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Announcing the first release by Shift Imprint, "Hynek's Scale"!
What magic results if we merge the spirits of Detroit, Chicago, Amsterdam and Lisbon, all in the same record
Hynek's Scale is a smoking' Audiopath collaboration with ex Parliament/Funkadelic member Jerrald James AKA Jerry The Cat, who, besides being an amazing percussionist and great vocalist, is also a serious old school DJ and producer with collabs with names like Derrick May, Theo Parrish and Moodymann.
Together they carefully crafted the main theme "Hynek's Scale" with raging synths, thunderous kick drums, heavy baselines and last but not least, Jerry's sweet voice. This one is a house track you will remember for quite a while! Besides the original mix, there are two remixes, one from a guy that needs no introduction, Mr. K-Alexi Shelby from Chicago (Transmat/Trax/Djax-Up-Beats). K turned the whole main idea upside down and produced a real funky big beat slammer! We love it and we know that you will love it too, trust us! The second is a remix coming from Mechanique (Kaos Records/Affin), a talented Portuguese producer based in Amsterdam. He takes his mix to a very far, deep and beautiful place, a totally different atmosphere from the title track. Finishing the record, Audiopath delivers a banger that he's been anxious to release, "Good Foot", a heavy, heavy, heavy electrofunk track; watch out for this one, it can bite! In short, we sincerely advise you to immerse yourself in the beats and atmospheres explored by these guys, we're sure that theres a track here for each and everyone of you. The record is an immediate encounter with nothing but exquisite music!
Big support by Laurent Garnier!

2x180g vinyl plus download code!
We are very happy to present our first album on Ilian Tape. At the beginning of 2014 we moved our two separate bedroom studios into one and soon after started working on the album. All the tracks were made in about 6 months in our new Ilian Tape Space Studio in Munich. The time felt right to focus on this adventure, but without any pressure. Therefore the process became very natural and we felt free to go wherever the vibe led us. Our intention was to create a very personal and honest sound without any limitations or guidelines. It's a reflection of all the years we've been growing up, working, traveling and playing together and it means a lot to us. But enough said music is not supposed to be described with words, so sit back, close your eyes, light one up and turn up the speakers!

Having been a fan of Reelow for, well, as long as we care to remember, we are really proud to present you his new outstanding EP on Cellaa Music. Now residing on Ibiza, Reelow has enjoyed yet another successful year. With the talent taking a back seat, its the music hogging the spotlight and rightly so. Two new Tracks and two massive Remixes that look to the past whilst sitting firmly in the present.

- Leave Me Alone' riding on massive percussion and a tough house beat, with this tough Drums and drunken, wubby Sounds it is running right through its core. Plenty of sonic details flesh out the languorous but slightly groove and you'd imagine this Track is to be the sort of many Artits will love.

- Your Crowd' is again about little tiny details and how they evolve with time. This one take you on a voyage of natural rhythms and big Drums. Developing from harmonic FX Sounds and a infectious groove, the track is full of surprises as it twists and turns into different sounds that come and go to take it further than the dancefloor.

The first of the remixes comes from the in form, Massimo Cassini. He team up with a hypnotic rework of - Leave Me Alone' that demonstrates just why he is one to keep a close eye on as he gears up on the production front. Massimo is delivering a muscular house bomb, carefully placed FXs and a nice and catchy line to make this a dancefloor mover.

Next we have Cellaa Music Co Founder Martin Heyder providing a soulful tech house surrogate to the original of - Your Crowd'. His remix has a deeper houseier twist with a smooth 303 pad sound and a concrete percussive arrangement to convey a fantastic production.

We'll meet you on the Dance Floor!!!

Almost immediately after hearing the Beatles' North American debut album at eight years old, Al Di Meola decided he wanted to become a musician. Just 11 years later, he was recruited by Chick Corea to replace Bill Connors in the legendary jazz fusion band Return to Forever, together with Stanley Clarke and Lenny White. His tenure turned out to be a short one—just two years—but turned out to coincide with the group's career peak.

Around the time the group broke up, he released his first record Land of the Midnight Sun, followed by Elegant Gypsy in 1977. On this album Al showcased his prowess for fast electric guitar riffs, lyrical acoustic passages, and every technique in between. The record clearly showcases his predilection for flamenco and Latin jazz, exemplified by the record's two most important tunes: "Mediterranean Sundance" and "Race With Devil On Spanish Highway".

Elegant Gypsy is available as a limited edition of 1000 individually numbered copies on red vinyl and includes in insert.

Without turning anything upside down, the trio has released their second album, gracefully deepening the unique path they have carved out for themselves. It is an album that already stands in stark contrast to the attention-deficit culture of our times. Indeed, whilst music sometimes seeks to concentrate the intensity of its references and artefacts, the trio takes a step back, deploying an intensity that is subtly distributed. Thanks to their progressive instrumental tracks blending elements inherited from dub, jazz, folk and even musique concrète, the trio has never allowed the quality of their music to suffer from their experimentation; at the same time, they have never been afraid to venture off the beaten track to achieve the sound they desire. Every single track of this album cast like fragile bridges over various landscapes that explore cycles and the natural rhythm within. It is up to the listener to tread carefully and not lose their footing and embrace the cinematic movement of this music. The three artists have indeed achieved a musical expression so free that it possesses the power of illusion. We are suddenly swept up in all these illusions, to the point where our memories are in flux. Both haunting and in motion, this trio’s music offers an impregnable mental retreat and an invitation to dance. This album conveys a dreamlike conviction that time, in its relentless flight, might—if only for a moment—be brought to a halt. A halt that awaits you.

Words by Carl Åhnebrink

There is a hush most of us only knew as children, the warm drift between familiar household sounds and being carried to bed, a place that belongs to you and to some self you have not met yet. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, lives in that dream space and then keeps walking, slipping out of time and waking somewhere new, barely familiar enough to feel like home yet wholly your own. She came up in a Jamaican household on the edge of the Florida Everglades, an existence built of extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and a student of sound, built his own speakers and kept three sound systems going across as many rooms. His low end would rise through her bedroom floor like some wayward cat while she lay above it with folk records, finding harmonies that were new and hers alone. Two musics in one room. Lushness as past and premonition. She found folk on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel, while everyone around her called it sleepy music. She did not mind being the only one. The solitude let her fall for harmony first, before words, before anything else, and harmony is still the thing she reaches for. Generationally speaking, the music was already in the air. Her grandfather, Colin Smith, is a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar and built his own rumba boxes, worked to keep Jamaica’s oldest acoustic folk form alive. Mento is the root of all of it: ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything after. He is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own.


Made slowly and by hand with her longtime partner Evan Wright, Follow the Light lays the harmony of folk over the rhythm of dub, with Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washed guitars of Cocteau Twins haunting its outer edges. Voice and guitar seeking each other out first, then everything else stacked across long days in the studio they keep at home, restraint kept on purpose. The lead single “Without You” is the whole method surfacing, split open and sparkling like a geode in a creek bed. Angelic heroics, and nothing less.


At the heart is family. Her grandmother Aggie, the light behind “Memory,” guiding still. And underneath, the quieter truth the record keeps: none of us are only one person, but a continuum of selves, the ones who shaped us and the ones we have yet to meet. Future you is an ancestor your current self gets to greet. Press play and the same invitation is yours: A few minutes out of time, a place that turns familiar the longer you stay until you surface somewhere new and find it was yours all along

There is a hush most of us only knew as children, the warm drift between familiar household sounds and being carried to bed, a place that belongs to you and to some self you have not met yet. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, lives in that dream space and then keeps walking, slipping out of time and waking somewhere new, barely familiar enough to feel like home yet wholly your own. She came up in a Jamaican household on the edge of the Florida Everglades, an existence built of extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and a student of sound, built his own speakers and kept three sound systems going across as many rooms. His low end would rise through her bedroom floor like some wayward cat while she lay above it with folk records, finding harmonies that were new and hers alone. Two musics in one room. Lushness as past and premonition. She found folk on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel, while everyone around her called it sleepy music. She did not mind being the only one. The solitude let her fall for harmony first, before words, before anything else, and harmony is still the thing she reaches for. Generationally speaking, the music was already in the air. Her grandfather, Colin Smith, is a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar and built his own rumba boxes, worked to keep Jamaica’s oldest acoustic folk form alive. Mento is the root of all of it: ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything after. He is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own.


