Buscar:until the end

Until The End (The Lost Album) features recordings made by Wil Malone throughout 1970, possibly intended as a follow-up to Wil Malone – Wil Malone, which was recorded in mid-1969 and mastered for release on Fontana Records on July 5, 1969.
Recently unearthed from the Morgan Blue Town tape vaults, these tracks offer a compelling mix of ’60s pop and bubblegum, diverging from the original album’s string-heavy, progressive-psych sound. All the material comprises either demos or finished masters, recorded over several months. With the exception of the brass parts — performed by session musicians — all instruments were played by Wil Malone himself.
It’s a shame the debut didn’t achieve greater commercial success, as it might have brought these follow-up recordings to light much earlier, back in the 1970s.

Until the End of Time is the seventh studio album, and third posthumous album by 2Pac. It follows his previous posthumous albums R U Still Down? (Remember Me) and Still I Rise. The album consists of material recorded while the rapper was on Death Row Records from 1995–1996. The album debuted at number one on the US Billboard 200 chart.

A majority of the music compositions were remixed from their original state. Highly anticipated, Until the End of Time was ultimately one of the best selling hip hop albums of 2001. There were only three times references to Death Row Records were not censored (“Until the End of Time” (both versions), “U Don’t Have 2 Worry”, and “All Out”). The core vocal tracks and some instrumentation was recorded during and after the All Eyez On Me and Makaveli: The Don Killuminati: The 7 Day Theory sessions.

This will be a 180 gram 4LP 20th anniversary reissue of the long out-of-print, 4x platinum, posthumous album.

Nova Gain Records returns with the purple side of disco life. Mr. Konfuze deliverers a funky nu-disco anthem with big beat-ish drums, soulful vocals and massive dancefloor bass. Colour up your dj bag musically and physically and get one of these limited 7 Inches!

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


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


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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Verdad Y Error (2026) resides in the tension between the thrashing of external noise and beating centred internal calm. Gibrana Cervantes is known for her work across experimental music and contemporary performance, a practice with focussed intensity and surging physicality, often pushing the limits of endurance, presence, and embodiment. A central axis of her performance practice is her ongoing collaboration with acclaimed choreographer Florentina Holzinger, including composing the music for SEA WORLD (2026), Florentina Holzinger’s critically acclaimed installation for the Austrian Pavilion at the Venice Biennale. Alongside this, she is a core member of the experimental ensemble Amor Muere (Mabe Fratti, Concepción Huerta, and Camille Mandoki). Cervantes maintains an active recording practice that directly informs her live output including her collaboration Memoria (2025), with Colombian Drone Mafia (Nyksan) for Ambie-Tón (Tratratrax),

Verdad y Error is a record of her artistic approach which expands her body and the violin’s horizon of possibility to near breaking point. Cervantes uses a register closely associated with Metal, yet buried deep in the alchemy of these pieces are motifs which hark back to her classical background. Across these pieces the violin is used as an instrument with a fragmented and shifting voice — blurred, repeated, and reshaped through distortion. “Many of these pieces come from images, memories, and sensations that have stayed with me for years. I'm interested in the blurring of what actually happened and what time transforms.” The recordings are built with layers of violin tones which oscillate between recognisable, processed, stretched and shifted, and lay embedded in a frequency stratum of volatile static and noise. “The violin on this album doesn't appear as a clean instrument. I process it, repeat it, distort it, and multiply it until it begins to feel more like memory than melody. Something blurry, shifting, difficult to grasp.” The origins of the album were born at a time when Cervantes was seeking inner calm amidst a relentless external noise, questioning the validity or possibility of memory and its radically changing perception in relation to experience. Subsequent reflection on this contemplative moment allowed her to develop a relational music which moves through memory, erosion, repetition, and emotional ambiguity. Creating a space that feels both intimate and unstable, mercurial with the patina of lived imperfection.

