Cerca:two words

»Carpet Of Fallen Leaves« is an introduction to the folk-pop world of Eddie Marcon. It follows in the footsteps of other collections of Japanese artists on Morr Music, such as yumbo, Andersens, and the »Minna Miteru« compilations. »Carpet Of Fallen Leaves« draws together songs from Eddie Marcon’s twenty-two-year history, including fragile, yet rich in melody material, collected from a prodigious run of limited edition, self-released CD-Rs.

Eddie Marcon is the project of Eddie Corman and Jules Marcon, who met through their involvement in Japan’s underground music scene. Eddie was a member of noise-rock duo Coa, while both Eddie and Marcon were part of psych-rock collective LSD-March. Forming in 2001, Eddie Marcon’s sound is markedly different from these groups, though they do, at times, share a sense of psychedelic dislocation, through the gentle, limpid pace of their songs. But with Eddie Marcon, melody and gentleness is at the music’s core.

They’ve long marked out their own, unique territory within a worldwide community of psych-folk and folk-pop artists; sharing their music through a subterranean network of colleagues and friends, they count groups like The Pastels and The Notwist as their fans, and Eddie has collaborated with the likes of Shintaro Sakamoto, and Aki Tsuyuko (in Tondekebana, and with Marcon and Ippei Matsui in the quartet Wasurerogusa). Eddie Marcon have also recently worked with drummer Ikuro Takahashi, who’s played with groups such as Fushitsusha, Maher Shalal Hash Baz, and Nagisa Ni Te.

Across the songs on »Carpet Of Fallen Leaves«, Eddie Marcon’s songs are performed by Eddie on guitar, organ and vocals, and Marcon on bass; they’re variously joined by Takahashi, Yojiro Tatekawa (drums), Tomoko Kageyama (vibraphone), Yasuhisa Mizutani (flute), Madoka Asakura (vocals), and Ztom Motoyama (pedal steel). The arrangements are pared back to best serve the core of each song, and the playing is gorgeous – fluent but not showy; capable of great intricacy, but aware that simplicity is key to direct communication.

Songs like »Mayonaka No Ongaku« stretch their limbs languidly, the music shivering with beauty as guitar and cymbal drift across Eddie’s poised vocal delivery. »Tora To Lion« began as an improvisation, but it’s become a firm favourite of the group’s fans: as Eddie says, »it has become a very important song for us, to the extent that it can be said to be our representative song.«

Perhaps the most moving thing about »Carpet Of Fallen Leaves«, though, is the way it captures the subtle yet significant moments of everydayness that ask for our attention. »Shoujo«, a song for a beloved cat who passed away, possesses rare emotional resonance. »At the end of the song,« Eddie remembers, »I wanted to have her throat rumbling endlessly.« When the song was cut, a television voice appeared behind the purring, saying ›thank you‹. »For us, it felt like words from Poco-chan, and tears came to our eyes.«

Listen to This.” As the original working title for Bitches Brew, the instruction and invitation remains to this day as the best way to approach a record that shattered conventions, altered music history, and, 55 years later, still sounds far ahead of its time. The template for jazz fusion, Bitches Brew is rightly ranked by virtually every significant outlet among the 100 greatest albums ever made. Sewn together with vibrant colors, voodoo textures, and ethereal moods, the 1970 landmark emerges with supreme detail and nonpareil feeling on Mobile Fidelity’s UltraDisc One-Step 180g 33RPM 2LP vinyl set.

Sourced from the original master tapes, strictly limited to 5,000 numbered copies, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, this definitive-sounding 55th anniversary reissue enhances every element of a double album that established new possibilities for studio recording techniques. You’ll hear wide and deep soundstages, separation between instruments, and an extremely broad dynamic range. If ever a jazz album can be said to have gone to outer space and back, this is it.

Sourced from the original master tapes, strictly limited to 5,000 numbered copies, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, this definitive-sounding 55th anniversary reissue enhances every element of a double album that established new possibilities for studio recording techniques. You’ll hear wide and deep soundstages, separation between instruments, and an extremely broad dynamic range. If ever a jazz album can be said to have gone to outer space and back, this is it.

Davis conceived Bitches Brew by having the musicians stand in a semi-circle. There, he pointed at them with vague directions for tempo, solos, and cues. The collective improvisation and interplay spawned a galaxy of melodies and grooves that were later spliced together by producer Ted Macero. Benefitting from the ultra-low noise floor and superb groove definition of this pressing, these distinct creations take shape with utmost realism. Compositions stretch across jet-black backgrounds and paint canvases laden with millions of colors and shades. Juxtaposed percussion, loose jams, and melodic segues explode with impressionistic verve.

Bitches Brew also boasts visionary artwork. By design, the lavish packaging and gorgeous presentation of the UD1S Bitches Brew set call attention to such matters. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, it features special foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendor of the recording. It is made for discerning listeners who desire to fully immerse themselves in everything surrounding the album, from the images to the tones. And this is one effort where every last detail matters.

Gathering a Hall of Fame-worthy lineup of musicians and tweaking it according to his desires, Davis follows through on his idea to “put together the greatest rock and roll band you ever heard.” Central to his proposition is the presence of two (and sometimes three) drummers and two bassists, a tactical move that makes rhythms a central focus. Akin to the futuristic album cover art, the drum-driven suites head toward distant universes and uncharted territories. At once hypnotizing and grooving, they chart maverick adventures via quixotic rock, funk, and R&B elements.

A without-a-net experiment involving interchangeable double-quintet lineups, Bitches Brew explores the previously unimaginable with electrified instruments — Fender Rhodes piano, processed trumpet, dissonant guitars, and bass among them — and an emphasis on feeling over composition. Mesmerizing and soothing, jarring and smooth, overt and subtle: The music seemingly covers an entire map of emotions and sensations, and like no record before, ties together the groundbreaking creativity of the multiple disciplines that were changing popular culture at the end of the 1960s and dawn of a new decade.

Conceptually, Davis described Bitches Brew as “a novel without words” and “an incredible journey of pain, joy, sorrow, hate, passion, and love.” The vast psychedelic expanses of warped echoes, liquid reverb, and tape loops confirm such ambitious contrasts of light and dark, fear and hope. Yet the most absolute characteristic of the watershed effort lies in how it resists definitive interpretation and encourages free thought — the very principles Davis used to conceive Bitches Brew.