Made slowly and by hand with her longtime partner Evan Wright, Follow the Light lays the harmony of folk over the rhythm of dub, with Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washed guitars of Cocteau Twins haunting its outer edges. Voice and guitar seeking each other out first, then everything else stacked across long days in the studio they keep at home, restraint kept on purpose. The lead single “Without You” is the whole method surfacing, split open and sparkling like a geode in a creek bed. Angelic heroics, and nothing less.


At the heart is family. Her grandmother Aggie, the light behind “Memory,” guiding still. And underneath, the quieter truth the record keeps: none of us are only one person, but a continuum of selves, the ones who shaped us and the ones we have yet to meet. Future you is an ancestor your current self gets to greet. Press play and the same invitation is yours: A few minutes out of time, a place that turns familiar the longer you stay until you surface somewhere new and find it was yours all along

Superfan is the songwriting veil of Kali Priya Flanagan, the Brooklyn-based multi-instrumentalist and producer. While initially imagined as a solo act, ambitious string arrangements crafted in collaboration with cellist Omeed Almassi have come to define Superfan’s noisy and magnetic pop soundscape.

Today, Superfan announces their forthcoming album ‘My Piledriver Heart’ (MPDH), out October 16 via new label home AD 93 (Joanne Robertson, Dagmar Zuniga, YHWH Nailgun). Along with the announcement, Superfan presents his new single “In the Gold Room” paired with the live version filmed by Garrett Winston inside Agger Fish Building in the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

MPDH marks the first release outside of the record deal Flanagan signed at age 14. The album finds Flanagan embracing a more expansive, experimental vision of indie rock - melding deeply tuned acoustic guitar, cello, and Eastern musical influences into what he calls his “Acousticello” sound. Recorded largely live with cellist Omeed Almassi and producer Hudson Pollock, the record explores heartbreak, independence, and hopeful melancholia. Kali says “This time around it was about being (myself) versus becoming myself. This album was made to acknowledge the ebbs and flows in chugging along with life and love, from a place of comfort within the self that opens you up to the beauty in everyday life.” He does so through intimate performances that blur the line between folk, chamber music, pop-rock ballads, and alternative rock. Last year, he released the singles “Apeiron (Fantasy Football)” and “Miss W Jones” and earlier this year he released “Picture of Return.”

Following his acclaimed debut Tow Truck Jesus, Flanagan opened for The Strokes at Red Rocks, and has quietly become a fixture of New York’s DIY scene, performing alongside artists like Horsegirl, Knifeplay, and Quiet Light, while also playing support shows with King Woman and Victoryland this summer. He is also in the rising emo band Holidays in United States.

Before Superfan, Flanagan found success during the pandemic under his first moniker, “KALI.” His initial releases garnered millions of streams and led to collaborations with seasoned high-profile producers and industry teams. Despite his budding career as an indie-pop star, Flanagan was dissatisfied with the conditions of his artistic output and community as he reached adulthood. His coming-of-age years in Los Angeles were marked by an ever-present new-wave pop music oblivion: “hits” made in 5-hour sessions with strangers, a social life suffocated by others’ aspirations for fame, and an absent audience for live music that pushed past the prescriptions of recorded music. On MPDH, Kali says “I can’t help my urge to write these pop-rock ballads, but we really wanted to push the boundary of genre and expressing the sentiments of the songs through experimentation.”

Seven years after 2019’s ‘The Dusk Loom’, Petrels returns with a pair of new albums, Infangthief and Outfangthief. The first of these releases, Infangthief, was originally written and recorded in 2022, before being reworked in light of a subsequent album, Outfangthief, due to be released later this year.

The two albums act as companion pieces, mirrors revealing facets of the other, overlapping in sound and subject matter. Though Outfangthief may have been written after Infangthief, it is no mere follow-up, with it's own creation causing a re-visiting and re-working of the earlier album, which in turn informed the writing of its twin.

Taking their titles from Old English legal terms ("thief seized without" and "thief seized within”), the central thread running through both albums is the illusion of assumed human authority - that which is given and that which is taken by force. With Western society seemingly hellbent on willingly embracing a brutally destructive economic model (even in its death throes), these albums attempt - in their own small way - to undertake the essential task of imagining alternative ways of being.

Petrels is the solo project of musician and artist, Oliver Barrett. Since releasing his debut, Haeligewielle, in 2011 (#9 in A Closer Listen's Best Albums of the Decade), Petrels has toured across Europe and shared a stage with the likes of Jóhann Jóhannsson, Tim Hecker, FIRE!, Nate Young (Wolf Eyes), Trouble Books, Demdike Stare, Nadja, and Hans-Joachim Roedelius (Cluster). Working from his home in Somerset, UK, Barrett has released numerous albums through his Floating Limb imprint, as well as mixing and/or mastering hundreds of releases for the likes of Keiji Haino, Loren Connors & Alan Licht, Judith Hamann, Incapacitants, Mette Rasmussen & Sofia Jernberg, Yasunao Tone and more

“Petrels sidesteps the chilliness found in much of the music of his peers, replacing it instead with an almost spiritual ecstasy, his ravishing synths and almost choral vocal treatments calling out in cosmic, wide eyed wonder at the universe.” – Paul Margree, Louder Than War

Fontaines D.C. announce their fifth studio album, Dopamine Chamber, released on 16th October via XL Recordings. Produced by James Ford, it is the follow-up to 2024’s UK platinum-certified Romance – and the sound of a band moving decisively away from the guitar language of their early records into something colder, stranger and more synthetic. It arrives today alongside lead single “Marianne” and its accompanying video, directed by Dave Meyers.

Dopamine Chamber arrives like a constellation behind undulating sighs of smog: potent balladry, anthemic melodies glinting through the murk. In a world tipping towards collapse, it asks how pleasure mutates amid peril—and what our pursuit of it reveals about us. Across the album, Fontaines D.C. – Grian Chatten, Carlos O’Connell, Conor Curley, Conor Deegan and Tom Coll – move between gratification and dread until the two meld together, reflecting the overwhelm of artificial intelligence, environmental collapse and political violence all riding the same algorithms as memes, jokes and celebrity culture. “The album itself is a dopamine chamber,” says Chatten. “You step inside and we test these different mind- or mood-altering pieces of music on you.”

Where Romance held its tension in balance, this record tips it. “I think Romance was maybe 60 per cent human and 40 per cent corrupted by automation, and a loss of feeling,” says Chatten, who spent time among the faded grandeur of Venice, Vienna and Sicily in search of lyrical inspiration. “This one feels more like 60 per cent corrupted — the mask is wearing the face a little more.” He resisted any pull towards easy optimism: “I felt it would be more powerful to leave the hope out and reflect the ugliness honestly. This one needed to feel more like a catastrophic warning.”

“Our albums have always questioned a sense of place,” says bassist Conor Deegan. “First Dublin, then being away from Dublin, and then trying to find the romance elsewhere. On this record, the question became: where do you escape to?” Into the self, perhaps – or hedonism, fantasy, cosmetic perfection, eternal youth or the endless refresh of a screen.