Akin to the unreliable narrator and linguistic instability, each piece functions as an emotional landscape suspended between clarity and confusion. An album which balances melody, brutality, fragility and noise
throughout its sprawling recordings and artwork, which operates as an analogue to the music. The visual world of the album developed in collaboration with Mauro Ventura was compiled across various media with a mix of handwritten texts, burned typography, metallic textures, and fragile physical materials. “I wanted the record to feel tactile and imperfect — something emotionally direct but physically worn.” says Cervantes. More than offering explanations, verdad y error exists as a conversation between memory and disappearance, noise and stillness, truth and error.

Often credited as the father of multi-media theatre, Alwin Nikolais (1910-1993) took complete creative control over his productions - including cutting-edge approaches to lighting and costume that transformed human bodies into shifting sculptural shapes, while also composing wildly innovative electro-acoustic and synth-based audio as accompaniment.

After initially experimenting with musique concrète and tape manipulation (as demonstrated on the 1959 LP Choreosonic Music of the New Dance Theatre of Alwin Nikolais) Nikolais became the first owner of Robert Moog's synthesizer at the Audio Engineering Society convention in New York in late 1964. Relying heavily on the Moog and later the Synclavier synth/sampler, these 21 tracks document Nikolais' highly-prescient compositions across the mid 1960s through to the late 1980s - existing not only as extensions of his other-worldly choreographic productions, but standalone pieces of foundational mid-century American electronic and experimental music.

"Born in Southington, Connecticut in 1910, Nikolais’s early years and early career were in acting, music and puppetry. It was not until the late 1930s that he began his work as dancer/choreographer in Hartford, Connecticut, where he was commissioned by the Avery Memorial Theatre, a part of the Wadsworth Atheneum, to create an evening-length work to the music of Ernst Krenek. Previously his work and study as a pianist-organist found him accompanying silent films. This sort of accompaniment required from the musician not only a playing skill but also a versatility in improvisation, matching movement to sound, and evoking mood to situation.

Nik was drawn initially to dance by his involvement with the percussion scores used by the illustrious early twentieth century German dancer Mary Wigman. In trying to learn more about percussion, he was lured into dance class and thus his career began. His development of music and dance occurred simultaneously. His introduction to the twelve-tone technique opened his mind to the expanding areas of atonal music, and his dealing with music as sound per se. In 1948, after being appointed director of the Henry Street Playhouse in New York, Nikolais formed the Playhouse Dance Company, later known as the Nikolais Dance Theater, and began his aesthetic orientation toward dance as a study of motion. By the 1950s, he had ceased creating literal dances and began his explorations and eventual milieu as an abstractionist.

Sound became an important part of his abstract theatre. For his first dances, which involved his new thinking of dance as both a visual and kinetic art, he used live percussion scores in which he directed his dancers to play instruments of all nature. There was a combination of children’s toy instruments as well as harsh and resonant automobile brake drums, and other pitched auto parts which he also used to accompany classes. Once he installed his own tape recording machines, he quickly used the limited range these instruments provided in a new way, slowing and increasing speed and reversing sound. He also made the sounds adhere to the choreographic structure (not the other way around), thereby giving the dance its independence from the musical phrasing. But the real need remained: the search for new sound. Nik made a sound library, recording noises and percussion and vocal sounds, which the French aptly called musique concrète. Needless to say, he became a master at splicing bits and pieces.

From 1956 to 1962 Nikolais composed eleven major scores for his theatre pieces using such techniques. In 1963, James Seawright, who at the time was assisting Nik in his productions and also working at the Columbia-Princeton Center for Electronic Music, recorded a sound bank for the production Imago (1963). With this material, Nikolais created his first synthesizer score. Imago won the Paris Grand Prix in 1968 and launched the Nikolais Dance Theatre towards its national and primarily international acclaim.

During the same period, Seawright came to Nik and told him of a young man who had invented and constructed a simplified synthesizer and insisted that Nik visit the electronic fair currently being held in New York. Nik did so and met Robert Moog. He was completely taken by the new machine and after making some suggestions to Moog, (which Moog made), Nik bought the inventor’s first machine with the aid of a Guggenheim Fellowship. Moog himself was astonished by what his machine could produce for Nik. This machine was later acquired by the Museum of Musical Instruments at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor as the first Moog synthesizer. The Synclavier was Nik’s next source of sound and since the mid-1970s remained the major instrument in the Nikolais soundroom.