More About Mobile Fidelity UltraDisc One-Step and Why It Is Superior
Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab’s UltraDisc One-Step (UD1S) technique bypasses generational losses inherent to the traditional three-step plating process by removing two steps: the production of father and mother plates, which are created to yield numerous stampers from each lacquer that is cut. For UD1S plating, stampers (also called “converts”) are made directly from the lacquers. Since each lacquer yields only one stamper, multiple lacquers need to be cut. Mobile Fidelity's UD1S process produces a final LP with the lowest-possible noise floor. The removal of two steps of the plating process also reveals musical details and dynamics that would otherwise be lost due to the standard multi-step process. With UD1S, every aspect of vinyl production is optimized to produce the best-sounding vinyl album available today.

Vilhelm Hasselgren is a Gothenburg-based producer and DJ with a focus on Jungle and productions that move between 160-170 bpm. Vilhelm focuses a lot on complex rhythms and ambient soundscapes and takes inspiration from both older and modern Jungle, as well as other electronic acts such as Basic Channel, Mala, Skee Mask and Arkajo. Vilhelm tries to create soundscapes that move between different musical starting points.
He has previously released on Rezonant Body, Canape Records, Bukva Sound and Of Paradise Records. Also has an upcoming EP releasing on Bukva as well as a V.A on Western Lore. In 2025, Vilhelm also has a residency at London-based Subtle Radio.

Vilhelms words:
Central Line EP is an EP that I'd myself consider to be my debut EP. The tracks were created within a two-and a half year span, with some tracks being re-worked and replaced. Later ending up with the final track-list, which I am very happy in how it ended up in the end. One of the tracks that were later added onto the EP being 1000 a co-production with my brother Einar (Local Arms), which we spontaneously recorded at our parents house over a weekend.

I mostly start from percussion, onto bass and later melody in my productions. The title track "Central Line" was started when I lived in Brighton for half a year, together with Theo Soderlund (Theomega). The Eski sample is a bit tricky one, but wanted to experiment with it, further I chopped an Amen and a Think break with an idea to create a pretty simple rhythm that could leave the riff to speak for itself. Even though the tracks were created within a pretty long span of time, I feel like they portray a sound that I want to further explore and produce at this point. Also Arcne adding a monster remix of Central Line that has been getting lot of love. Could not be happier to release it on Bukva Sound which prior releases I think really captivate a sound that has been really inspiring throughout the process.

The Ibex Band, with Giovanni Rico and Selam Woldemariam at the creative helm, provided the musical backbone for legends like Aster Aweke, Girma Beyene, Tilahun Gessesse, Mulatu Astatke, and Mahmoud Ahmed, including the iconic album Ere Mela Mela, shaping modern Ethiopian music as we know it today. This 1976 album (Ge’ez Year 1968) played a pivotal role in that legacy and has now resurfaced to set the record straight.

There’s a tendency to talk about the seventies as a golden age of Ethiopian music. There are good reasons for that, and just as good reasons against it. However, the notion of a golden past privileges the role of Western explorers and suggests that the pinnacle of Ethiopia’s musical culture is something only a foreigner can appreciate and unearth. It downplays the complexities of Ethiopia’s culture and history, creating an artificial divide between then and now. And it underestimates the constantly evolving sound that has followed.

The legendary musical outfit The Ibex Band, later metamorphosed into The Roha Band, has played a central role in defining the sound of many of the greatest stars on the music scene of Ethiopia from the mid-seventies onwards–but their golden output has never really waned. The story of the origins of the band that provided the musical backbone for greats such as Aster Aweke, Girma Beyene, Tilahun Gessesse, backing the solo career of group member Mahmoud Ahmed as well as backing Mulatu Astatke and many others has yet to be properly told.

Two misconceptions plague the image of Ethiopian music, one is that the music is pure because it is, by some notion, unexploited, the other is that it is all traditional. To begin with, a combination of political changes between the late sixties and the mid-nineties created an environment where only the most dedicated and skilled musicians struggled on and pursued a musical career against fierce odds. The whole Ibex Band, with Giovanni Rico and Selam “Selamino” Seyoum Woldermarian at the creative helm, are arguably the origo of the vibrant scene in the mid-seventies, and the said pair are foremost responsible for not only navigating the band through troubled times, but also modernizing the 6/8 chickchicka rhythm to a contemporary form. Giovanni laid the rhythmic foundation with heavy looped basslines that reinvented traditional melodies as dance music, and with Selamino’s innovative guitar work they influenced scores of musicians from Abegaz Kibrework Shiota to Henock Temesgen. Even Giovanni’s Fender bass and Selamino’s Gibson guitar inspired younger musicians in their choice of instruments. Not only in choice of instruments but also in sound–even as the digital revolution hit Ethiopian music, a lot of popular music still took its cue from the masters from Ibex and Roha.

Ibex emerged out of the ashes of the sixties group the Soul Echos band, adding Giovanni and Selamino to their ranks and taking their cues from a slew of influences, such as Motown and The Beatles, fused with traditional music. A tighter-knit unit than most bands at the time – Ibex has remained six to seven members throughout their whole career, compared to many bands that were as large as fifteen or sixteen men strong when Ibex set out. Their playing has been viciously focused, economical yet heavy. Just a year before the recording sessions of the album in your hands, Giovanni and Selamino made a contribution to the popular musical lexicon of Ethiopia that was simply defining the popular sound: their arrangement and recording of bandmate Mahmoud Ahmed’s solo effort and real commercial breakthrough tune and eponymous album, Ere Mela Mela, from 1975.

Selamino has never limited himself to being an adroit lead guitarist, but has always been a scholar of history, and as such he has probably contributed as much to modern Ethiopian music with his guitar playing and compositions as with a deepened understanding of modern or contemporary – Zemenawi – Ethiopian music. Selamino’s contributions serve as a metaphor for those of the whole band, at one and the same time creating and defining a new, danceable and updated sound anchored in Giovanni’s bass, whilst also elevating the broader scene through their support for others on the scene and on top of that, increasing the understanding of the music.

