Поиск:under the counte

The Pitch is a quartet made up of Boris Baltschun, Koen Nutters, Michael Thieke and Morten Joh. Founded in Berlin in 2009, they play a hypnotic form of structured improvisation full of acoustic exploration and electronic intervention. On Neutral Star, The Pitch are joined by Australian guitarist/composer extraordinaire Julia Reidy for a record of star gazing electro-acoustic jazz.

Reidy's playing and compositional technique between Takoma-style fingerpicking and Glenn Branca'esque microtonality, perfectly complements the loose improvisational framework The Pitch is providing. Endless ≠ Limitless, a recent piece by Reidy and Joh, is transformed from a washed-out/obscured tape delay composition into a colorful, meandering ensemble piece with a swarming character - blooming with intrigue for the patient ear. The B-side strikes a more gentle tone: the 24-minute Neutral Star begins with a siren-like overtone whose drone-like flowing slowly morphs into a deterritorial modality with jazzy undertone. Accompanied by constant eruptions of vibraphone, clarinet, electronics and double bass punctuation – while permanently questioned by Reidy's drippingly pearly steel guitar work. Slowly evolving into new territories through the expansive instrumentation and keen listening between the players.

The fact that Neutral Star was recorded in one take (by Rabih Beaini in his Morphine Raum studio/venue) in front of a live audience and without overdubs is hard to believe, even for the trained ear. The recording appears to be too multilayered for a single snapshot, with its compositional structures constantly shifting and moving against themselves, counterintuitively and anti-cyclically. Reidy´s playing has been described as "unstable harmonic territory, and the collaboration with The Pitch interprets this concept brilliantly - adding further non-places to the territory. And the listener, however, is never left alone in the process of tectonic shifts - at least as long as their listening is attentive and contemplative at once.

Back in the early 1990s as Acid Jazz began a period of extraordinary commercial success where acts like the Brand New Heavies and Jamiroquai sold millions of records, and US groups such as A Tribe Called Quest, The Roots and Digable Planets were actively influenced by what was being played in London, the whole scene was being fuelled by a small number of clubs, led by Gilles Peterson’s Sunday afternoons at Dingwalls but taking in nights in Leeds, Bari, Munich, Tokyo, Stockholm and New York. In those clubs funky jazz, latin boogaloo and 70s soul soundracks competed for time on the dance floor with import records from New York, and the latest sounds coming out of bedrooms and makeshift basement studios that created contemporary sounds out of the past.

Acid Jazz’s Eddie Piller and Dean Rudland have put together this compilation of the sort of sounds that we were playing at the time. They are releases on Acid Jazz and other label’s that surrounded the scene and they were mainly made by people we knew from either around the club scene, behind the counters of our favourite record shops, or from trips to New York or Europe. They range from The Ballistic Brother anthem ‘Blacker’ to the jazz house of A-Zel - a Roger Sanchez mix that still sounds fresh today. We have the Humble Soul’s instrumental version of ‘Beads Things And Flowers’ which at the time was only available as a DJ special on Acetate. There is the presence of A Man Called Adam before they went to Ibiza, and the early Mo’ Wax (before they went Trip Hop) single by Marden Hill ‘Come On’.

These records could fill a dance floor in seconds and we feel that they are today largely forgotten, as they were non-album, underground club records. It’s time to celebrate them!

“'Lyceum' is a fountainhead of unqualified greatness. It’s a strange, sad sound harking back to old school tunesmanship – Aztec Camera, ‘Rattlesnakes’, prime-time Felt – but the whole affair is permeated with a resonant, almost tearful quality. ‘Lyceum’ is reminiscent of Galaxie 500’s ‘Today’ in that it sounds like it cost less than a round of drinks to produce. But the lo fi sound merely enhances the misty glazed-pop sound and raises the hallelujah choruses to the forefront. Rather than drowning them in production mush. Don’t pass it by”.
– Bob Stanley, Melody Maker 1989
Hailing from the suburbs of Glasgow, this five-piece are best known for their three starry-eyed albums on the renowned Sarah Records - this being an expanded version of their first (an eight-track 10” at the time).
By the tail end of the 1980s the independent music scene in the UK was turning its back on the polish and over-indulgence of the mid-80s with its gated drums and wallpaper production. And those who weren’t stretching the boundaries of sonic innovation had tuned back to the post-punk ethos of ramshackle charm and zealous melody, even dousing the spirit with some political fervour once more. Influences were more likely to be Television and the Television Personalities than MTV.
The Orchids and The Sea Urchins were the first two bands to release 7” singles on the Sarah label having previously begun their recording existence on a shared flexi disc in 1987 (The Sea Urchins went on to become Delta, whose classic album ‘Slippin' Out’ from 2000 will be the second release on Circuitry). The Scottish five-piece released ‘I’ve Got a Habit’ and ‘Underneath the Window, Underneath the Sink’ as EPs before really finding their feet with ‘Lyceum’; the tracks, remastered from the original Toad Hall tapes are included on this reissue as are the three songs from the ‘What Will We Do Next?’ 7” (this collection closes with the frazzled stretch that is ‘Yawn’). 'Lyceum' was originally released in August 1989.
The album opens with ‘It’s Only Obvious’ and its gloriously youthful chorus of “who needs tomorrow when all I need, all I needed was you”. James Hackett somehow appears both forthright and rejected, something that one of their musical heroes The Go-Betweens also had down to a fine art. It barely takes a breath until midway through side two where ‘Hold On’ (sounding suspiciously like an unlikely objective) descends into the intro of ‘Blue Light’, the counted-in ‘1, 2, 3, 4’ whispered like the most hopelessly dejected rally. If that sounds depressing it isn’t. This record by The Orchids was a spirited source of comfort for an 18 year old at the time and still shudders with the best type of melancholy, one that’s spirited not indulgent. If you’re not familiar with the band’s charm, this is where you should begin.
'Lyceum' is released on double black vinyl by new label Circuitry.