Alwin Nikolais has been honored and awarded throughout the world. He has received the French Legion of Honor, the Kennedy Center Honors, National Medal of the Arts, two Guggenheim Fellowships, as well as Mellon, Ford, and Rockefeller grants. He has been a recipient of NEA grants since 1966, been awarded five honorary doctorates, all for his remarkable achievements in Dance Theater. His genius has influenced several generations of artists."
—Murray Louis

Yesca is back on Shall Not Fade with ‘Paint on Walls’ 12” EP.

2024’s Yesca EP on SNF - “Mood Loops” - set a high bar, so when we say this record is something special you should take note. Of course if you already know Yesca’s music or have had the pleasure of a Yesca DJ set then you will have already this queued up.

Sweet Spot: Ben Sims, Deetron, Oliver Ho, Vince Watson, Grain (Artwork’s Techno alias). Planet-E, Primate Recordings, Paul Mac & Stimulus Recordings found the sweet spot.

According to the OED the first use of the phrase “Sweet Spot” was in 1976 in reference to tennis rackets and golf swings. It’s where everything hits just right. And that’s what this EP does, hits just right. What strikes me is how descriptive the phrase ‘Sweet Spot’ is. Given enough swings and some luck we all know what it feels like to hit the sweet spot in some regard. Finding the sweet spot regularly though takes time and skill. But being able to hit the sweet spot by design every time, well that’s something different. That’s what makes the greats great.

For us at SNF there’s a consensus that in the lineage of electronic music there have been many moments where artists & labels converged on a sweet spot. One such sweet spot for us is in Techno
around 2003 when at the tail end of Hardgroove tempos began to slow and a groovier more refined tech house infused goodness appeared in the racks from a group of killer techno labels & artists (some mentioned above) that moment before the fuller emergence of the 2nd wave of Tech House in the mid 00’s.

That sound, while often emulated, never quite hit the same for us at least – until Yesca came along. His music has everything that we love about that sweet spot. Raw driving groove, rolling basslines and hip shaking percussion. What’s different on ‘Paint on Walls’ is that Yesca stepped on - he had already found the sweet spot on 2024’s Mood Loop EP - now his sound (or swing) is natural. Repeatable, refined and seemingly effortless. To revisit the tennis and golf analogy, this is the start of a Grand Slam run from an artist ready to etch their name in dance music history. Tiger..... Serena......Yesca.

Run the Tracks:
‘How I Do It (They Wonder)’ - A masterclass in less is more, and a serious DJ tool. Full of groove - slow it down and it will light the touchpaper in a house set - speed it up and you’ve got techno weaponry. Forget gatekeeping, this will make you feel like you just found a 2004 techno white label from the likes of Grain or Ben Sims.

‘I Desire’ - House music that I reckon Deetron would be proud of... Blissed out machine funk, whispered vocals, slick jazzy chords and dubbed out techno stabs are all grounded by Yesca’s impeccable, loopy drum programming. The best tunes always end too soon.

‘Domination’ - The ever rising bass, err, dominates this track and this track will dominate on many a dancefloor, but Yesca's knack for dubbed out swinging synth lines has to get a shout out here too. He turns what would be melodic elements into what feels like part of the percussion. Double Threat. Hands Up and Heads Down business.

‘Paint on Walls’ - It would be a tough call to say Yesca’s saved the best til last with the EP’s eponymous track given what’s come before, but Paint On Walls works all the highlights from the rest of the EP into a latin techno/house infused anthem. Skittering percussion, a hint of Detroit goodness and a deep deep rolling bassline and THAT vocal. In every way hopeful yet resistant, and that is what techno is all about.