There is an understandable desire to romanticize the musical heyday Ibex and Roha were at the forefront of, because so much of the output is sorrowfully hard to come by. Ibex creativity was nothing short of ridiculously fierce compared to many of their Western contemporaries. Based on their sheer recorded output alone they could have usurped the title “hardest working in show business” from James Brown, recording more than 250 albums or 2500 songs in the seventies and eighties. Some only surface as cassettes today, others were never given full LP release, and some are simply impossible to find today. In the light of that, it’s nothing short of a miracle that the recording Stereo Instrumental Music from 1976 (Ge’ez Year 1968) has resurfaced. Unearthed in perfect condition on a chrome cassette, this is musical history comes alive–to set the future straight. Stereo Instrumental Music was recorded in collaboration with Karl-Gustav Lundgren, a Swedish national working for the Radio Voice of the Gospel. It took two sessions at the Ras Hotel ballroom in Addis Ababa. The Ibex Band was the first band in Ethiopia to employ a four-track recorder for their recording (the first available in the country, lent by Karl-Gustav). Later the same week, Giovanni and Selamino realized that, lengthwise, the recorded material fell short of what they wished for, so they recorded four more tracks in one more session on a single-track recorder. The Ras Hotel and Ghion Hotel, where the Ibex Band held musical residencies were to Ethiopia in general and Addis Ababa in particular what Motown was to the USA and Detroit a few years earlier – a hotbed of musical creativity and showmanship.

The most astonishing thing about Ethiopian music of the last half century is how tradition and modernity are intertwined. Because of this feature, it’s kind of hard to tell when there ever was or when we are in a “golden age”. So much of music from the past has been criminally neglected, but because of the hardships in the past, it would be an oversimplification to say that said past was a golden age. Probably, the golden age is what we are approaching, because for the first time both the past and future are accessible, and the monumental contributions from before can lay a firm foundation for a thriving music scene today. The Ibex Band stands firmly in the past, present and the future. That, if anything, is golden.

The detailed history of Stereo Instrumental Music is in many ways unique. To begin with, it couldn’t have been recorded earlier (there were no four-track recorders available) and it really couldn’t have been recorded afterwards either, at least not in the years directly following, because of the toll the musical scene took from the unfavorable political climate that followed when the nascent Derg regime and rival groups tried to assert themselves, the musical equipment lent from The Voice of Gospel Radio simply disappeared from Ethiopia when the radio station folded in 1977. Karl-Gustav Lundgren,
the Swedish foreign national who assisted during the recording, worked with the Ethiopian Evangelical Church Mekane Yesus at the time, recalls how they only had about fifteen minutes to get the microphones in place for the recording as to not alert neither the management at Ras Hotel nor the authorities and most importantly, to complete the recording before the curfew came into effect at midnight. In leaping to the opportunity to use previously unavailable equipment to push their sound forward and improvising to meet the logistical challenges, the Ibex Band displayed the very avant-gardism and adaptability that explains their longevity as a band through the years. The recording of Stereo Instrumental Music is from a given time in history, but it sounds as beyond time.
Much of the energy that burst out of the scene that Stereo Instrumental Music came out of dissipated or got sidetracked during the societal changes Ethiopia went through in the 1970s and 80s. Whilst leaders might have professed to be revolutionary, the work ethic of the Ibex Band can truly be described as that. They never called it quits, but adapted, toured extensively abroad in Africa, Europe, and the Middle East, and found ways to work even in the face of the curfew that curtailed a lot of musical life. They even played major arenas in the nineteen eighties, despite said curfew and restrictions. The whole extent of their legacy has never been told, but their music speaks louder than words, so therefore… tune in to the Ibex Band’s Stereo Instrumental Music.

“Trustworthy”. is the meaning of “danama”, this Bambara word from Mali. Believing in oneself, in others, in the word given, in desirable futures. Advocating optimism, momentum towards the future, collective strength and the wise magic of cultural blending… especially during these troubled times of endless wars, of nationalist withdrawals or the abundance of naturals disasters, all encouraged by a carnivorous capitalism?

So confidence, we need tons of it. Maintained by the flame, the phlegm and the stratagem of these afro-groove scientists, without ignoring their sorrows nor the scandals of History. This is the athletic art of Arat Kilo, who remain without question the best ethio-jazz orchestra in France, on the trail of this fifth album recorded in the Spring of 2024. Confidence was also needed to change the way things worked. For all the previous albums, the band came together in the studio to play each track together, all in the same room, in the romantic idea of a warm, lively, organic gesture, in the manner of the great Ethiopian masters of the 60s and 70s.

For Danama, the music was initially collected in tandem: guitar/bass, drums/percussion, saxophone/trumpet, and the two voices. A few new instruments were added along the way : dark synthesizers, a bass clarinet, a tiny guitalélé (similar to the ukulele) and a Malian n'goni (sometimes described as ‘the griot's lute’). Then, and above all, there was the question of experimenting with real sound production, using sound design, multi-track exploration and effects applied to the textures collected over eight days at the Gong studios in Montreuil and OneTwoPassIt in Bagnolet just outside Paris.

In this way the band, all growing up influenced by the hip French Radio Nova's ‘Grand Mix’, were completely free to express their natural taste for fusion between genres. Borrowing from the frantic rhythms of Newark's jersey club, English 2-step or New Orleans brass bands, grafted onto Arat Kilo's musical base: tezeta, the famous minor pentatonic scale typical of Ethiopian jazz, melancholic to perfection. The result is layers of sound, collages of emotions, like the album cover, created by artist Clément Laurentin from multicoloured fragments of posters torn up in the street.

So Arat Kilo are back: The same band, the same collective strength, the same fight for values, their new album “Danama” carries the demand for a better world even further, with words of hope from singer Mamani Keita and the social critique of American MC and poet Mike Ladd ! The result is this luminous voyage down the Danama canal. In all, eleven songs and an instrumental, mixed by Mathieu ‘Gib’ Gibert - one of French band La Fine Équipe's beatmakers - set to drive the crowds wild and remind us how to stick together again.

Rhiannon Giddens reunites with her former Carolina Chocolate Drops bandmate Justin Robinson on What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow, an album of North Carolina fiddle and banjo music. Produced by Giddens and Joseph "joebass" DeJarnette, the album features Giddens on banjo and Robinson on fiddle, with the duo playing eighteen of their favourite North Carolina tunes: a mix of instrumentals and tunes with words.