White vinyl. The record is housed in a gatefold jacket, designed as your own personal treasure chest. Akupara Games and Black Screen Records are over the moon (and down in the crypt) to announce the soundtrack release of the game hit Cryptmaster on vinyl. For the music, sound expert Surasshu, part of the duo Aivi & Surasshu (i.a. Steven Universe), has teamed up with Stemage and Catton Arthur to virtuously solve the puzzle of a perfectly fitting game score. SAY ANYTHING in this bizarre dungeon adventure where words control everything. Fill in the blanks with text or voice to uncover lost abilities, embark on strange quests, and solve mindbending riddles. Can you conquer the crypt and uncover the mystery at the heart of Cryptmaster? In the ancient past, four brave heroes banded together to destroy a terrible evil, giving their lives to save countless others. But now their eternal rest has been disturbed by the Cryptmaster, a capricious necromancer in whose thrall they must ascend through the buried strata of the city above them - the gloomy Bonehouses, mysterious Sunken Sea and freakish Downwood. With the enigmatic Soulstone in hand, the four adventurers must recover their memories, solve whimsical puzzles and defeat outlandish enemies. From fishing and card games to bardic rap battles, finding the right word is the key to success. Who knows, maybe you'll even remember a little more than you bargained for. Surasshu, veteran of television and game music, brings out the best in the Cryptmaster soundtrack, featuring his peers Catton Arthur on bass and Stemage on guitar. From laid back accordions of the Bonehouses, to the shredding guitar of battles, to the piper's haunting melody, this album features enough musical morsels to keep all kinds of dungeon-crawling deviants tapping their toes.

For many bands, having all their gear stolen would be catastrophic. For Third Ear Band, this unfortunate 1968 incident opened a portal to beneficial change. Leader/percussionist Glen Sweeney viewed the heist as a sign to alter Third Ear Band's approach, and they switched to exclusively using acoustic instruments. With electrified psychedelia in full bloom, Sweeney, Paul Minns (oboe, recorder, whistles, flutes) and Richard Coff (violin, viola) struck out on an individualistic path, blending Indian raga with chamber music – without plugging in.

Third Ear Band's 1969 debut album, Alchemy, established them as a solemn, powerful force in the global underground. On Alchemy, Sweeney laid down a steady pulse on hand drums, while Minns and Coff wove in melismatic patterns on oboe, recorder, violin and viola. This approach carried over to Third Ear Band's self-titled sophomore album, often called Elements due to its track titles being named after the four basic components of medieval European alchemists' doctrines.

On this 1970 LP, Third Ear Band sounded at once ancient and contemporary, yet they turned on the hippies with their epic, trance-inducing jams that suggested secret knowledge of infinity. Although Third Ear Band flourished during the West's countercultural zenith, they were peculiarly estranged from it on a sonic level. Even outré contemporaries such as Comus and Jan Dukes De Grey sounded like pop groups compared to TEB. Having no traditional front person or electric instruments, Third Ear Band forged a singular path that flowered most vividly on Elements.

The long songs here stream forth from their skilled hands, evoking a communal transcendence in sound – a hypnotic swirl that doesn't swing, but rather wafts and undulates with cloistered beauty. TEB's music exists in an eternal now, a perpetual wow. It is an ouroboros of organic textures, seemingly magicked into the air spontaneously, yet possessing a rigor that suggests long hours in the lab. Without electricity, it somehow burrowed deeper into your consciousness.

– Dave Segal (excerpt from the liner notes)

The Gospel is back. “We have our pair of scissors. And we cut into the world.”

Label-owner Tro presents yet another diverse EP filled with hypnotic grooves straight from the patchbay.