Fontaines D.C. have spent five albums refusing to repeat themselves – from Dogrel (2019) through A Hero’s Death (2020), the No. 1 Skinty Fia (2022) and the anarchic, kaleidoscopic Romance (2024). Dopamine Chamber is their most radical turn yet: cold synthesiser tones, marching drums, samples and triggers, several songs with no guitars at all, and the swooning strings of 1960s Italian pop pulled into something synthetic. For guitarist Conor Curley, the aim was to break from the band’s own reference points: “I was trying to find stuff that pointed into the future.” It was made with James Ford between London, the English countryside and Palermo, where Chatten recorded vocals in a makeshift booth built from mattresses and cushions.

“There’s a poignant sense of us being on the brink of some other kind of form of humanity, or non-humanity,” says Chatten. For their fifth album, Fontaines D.C. have built the chamber. What happens to the listener inside it will be the experiment.

Fontaines D.C. announce their fifth studio album, Dopamine Chamber, released on 16th October via XL Recordings. Produced by James Ford, it is the follow-up to 2024’s UK platinum-certified Romance – and the sound of a band moving decisively away from the guitar language of their early records into something colder, stranger and more synthetic. It arrives today alongside lead single “Marianne” and its accompanying video, directed by Dave Meyers.

Dopamine Chamber arrives like a constellation behind undulating sighs of smog: potent balladry, anthemic melodies glinting through the murk. In a world tipping towards collapse, it asks how pleasure mutates amid peril—and what our pursuit of it reveals about us. Across the album, Fontaines D.C. – Grian Chatten, Carlos O’Connell, Conor Curley, Conor Deegan and Tom Coll – move between gratification and dread until the two meld together, reflecting the overwhelm of artificial intelligence, environmental collapse and political violence all riding the same algorithms as memes, jokes and celebrity culture. “The album itself is a dopamine chamber,” says Chatten. “You step inside and we test these different mind- or mood-altering pieces of music on you.”

Where Romance held its tension in balance, this record tips it. “I think Romance was maybe 60 per cent human and 40 per cent corrupted by automation, and a loss of feeling,” says Chatten, who spent time among the faded grandeur of Venice, Vienna and Sicily in search of lyrical inspiration. “This one feels more like 60 per cent corrupted — the mask is wearing the face a little more.” He resisted any pull towards easy optimism: “I felt it would be more powerful to leave the hope out and reflect the ugliness honestly. This one needed to feel more like a catastrophic warning.”

“Our albums have always questioned a sense of place,” says bassist Conor Deegan. “First Dublin, then being away from Dublin, and then trying to find the romance elsewhere. On this record, the question became: where do you escape to?” Into the self, perhaps – or hedonism, fantasy, cosmetic perfection, eternal youth or the endless refresh of a screen.

Fontaines D.C. have spent five albums refusing to repeat themselves – from Dogrel (2019) through A Hero’s Death (2020), the No. 1 Skinty Fia (2022) and the anarchic, kaleidoscopic Romance (2024). Dopamine Chamber is their most radical turn yet: cold synthesiser tones, marching drums, samples and triggers, several songs with no guitars at all, and the swooning strings of 1960s Italian pop pulled into something synthetic. For guitarist Conor Curley, the aim was to break from the band’s own reference points: “I was trying to find stuff that pointed into the future.” It was made with James Ford between London, the English countryside and Palermo, where Chatten recorded vocals in a makeshift booth built from mattresses and cushions.

“There’s a poignant sense of us being on the brink of some other kind of form of humanity, or non-humanity,” says Chatten. For their fifth album, Fontaines D.C. have built the chamber. What happens to the listener inside it will be the experiment.

After decades contributing to records where a single riff could transform a dancefloor, Charlie May turns that instinct inward on Trusted Farms.
For over thirty years, Charlie has occupied a position that seems increasingly rare in electronic music: the musician’s musician, the person behind the machines, the extra pair of hands in the studio, and quite often, the person responsible for the melody you end up carrying around in your head for weeks on end. 
Alongside Duncan Forbes as Spooky, Charlie helped shape some of the most important electronic music to emerge from the UK in the early ’90s. That partnership would also sow the seeds for one of Sasha’s defining records: the central riff behind Xpander began life in Spooky’s live material, before Charlie brought the idea into the studio with Sasha and helped transform it into one of electronic music’s most enduring anthems.
Listen closely to Charlie’s work and there’s a particular instinct that keeps returning: knowing when a simple synth line is enough. Knowing which note needs to change. Knowing when repetition stops being repetition and starts becoming the entire reason a track works. More recently, as one-third of Quiet Places on ASIP, he’s taken those same instincts somewhere looser — beatless, gridless and led by improvisation.
Trusted Farms puts those instincts front and centre.
Tiny melodic phrases appear and refuse to leave. Synth lines repeat just long enough to become lodged in your head. Parts rub against each other without being tidied into submission. There’s a sharpness and directness to it all amongst the purposeful analogue warmth.
Some of these tracks feel almost ridiculously simple at first. But simplicity is difficult when you’ve spent decades learning every possible way to complicate something. Many of the parts on Trusted Farms were performed live with minimal editing. A synth line might be doubled, distorted, re-recorded and pushed back through another piece of equipment, but it remains the same idea. Instead of filling the gaps, Charlie works on the weight and character of what is already there. The melodies become physical; slightly worn around the edges.
For someone whose fingerprints can be found across some genuinely monumental moments in electronic music, Charlie has spent decades knowing what to add. 
Trusted Farms is about knowing exactly what to leave alone.
Available on black 12”, mastered by Andreas Lupo LOOP-O Lubich and featuring artwork by Peter Skwiot Smith,

In their own words, it's "more focussed, paced and thought-out." Over 13 tracks that explore the horrors of the outside world and the internal minefield of the brain, Mould's debut also hits with the thrills of a brilliant live band who've distilled that energy to tape. The title comes from a line taken from the time signature-warping 'Emotive Language' that distills what it means to be a band in 2026 down to one concise sentiment. "This has always been the dream, playing with your mates and making good songs and getting to tour and make records," says Kane. "But the realities of trying to start a band now, when you're 30 and also have other goals at the same time are hard. We'd be doing it regardless, but you have to learn a lot. " This duality runs throughout the record, where tracks like lead single 'Float' speak of "strolling through hellscapes" of social media yet surround their frustrations with the sort of barbed, visceral musicality that sounds like if Interpol had grown up in gloomy, rain- soaked Britain. "You're endlessly doom scrolling, past a funny video of a sausage, and then there's Farage and then there's an ad for something," Joe says of the track. "That mindnumbing flashy distraction turns you into idiots."

In their own words, it's "more focussed, paced and thought-out." Over 13 tracks that explore the horrors of the outside world and the internal minefield of the brain, Mould's debut also hits with the thrills of a brilliant live band who've distilled that energy to tape. The title comes from a line taken from the time signature-warping 'Emotive Language' that distills what it means to be a band in 2026 down to one concise sentiment. "This has always been the dream, playing with your mates and making good songs and getting to tour and make records," says Kane. "But the realities of trying to start a band now, when you're 30 and also have other goals at the same time are hard. We'd be doing it regardless, but you have to learn a lot. " This duality runs throughout the record, where tracks like lead single 'Float' speak of "strolling through hellscapes" of social media yet surround their frustrations with the sort of barbed, visceral musicality that sounds like if Interpol had grown up in gloomy, rain- soaked Britain. "You're endlessly doom scrolling, past a funny video of a sausage, and then there's Farage and then there's an ad for something," Joe says of the track. "That mindnumbing flashy distraction turns you into idiots."

spirit blue have become one of London’s most elusive word-of-mouth successes. Formed in South East London, the duo quietly built a devoted following through years hosting NTS Radio’s flagship Early Bird show before stepping out from behind the booth with 2024’s breakout double single “perfect storm / desire machine”. Rare live appearances and instant sell-outs of their limited dubplate pressings have turned spirit blue into one of the capital’s most sought-after underground acts, with admirers ranging from Ethel Cain to EsDeeKid. The glistening guitars, soft-hued vocals and sparse production of “ps / dm” and its follow-up “language” conjure a collaged vision of 90s alt-rock melancholy refracted through lo-fi intimacy and electronic texture. The vocals remain understated yet emotionally direct, grounding each track in a vulnerability that feels unforced. Echoes of slowcore’s more spectral edges drift through the duo’s blurred songwriting, where moments of stillness carry as much weight as the hooks themselves. The first ultra-limited pressing sold out instantly; this new edition arrives including the vinyl-exclusive, weightless, “devil mix” versions on the B side and demand already running high.