Many were learned from their late mentor, the legendary North Carolina Piedmont musician Joe Thompson; one is from another musical hero, the late Etta Baker, from whom they also learned by listening to recordings of her playing. Giddens and Robinson recorded the album outdoors and on location at Thompson’s and Baker’s North Carolina homes, as well as the former plantation Mill Prong House. They were accompanied by the sounds of nature, including two different broods of cicadas, which had not emerged simultaneously since 1803, creating a true once-in-a-lifetime soundscape. The duo, along with four other string musicians including the multi-instrumentalist Dirk Powell, will embark on the Rhiannon Giddens & The Old-Time Revue North America tour in April.

“With the assaults on reality going on in the world today, we wanted to offer another kind of record, like walking back onto a gravel or dirt road while a stampede goes the other way,” Giddens says. “With the cicada choir, this record could’ve only happened at a certain time in the last 120 years. We doubled down on place, time, realness, and old-fashioned front porch music. It’s a reminder that another way exists, with music made for your community’s enjoyment and for dancing–not solely for commercial purposes.

“What is the role of music in our society?” she wonders. “How do we de-couple it from unfettered capitalism, where music is a product and musicians are incidental? How do we use the tools and system that we have been bequeathed in a way that reminds us of other ways of being?” Robinson adds, "Recording this album felt like being back in the saddle. Just this time Joe is not here, and his fiddle is under my chin. The album is about home, the cicadas, the storms, the music, and the people who make it feel like home."

Thompson was one of the last musicians of his era and his community to carry on the southern Black string band tradition. He played a crucial role in the lives of Giddens and Robinson, who, along with their Carolina Chocolate Drops bandmate Dom Flemons, spent their formative years learning from Thompson in traditional apprentice/mentor relationships. His influence has guided all of their artistic journeys as well as their mission to keep the legacy of the Black string band tradition alive.

In further tribute to Giddens’ North Carolina roots, What Did the Blackbird Say to the Crow will arrive just a week before Biscuits & Banjos, the inaugural edition of her first festival, which highlights the deep roots and enduring legacy of Black music, art, and culture while fostering community and storytelling. The sold-out festival will feature a much-anticipated Carolina Chocolate Drops reunion, their first performance together in more than a decade.

Techno tastemaker Enrico Sangiuliano returns to his influential NINETOZERO label with his bold new Transcendence EP featuring two very different but equally powerful sounds; one track is to dance to, the other one to listen to.

This new release caps off an impressive year for the Italian underground icon. Coming just a couple of months after his Interconnection EP and a packed season of headline shows, it marks yet another subtle evolution of his always hard-to-classify sound. The EP is a collaboration with psychedelic trance pioneers GMS, who have been making their mark since the 90s. The award-winning pair have had their music used in a trio of Tony Scott movies and have dropped several vital albums and EPs.

“GMS and I met many years ago in their studio in Ibiza and spontaneously cemented our relationship through our passion for sound”, says Enrico Sangiuliano. “They are a pillar of psytrance, and collaborating with them to interpret the concept of Transcendence was the perfect way for us to finally merge our creative visions. With this release, we transcend our individual musical paths to create something entirely new. We explore the theme of elevation, challenging ourselves to move beyond the tangible. Here, music becomes a portal, expanding consciousness and providing an escape from material reality. Together, we shaped our sounds to build an immersive experience, with a guiding voice to lead you through it. Transcendence is an invitation to let go, release mental constructs, and flow with the sound. It's a journey into a timeless realm where what you feel and who you are become one. To transcend is to connect with your deepest self—and beyond.”

Superb opener 'Transcendence' is a sleek and futuristic soundscape with dynamic drums that take you up amongst the stars. The smeared pads bring a cosmic atmosphere, the lush arps layer in plenty of trance-tinged emotion, and smart spoken words add a cinematic feel to this most escapist track. 'The Inner World' is then a suspenseful two-minute synthscape with wise spoken words that muse on inner strength. It is a rousing piece of emotional electronic grandeur.

The Transcendence EP is another strong statement from the forward-looking creative mind of Enrico Sangiuliano.

All Portrait, No Chorus is the new album from indie rap pioneer doseone and NYC producer Steel Tipped Dove. Together, these two artists have crafted an uncompromising masterpiece. Knowing the caliber of MC he is paired with, dove skillfully paints with every color on the palette, and doseone skates effortlessly on every track, whether skating languid figure 8s or landing lyrical triple axels. Somehow the veteran sounds sharper than ever and the songs are lean and hungry, cut to the quick. It is no accident that this project is released under the Backwoodz Studioz imprint; the road that leads to this collaboration starts with, of all things, a ShrapKnel demo. Here is how dose explains it: "I have been inspired by Backwoodz for a while, in many ways, but the most potent being all these distinct pens. September 2023, I had heard a nearly done version of ShrapKnel's latest record, and something snapped in me. Hearing that perfectly hungry, inspired rapping turned my power back on. For me, being inspired warrants telling those who are inspiring you, so once I heard Decay I reached out and sent Fatboi Sharif and Dove some kind words about that record. The rest is history." At the end of December 2023 Dove sent dose the first beat pack. Somewhere around the second week of January 2024 dose already had five songs written and recorded. By the middle of March, a rough album framework was essentially done, and they brought on Minneapolis producer Andrew Broder to freak the turntables across the whole project. Then, as a final piece, dose and dove added select collaborations from some of their favorite rappers. By the end of April it was done. "I'm not really a features guy, but to align with and connect with those who inspire me, I called in some beautiful humans I had never worked with but always meant to: Open Mike Eagle, M.Sayyid, billy woods, Fatboi Sharif, and Myka 9 connect eras, artists, and styles of unconventional rap I hold incredibly dear," doseone explains. Listening to All Portrait, No Chorus you can hear the battery in doseone's back as he pythons his way through each instrumental. For his part, Steel Tipped Dove_a prolific producer over the last two years_delivers some of the most diverse work of his career. The result is a dynamic, propulsive listen that casts its crackling energy in every direction except backwards.

2025 Reissue

Exhibiting a solid background as a mastering engineer, Inner Lakes has spent quite some years locked in his studio (located between two of the biggest internal lakes in the north of Italy), to perfect his vast experimental sound. The use of modular synths, modified machines and sequencers is prevalent throughout his work. Defined in his own words as a "contemporary DJ tool" the forthcoming four tracker debut EP is set to be released via Vae Victis Records. The record is far from just a 'tool' with multilayered textures encompassed in dreamy soundscapes and a heavy driving energy throughout. His perfection in his work and passion for all things sound are a major catalyst for his sets. A mixture of unreleased material, futuristic sounds and hard hitting classics is what you can expect.