“Sauna of Bitch” kicks things straight into high gear, weaving together hard-hitting drum machines with meandering acid lines and celestial pads. Next-up, “Maybe European” sees things take a darker turn, with a raw blend of electro and progressive elements, dilated with haunting spoken-word.

On the flip, Toronto veterans Cosmic JD and Aaron Santos deliver a lush, ethereal remix of “Lost in Tres Leches” under their ‘Los Primos’ alias, countering the original’s trippy minimalism with analogue warmth.

A small package that delivers a serious wallop, “Try No More” by Glitterin is guaranteed to provide some heat on dancefloors this Summer. From the juddering throb of the opening kicks to the ricocheting rhythms, the track fixes itself directly under the mirrorball from the outset. Produced by Jason Core, this is late night lover affair material that is brimming with energy. When the firework melody bursts, it ignites. Sharp and warm synth stabs are left smouldering by the driving and impassioned voice of Sandry Sanz. A tale of unrequited love unfolds between the cymbal crashes and spiralling synthines, lines that grow ever bolder through Tony David’s emotive guitar solo. The flip is dedicated to Core’s instrumentation with the range of analogue sounds and synthesizer intensity coming to the fore. Intricate patterns and counter melodies are woven, key shifts and pulsating percussion imbibe this dub mix with all the spirit of the original. Fierce and fiery from beginning to end.

After two decades, the indietronic veteran returns with a powerful sonic reflection on today’s sociopolitical climate and a poignant reminder of music’s enduring ability to heal, unite, and inspire. Blending experimental electronics with krautrock sensibilities, the album thrives on spontaneity, collaboration, and the beauty of ‘happy accidents’.

While many of Nitrada’s sonic trademarks remain — intricate, rickety beats; enigmatic field recordings; and gut-punching string melodies — EVERYTHING THAT IS NOT COUNTED WILL BE LOST marks a shift in approach. Experimenting with different constellations of musical machines, Christophe Stoll, the mind behind Nitrada, recorded hours of improvisations (some shared on his Instagram). These sketches became the raw material for more elaborate, carefully structured arrangements.

True to his collaborative spirit, Stoll brought in like-minded artists to shape the final album: Jan Sturm (aka STURM) lends his touch to the shimmering FRAGMENTS OF LIGHT. The euphoric dystopian WE DANCE IN THE CHAOS features Landobe (Marco Heinle) and Patrick Siegfried Zimmer on vocals. Luca di Mira (of Giardini di Mirò fame) contributes synths, cello, and delicate textures to some tracks, while Johannes Schardt’s guitar work brings a visceral, post-rock edge to NO HYMN FOR NOBODY and IL ROMANTICISMO DELL’APOCALISSE, nodding to Stoll’s roots in punk and indie.

“The goal is to take listeners on a journey through different timbres and sonic landscapes — a collage of diverse ideas and inspirations,” says Stoll about his album which effortlessly juxtaposes experimental ambient soundscapes, heavy jagged guitars, and minimal techno pulses, making them feel as though they’ve always belonged together. Because, in the end, they do – all part of the shared vocabulary of our universal language: MUSIC.

After the explosive Comme à la radio, infused with the free jazz energy of the Art Ensemble of Chicago, Brigitte Fontaine and Areski Belkacem released six albums together or separately between 1972 and 1977. Their music, often stripped down to voice, guitar, and percussion-or performed a cappella-stood in stark contrast to the orchestrated French pop of the time. This minimalist and spontaneous approach highlighted the poetic power of the lyrics and the intimacy of the melodies, earning them recognition in the counterculture and underground scenes. By the end of the 1970s, Fontaine sought to make her work more visible without losing its originality. The Baraka album marked this transitional moment, initially recorded in a home studio without external musicians. Its title (meaning "blessing" in Arabic) hinted at a desire for success. Mixing introspection, absurd humor, and bold stylistic choices, the album was technically ambitious, featuring stereo duets and layered vocals, and lyrically rich, tackling everything from metaphysical themes to playful nonsense. However, the project ultimately veered off course. After moving the recordings to the massive Studio Davout and bringing in producer and guitarist Martial "Mimi" Lorenzini, the album lost its original intimacy. Overproduced arrangements clashed with the simplicity of Fontaine and Belkacem's initial intent, resulting in an album-renamed Les églantines sont peut-être formidables-that the artists later disowned, refusing to allow its commercial release. Recently rediscovered demo tapes, stripped of their bombastic layers, reveal the raw, emotional core of the songs-showcasing the duo's voices with a rare authenticity. These recordings bridge a missing link in their discography, between their experimental lo-fi years and their later, more accessible work. Decades on, Fontaine and Belkacem remain defiant originals, never settling into a formula, always evolving, and continuing to shake the foundations of French chanson.