Across the past decade, KAS has established herself as a unique voice in experimental electronic music, a composer and synthesist whose work dissolves the boundaries between ambient electronica, contemporary classical, composition, and immersive sound design. Her new album “Ruin: It’s Not Just Music” arrives with a distinctive gravitational pull. The record moves with greater physical force, placing rhythm and impact at the centre of its architecture, revealing a more confrontational and embodied dimension of KAS’s musical language.
The first single “Ruin” arrives May 22nd, with the full album released October 2nd via SOMEONE SPECIAL the new label co-founded by KAS.
Where much of KAS’s earlier work explored harmonic environments, the forthcoming album is built around tension and release. Inspired by the sound of drum and bass, breakbeats fracture through dense fields of synthesis, percussive patterns and her signature melodic fragments – motions that feel closer to the kinetic language of club music than the meditative spaces often associated with her past catalogue. The result is a body of work that feels both recognisably hers and newly charged, music that moves through the body as insistently as it engages the mind.
For listeners who first encountered KAS through the glowing synthesis of “Ears” (2016) or the intricate experimental pop of “The Kid” (2017), this direction may feel initially surprising, yet the shift has been quietly unfolding across the past several years. KAS’s practice has steadily expanded beyond the expectations placed upon experimental electronic artists, moving between orchestral composition, audiovisual installations, film scoring, and large-scale commissions while retaining the unmistakable sonic signature that defines her work.
The 2022 albums “I Could Be Your Dog / I Could Be Your Moon” (2022) and “Let’s Turn It Into Sound” (2022) explored a deeply immersive approach to composition, expanded her reputation and instinct for constructing detailed sonic ecosystems while continuing to blur the lines between experimental electronics and contemporary pop structures. KAS’s most recent output has continued to widen that field including the rhythm oriented electronic album “Gush” (2025) and her return to more orchestral roots with “Thoughts on the Future” (2025). Together these releases underscored the breadth of her practice.
Her prolific collaborators and creative partners have ranged from Patti Smith and Suzanne Ciani to Danny Elfman, Tycho, Glass Beams, RY X, Caribou, Four Tet, Reggie Watts, and Max Richter, while her compositions have appeared in projects with Apple, Chanel, Meow Wolf, the BBC Orchestra, and major film and television productions.
On “Ruin: It’s Not Just Music”, that vocabulary becomes more kinetic than ever before. The record draws energy from jungle, drum and bass, and dance-floor focused electronic music while retaining the intricate synthesis and tonal curiosity that have defined KAS’s work from the beginning. The result is a record that feels equally at home within club culture, contemporary composition, and the experimental spaces that have long championed her artistry.
On May 27th KAS will present a major performance at London’s Barbican Centre alongside the London Contemporary Orchestra, marking the ten-year anniversary of her landmark album Ears. The evening will trace the arc of her creative evolution while also introducing material from the new album.

Die Heavenly Remixes-Reihe präsentiert weiterhin die besten Remixe, Versionen, Meditationen, Re-Rubs und Dubs von Künstlern aus der ganzen Welt, die auf der Liste des aufregendsten Plattenlabels des Landes stehen. In den meisten Fällen handelt es sich bei den Alben um die erste physische Veröffentlichung eines Remixes, die sie von den Streaming-Playlisten in ihr rechtmäßiges, spirituelles Zuhause auf superschwerem Vinyl (oder glänzender, supergepackter Compact Disc) befördert.

Heavenly Remixes Volume 8 beginnt mit Space Afrikas üppiger, ambienter Neuinterpretation von BEAM/S der Orielles, bevor Justin Robertson Amber Arcades' Turning Light zu acht Minuten elektronischem Dub dehnt.

The follow up to her UK number 1 album This Is How Tomorrow Moves, the stark and striking fourth album by beabadoobee is named for the electricity towers that dot every major artery in the world—the strong, spindly structures that reminded Beatrice Laus of her connection to friends and family at home while she was staring down extreme disconnection and isolation on tour over the past few years.

The title can also be read as an allusion to Laus’ spiky, forceful new sound—the waves of distortion that crash and shatter across this record’s 14 songs mirroring the intense crackle you hear when walking under power lines. The pylon is also a fitting symbol for an album that reckons with the repetitive anxieties of your mid-twenties: What if I’m always going to be this way? What if life is just pylon after pylon on the road?

The album’s first single is available to stream and buy from today: “Sun Has Set” introduces Pylon as, in essence, a set of songs that began as diary entries, words that Laus thought she’d never be able to say out loud. “A lot of the songs on this record are things I wish I could have said to someone,” she says. “This song has this petty tunnel vision—it’s like, I hate you. You’re gonna stay here and listen to how much I hate you. Because I never got to say that.” The single comes accompanied by a striking first person video directed by Bea’s partner and longtime visual collaborator Jake Erland.


Ever a devotee of pure rock music—both as something to be cherished and something to be played with—Laus casts these feelings in songs that touch on classic grunge, midwest emo and ‘90s radio rock, zeroing in on a sound that is both harsher and more direct than any of her previous records. She says the music she’s loved has “always been an influence” on her music, and so for B4 she went straight to the source. A fair few of Beabadoobee’s composite influences contributed to Pylon, a fact that speaks to the goodwill and respect Laus has amassed over the course of her relatively brief career.

Hayley Williams sings on “Nothing to Prove,” a deeply anthemic indie-rock song about getting your power back from fairweather friends who just want a bit of your success. The moody “Powerlines” features a verse from Turnstile singer Brendan Yates, a master of matching vocal force with emotional nuance. Elsewhere, you’ll find contributions from Pinegrove’s Evan Stephens Hall, Deftones’ Chino Moreno, and Title Fight’s Shane Moran, as well as, on “Write Me A Letter”, production work from Laus’ longtime friends and collaborators Matty Healy and George Daniel of The 1975.

Beabadoobee will debut songs from the record on the Powerlines Tour, her first ever arena shows and biggest tour to date, taking in shows across North America, the UK and Europe this autumn-winter. The Powerlines Tour kicks off 1 October and includes stops at Madison Square Garden, The Kia Forum, The O2 and more (full routing below). Support comes from Wisp in the US, Canada and UK and Violet Grohl in France, The Netherlands, Belgium and Germany.





Born in the Philippines and raised in London, Beatrice Laus emerged as a British alternative music icon across three acclaimed albums and five EPs. She has garnered multiple BRIT Award and BBC Sound Of nominations, and won NME’s Radar award, whilst amassing over 10 billion streams worldwide and more than 12 million followers across her social channels.

This Is How Tomorrow Moves became her first record to reach number 1 on the UK Official Album Chart in 2024, following her Top 10 albums Fake It Flowers (which reached number 8) in 2020 and 2022’s Beatopia (#4). Earlier this year, beabadoobee released the one-off single ‘‘All I Did Was Dream Of You,” teaming up with Grammy-nominated best New Artist The Marías, the result of a longtime mutual creative admiration between María Zardoya and Bea.

Ricky Force joins the Basics Records roster with ’MDrum’ a dark and hypnotic rolling track. Ricky is known for writing some of the deepest cuts over the last decade alongside running Pressin’ Hard Records.