Cologne based DJ and producer Barnt has been bottling his own weather system since 2010: captivating techno where melodies flirt, rhythms evaporate, and structure is something to tease rather than obey. An attitude, that pierces the average definition of techno. With an album and endless EP’s, he turned club orthodoxy inside out. Barnt has sent his tracks out via labels like Cómeme, Mule Musiq, Hinge Finger, Hivern Discs, Kompakt, or Magazine from Cologne, the enterprise he co-runs with a bunch of friends.

After his 2014 debut album on Magazine, that came out as catalogue number 13, Barnt is back with number 25, a new album, titled “After completing the Hex”. Eleven tracks, each grinding lowkey skewed. This is techno for dramatic entrances. Dance music for confusion. Freely played chords oscillate with intention. Alluring melodies glide across stoic beats. Peaktime vibes stripped to the bone. An album that provides Barnt’s most complete release until today, displaying his unique sound world effortless assembled. Mastered by longtime accomplice, producer Matt Karmil, it features playful, seemingly unintentional, meandering club spirits. There are melodies made from 100 notes and hooklines fashioned from just one. In-between calmer electric enchanters, minimal, free-spirted, tempting. His slinky madness occasionally presents sublimely embedded environmental sounds or oral samples, taken from sources like Torn Hawk’s “Trustfall” TTT cassette album. There is a touch of sadness, that veils the recordings at times, always defied by lightness and optimism. A record made with true inspiration, that overrides all fears. Drawn frankly from emotions, bringing the ultimate flow state, that unlocks a new techno gate.

Circling a mountain until disappearing into the dance: this is the starting point of 10LEC6's new album.

Several years after Bone Bame, released on Ed Banger, 10LEC6 returns with an album that is both digital and organic, conceived as a euphoric journey where language is manipulated, repeated, stretched like a sentence that spins on itself until it becomes rhythm.

The title, Ako Akas, is the name of a peak in southern Cameroon, whose legend tells of those who attempt to circle it disappearing in an endless dance. A perfect image for this immersive, fluid music where each loop propels the next.

Melissa Weikart and her piano have proceeded through life in step, from her early classical


training to the experimental practice that defines her work today, a blending of sounds and forms that has never been so clear—and so fully realized—as on her new album, Contact. Across twelve shifting and evocative tracks that examine the connective tissue binding us to ourselves and others, the Franco-American musician’s voice and piano navigate personal and emotional terrain with clarity and nuance, forging a rich dialogue between artist and instrument, artist and self, and artist and listener.


Winner of the 2022 Nancy Jazz Pulsations emerging artist award and the instrumentalist prize at the 2023 La Défense National Jazz Competition, Weikart has released two EPs and an album as a solo artist, and one EP and an album—Surprise and Secret—with her electronic duo Beatrice Melissa. A student of jazz and ’70s folk-pop, and a keen lover of improvisation since her time at the New England Conservatory in Boston, Weikart has always conjured the confessional candor of the singer- songwriter in her music, even as she dispenses her lyrics across rich, shifting, dreamlike tableaux.


On Contact, written and arranged entirely by Weikart (aside from “New angles”), she pushes her sound further than ever before. The album is animated by a pressing need for connection, observing what brings us together and what drives us apart, and the life-saving revelations that emerge along the way. The album’s opener, “Crash,” is a dreamy telephone-hour ode, a message in a bottle, to connections new and old. On the wistful “Mesurer le vent,” Weikart conjures Debussy or Ravel, layering contrasting sounds like an Impressionist painting. The title track begins as a showcase of Weikart’s frank lyricism, a splice-reel of missed connections and wasted time, then glides into a hazy, euphoric galaxy of pleas, circling around her thesis—“I wanted to make contact”—that ushers us into “The Intersection,” a song that recalls her the beginning of her career, when it was just Weikart and her keys. “Appétit.e” is built around a sample of her down-the-hall neighbor’s drumming—another subtle, affecting gesture toward proximity and connection—while pulsating synths reminiscent of Air lend the track an unsteady atmosphere. On the Carpenters-inspired “Expectations,” Weikart muses on the relationship patterns, universal and specific, that have always been a hallmark of her songwriting.