From the underground to festival main stages, they’ve built their reputation on sheer force of will, crushing live shows, and an unshakable foundation of heavy riffs and harder work.
Now, with their fourth studio album “Where Only The Truth Is Spoken”, Sheffield’s finest step into a new league. Recorded in California at Dave Grohl’s legendary Studio 606, the album was tracked through the iconic Neve 8078 console, the same desk that captured game-changing records like Nirvana’s “Nevermind,” Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumours,” and Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers.” For a band that’s always pushed forward without compromise, it was the perfect setting to carve out a record that represents everything Malevolence stands for.
The album marks a new level of songwriting precision without sacrificing the band’s trademark weight. Working alongside Grammy Award-winning producer Josh Wilbur (Lamb of God, Gojira, Trivium), the result is Malevolence at their most punishing, urgent, and anthemic.

From the underground to festival main stages, they’ve built their reputation on sheer force of will, crushing live shows, and an unshakable foundation of heavy riffs and harder work.

Now, with their fourth studio album “Where Only The Truth Is Spoken”, Sheffield’s finest step into a new league. Recorded in California at Dave Grohl’s legendary Studio 606, the album was tracked through the iconic Neve 8078 console, the same desk that captured game-changing records like Nirvana’s “Nevermind,” Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumours,” and Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers.” For a band that’s always pushed forward without compromise, it was the perfect setting to carve out a record that represents everything Malevolence stands for.

The album marks a new level of songwriting precision without sacrificing the band’s trademark weight. Working alongside Grammy Award-winning producer Josh Wilbur (Lamb of God, Gojira, Trivium), the result is Malevolence at their most punishing, urgent, and anthemic.

Pain Management welcomes London cult favourite DJ ojo, who arrives on the label with a hazy three tracker of trademark nether zone system music. On his most dubbed out full length to date, ojo span’s the full emotive spectrum of dub sonics with a range of both the eerie and more tender expansions of low end atmospherics, the resulting 12” equally suited for the club and the journey home alike.

‘Tongue Tied’ opens the record, a lysergic offering from the darker edges of dub music. A slippery fugue-state hit of narco-ambience built around a crooning, intelligible vocal refrain and chest shot sub weight. A real nightfall system pusher built to simmer in the early hours. It kicks off the EP on an amorphous, hypnotic note that sustains throughout.‘Oil Dub’ sinks deeper into the fog, melodic kinesis and expansive delays upholding an underworld of feedbacked percussion and tongue in cheek sub motion; a seven minute sound bath of ambiguous dub ASMR.

The B-side balances out the darker strains found on its counterpart with an overtly tender digidub closer. Clocking in at almost ten minutes long ‘Cloud Suck’ is a nebulous bliss of perpetually ascending late-summer warmth. The kind of liminal dream-state embrace that you wish would never end. True to the name, it evokes tender, dusk and dawn hued moments, a quiet ride-home flash of introspection on the way to or from some pursuit of meaning. Pain Management essential right here.

Limited run of 200 hand-stamped 12” records available now.

I must admit to being a sucker for two-guitar bands. Ok, Hendrix pulled off a trio. But I don’t care what anybody says: The Yardbirds were a better band than anything that came out of them (Ok, maybe not Zep. But Cream?).

Maybe the reason I go back so far in my references is that, within the two-guitar band format, original new roles are difficult and rare. There’s the classic (socially problematic and often boring) “rhythm/lead” solution. There’s the JB’s or Nile Rodgers’ chicken pickin’ vs comping solution (which avoids chordal clashes by relegating one of the guitars to the role of single-note percussion instrument). There’s Ornette’s Prime Time division between Bern Nix’s rolled-off “jazz” tone and Charles Ellerbee’s trebly wah. Almost everything else is a variation on one of these.


In Ches Smith’s record Clone Row, each piece is built around a different concept for guitar interaction. The delightful and gifted weirdness of Mary Halvorson’s playing is counterpointed, contrasted, unisoned with, played off, juxtaposed (that is to say, enters every relationship possible) with Liberty Ellman’s equally amazing sound palette, chops, and imagination. This definitely ain’t your father’s guitar band.
The overall vibe of the record—despite Halvorson’s occasional noise outbursts or Ellman’s distorted guitar lines (see Mixed Fridge) is neither punk/funk, nor Zorn-ish metal—and certainly not the looser parameters of Ornette’s improvised harmolodics. Smith’s vibraphone playing, Halvorson’s guitar tone (whammy pedal squiggles aside), the brilliant electronics, and (most of all) the compositions themselves are somehow strangely West Coast cool. It’s as if I’m hearing a Jim Hall concert in which one of us did a lot of mushrooms, or (dare I write this?) some post-punk post-Dave Brubeck post-trip-hop experiment with classical form.