On the flip side Friske (Requisite/Metalheadz) steps up with a sharp apache remix of MDrum which twists and turns. On B2 is Gremlinz (UVB-76/Metalheadz) with an absolute monster remix rolling out the amen’s, a masterclass in drum work. Watch your bass bins!!

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

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

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

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

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

– Tom Carter

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

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

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

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

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

– Tom Carter

South Asian super-producers Lapgan and Baalti – the former a Madlib-disciple spinning hip-hop grooves out of dusty desi samples, the latter duo purveyors of intricately tapestried dance music – holed up in the California desert in early 2024 for a songwriting session to blend their complimentary styles. They ended up with several albums worth of club material built upon decades of Indian music history – floor fillers that move like early Four Tet meets The Avalanches. They’ve been teasing this material around the world during live sets – from Paris Fashion Week to Glastonbury, London Clubs to BK Warehouse parties, sessions at Lot Radio and Karachi Community Radio, and anywhere else they find an aux. The result has been endless ID requests for unreleased gems like “Ipa Ma” and “Lime Tikka”, calls which should finally be answered with the release of Threads.

Lapgan Bio
Chicago-based archivist and producer Lapgan has become renowned for his signature style: unearthing rare and forgotten Indian & Pakistani sounds and recontextualizing them into hip-hop and dance beats that evoke J Dilla and Madlib. He has cultivated a reputation for quietly revolutionary sample-work across his beloved solo projects History and Duniya Kya Hai, as well as LAFANDAR, his critically acclaimed team up with Heems (of Das Racist / Swet Shop Boys). He has worked with a range of artists from both the West (Your Old Droog, Saul Williams, Cool Calm Pete, Kool Keith, Open Mike Eagle, Blue, Quelle Chris) and the East (EXCISE DEPT, Baalti, Sid Sriram, Sid Vashi, Dynoman), and has been featured in global media including Pitchfork, FADER, Stereogum, Passion of the Weiss, Mixmag, Homegrown, and Vinyl Me, Please. Over the past year he has headlined clubs and performed at festivals across the world from Chicago and New York to London and India, and was personally invited to soundtrack back to back Paris Fashion Week shows for the similarly norm-shifting designer Kartik Research. In 2026 he will soundtrack his third Kartik Research runway show, as well as reissue Duniya Kya Hai for its five-year anniversary alongside a companion EP featuring remixes from peers and supporters Arushi Jain, Loris, Mera Bhai, Malkfunktion, and Maral.

Baalti Bio
Baalti makes electronic music built around rhythm, pressure, and collective release – weaving through leftfield bass, dusty hip hop, tripped out dub and raw house all while maintaining a throughline rooted in South Asian culture seen through the lens of a sweaty dancefloor. In the last year they have experienced a whirlwind rise and growing global recognition: from their EP Mela vividly evoking West Bengal’s sound system culture to their Tamil-cinema-infused filter-house project with Anish Kumar Stunt Doubles, in addition to wide-ranging collabs and remixes alongside DJ ADHD, Naya Beat, and A.R. RahmanThey have also built a reputation for their frenetic live show, with appearances at international festivals like Glastonbury and MELT, headlining shows across Australia and Europe and supporting influences turned peers like Four Tet and Disclosure across North America. Their explosive, percussion-heavy sets have been platformed by Rinse FM, NTS, The Lot Radio, Beats In Space, and Refuge Worldwide, and their music has been renowned by publications including Pitchfork, Bandcamp Daily, RA, and MixMag. Their forward momentum continues into 2026 with slated headline tours in India, Australia, and Asia along with appearances at Coachella, Party in the Paddock, Fvded in the Park, and We Out Here festivals.

For nearly twenty years, Swedish singer-songwriter Kristian Matsson has played his way around the world as The Tallest Man on Earth, carving out a singular place in contemporary folk music. His discography has long been heard through the lens of the American folk tradition. But Just Beyond Endless Mountain, out October 9th on Anti- Records, quietly turns that perspective on its head. After returning to his native Dalarna in central Sweden, Matsson found himself listening to the music he had spent years trying to leave behind: the polskas, the old field recordings and the sounds of the local traditions that had surrounded him since childhood. The result is not a return to the past, but a step into new musical territory. Swedish folk music has reshaped his melodies, his voice, and the way he writes songs. The Tallest Man on Earth is back with his most deeply rooted album to date. Just Beyond Endless Mountain opens an unexpected new chapter in a career that has never settled for familiar ground.

For nearly twenty years, Swedish singer-songwriter Kristian Matsson has played his way around the world as The Tallest Man on Earth, carving out a singular place in contemporary folk music. His discography has long been heard through the lens of the American folk tradition. But Just Beyond Endless Mountain, out October 9th on Anti- Records, quietly turns that perspective on its head. After returning to his native Dalarna in central Sweden, Matsson found himself listening to the music he had spent years trying to leave behind: the polskas, the old field recordings and the sounds of the local traditions that had surrounded him since childhood. The result is not a return to the past, but a step into new musical territory. Swedish folk music has reshaped his melodies, his voice, and the way he writes songs. The Tallest Man on Earth is back with his most deeply rooted album to date. Just Beyond Endless Mountain opens an unexpected new chapter in a career that has never settled for familiar ground.

His discography has long been heard through the lens of the American folk tradition. But Just Beyond Endless Mountain, out October 9th on Anti- Records, quietly turns that perspective on its head. After returning to his native Dalarna in central Sweden, Matsson found himself listening to the music he had spent years trying to leave behind: the polskas, the old field recordings and the sounds of the local traditions that had surrounded him since childhood. The result is not a return to the past, but a step into new musical territory. Swedish folk music has reshaped his melodies, his voice, and the way he writes songs. The Tallest Man On Earth is back with his most deeply rooted album to date. Just Beyond Endless Mountain opens an unexpected new chapter in a career that has never settled for familiar ground

Creole Culture is the triumphant return of Dawn Richard’s King Creole era. Steeped in history but with its flag planted firmly in the future, Creole Culture pulls elements from Richard’s heritage as a Black and Native American woman who has spent a lifetime making and engaging with music. Following New Breed (2019) and Second Line (2021), Creole Culture is akin to a panel of a triptych: a fully-realized sonic and narrative universe in which Richard, as King Creole, rebuilds her hometown of New Orleans in her image. She not only honors her city for what it was or what it gave her, but stakes a claim for it as a cradle of global culture now and for all time.


Creole Culture follows two acclaimed avant-garde R&B albums with composer Spencer Zahn — the later of which, 2024’s Quiet in a World Full of Noise, found Richard exorcising the specters of grief and trauma in the wake of her father Frank Richard’s health struggles and the killing of her cousin Cisco. It is a softer take on the brass-soaked swagger of Richard’s previous King Creole efforts, an evolution brought about when she realized she had left a crucial viewpoint out of her exploration of New Orleans: her own. “New Breed was the story of New Orleans through my father’s eyes,” Richard explains. “I used his samples, his music, his cultures, his work with Chocolate Milk, his side of the family. Second Line was my mom — her interludes riddled the album with her depiction of what is meant to be a Creole woman in New Orleans. The masculine and feminine sides of King Creole had expressed themselves through them, but the story felt unfinished, like my version of the story was untold.”
That story is, for lack of a better word, complex: at turns triumphant and tragic, sexy and mournful, braggadocious and contemplative. Creole Culture presents Richard’s New Orleans as a utopian soundscape — an intoxicating blend of R&B, soul, hip-hop, pop, and jazz — that’s survived and thrived despite the dystopian circumstances visited upon it. Richard presents the melange of influence and artifact on Creole Culture with the care of a botanist nurturing new hybrids in a rose garden.