The psychedelic “L’amour de construit” is a slow-motion fall down the rabbit hole, as Weikart
considers the way her own emotions are captured and commodified by the confining ways we think about love. The interlude—“L’amour pt. 2”—finds her near the end of that trip, shouting into the void as a last-ditch effort to rescue herself from the fall. The drums near the end of the interlude warn us that there may be no cushion for, until she is saved, again, by the power of revelation, on the confident, resilient “Not Right”—on which a show-stopping, frenetic conversation between singer and piano is gracefully interrupted by a rush of transcendent strings, lifting her back up.

On solid ground anew, “New angles,” featuring Manu Delta, creates a percussion-less groove that relies on experimental synth sounds. The 11-o’clock stunner “Catching up”—composed in a church—meets the singer in a state of ecstatic confession, bringing her to the formative memory that propels “Bicycle,” the album’s closer. Younger, more wide-eyed, she reflects on her move from Boston to Strasbourg, those early days, when Weikart had no other companion than that loyal hunk of scrap metal that took her to the shores of her own soul. She seems to suggest, on “Bicycle,” that a backward-glance is not always troublesome, not always anxiety-producing, but can be grounding: a reminder of where we come from, so that we can keep moving forward.

No Home is the new album by Lane Hartley, releasing October 23rd 2026 on Royal Oakie Records. Produced in collaboration with David Hartley of The War On Drugs & Adam McDaniel (Animal Collective, Angel Olsen, Geologist), the album was recorded at Drop of Sun Studios in Asheville and features contributions from North Carolina’s tight knit music community–including Mary Lattimore, Seth Kaufman of Floating Action & Dream Sitch, David Hartley, Jack Victor Johnson, and more.

After recording his debut album Naming Horses, Lane left Los Angeles and returned home to the Carolinas, eventually landing in Asheville. It wasn’t too long until the songs started flowing and Lane found himself reaching out to Adam McDaniel at Drop of Sun Studios–a vaunted space that’s been at the heart of indie-rock the past few years, bringing to life recent albums from MJ Lenderman, Wednesday, Fust, and more. McDaniel introduced Lane to David Hartley, and what originally started with discussions to record one song quickly turned into a plan to track a whole album live with a six piece band. Once in the studio, co-producer McDaniel encouraged the group to lean on intuition–“All of the players on this record really brought it to life in such a cosmic way. They instilled so much childlike wonder and fun into the making of the album. It inspired me to keep going” says Lane.


Lyrically the album is a collection of vignettes about people who’ve become alienated from their deepest desires of connection, belonging, intimacy, and autonomy–inspired both by Lane’s own life and the lives of people he’s loved. The unique character of the album emerged when Lane made the decision to pair the dark lyrical content with bright & lush arrangements, inspired by Gene Clark’s No Other, Neil Young’s After the Gold Rush, and Amen Dunes’ Love. In Lane’s words, “The content of the songs got way darker, and my reaction was to make the songs catchier, and to lean harder into the music that influenced me. I wanted each song to feel like a room in a haunted house, with a beautiful garden growing outside”.

Album opener “I Am Not Ashamed” was inspired by the anti-memoir of actress Barbara Peyton, a 1950’s Hollywood starlet who met an untimely end; “It’s about knowing that whatever you’ve done to survive, you still deserve love” says Lane. “Mother” pairs lyrics about ancestral trauma with the sunshine-pop influence of Colin Blunstone, featuring backing vocals from Lane’s sister Barrett Hartley. “It's about coming to terms with the fact that the people meant to protect us are dealing with their own trauma…”

Meanwhile, “All Of This Is Yours” and “Tone Poem” form the spiritual center of the album, an attempt to transmute anger & pain to bittersweet acceptance in the wake of a breakup. “I feel like on the surface this is essentially a breakup album, a lot of these songs are about mourning the end of a relationship and reflecting on what went down. I was falling in love and getting my heart broken, then waking up and driving across the country and doing it all over again.” “Love Is Not A Song” was inspired by Margo Guryan’s Love Songs, pairing bright piano with playful lyrics about an old man who’s been beaten down by life but still believes his greatest love is yet to come. Last but not least, title track “No Home” sums up the album’s key theme of alienation, “It all goes back to this feeling of wanting to belong to someone or somewhere, wanting to belong in your own body.”