This recording is, most of all, about Ches as composer. He’s picked up a lot on his long, strange trip of the last few decades. The Haitian funkiness of his work with We All Break is audible—but deeply buried, encoded in the polyrhythms (check out Heart Breakthrough). His long-running side musician collaborations with John Zorn and Tim Berne are also evident but sublimated here into something new.

Not that improvising is absent. Check out the compelling collective statements in Sustained Nightmare and Ready Beat. Check out the brilliant interplay and bass soloing on Abrade With Me (a Weather Report for the age of extreme weather?) Nick Dunston is my favorite bassist of the new generation, and he plays brilliantly throughout. And Ches’ drumming here has all the groove, energy, and incredible range that have kept him in demand from Saturday night Vodou services to jazz and new music recording sessions (…the thinking man’s rock barbarian?).
The sus chords in Abrade With Me do build, for a moment, towards a fusion type of climax...but just at the moment I was gritting my teeth in anticipated defense against some horrible synth solo, the drums drop out, and we’re transported to the ambient lounge at the rave, and we suddenly understand we’re in the hands of a composer with the power to transport us just about anywhere.
So, this is a composer’s record most of all; a composer’s record performed by musicians who happen to be great improvisers. Ches Smith builds here on his reputation as a gifted new voice with an important vision, while showcasing some of the most creative musicians of our time.

Mit 'Under a Familiar Sun' veröffentlicht The Vernon Spring alias Sam Beste ein faszinierendes Album zwischen Jazz, Ambient, experimentellem Pop und elektronischem Songwriting. Beste, einst Pianist in Amy Winehouse’ Band und Kollaborateur von u. a. MF DOOM, Joy Crookes und Beth Orton, entfaltet hier ein vielschichtiges Werk voller emotionaler Tiefe und klanglicher Finesse.

Entstanden in seinem Heimstudio in Brighton, verarbeitet das Album persönliche Themen wie Vaterschaft, Verantwortung und Selbstverortung in einer instabilen Welt - getragen von Beste’s charakteristischem, improvisationsnahem Klavierspiel und feinfühliger Produktion. Mitwirkende wie Autor Max Porter (Grief is the Thing with Feathers), Cellistin Kate Ellis und die in Brooklyn lebende Künstlerin aden verleihen dem Album zusätzliche Tiefe.

Ein durchkomponiertes, atmosphärisches Werk mit klarer Handschrift - für Fans von Bon Iver, James Blake, Nils Frahm oder Moses Sumney.

Corrosiv, the sophomore album from Orchestroll, reveals the duo at their most mature and vulnerable. Originally conceived as a reflection on hybridity and bastardization, the album deploys New Age and ambient compositional tropes as a launchpad, exposing their trite sanctity to the realities of corrosion. Having come of age in the 1970s and 1980s, the New Age movement perdures today as a domain of contradictions; its promise of transcendence riddled with the very commercialized dogma from which its adherents claim to flee. Healing modalities such as reiki, crystal therapy, and sound baths are simultaneously pathways to solace and sites of exploitation; their sonic counterparts—ethereal synth pads, shimmering textures, celestial drones—claim to facilitate meditation and enlightenment while devolving into empty signifiers of vitality. With Corrosiv, Orchestroll displays neither reverence nor disdain toward New Age: they exhume it instead, revealing the saccharine effervescence and commodified murk undergirding its aesthetics. The result is intoxicating—disquieting.

Born from a two-week residency at EMS Studios and expanded through a performance at MUTEK Montreal’s 25th anniversary, Corrosiv has since outgrown its original conceptual nucleus, taking on a broader scope. Its inquiry into New Age ideology’s voided rhetoric and aesthetic mysticism now informs a broader interrogation of cultural mediocrity, anti-authoritarianism, gatekeeping, music industry toxicity, and the crumbling edifice of late capitalism and techno-feudalism—all the mechanisms by which meaning is stripped from ceremony, and once-potent forms of knowledge are subsumed into the machinery of economic extraction, severed from their original essence, and transformed into hollow simulacra. Corrosiv distills these themes through a loose narrative: a soul, fixated on wellness as dictated by cosmetic economism, becomes ensnared in an endless afterlife, unable to transcend and shed its dilapidated consciousness.

Framed as an act of audio dissolution, the album thus engages in an alchemical process, whereby complex waveshaping, morphing synthesis, and distortion enact a ritual of fragmentation. There is also friction: between the rigid, mechanical imposition of systematized order and the untamed, chaotic force of organic metamorphosis. Here corrosion and confinement are not solely conceptual motifs; they are enacted in real time, sculpting the album’s terrain. Scraping, tarnishing, degradation—the languid wear of form and substance—become instruments in their own right: buffing as abrasion, entrapment as transformation, corrosion as a means of reconfiguration. The ‘protagonist,’ if there must be one, is the listener, caught within the throes of structural determinism and the potential for emancipation, unable to pass into something greater as the specters of collapsed futures accumulate in the margins.