What emerges from that care is at once delightful and unexpected, enlisting a crew of guest stars including Big Freedia, Anjelika “Jelly” Joseph, Tarriona “Tank” Ball, and Durand Bernarr for features that play against type. Tank’s turn at spoken word verse on “l v r” serves to add dimension to King Creole’s New Orleans, as does Joseph’s undeniable voice on “chuuuurch.” “I’m not normally a features girl,” says Richard, ”but King Creole can’t build a world from scratch without help. What’s beautiful about the features here — which is also true of my band and producers — is they come from people who understand the materials of the world they’re from, they’re people I love, and they’re people who are just extraordinary at what they do. They’re part of the atmosphere of this place. You need them for the record to breathe.”
In the end, that’s what King Creole creates: a space where Dawn Richard can breathe, can be at peace with herself, and let loose with others. From finding love in opening single “enough” to relishing in the Afrocaribbean futurism of “fiesta,” Creole Culture is a tremendous, freeing breath of fresh air. It captures the resolve of a woman and a place who’ve survived the unimaginable and sees the future not as something to be endured, but as something to be created. Dawn Richard has been making that future one album at a time over the course of her career. Creole Culture is her most stunning one yet.

Creole Culture is the triumphant return of Dawn Richard’s King Creole era. Steeped in history but with its flag planted firmly in the future, Creole Culture pulls elements from Richard’s heritage as a Black and Native American woman who has spent a lifetime making and engaging with music. Following New Breed (2019) and Second Line (2021), Creole Culture is akin to a panel of a triptych: a fully-realized sonic and narrative universe in which Richard, as King Creole, rebuilds her hometown of New Orleans in her image. She not only honors her city for what it was or what it gave her, but stakes a claim for it as a cradle of global culture now and for all time.


Creole Culture follows two acclaimed avant-garde R&B albums with composer Spencer Zahn — the later of which, 2024’s Quiet in a World Full of Noise, found Richard exorcising the specters of grief and trauma in the wake of her father Frank Richard’s health struggles and the killing of her cousin Cisco. It is a softer take on the brass-soaked swagger of Richard’s previous King Creole efforts, an evolution brought about when she realized she had left a crucial viewpoint out of her exploration of New Orleans: her own. “New Breed was the story of New Orleans through my father’s eyes,” Richard explains. “I used his samples, his music, his cultures, his work with Chocolate Milk, his side of the family. Second Line was my mom — her interludes riddled the album with her depiction of what is meant to be a Creole woman in New Orleans. The masculine and feminine sides of King Creole had expressed themselves through them, but the story felt unfinished, like my version of the story was untold.”
That story is, for lack of a better word, complex: at turns triumphant and tragic, sexy and mournful, braggadocious and contemplative. Creole Culture presents Richard’s New Orleans as a utopian soundscape — an intoxicating blend of R&B, soul, hip-hop, pop, and jazz — that’s survived and thrived despite the dystopian circumstances visited upon it. Richard presents the melange of influence and artifact on Creole Culture with the care of a botanist nurturing new hybrids in a rose garden.


What emerges from that care is at once delightful and unexpected, enlisting a crew of guest stars including Big Freedia, Anjelika “Jelly” Joseph, Tarriona “Tank” Ball, and Durand Bernarr for features that play against type. Tank’s turn at spoken word verse on “l v r” serves to add dimension to King Creole’s New Orleans, as does Joseph’s undeniable voice on “chuuuurch.” “I’m not normally a features girl,” says Richard, ”but King Creole can’t build a world from scratch without help. What’s beautiful about the features here — which is also true of my band and producers — is they come from people who understand the materials of the world they’re from, they’re people I love, and they’re people who are just extraordinary at what they do. They’re part of the atmosphere of this place. You need them for the record to breathe.”
In the end, that’s what King Creole creates: a space where Dawn Richard can breathe, can be at peace with herself, and let loose with others. From finding love in opening single “enough” to relishing in the Afrocaribbean futurism of “fiesta,” Creole Culture is a tremendous, freeing breath of fresh air. It captures the resolve of a woman and a place who’ve survived the unimaginable and sees the future not as something to be endured, but as something to be created. Dawn Richard has been making that future one album at a time over the course of her career. Creole Culture is her most stunning one yet.

Black Truffle is thrilled to announce a second volume of unheard concert performances from legendary Pakistani kyhal singer Salamat Ali Khan, recorded at Berlin’s Neue Nationalgalerie as part of the MetaMusik festival in 1974. Like the first volume, the immaculate recording by Michael Hönig (of krautrock legends Agitation Free) captures Khan performing a single extended raag in the company of Shaukat Hussein Khan on tabla and Hussein Bux Khan on harmonium. In addition to his stunningly inventive and moving vocal performance, Khan is heard accompanying himself on a specially tuned alpine zither (in place of the traditional swarmandal, an Indian style of zither). The lack of an underlying tanpura drone gives the music its characteristic floating quality, with the three instruments and voice masterfully dancing around one another as they sketch the outlines of this grand, 40-minute Raag Chandrakauns.

If anything, this epic performance of the late-night Raag Chandrakauns is even more seductively spacious and psychedelic than the music heard on the first volume. Obeying the traditional shape of Hindustani classical vocal music performance, a gradual rise in both pitch and rhythmic activity, the music hovers for twenty minutes in a reflective calm, the pulse only gently stated by the tabla while harmonium ornamentation and zither strums float by. In this meditative space, Khan gradually orients us to the contours of the raag, beginning with long notes at the bottom of his register. His improvisation at once builds with a stunningly firm sense of internal logic and seems liberated to explore every melodic and ornamental byway that comes up along the way. By the time we turn to the record’s second side, the music has grown into something far more frenetic, with virtuoso tabla passages at times occupying centre stage between Khan’s increasingly rhythmic melodic variations. Concluding with a sequence of unison tabla and voice passages of breathtaking complexity, the performance is met with rapturous applause. Arriving in a blue-toned variant of the first volume’s sleeve, with acclaimed musicologist Peter Pannke’s liner notes in the original German, Metamusik Festival Berlin ’74 Volume II is not to be missed. Essential listening not just for Hidustanti classic aficionados, but for anyone who needs reminding of the magic of collective music making in the moment.

Celebrate 40 years of Pixar storytelling through music with Pixar Hits, a collectible vinyl compilation featuring unforgettable songs and scores from some of Pixar's most celebrated films. Pressed on vibrant opaque yellow vinyl, this release brings together fan-favorite moments from Toy Story, Monsters,Inc., Finding Nemo, Cars, Up, Coco, Soul, Turning Red, and more.From Randy Newman's iconic "You've Got a Friend in Me" to the emotional storytelling of "Married Life" and modern favorites like "Nobody Like U" and "Steal the Show," this collection showcases the music that has helped define Pixar's most memorable adventures. A perfect addition for Disney and Pixar fans, vinyl collectors, and anyone looking to relive the magic through music

Two is the second album by British electronic group Utah Saints, and was released in 2000. It's the result of a eight-year layoff that was this close to retirement (in techno terms). In 1992, Utah Saints' self-titled debut was one of the year's most exciting dance releases. Jez Willis and Tim Garbutt's anthems boomed out with the exuberance of copyright liberation, but their unreleased second album was permanently bricked up by record label ffrr for copyright violation.

But in 2000 they finally got to release this beauty! Two features guest apparances by Michael Stipe (R.E.M.), Chuck D (Public Enemy) and Edwin Starr. On Two, you can hear samples ranging from Metallica, Average White Band, The Pretenders, The Stooges and Joyce Sims, so you can only imagine which samples were used on that unreleased album!

Two is available as a limited numbered edition of 1000 copies on clear/turquoise marble vinyl, and is packaged in a gatefold sleeve.