The title of the fourth full‑length by A SECRET REVEALED already serves as a dark omen: "The Ruin I Summoned Forth" sounds powerful, oppressive, and inescapable. And that very weight permeates all eight songs of the album. The band from Würzburg crafts a sonic landscape defined by immense emotional force, urgent intensity, and a density that feels almost impossible to contain. Their wall of sound is never an end in itself, but the foundation of an existential expression that hits immediately and resonates long after. Stylistically, the quintet moves within the tension field of post‑metal - a sound that doesn’t deny its core roots, yet highlights more clearly than ever their affinity for black metal, melodic death metal, and modern, forward‑driving heaviness. Time and again, fragile, searching passages open up, giving the massive sound room to breathe, occasionally interwoven with subtle, almost folkloric accents. Fittingly, the opener 'Disheartened' sets an early exclamation mark: with Nikita Kamprad of Der Weg einer Freiheit as guest vocalist, the track gains additional depth and sharpness. "The Ruin I Summoned Forth" marks the band’s third release on LIFEFORCE RECORDS, following "Sacrifices" (2019) and "When The Day Yearns For Light" (2021). Their debut "The Bleakness" was released in 2015 via Bastardized Records. Across all four records, a clear narrative thread emerges: A SECRET REVEALED consistently strive to craft strong thematic arcs and a massive, uncompromising sound that grips listeners from the very beginning and leaves a lasting impact. Once again, the band presents a cohesive work in which individual elements rise into an overwhelming whole, until, in the end, the inevitable unfolds: "The Ruin I Summoned Forth".

DJ Support: Harvey, Balearic Mike, K Andrews, Apiento, Joe Morris, Idjuts, Piers Harrision, Flo Dill, James Holroyd, Andy Wilson, Kenneth Bager, Phil Mison, Colleen Murphy.

Following the success of the Lovehandles ‘Reworks’ EP, Oswego Music returns with a second volume of reinterpretations via the mysterious ‘Love from the Archipelago’ the alter ego of a renowned European digger, dj and producer.

First up here ‘Endless Ocean’ sees our island hopping hero reimagining an underrated antipodean 80’s track. Its pulsing synths and wistful vocal working as equally on a dancefloor as at the after party, or indeed the morning after the night before.

Track Two on side A ‘Carica’ takes us to South America recalling to some extent the west coast fusion of mid eighties artists like Pat Metheny. Brilliant percussion, vocals and synths combining into a heady, hazy workout- permed hair and tiny shorts optional.

First on the flip ‘En Route’ continues our journey (via the local library) with a gritty, synth heavy piece of post disco experimentalism extended here for your listening pleasure

Lastly, ‘A Grain of Sand’ reinterprets a folky aor number- long overdue in making it to vinyl- remaining (until now) a favourite digital secret weapon for the more ‘horizontally inclined’ dj.

Rounding out the EP, 1900-Isla provides a brief meditation on what it is to be free. A beautiful island in the middle of nowhere, with friends, as the sun sets…

Blume presents two pieces composed in 1970 by the American pianist and composer David Tudor (1926-1996), one of electronic music's most important pioneers, for the Pepsi-Cola Pavilion, a unique artist-designed and programmed space for Expo '70 in Osaka, Japan, created by Experiments in Art and Technology (E.A.T.). Pepsibird and Anima Pepsi deploy electronic technology as a means to experience sound in ways that are anything but matter of fact, rendering liberated environments within and through which one might democratically express and commune. Viewed through the lens of what was, is, and might have been, they offer the tools for time travel: an unmediated encounter with radical, optimistic ideas that gave way to the complex cultural landscape of our time.