Originally released on CD only – those were the days – “Triola im Fünftonraum“ counts as one of the most iconic albums of the early Kompakt era. Experience this timeless masterpiece of lush electronica lovingly restored and remastered for the first time on vinyl – 21 years after its inception.

We found this review from back in the days that perfectly sums up what “Triola im Fünftonraum” is all about:

The press material for “Triola im Fünftonraum” made allusions to home listening, when the album is mostly about movement… in a car …preferably a fast one … on a muggy spring day.

This might catch followers of producer Jörg Burger off guard. Up until this point, the producer’s Triola tracks – limited to three consecutive appearances on Kompakt’s yearly Pop Ambient series and a spot on “Leichtes Hören Teil 1” – were free-floating ambient washouts (albeit wondrous free-floating ambient washouts) with no pulse. The album, on the other hand, is beat-driven. Though still resolutely ambient – more an update of Burger’s lushest Bionaut tracks, only fully engaging instead of mildly diverting.

The soft, synthetic hand drums and tranquil vapors of “Leuchtturm” from Pop Ambient 2003, remain untouched and begin the album. Two other tracks that might sound familiar receive dynamic overhauls, now supported with quick dance rhythms and additional layers of synth gauze; the whispy flute trills and lightly flickering keys of “AG Penthouse”, for instance, are melted into a churning rhythm and some singing keyboard vamps that resemble a relaxed take on Tangerine Dream’s suspenseful soundtrack work for “Thief” (minus the crazy guitars).

What really makes the whole thing glow is the manner in which the tracks are attached, flowing in and out of another, rising and cresting and receding, with supreme poise – even if its title provides no indication, the album is as much a travelogue as Carl Craig’s “Landcruising”, Morgan Geist’s “Driving Memoirs” and Model 500’s “Deep Space”.

These are some of Burger’s most inventive productions, a remarkable feat since he’s been doing this so long. Catch yourself in the right frame of mind and you’ll wonder if everything he has released has been one extended ramp-up to this. In this age, it’s also refreshing to have a purely ambient techno album with absolutely no connection to “Boards of Canada”.

In other words, it’s a landmark for both its label and its genre.

Andy Kellman

Copyright 2025 TiVo Corporation
Ursprünglich nur auf CD veröffentlicht – das waren noch Zeiten – zählt „Triola im Fünftonraum“ zu den ikonischsten Alben der frühen Kompakt-Ära. Dieses zeitlose Meisterwerk schwelgerischer Electronica erscheint nun 21 Jahre nach seiner Entstehung erstmals liebevoll restauriert und remastered auf Vinyl.

Wir haben diese zeitgenössische Rezension gefunden, die perfekt zusammenfasst, worum es bei „Triola im Fünftonraum“ geht:

Das Pressematerial für „Triola im Fünftonraum“ spielt auf das Zuhören zu Hause an, obwohl es in dem Album hauptsächlich um Bewegung geht … in einem Auto … vorzugsweise einem schnellen … an einem schwülen Frühlingstag.

Das könnte die Fans des Produzenten Jörg Burger überraschen. Bis zu diesem Zeitpunkt waren die Triola-Tracks des Produzenten – beschränkt auf drei aufeinanderfolgende Auftritte in der jährlichen Pop-Ambient-Reihe von Kompakt und einen Platz auf „Leichtes Hören Teil 1“ – frei schwebende Ambient-Auswaschungen (wenn auch wundersame frei schwebende Ambient-Auswaschungen) ohne Puls. Das Album hingegen ist beatgetrieben, obwohl es immer noch entschieden Ambient ist – eher eine Aktualisierung von Burgers üppigsten Bionaut-Tracks, nur dass es voll und ganz fesselt, statt nur leicht abzulenken.

Die sanften, synthetischen Handtrommeln und die ruhigen Dämpfe von „Leuchtturm“ aus Pop Ambient 2003 bleiben unangetastet und bilden den Auftakt des Albums. Zwei weitere Stücke, die einem bekannt vorkommen könnten, erhalten eine dynamische Überarbeitung, die nun von schnellen Tanzrhythmen und zusätzlichen Schichten von Synthesizer-Gaze unterstützt wird; die flüsternden Flötentöne und leicht flackernden Tasten von „AG Penthouse“ zum Beispiel verschmelzen zu einem aufgewühlten Rhythmus und einigen singenden Keyboard-Vamps, die an eine entspannte Version des spannenden Soundtracks von Tangerine Dream erinnern, der für „Thief“ (ohne die verrückten Gitarren) verwendet wird.

Was das Ganze wirklich zum Leuchten bringt, ist die Art und Weise, wie die Tracks miteinander verbunden sind, wie sie ineinander fließen, ansteigen und ihren Höhepunkt erreichen und wieder abklingen, und das mit höchster Gelassenheit – auch wenn der Titel nichts darauf hindeutet, ist das Album ebenso ein Reisebericht wie Carl Craigs „Landcruising“, Morgan Geists „Driving Memoirs“ und Model 500s „Deep Space“.

Dies sind einige von Burgers einfallsreichsten Produktionen, eine bemerkenswerte Leistung, wenn man bedenkt, wie lange er schon dabei ist. Wenn man sich in die richtige Stimmung versetzt, fragt man sich, ob alles, was er bisher veröffentlicht hat, eine einzige Vorbereitung auf dieses Album war. In der heutigen Zeit ist es auch erfrischend, ein reines Ambient-Techno-Album zu hören, das absolut nichts mit „Boards of Canada“ zu tun hat.

Mit anderen Worten: Es ist ein Meilenstein für das Label und das Genre.

Andy Kellman

Copyright 2025 TiVo Corporation

‘SUN SHONE’ is a multidisciplinary music and art project of Istanbul-born, Amsterdam-based Deniz Omeroglu AKA Loradeniz,. ‘SUN SHONE’ marks the arrival of her debut full-length album: eight tracks of ambient electronic music painted masterfully with a palette of synthesizers, effects, percussion and ethereal voice.