Corrosiv extends its reach through collaborations with familiar voices: Heith (PAN), VISIO (Haunter), Femminielli (Drowned by Locals), Habib Bardi (Interzone), and Jiyoung Wi (Enmossed, Psychic Liberation, Doyenne) each leave their imprint on its sprawling landscape. At 1h16m, it is a procession, dense with earworms that burrow into the listener’s unconscious.

Misshapen, broken-down metals leach copper into blood, acid reflux burning through the core. Psyche disaggregates into cosmic turmoil, drifting between planes—tongue on rustline, gullet laced with solvent hymns, molars unlatching, bitcrushed to marrowspill. A spasm of brine, ferrous scripture, venomtext blooming in leaden rivulets, cartilage smoldering in phosphor decomposition, synapses drowning in a quicksilver choir. Crest of bile, churning ore, breath clotting into arsenic mist, vein-thread cinched, a corrosive gospel, limb by limb, oxidized to silence.

Ultimately, as the music exhales its final breath, its residue refuses to dissipate—and stillness alone remains. There are no conclusions here—no resolution, no collapse—only the slow drift outward of a vessel unmoored, lost in the sea of symbolic souring. Corrosiv sings the song of a world barren of prophecy, littered with aesthetic detritus. Whether this magic has been transfigured or simply worn away is unclear: the last breath dissipates, but the oxidation does not stop. The silence, too, will decay.

Conceptualized, composed, performed, recorded, mixed, engineered and produced by Jesse Osborne-Lanthier, and Asaël Richard-Robitaille in 2023 and 2024 at Elektron Musik Studion (EMS) - Stockholm, Sweden and Landsc8pe Studio - Montréal, QC, Canada.
Artwork by Jesse Osborne-Lanthier.
Mastered by Stephan Mathieu @ Schwebung Mastering.

Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987 is the first ever archival release from Repetition Repetition, the “two-man electric minimalist band” consisting of Ruben Garcia and Steve Caton hailing from Los Angeles in the mid 1980’s. Repetition Repetition’s unique blend of cosmic art-rock minimalism / maximalism was self-released across a series of cassettes produced in micro editions, and while garnering the attention and participation of luminaries such as Harold Budd, remained under the radar during the band’s existence. Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987 collects select material from across the duo’s catalog.

It was over a plate of Mexican breakfast food when Ruben Garcia and Steve Caton first told Harold Budd of Repetition Repetition and the worlds they intended to explore by respective way of synthesizers and guitars --- a rendezvous instigated by the former’s fan mail to the legendary composer. If the upstarts entered this restaurant from a one-way street of admiration, they would leave with not only Budd’s interest but, sometime later, a blessing in the wake of many hours shared by the three in Garcia’s Los Angeles home recording studio: “This is going to be difficult, but God help them, I think they’re great,” noted Budd in a USC lecture in 1985. Now several degrees removed from prior rock music aspirations, the real game was afoot.

Between 1984 and 1988, Repetition Repetition operated within something akin to the underground of the experimental underground, although even that designation perhaps overstates the case. The duo’s sparse output consisted of three cassettes self-released on Garcia’s Third Stone Music label: Repetition Repetition (1985), Lakeland (1987), and The Machinist (1987). Their songs would also be included during this period on Trance Port Tapes’ vital scene-scanning compilations assembled by A Produce. Live performances occurred with similar infrequency, but Garcia and Caton counted converts in quality over quantity, numbering among them the aforementioned Budd, a Chambers Brother, and, judging by a memorably drop-jawed reaction following a rare Repetition Repetition gig, Jackson Browne.

Likewise, critical support materialized in the form of KCRW deejays Brent Wilcox and Dean Suzuki, whose steady airplay positioned Repetition Repetition’s music amidst fearless company like Jon Hassell, Hiroshi Yoshimura, and Richard Horowitz. Yet, to hear fellow Trance Port featured players like Tom Recchion and Bruce Licher of Savage Republic tell it, Garcia and Caton moved as ghosts --- a notion more vexingly endorsed by the silence of record companies that failed to come knocking --- and therein lies an overarching truth to the work itself.

Journey to the heart of Repetition Repetition and one discovers a collective ear impossibly attuned to the hypnotic possibilities of stylistic convergence, the resulting music possessed of seamless multimodalities which beckon to a glimmering plane of the disembodied. Where Caton sought his artistic fixes at an intersection of popular genres, Garcia zoned in on the sonically spare, drawing from the same wellspring as the Enos and Rileys of his personal avant-garde pantheon, and in their coming together the two tapped into a deeper cosmic source. Synthetic walls of keyboard sound in forever states of reprise met waves of shimmering --- and at times even punishing --- guitar in reply, their soundscapes hovering convincingly between, as suggested in fittingly dualistic fashion in a press kit assembled by Garcia, such disparate sensations as bird flight in one song and oil drilling in the next.

