Search:unknown artist s

Tooflie's shadowy crate-diggers return for their sixth expedition, this time unearthingmelodic relics from the sands and stone of the SWANA region. The A-side opens with acharismatic locally-well-known Boris Timur from Azerbaijan, reshaping his half-crimechanson half folk music into a slinky, percussion-driven anthem that sways betweenmysticism and dancefloor intent. A2 dives deeper into the vaults: a cryptic cut built onearly hip-hop and electro intonations, stitched together from dusty Middle Easterngroove samples, looping like a mirage between past and future.
Turn to the B-side and the spotlight falls on a modern folk icon turned global cult heroOmar Souleyman. The first interpretation is a peak-time techno weapon, packed withfrenetic energy and built for ecstatic release. The closing track shifts gears in a slower,contemplative breakbeat journey that delves more deeply into the dabke tradition,stretching its spiraling melodies and communal pulse into a pre-dawn dreamstate.Once again, Tooflie fuses archival echoes and electronic invention into a spellbindingvinyl-only dispatch for dancers and diggers alike.

Two massive 80’s icons get the secret edit treatment from a mysterious but familiar hand.

Tested and proven on dancefloors across the globe, these weapons have been destroying clubs in the hands of those lucky enough to have them.

2025 Repress

The 'Unknown Artist' has emerged from the clubs of Antwerp with 'The Lizard King'. This house banger is a must-have to start the club season in 2025. Pure dancefloor heat folks! No digitals - vinyl only

2025 Repress

Get ready to step back into the golden era of rave with "Hardcore Will Never Die," a high-octane EP that pays homage to the raw energy and unrelenting spirit of old-school breakbeat. This release is a love letter to the 90s – a time when dusty warehouse floors trembled under pounding kicks, chopped-up amen breaks, and speaker-shattering basslines.

From the opening track, you're thrown headfirst into a sonic storm of gritty samples, rave stabs, and relentless momentum. Each tune is soaked in nostalgia yet finely tuned for today’s floors, bridging the gap between classic hardcore aesthetics and modern production weight.

This isn’t just a revival – it’s a reminder. The underground never died. The breakbeat never faded. Hardcore will never die.

Expect dancefloor damage. Expect hands in the air. Expect the return of the rave.



>>> comes in different marbled colored 12 “ Vinyl and ONLY on Vinyl <<<

Full Disco House bootleg.

An EP that’s killer from start to finish - no filler, just relentless energy. Spanning from hypnotic techno to slamming electro, with atmospheric and ethereal undertones throughout, these tracks echo the enigmatic nature of the artist. Created in the depths of the ether, they’re grounded and brought back to earth through hard hitting basslines, crisp percussion, and vocals laced with a slight northern English edge.

Limited (200), no repress, no digital.

Bomj Diego had one simple dream – to spend a lazy summer weekend at his friend’s dacha, kicking back in a plastic lawn chair, sipping on Ovip Lokos, and letting the world spin as slowly as the rusty ceiling fan in the old guest house.

One Friday, he finally got his chance. He loaded up a plastic bag with a few cans of Ovip Lokos, an ancient Bluetooth speaker, and a single flip-flop (he’d lost the other one in a heated game of dominoes the week before). But as soon as he got off the train at the dacha station, Diego realized he had no idea where the actual dacha was. No address, no signal, just the distant sound of a chainsaw and the smell of freshly cut grass.

Undeterred, he followed the smoke of a barbecue like a hungry wolf. After an hour of wandering, he stumbled into a random backyard where a group of old timers were playing cards around a makeshift table. “Ah, Diego! You made it!” one of them shouted, raising a can of Ovip Lokos. Diego had no idea who the guy was, but he immediately sat down, cracked open his own can, and joined the game.

Hours later, as the sun dipped behind the trees and the mosquitoes started their evening shift, Diego realized – this wasn’t his friend’s dacha. In fact, it wasn’t even the right village. But the old men insisted he stay for shashlik, and as the Ovip Lokos flowed, Diego figured, “Eh, close enough.”

He never did make it to the right dacha, but sometimes, it’s the wrong turn that makes the best story.