On Passing Fires, his follow-up to The Weather Up There, drummer and composer Jeremy Cunningham, alongside a tight circle of collaborators, transforms intimate piano sketches, family-room recordings, and richly layered studio performances into a vivid meditation on memory, love, and change. Vibrant, emotional, and full of unexpected turns, the album darts between hypnotic grooves, psychedelic textures, and tender poetic ballads, balancing homemade warmth with striking sonic detail.

Surprises are nice. Unexpected, delightful - Vision Fortune last released music in 2015, and so odds were off that we’d hear from them again.

But against all odds, Vision Fortune III is coming out on Gringo Records, following the release of their last album ‘Country Music’ on ATP Records.

The trio first agreed to record a new album as somewhat of a dare over a marathon pasta and wine heavy luncheon in Palermo, Sicily. Waking up with sore heads, they realised in mild panic that flight tickets had been purchased, a cottage in rural Wales was booked, and it was too late to pull out.

And so it was - the Fortunes arrived in Machynlleth Wales in Spring of the following year. The rules were simple - takes were live, songs minimal and the fireplace kept roaring.

Drummer Andres Ayerbe’s strict roast lamb dinner cooking schedule resulted in an album less frenetic and agitated than previous work - instead, III explores a softer, more subdued and subtle side of Vision Fortune. Additional overdubs were recorded in New York City and Birmingham, by AC Williams and Alex Townend. III was completed - a new, leaner Vision Fortune. Like a good lamb dinner - more meat, less fat.

Press Quotes for Country Music:
"An impressively brutal record" NME 8/10

"Immersive and introspective musique concréte rippling rippling with dub rhythms, orchestral strings, tolling bells and discordant drones coming close to the alien beauty of Mica Levi's sonically extreme soundtrack work." Uncut 7/10

"Unsettling, strangely cathartic and hook-free (in a good way)." Dazed ("Twenty albums to look out for in 2015")

"Assembling whole scrapyards of sound and turning them into something better than what went before" The Guardian

"Swaddling the senses in soundwaves, Minimal ambient sketches and harsh electronics abound on this fascinating 12-song affair" The FADER

"Basically just one long, connected droney throb. But it's an awesome long droney throb." Brooklyn Vegan

GoldFord’s soul music is rooted in truth. His raw, unvarnished songs are a balance of introspection and catharsis, grappling with heartbreak, healing, and the quiet revelations that come with growth. After spending a decade in corporate America, the St. Louis native (now based in Los Angeles) turned to music as a means of survival following a devastating personal loss. “I was more afraid of dying with regret than I was of failing,” he says of his decision to finally choose the path at 30, a choice that set his entire trajectory in motion.



That initial fearlessness has since fuelled extraordinary momentum. With over 4 million monthly listeners on Spotify, GoldFord has rapidly become one of the most compelling emerging voices in contemporary music. His breakout EP, Orange Blossoms (Oct 2024), has surpassed 100M streams, and his latest project, Space of the Heart (Sept 2025), has already generated 90.8M streams, 2.7M saves, and over 153,000 pieces of user-generated content across TikTok and Instagram. The standout track “Easy Does It” has reached 43.5M streams and continues to accelerate with more than 250K new weekly discoveries on Spotify.



GoldFord’s touring trajectory has followed the music's rapid ascent. He began in intimate rooms like Los Angeles’ Moroccan Lounge and New York’s Baby’s All Right before embarking on a debut North American tour that sold over 25,000 tickets. This momentum carried over to his first UK and European run, which required multiple venue upgrades in cities like London and Manchester. The international momentum continued with an Australian debut in March 2026, alongside key festival appearances at Austin City Limits and Noah Kahan’s Out of the Blue. He is currently headlining 1,000+ capacity venues on the Space of the Heart North American tour, including sold out shows in historic rooms like The Fonda and Webster Hall, with upcoming festival slots at Shaky Knees and Oceans Calling.

Ecstatic’s dreamiest cadets bliss out on a new album of acoustic and electric guitar, harmonium and synth tapestries, notably nestling a Romance cameo within a genteel toggle of atmospheric pressure.

Back on (side) road after releasing quietly acclaimed kosmische gem ‘I Had too Much to Dream Last Night’ back in 2021 and the lysergic lushness of ‘Listen to the Sky’ a couple of years later, Celestial suggest a more sublime return to earth with the shine-eyed wonders of ‘I Can Hear the Grass Grow’, an album that soothes to the supine in eight shimmering parts of pearlescent melodic motifs marbling harmonious backdrops intended to tenderly comb nerves straight.

The duo take their role as seductive sandmen with a curious melodic wit that leaves something to the imagination whilst nudging it along the album’s narrative thread. A courtly flamenco lick flickers in opener ‘The Endless Stair’, one of the most restrained recordings we've heard from the childhood friends; blessed with just a little reverb and echo, as if a mic's been lowered into some dimly lit basement while Celestial puzzle out mystifying, interlocking harmonies. It hits a mid-point between John Fahey's raga-inspired Americana and Vini Reilly's rain-soaked Northern blues - the emotion throbs from every note.

Celestial's music is never too polished, giving it the fuzzy, uninhibited flair of a long-lost mail order private press and instilling it with a level of humanity that's rare to discover in the new-new age. Even when mysterious labelmate Romance turns up to ornament 'Mermaid Boulevard' with backmasked electronics, it's their low-slung Ry Cooder-esque guitar/bass that provides the narrative anchor, while the title track and spongiform analog textures of ‘Song For The rainy Season’ dial it right down to a Harmonia-via-BoC pastoral sublime. Vini Reilly and Eno’s influence is most surely felt on the swaying elegance of ‘Sweet Sleep, Angel Mild’, with a central motif that lingers on the mind long after it’s stopped playing, whilst their closing couplet perfectly resolves the cycle with a melancholic kiss-off for the ages.

The unconscious element to the conscious process.

The practice of dub techno and its tendrils is a fundamental for me, both aesthetically and from an engineering perspective.

I start every recording session with a dub inspired jam, the first piece I ever recorded in 1996 was an effort to recreate Phylyps Trak with only a Korg X3 and an Ibanez PUE5 (borrowed from Gary Howell). It was an awesome introduction to jamming, and the footing stones of noise, delay and saturation were explored with my foot hard on the enthusiasm pedal.

These practice jams are in some sense cathartic, the first step taken again & again, which helps me move forwards each session and additionally helps to 'warm the circuits' both of myself and the machines.

After realising the genius of Basic Channel is akin to the genius of peasant food, using every ingredient with nothing left to waste, (up to and including the oft maligned working noise of the machines themselves), this was a watershed moment for my own subjective progression. No longer tied to just emulation of something inspiring, but taking these learned tools into other areas of music helped to break free from a strong current of influence and also to progress into other areas with the new toolbox.

Dub:

The importance of the dub pioneers should never be understated, in modern music and my own practice. Yet with my initial inspiration being two german dudes issuing extreme techno variants with obscured label designs, who then signposted their listeners to their own inspirations (via their Wackies re-issues or nodded to on their Rhythm & Sound/Burial Mix sub-labels), meant that I started late and travelled backwards.

Learning to notice the live mixing of Mikey Dread or Lee Perry when the faders are bleeding through even when turned down, (echoed in BC's Quadrant Dub), or the brash send effects literally thrown into the mix also taught me that 'rough' mixing can inject a recording with life, uniqueness and the most right wrongness. Looking back Basic Channels very few elements helped me realise that the rules to be understood, are also the best ones to be broken.

Push the mixer into the red.

Amp that noise up from the tape delay cos it sounds sick.

Pseudo side-chain effects cos the kicks are way too loud and the mixer can't sum it nicely.

Spam the send knob into the delay units now, now and now.

Carelessness.

Noise:

Once I wrapped my head around the intrinsic 'noise' element that set those records apart, this became a torchlight into the alt noise movements which I was tentatively exploring at the time, and also is evidently a connection or thread into them.