‘SUN SHONE’ was conceived in two parts: the first tracks coming spontaneously to life in the aftermath of heartbreak, with Omeroglu trusting the creative flow and using it as a method of self- healing. What was initially planned as an EP release grew into a full-length album as she spent one month consciously working on the perfect B-side to complement the music.

Omeroglu wrote, performed and produced everything on the album, drawing on her deep knowledge of music theory and production; in addition to studying classical piano in the Conservatory from an early age, she holds both a Bachelor’s degree in Composition Studies and a Masters degree in Sound Design.

Many of the compositions on ‘SUN SHONE’ centre around interplaying synth arpeggios, oscillators expertly tuned for an equal degree of menace and sweetness that balances on a knife-edge. This ambiguity is echoed lyrically across the record, with its recurring themes of love lost and memories revisited. From the spoken word of opener ‘Saint Odds’ and ‘Swimmer’ to the layered choral swells of ‘No Moon’ and the melodic hooks of ‘Brick House’, Omeroglu’s voice is central to ‘SUN SHONE’, employed with impressive versatility. At times, it feels simultaneously fragile and powerful, perhaps nowhere more so than in the yearning swells of “Cloud Sofa’, a healing lullaby for lost love that offers up one of the most delicate moments on the album. 


Whilst this may loosely be referred to as an ‘ambient’ album, Loradeniz’s knowledge of modern day production techniques and experience as both a sound designer and seasoned DJ (both in clubs and on radio) makes its presence felt throughout; echoes of Artificial Intelligence-era IDM appear in the dancing arpeggios and rhythmic pulses of ‘Sea Serpent’ and ‘Waterbear’, while the album closer ‘Aftersun’ could easily be imagined working as the euphoric last tune of a club set at sunrise. 


With her debut album, Loradeniz weaves together an impressive breadth of styles and sounds, all held seamlessly together by a feeling; a cathartic desire to bring out all the melancholia from within. The album opens with the words ‘The search of love continues in the face of great odds’ a suitable mantra for a record that manages to combine melancholy with intense rushes of positivity and hopes for the future.

Dennis Brown has always been cited as Jamaica’s favourite singer. While Bob Marley set out to conquer the world, Dennis’s popularity on the island grew with every year. Overseas success also came Browns way with crossover hits like the massive ‘Money In My Pocket’. He will always be fondly remembered on the sound systems across the caribbean as the Crown Prince of Reggae.

Dennis Brown (b Dennis Emanuel Brown,1957, Kingston, Jamaica) began his illustrious career at the grand age of eleven like many of the other child singers at Coxsonne Dodds Studio One stable. His first hit in 1969 a cover of Van Dykes ‘No Man Is An Island’ still stands the tests of time and also its follow up cut ‘If I Follow My Heart’ as Reggae classics. The 1970’s saw Dennis build on his reputation by working with all the top Jamaican producers and
studio’s perfecting his sound. Lloyd Daley, Impact, Joe Gibbs, Aquarius and Derrick Harriott to name but a few. But it was his work with producer Winston ‘Niney’ Holness that he enjoyed the most success and many say recorded his best work for. Where many of the other producers stayed with the tried and tested Lovers Rock formula that did prove so popular with Dennis’s voice, producer Niney the Observer as he is fondly called, pushed him into a more roots led direction, over stark rhythms created by Niney’s studio band Soul Syndicate.

Two outstanding albums were put together ‘Just Dennis’ (1975) built on a collection of singles they had recorded together, ’Cassandra’, ’Westbound Train’, ’No More Will I Roam’ and ‘Conqueror’. The second 1977 set ‘Wolf and Leopards’ made up again of singles the prolific two had cut including, ‘Here I Come’ (a live favourite that Dennis always liked to start his set with) and ‘Children of Israel’ made these both strong roots era albums.

We have stayed with this period for our Dennis Brown album. Some of the above-mentioned cuts are present alongside the timeless crossover hit ‘Money In My Pocket’ (1979) produced by Niney but often credited as a Joe Gibbs production as it was released (and sweetened by adding Orchestration for the foreign market place) on his label. By the way this is the original Jamaican version (unsweetened) that you will find on this album a more truthful version in our humble opinion. His voice reigns supreme across these Niney produced cuts ‘Smile like An Angel’ ‘Silver Words’, ‘Play Girl’ and the fantastic ‘Poor Side Of Town’ (helped along by the great harmonies of the Heptones group), ‘Tribulation’ and ‘We Will Be Free’. Dennis Brown’s prolific catalogue of tunes that also found an outlet on his own DEB inprint (named after his initials) stands to show what a great artist he was and what a fine team he and Niney made when in the studio creating these magical moments. So sit back and enjoy a killer set of tunes compiled by Niney himself...Tribulation Times indeed and long may the records of the Crown Prince of Reggae Dennis Brown rule the world.....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every so often an album of such deceptive genius, of such aesthetic clarity, comes across our desk and transfixes us. Thought Leadership's III Of Pentacles is one such work of art. It's an instant classic and glides into the pantheon of timeless guitar-soul totems. Originally out on cassette only, we present the first ever vinyl issue. It's a hideously limited pressing of 300 for the world, so don't sleep on this.

Thought Leadership has already garnered big support from such tastemakers as Ruf Dug, Jason Boardman, Nathan Gregory Wilkins, J Walk, Evan Woodward, Justin Robertson and Heavenly's Jeff Barrett. The first time we heard III Of Pentacles, we nearly wept at the thought that something so beautiful, so bursting with real hope, could even exist in this brutal world. To quote the Quietus, "imagine if Stockport was situated somewhere along the Pacific Coast Highway rather than the M60, and you’ll have some idea of the coordinates to the post-industrial, sunburnt dream space opened up here."

So, who is Thought Leadership? What do we know about them? They reside in Stockport and are obsessed with ethereal guitar records. That’s about it. That and these X ideas shared with you, the listener.

Captured on a multitrack recorder in a terraced house in Stockport, this is as DIY as it gets. Glaringly obvious is a love for classic Factory and early 4AD. Perhaps it is the proximity to the River Mersey where the ideas arrived, and there being but three miles between where this and the Durutti Column’s classic “LC” was recorded, as the two operate across a familiar aural plain. Be it geographic or otherwise, limited by a true economy of means, namely guitar, pedals and drum machine, the fruit borne from these humble tools has been indelibly shaped by the perma-gloom that hangs low over the Manchester and Stockport environs.