But don’t call it a push-pull dynamic, as this was a creative partnership founded upon fluidity and organicism by way of, naturally, repetition. In contrast to, say, the Bressonian ideal of repetitive motion as a great stripping away, the concept in the hands of Garcia and Caton equated to ascendancy via continuous unfolding, a maximal route to minimalism. To be sure, their recording philosophy morphed over the course of the act’s short history, and what started as a process defined by consistent in-person interplay developed into a more isolated method formulated by Garcia, who eventually took to his own one-man bedroom-studio sessions in order to fully chart any and all potential ostinato-loaded paths which he could travel down, the Tascam-captured resonances subsequently provided to Caton as blueprints from which to take flight himself, adding layer upon layer of steel to the proceedings.

If the practice and execution changed, however, the evidence certainly didn’t rest in the results: The seamlessness remained, and, despite the brevity of their time together, so has Repetition Repetition. With this finely calibrated collection of songs in Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987, Freedom To Spend sees to it that the private worlds of Garcia and Caton can now be visited by all rather than just the count-‘em-on-both-hands lucky few whose musical endeavors or collector vocations carried them into this once-distant dimension.

Repetition Repetition’s Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987 will be released on Freedom To Spend in vinyl and digital editions on May 30, 2025. The collection includes extensive liner notes from Bill Perrine, and wil be offered alongside Over & Over, a supplemental collection of music available exclusively as a mail order cassette from Freedom To Spend and RVNG Intl.

Angelo Debarre's extraordinary guitar technique has long been the tree that hid the forest of his profound musicality and above all, his talent as a composer. Belonging to the family of Django Reinhardt's heirs, Debarre has become a legend among Gypsy Jazz fans, one of those rare musicians, who can enchant a room and make hearts beat in unison.

The New Dictionary of Jazz (Nouveau Dictionnaire du Jazz) describes Angelo Debarre as supersonic, and indeed, he is with mad virtuosity. His left hand moves up and down the fine neck of his gypsy guitar, with speed but always with musicality. But it would be an understatement to speak only of his dexterity; he has a marvellous ability to play with subtlety, and his improvisational possibilities seem endless; all done with great ease and apparent composure. Solos, counterpoint, he's everywhere.

A child from the gypsy community, Angelo started playing guitar with his family at the age of eight. In 1984, he formed the first "Angelo Jazz Quintet". In 1985, he became one of the pillars of the famous Parisian cabaret, "La Roue Fleurie" and participated in numerous tours and recordings, including the famous Gypsy Guitars, a reference album of the genre.

Very comfortable in several gypsy styles, Debarre can be found alongside fellow guitarist Petro Ivanovitch and singer and balalaika player Raya from the group Arbat. As a guest, DeBarre can be heard with the band Bratsch, in dialogue with the pianist Bojan Z, percussionist Xavier Desandre-Navarre, the violinist Florin Niculescu and other leading figures of the gypsy guitar.

Angelo Debarre: guitar
Serge Camps: guitar
Frank Anastasio: bass

Spectral Bounce’s fifth instalment comes courtesy of L.A.’s rave archivist and dancefloor operative Dreams, A.K.A. Jesse Pimenta. Throughout his decade-long career the California native has inspected, dissected and concocted all manner of dance musics, leaving his mark with drops on Apron Records, Pinkman, BANK NYC and his own imprint Dance Data. On SPEC05 — Dangerous When Wet — he hijacks the synapses with 4 accomplished productions, plotting a high BPM course through manifold styles using the raw aesthetic that characterises his output.

“Losing Control” is a frenetic dancefloor invitation, immediately locking into a pacing groove. Beneath wild hand drums, Dreams plays with an insistent 303 bassline alternating between rasping buzz and oily squelch, while stern vocals are layered on top of breaks that have been processed to a viscerally satisfying end.

Taking things from delirious dance circle to underwater biosphere, the EP’s eponymous track explores a submerged 1980s Miami. Weighty & enveloping, “Dangerous When Wet” is pure aquatic pop-n-lock — hydraulic electro for a drowned world. Ocean floor caustics are transmuted into auditory form: arpeggios bubble up; drones shimmer mystically; hi-hats hiss like air from an open valve. Amongst the sonar bleeps, a barrage of pummeling low-end is sure to give subwoofers a workout.

“XTC Messenger” delivers an infectious paranoid dispatch, astutely balancing the sensual with the deranged. A slow-mo dial tone unfolds languidly, running counter to nervously twitching high frequencies. Its punchy percussion is tuned for maximum dopamine release; the track’s abrupt vocal chops and mechanical kick-snare pulsation evoke the leather jackets and jagged edges of 1980s industrial discotheque.

