid rolling-and-pounding rhythmic style, nicely embodying both its quirky, hip-swaying and fanfare-like percussive aspects. The ecstatically bouncy "Do It The Way You Feel" showcases Cioz's more rousing, floor-friendly facet with a killer combo of hi-octane electro dynamics, pop-rock motif'd hooks and slashing breaks taking the controls. The mood also happens to be melancholic at times, such as on the beautifully understated "Is This Real", which bridges the gap betwixt piano-house déjà-vu - here tweaked to distinctively soul-wrenching effect, and a prog buildup glossed under a thick sauce of FX, similar to that of "Sudpol Birgit"'s inflating saturation in the post-prod treatment. Somewhat brushed with balearic shades in mind, "Pace e Amore" follows a more classic curve, slowly veering off onto ambient-laced territories, while "Lost in Space" evokes a certain idea of gravity-defying plenitude through that ever intuitive and subtly arranged collage of tender wistfulness and endless attraction towards the groove, which defines Cozzolino's phraseology so fittingly.

Dark Green Vinyl

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.