Ushered in on 808 kicks, “I” opens the record as a beautiful Sketch for Stockport; a chiming maj7 chord dripping in chorus and delay sets us on our way. The Vini Reilly comparisons are unavoidable. “II” is all John McGeoch, with its trippy goth-psyche arpeggiated pattern cascading across the stereo image. Do those drums swing? But goths don’t swing?! They do here. We’re treated to a bit of crunch on the lead guitar part and some really lush reverb. We even step forth into shoegaze territory, albeit briefly, for the middle eight. “III”, a firm Be With favourite, continues the dreamy psyche leanings of the previous track, with an even bigger melody this time. We’re hearing The Teardrop Explodes on quaaludes here. A proto-dream pop cut soaked in melancholy. But watch out! The coda finds Johnny Marr has gotten into the ‘ludes and gatecrashed the final bars with some incredibly ignorant B minor pentatonic noodling.

“IV” ditches the drum machine for the first in a suite of three beatless electric guitar duets. The first of these semi-improvised rubato ideas is a striking departure from the earlier playful pieces, coming over emo and moody. Greyscale sulking for Stratocaster. Sign us up. “V” contains some really lyrical phrasing; a gorgeous conversation between two guitars. Real Stopfordian Primitive; meditative, crude, rain-soaked. We cycle through the same feels, then end on an alluring chord that breaks the pattern. Sometimes thoughts are like this. “VI” creeps in all plaintive, then a huge reverberating descending guitar line comes tumbling in like something off those classic Dif Juz 12”s. There’s some Maurice Deebank in there too, for sure, and the coda nods to early Meat Puppets.

“VII” rounds out the A Side, and succinctly presents a summary of all ideas explored thus far on our journey. The drum machine is back, this time with some wispy delay, before both guitars enter together playing interlocking lines. As we start, we end, with the delayed 808 guiding us out.

Opening Side B, “VIII” sees us embark on the other side of our journey as we slow down and space out. The drum machine is here, but the guitars are different now. Think Sensations Fix or Göttsching at his most peeled out. Drones, ambient drifts of broken chords and distorted lead lines all swirl round the mix. Side B is one for headphones for sure. “IX” is almost too exquisite for words. A New Age Mixolydian voyage through the cosmos. If you’re unmoved by the end you’ve probably got no pulse. We were left blunted ineffable by this one, such is the smudged elegance radiating from this idea. All hail the Thought Leader.

“X” is a full circle moment, and a fitting end. If you’ve not already elsewhere across the platter, you will be getting heavy Robin Guthrie vibes from this piece. Like the rest of Side B, this improvised jam sticks within a framework of related chords but the celestial energies channelled might invite us to wander “outside”, especially when the Tubescreamer is engaged.

RIYL Durutti Coulmn, Cocteau Twins, Dif Juz, Sensations Fix, Spike and adjacent guitar musicks – but, ultimately, this is just its own thing; such is the strength of ideas presented. "It’s good music to chill out to." (??)

Be With is honoured to present the first ever vinyl release of III Of Pentacles, carefully remastered by Be With's engineer Simon Francisco to ensure it sounds better than ever after its initial tape release. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry, in Holland. The original tape cover artwork, so crucial to Thought Leadership's striking visual aesthetic, has been rejigged for vinyl issue here at Be With. Its stark presentation befits the music contained within. They inform us that they shuffled their tarot deck to ask what the album should be called and the card you see on the cover popped out. The III Of Pentacles tarot card represents teamwork, shared vision and the ability to achieve goals through collaboration. We like to think Thought Leadership and Be With have nailed this one.

Colemine Records is excited to put out their first 45 with The Charities, a sweet-soul band out of sunny California. The group's sound is a melting pot of cultures, exhibiting a mix of soul, r&b, rock, and funk. The A-side of this 45, 'Fatal Attraction,' explores just that. In some relationships, the very qualities that draw you in can also lead to your destruction. She's captivating_beautiful, intelligent, and charming_but beneath the surface, she's narcissistic and self-centered, with no regard for the pain she causes. When you're lost in the intensity of love, it's easy to overlook these darker traits. But when the time comes for her to move on, she'll strike without hesitation, delivering a blow that cuts deep. Her words, sharp as a knife, tear through your heart with cold precision. As you bleed out, she offers nothing but a final, indifferent goodbye...."It's Not Our Time," on the B, tells the story of two lovers who find themselves at a crossroads, torn apart by the struggles they face in this chapter of their lives. Perhaps in the future, they'll rekindle their love and spark a new flame_one that burns even brighter then before. It's a bittersweet goodbye, with the belief that the distance and time apart will only strengthen their bond when the moment is right.The tracks are produced by Anthony Masino and were recorded at Penrose Recordings in Riverside, CA.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

KEY POINTS

• Collector Crystal Clear LP deluxe packaged – the very First reissue of the cult 11 track EP – Street Album from year 2000 by DJ Mehdi collecting his Espionnage adventures

• “DJ MEHDI : Made in France” : an Arte 6 episode exclusive serie about DJ Mehdi from September 12th ! DJ Mehdi was the one building bridges between french hip hop and electro, and becoming a key composer,producer and DJ. He was a game changer in himself, helping both french rap & electro scenes to rise in the late 90’s & early 200’s . 13 years after DJ Mehdi’s sudden death, his long-time friend and Director Thibaut de Longeville imagined & directed the serie, with archives materials & exclusive interviews and words from big names from Rap & Electro about their collaborations & relationships with DJ Mehdi.