Whether the Industrial/Post Punk UK scene (This Heat, TG, A Tent, F.E.) or the prolific output of the US Noise scene (Wolf Eyes, Live & Shave in LA, and subsequently following the lineage all the way back to Chrome's Alien Soundtracks), I had finally discovered a connection from techno to this 'free for all' corner of music.

This input from the Noise arena of sound is, in my experience, an all important step for a sonic artist, taking it's roots and extending out from Stockhausen/Pierre Henry and utilised/warped/mangled by thousands of adventurous pioneers ever since, I now see the line separating the high brow and the low brow is actually an artery carrying information from the head to the heart.

Vault is a selection of these jams that precede each of my solo recording sessions, for 30 years I've recorded hundreds of these 'workouts'. They are never intended as serious statements, just moments of naive enjoyment, yet most importantly they are time & space captured as practice.

The objective is always a warm up exercise, but sometimes those exercises turn a different corner, with a certain focus or direction dependent on what random samples are left in my machines from the previous session, instead of conscious choices, these unconscious elements can facilitate those 'positive mistakes' that make a piece of sound retain a different feel or colour and thus become special, or at least special to the creator.

I am quite conscious that the 'record everything' aspect of my ethos has been invaluable in cataloguing and saving these jams, while the attitude of carelessness during this process (after all, it's only a warm up jam) invites more enjoyment than seriousness ever could. Even if you don't feel the piece at the time, record it, because some years later it may well fit, or become relevant in a way you never intended.

-Miles

The method is instability.

— Violeta Garcia & Hora Lunga

Violeta García & Hora Lunga return with 4ever, their second album and the follow-up to I’ll Wait For You In The Car Park. Released in 2025 on -ous, their debut received airplay on BBC and NTS and was selected for Bandcamp’s Best Experimental Music year-end list. 4ever picks up where that record left off: in ordinary moments, small scenes and the strange emotional weight of being somewhere between places. But here, these moments are stretched across a much larger, darker screen. A night flight, a terminal, a bad connection. When too many feelings are carried from one place to another, everyday situations begin to feel epic, empty, or apocalyptic.

Built from García’s cello and Hora Lunga’s synths, samples and field recordings, the album pushes further into emotion, letting fragile melodies, orchestral cello gestures, heavy low-end and compressed noise melt into something both dystopian and strangely familiar. Its warmth is not meant to be an escape from this world, but something that appears within it. Acoustically, the album lives through the closeness of the materials, the way sounds stay with each other, and in the feeling that even the most unstable moments are being carried together. The album presents itself in scenes that fade into each other: quiet melodic fragments that are interrupted and restarted, unpredictable changes of direction, held together by an inevitable melody, a bright synth harmony unfolding into an almost orchestral cello arrangement. Later, a broken organ-like sample turning in circles, cello melodies appearing as if they were trying to remember a song that never belonged to one voice alone. An endless loop that is placed under changing lights, briefly opening into emotional chords, then slipping back into emptiness.

It is this instability that Violeta García and Hora Lunga place at the center of their collaboration. They do not decorate the cello with production, or place electronics around an acoustic centre. They explain: “On 4ever, we become part of the same unstable surface. What holds the record together is not resolution, but the trust in staying together as things distort, overload, disappear and return.”

Violeta García, an Argentinian cellist known for her solo work and for her role in the punk band Blanco Teta, brings the instrument close to the body, as melody, pressure, texture, noise and sudden emotional weight. García has brought her distinct musical voice to KEXP, Rewire, Le Guess Who?, Bad Bonn Kilbi, Silent Green, TransMusicales, Roskilde and more.

Hora Lunga, a Zurich-based producer and composer working across unstable song forms, treats electronics less as a frame than as a weather system: something that can hold a scene together, distort it or make it disappear. In recent years, his compositions have ranged from experimental song forms, sound performances, ensemble compositions and film music. His ensemble WIRREN consists of up to fifteen performers.

The Version of Me You Get is a record about perspective, how life changes you, and who you are on the other side of it. Written and recorded in 2020 alongside longtime collaborator Sean McConnell, the album was born out of a rare stillness - a week spent holed up in the studio, building songs piece by piece with no outside noise and no deadline. Bowen had never had that kind of time with a record before. The result was something unhurried, deeply considered and wholly their own. Then life picked back up, and the album sat. Five years later, Bowen returned to the recordings and found something he didn't expect: the songs had grown. What was captured in 2020 as honest and uncertain had become something richer — shaped by everything that followed, personally and professionally. The distance didn't diminish the record. It deepened it. Spanning love, struggle, redemption, and vulnerability, The Version of Me You Get didn't just capture a moment in time, it gained meaning because of what came after. These songs finally found their moment. And it turns out, the wait made them better.

Originally released in 1978. A Classic Reggae album re-released on 180 gram vinyl and produced by Linval Thompson with extensive sleeve notes.
Recorded at Channel One Recording Studio & Harry J's Recording Studio.
Cornell Campbell is one of an elite group of Jamaican reggae singers who has weathered the changes throughout the music's development - in his case, from the ska era to right up to date - whilst retaining their relevance. Witness his recent alliance with UK Afrobeat/reggae band The Soothsayers or Jazmine Sullivan's R & B hit Need U Bad, which sampled his classic 'Queen Of The Minstrel' -a song that still sounds fresh more than thirty years later.
Sweet Baby was pressed on bright red vinyl, which only added to the excitement when you saw the selector position it carefully on the deck.
On the LP cover was a painting of Cornell wearing an emerald green shirt and framed by a lurid sky, which might have left some people wondering if it was a soul album. It wasn't, although there is certainly soul in the grooves, and especially on R&B covers like Gonna Take A Miracle - first recorded by the Royalettes -and Darling You Send Me, which Sam Cooke had introduced to the US Billboard charts some twenty years earlier.
Both are among the highlights but then the whole album is good in truth, and a heartfelt I Need Somebody and My Sweet Baby, plus the two-step favourite Just Enough were regularly played on sound system. Blinded By Love, I Didn't Know and Can't Hide My Love are tinged with melancholy and like the seductive Whenever You Need Me, display all the hallmarks of a classic Cornell Campbell side -swooping vocals, a driving rhythm and seductive lyrics included.

Nearly forty years later, it is gratifying to know there is still no mistaking him when his records are played in a dance. That relaxed vocal style draws you in but it's his falsetto, quivering with understated emotion that hooks you and turns you into a lifelong fan.

Weezer founding member and original bassist, Matt Sharp, while working on a series of “lost-albums” from the cutting room floor of his creative-life, stumbled upon a curious multi-track reel of analog tape. This mysterious reel found at the bottom of a treasure chest of other master recordings just happened to contain Weezer's very first studio sessions. These were the very same recordings that were responsible for earning the band a record contract for their iconic debut “Blue” album. These newly discovered sessions feature raw, vividly emotional and ecstatic versions of the band's timeless hit songs Say It Ain’t So and Undone (The Sweater Song.) Sharp and legendary music producer Joe Chicarrelli took these recordings to Los Angeles’ famed East/West Studios to take a deeper look into this mythic reel of 1-inch Ampex tape. What the two men quickly discovered was the original lineup (with guitarist Jason Cropper) in an infectious, explosively joyful, feral form. Making the decision to honor the original intention of the music and the traditional technology of the era, the songs were remixed from top to bottom, from tape to vinyl, in a 100% analog process.With Sharp as producer and Chicarrelli on the mix, the result of these sessions makes up the entirety of “1192” (named after the month and year it was originally recorded.) The illuminating spirit of the performances on 1192 are guaranteed to turn the world upside down for blue album fans everywhere. This album stands on its own as an essential entry into the band’s discography and is crucial to understanding the first chapter in Weezer's storied history.