Initially trained on organ and then piano, Tudor emerged as a leading figure within New York's musical vanguard after his groundbreaking 1950 performance of Stefan Wolpe's Battle Piece and the American premiere of Pierre Boulez's Second Sonata. Within less than a year he had joined the Merce Cunningham Dance Company as its accompanist, a role he kept until his death, and began one of his most lasting creative relationships with John Cage, who would state that his entire output between 1951 and the end of the 1960s was written with Tudor in mind. Christian Wolff, Earle Brown, Morton Feldman, Sylvano Bussotti, Mauricio Kagel, and Karlheinz Stockhausen all wrote works for him during the 1950s and '60s. Through indeterminacy and chance-based methods, Tudor was noted for radically intervening with the works he played, often making them entirely his own, and it was this same singularity of vision that led him to gradually abandon the piano in favor of electronic process, through which he began working as a composer in his own right.

His engagement with electronics dates to the early 1950s and Cage's Project for Music for Magnetic Tape. By the following decade the pair had moved to live electronics, with Tudor rendering works like Cartridge Music and Variations II through contact microphones and complex systems of feedback and amplification. Before modular synthesizers existed, he designed and built his own electronics, often with engineers from Bell Laboratories, producing dozens of unique instruments and processing tools that helped lay the groundwork for the technological needs embraced by most electronic musicians ever since. A clear marker of his emergence as a composer came in 1966 with 9 Evenings: Theatre and Engineering, where he premiered Bandoneon! (a combine), turning the cavernous performance space into a feedback instrument and a total environment. The event led directly to the founding of E.A.T. the following year by the engineers Billy Klüver and Fred Waldhauer, alongside Robert Rauschenberg and Robert Whitman.

Among the most ambitious of E.A.T.'s projects was the Pepsi-Cola Pavilion, for which Tudor composed four pieces between March and April 1970: Pepsibird, Anima Pepsi, Pepscillator, and Microphone. Together with Forrest "Frosty" Myers, Robert Whitman, the sculptor and filmmaker Robert Breer, and the architect John Pearce, he was tasked with the design and function of the building: a 120-foot diameter steel and polyvinyl dome, shrouded in mist and fog and lit in the evenings by a square of intense blue-white xenon light. Tudor worked with Gordon Mumma and Fred Waldhauer on a unique sound system capable of processing and variable distribution through 37 speakers, controlled both by automated means and by the performer, and with Lowell Cross on a sound-activated laser deflection system inside the pavilion's mirrored performance hall.

Both pieces are an advanced form of musique concrète: libraries of tape recordings, live mixed and processed through the pavilion's sound console and distributed through 8 channels of stationary and rotating patterns designated by Tudor's instructions (small circle, great circle, large rhomboid, spiral, small triangles, small ovals). Pepsibird is focused upon a physical interiority, its source tapes being recordings of the brain wave activity of humans and animals: cat's eye, nerve firing, bats, EKG, alpha waves, a modified nightjar. Recorded in situ in 1970 and mixed down to stereo, it retains a striking sense of the space and ambience that Tudor achieved in performance. For more than eighteen minutes he merges subtle textures and pulses, at times resembling birdsong, within a blanket of vast, resonant ambience of subaquatic density, foreshadowing the relationship to the natural world of later works like Rainforest IV (1973).

Anima Pepsi is centered on the exterior: field recordings that Tudor made of animal and insect sounds (mosquitoes in a jar, a fly on flypaper, a wasp chewing, a beetle walking) and a mix of human and animal sounds that he called the "funny tape". Where Pepsibird deploys interior sounds in ways that allude to the natural world, Anima Pepsi pushes the sounds of nature and humanity toward the otherworldly through the clear presence of electronic sounds and processing, moulding detailed, pointillistic patterns of abstract sonority into gauzy blankets of ambience and space.

The collaboration did not last: less than a month after the opening, Pepsi withdrew its support, fired E.A.T., and disregarded Tudor's tapes, which according to accounts had to be smuggled out by staff, playing its own soundtrack in the pavilion for the rest of the Expo. Heard today, Pepsibird and Anima Pepsi anticipate many territories of later electroacoustic practice, from field recording to live processing, while the terms on which they were made, radically unpredictable, indeterminate, and experimental to the core, reconfigure what we've come to expect from electronic process, making one wonder if the past was ahead. Issued by Blume in a highly limited vinyl edition of 300 copies on red vinyl, with a 20-page LP-size booklet containing You Nakai's essay and newly commissioned liner notes by Bradford Bailey.