SHORT BIOG

“Rather than a compilation, this record is a summary of what Espionnage has done in the past two years, from the rap 12”s, the instrumental 12”s to the remixes I was given the opportunity to do. The members of The Espionnage Sound System, Yvan from Double Pact included (even if he only appears here on the interlude betweeen “Camille Groult Starr (rmx)” and “Si Tu Savais (rmx)”), have been essential to the label’s development as a whole. The Chronowax Distribution staff has been equally vital to a structure primarily dedicated to independent vinyl production. By the way, I have to thank Ulysse Genet who, on top of lending his name to a track title, suggested the name “Espionnage” instead of “Le Cirque Disques” (which was my initial idea) and drew the first logo. Many thanks to my team : Olivier Rosset, Charlotte Dutoit, Thibaut de Longeville, Alexander Wise, the 360 Creative & Marketing teams, as well as X2N, Tom Kan, DJ Gilb’R, Roulé, Crydamoure, Benoît Blue Boy and his daughters Ludella and Amadine ; who have all contributed on one level or another to what this record is. Of course I can’t forget my family: the Essadis, Faveris, Gassamas, Majira (and their many relations) as well as my other family, the 113 Clan and the whole African Mafia and most particularly my group, Idéal J, for the respect and freedom with which they’ve let me express the somewhat unusual ideas I had about all of this”.
Peace, DJ Mehdi, NYC, March 29th 2000.

Sunset edition - 300 copies

Driving is Sam Wilkes’ Indie Rock record. Iit is the first release on Wilkes Records, an imprint borne of the artist’s emergent need to self-release. The songs presented here exist comfortably within the ever-expanding Wilkesian cosmos, characterized as they are by virtuosity, torqued experimentalism, and collaboration with a range of talented musicians. But Driving’s influences, its sincerity, and its allegiance to a certain pop sensibility reflects a departure for an artist who has primarily staked his claim within the experimental jazz idiom.

Take the first track, “Folk Home,” which inaugurates the album’s fecundity—a bright, green, humid, summer feel. A swirling, freakout coda of reversed vocals gives way, in no short order, to a caterwaul of flute work that conjures Van Morrison’s (in)famous Astral Weeks sessions. Standing beside Morrison, the usual suspects are all present, if somewhat abstractedly. Dylan, The Dead, Joni, the Fab Four. Wilkes has developed a reputation as an experimental jazz luminary, but his deep affinity for the pop/rock/folk idiom of the latter twentieth century rings clear throughout Driving. More so than any Wilkes release to date, Driving is a collection guided by and dedicated to the man’s attention to songcraft.

Written and recorded during a period of rain-damage induced renter’s itinerance (and the attendant desire to produce a kind of therapeutic, self-soothing, home-feeling music), Driving loosely charts the trajectory/experience of “a protagonist,” both Wilkes and not, “who has figured out how to live an enlightened and fulfilled life, but is unable to do so because he thinks about it too much.” This friction is surely relatable — a symptom of our compulsively self-aware present. But Wilkes avoids the obvious pitfalls of public hand-wringing. Rather, Driving’s nine tracks evince a genuine, and mature searching-ness, both sonically and lyrically. The ending refrain of “Own” serves like something close to a thesis— “Letting go // isn’t a concept // it’s an action.” In an attempt to beat back ego, hyper-cogitation, language itself, Wilkes arrives at an axiom that feels so true and familiar, you’d swear you’d heard it one hundred times before.

Driving’s final third is, fittingly, its most emotive and cathartic. Tracks seven and eight, “Again, Again” and “And Again,” form a diptych, joined most obviously by the jangling, recursive grooves of guitarist Daryl Johns. Wilkes is said to have encouraged Johns to go “full Lindsey Buckingham” (clearly a welcome and resonant prompt), but one also catches stray Knopfler vibes, some intermittent Fripp, and (perhaps more-so in tone than technique) the spirit of DIY prophet and jangling man himself, Martin Newell (the Cleaners from Venus). Wilkes has stated that he finds joy in creating musical environments suitable to the contribution and flourishing of his favorite musicians. Throughout Driving, and in these two tracks especially, he has more than succeeded.

The record closes with the titular track: a story-song that, according to Wilkes, poured out of him (melody, composition, and lyrics) in a single sitting. The tale is told plainly, bravely, starkly; a mistake was made, regrets have been had, and all is wrapped up in the recollection of a deeply felt adolescent heartsickness—a time when the narrator was first afire with music and automotive freedom. The song captures the moment when meaning inexplicably falls into place, when a long-nagging memory suddenly assumes narrative form, and the subsequent sense of lightness and unburdening. It is fitting that Driving, a record conceived as a form of self-therapy, should culminate with a sense of humble revelation. That Wilkes is plainly eager to share the vulnerable fruits of this labor constitutes Driving’s joyful offering.

Words by Emmett Shoemaker

The Venezuelan composer Oksana Linde presents Travesías, her second album released by Buh Records, featuring pieces created between 1986 and 1994 in her private studio in San Antonio de Los Altos, Venezuela. These works belong to the same creative period as the pieces included in her acclaimed debut album, Aquatic and Other Worlds (Buh, 2022). Born in 1948 in Caracas to Ukrainian immigrant parents, Oksana Linde's journey is an example of resilience and innovation. After abandoning her career as a chemist due to health problems, Linde devoted herself to music, experimenting with synthesizers to create a deeply evocative sonic universe. She produced a vast number of recordings during the 1980s, many of which remained unreleased until the publication of Aquatic and Other Worlds. This new collection of pieces, taken from the extensive archive of cassette tapes preserved by Linde, unveils yet another perspective of her work. The pieces "Mundos Flotantes" (Floating Worlds), "Horizontes Lejanos" (Distant Horizons), and "Arrecifes en el espacio" (Reefs in Space) were specifically composed for the show Travesía Acuastral (Aqua-Astral Journey), presented by Linde in February 1991 at Casa Rómulo Gallegos as part of the 3rd Encounter of New Electronic Music. This event, produced by Maite Galán in collaboration with the Musikautomatika group, was a milestone in shaping an experimental electronic music scene in Venezuela, one of the most active in Latin America at that time. Linde also composed a series of pieces for use in meditation sessions, four of which are included in this compilation: "Luciérnagas en los manglares" (Fireflies in the Mangroves), "Estrellas I" and "II" (Stars I and II), and "Kerepakupai Vena." The latter refers to two words from the Pemón Indigenous community in southeastern Venezuela, meaning Angel Falls, the name of the world's tallest waterfall. Travesías solidifies Oksana Linde's position as an essential figure in electronic music and furthers the effort to bring to light one of the most fascinating archives of electronic music produced in Latin America. This compilation is released through Buh Records in a limited edition of 500 copies. Compilation and liner notes by Luis Alvarado. Mastered by Alberto Cendra at Garden Lab Audio. Cover photo by Elisa Ochoa Linde. Art and design by Gonzalo de Montreuil.