“Pressure Points” closes the EP on a heady and mesmerising polymetric trip. The parting track is a lithe yet spacious number, propelled by a rattling break. Here Dreams follows from track 2, creating an immersive environment in which sounds tightly twist and twirl. Shifting oscillators call out like tiny creatures as the bass throbs and wriggles further into your brain, long after the needle hits the runout groove.

If this LP exists it is thanks to the vision, energies, work and perseverance of Thomas M. Lopez, aka Meatball Fulton. He is the president and one of the founding members of the ZBS Foundation (ZBS stands for Zero Bullshit), where the audio dramas written by Lopez himself were born. Dramatic programs with stories that blended noir, comedy and science-fiction genres such as Ruby The Galactic Gumshoe or Jack Flanders were produced to critic and public acclaim. It was in Ruby The Galactic Gumshoe that the Android Sisters, who would later have their own spin-off series, first appeared. The characters represent two robotic siblings that Tom Lopez created under big influence from Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, the Philip K. Dick novel that was taken to cinema by Ridley Scott in Blade Runner. The Androids were performed by actresses Ruth Maleczech and Valeria Wasilewski.



The big success of these “cosmic and comic” sci-fi series, as they are described in the ZBS Foundations website, led to the releasing of cassette tapes, CDs, USBs and podcasting of the stories. Along with these, several music albums were also released in different formats. One of them is Songs Of Electric Despair, the first of two released by the Android Sisters. The songs contained are written by Tom Lopez and his long time collaborator experimental musician Tim Clark.



The Android Sisters Songs Of Electronic Despair LP was originally released as a ZBS Foundation cassette and also as a vinyl LP on Vanguard in 1984. It featured 11 compositions (two bonus tracks not on the original LP have been added to the Wah Wah reissue) on which the experimental synthesizer music of Tim Clark finds a perfect counterpoint in the deliciously surrealistic, cosmic social satire of Tom Lopez’s texts, magically performed by the robotic, yet sensual voices of the Android Sisters as performed by Maleczech and Wasilewski. Clark composed and performed the backing tracks on the Synclavier II synthesizer.



The Wah Wah reissue comes with two bonus tracks not on the original 1984 LP, respects the beautiful original album artwork and enhances it with a 4 pages full colour insert with notes and lyrics of the songs.



BARBARELLA MEETS PHILLIP K. DICK!



RIYL : SYNTH POP CYBERPUNK with DEVO’s sense of humor, LOGIC SYSTEM, FRANK CHICKENS or even some 1990s things to come such as LIKE A TIM or ARPANET.

If this LP exists it is thanks to the vision, energies, work and perseverance of Thomas M. Lopez, aka Meatball Fulton. He is the president and one of the founding members of the ZBS Foundation (ZBS stands for Zero Bullshit), where the audio dramas written by Lopez himself were born. Dramatic programs with stories that blended noir, comedy and science-fiction genres such as Ruby The Galactic Gumshoe or Jack Flanders were produced to critic and public acclaim. It was in Ruby The Galactic Gumshoe that the Android Sisters, who would later have their own spin-off series, first appeared. The characters represent two robotic siblings that Tom Lopez created under big influence from Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, the Philip K. Dick novel that was taken to cinema by Ridley Scott in Blade Runner. The Androids were performed by actresses Ruth Maleczech and Valeria Wasilewski.



The big success of these “cosmic and comic” sci-fi series, as they are described in the ZBS Foundations website, led to the releasing of cassette tapes, CDs, USBs and podcasting of the stories. Along with these, several music albums were also released in different formats. One of them is Songs Of Electric Despair, the first of two released by the Android Sisters. The songs contained are written by Tom Lopez and his long time collaborator experimental musician Tim Clark.



The Android Sisters Songs Of Electronic Despair LP was originally released as a ZBS Foundation cassette and also as a vinyl LP on Vanguard in 1984. It featured 11 compositions (two bonus tracks not on the original LP have been added to the Wah Wah reissue) on which the experimental synthesizer music of Tim Clark finds a perfect counterpoint in the deliciously surrealistic, cosmic social satire of Tom Lopez’s texts, magically performed by the robotic, yet sensual voices of the Android Sisters as performed by Maleczech and Wasilewski. Clark composed and performed the backing tracks on the Synclavier II synthesizer.



The Wah Wah reissue comes with two bonus tracks not on the original 1984 LP, respects the beautiful original album artwork and enhances it with a 4 pages full colour insert with notes and lyrics of the songs.



BARBARELLA MEETS PHILLIP K. DICK!



RIYL : SYNTH POP CYBERPUNK with DEVO’s sense of humor, LOGIC SYSTEM, FRANK CHICKENS or even some 1990s things to come such as LIKE A TIM or ARPANET.