By the time Michael Nau completed Popfly, the songs felt less like compositions than companions. Arriving in fragments, notebook lines, and fleeting observations, these pieces kept company for years until taking their final form. The result is one of Nau's most openhearted, expansive records, both homespun and otherworldly at once. Radiant folk melodies, tape-warped textures, and flashes of everyday wonder coexist in perfect balance on Popfly. Nau has never been a songwriter who forces songs into existence. Instead, he follows them, trusting intuition over agenda and allowing songs to gradually reveal themselves. Writing and recording often blur together, with melodies evolving before lyrics are finished and stray recordings forming the basis for new songs. Popfly showcases these creative detours: thoughtful folk songs, sonic experiments, and accidental beauty transformed into fully realized compositions. Many songs began at home, growing in meaning. Since he entered the Vermont studio, Little Jamaica, with longtime friend and collaborator Benny Yurco, many of them had already lived several lives. "Studio recording feels like covering my own songs," Nau says. This idea flows throughout: performances are lived-in, feeling effortless, as if assembling itself. The title track carries a flicker of wonder in its simple observations. "New Slack" moves with the loose confidence of a song content to follow its own path. On "Lost Station Hideaway," soft static and fading signals become something strangely comforting, as if the song itself is being broadcast from somewhere just beyond reach. Family and friendship are deeply woven throughout the record. Nau's children contribute vocals, bringing warmth and spontaneity to the album's communal spirit, with longtime collaborator and wife Whitney McGraw lending her serene voice. The harmonies that drift from them extend the album's central impulse of people gathering to make something beautiful. Across Popfly, loose-limbed folk songs mingle with homespun psych-pop, porchside country-folk, dreamlike atmospherics, and quietly profound observations. The record moves with the ease of conversation among old friends, finding beauty in tiny revelations, strange coincidences, and everyday mysteries. The record is full of transmissions from different moments in Nau's life, stitched together by instinct, affection, and time. Taken together, they form a portrait of a life spent paying close attention to the world and its small miracles.

Phenomena begins with two artistic voices that seem to speak different languages. Barcelona-based producer R-010 (Lucas Rojo) approaches composition through rhythm, space and electronic transformation; Madrid-born vocalist and multidisciplinary artist Venerandi through texture, breath and the expressive possibilities of the human voice. By the time the album reaches its final moments, that distinction has quietly disappeared.

Rather than functioning as a meeting point between two individual practices, Phenomena gradually
becomes a third language—one that belongs to neither artist alone. Voice no longer sits above the music
but moves inside it, dissolving into layers of synthesis, percussion and guitar until performance itself
becomes another malleable sound source. Likewise, electronic production never behaves as a fixed
environment; it constantly adapts, absorbs and responds, allowing acoustic gestures and digital
manipulation to reshape one another in real time.

This continuous transformation defines the record more than any particular genre ever could. Echoes of trip hop, bass music, psychedelia and experimental electronics drift across its surface, yet they are never
presented as stylistic markers. Instead, they appear as temporary states within an ecosystem that remains
in constant motion, where dense rhythmic passages collapse into suspended atmospheres and moments
of stillness carry as much weight as those driven by pulse.

The presence of Matteo Caro (guitar and percussion), Pablo Gorostiaga (guitar) and Alessio Rodolico
(percussion) further expands this dialogue. Their contributions are not decorative additions but structural
ones, gradually dissolving the distinction between composition, improvisation and production. Instruments
emerge, mutate and disappear inside the same sonic fabric, making it increasingly difficult to distinguish
what was performed from what was transformed.

With Phenomena, Lapsus Records presents a work that feels less interested in crossing genres than in
questioning the borders between artistic identities themselves. The album never asks the listener to decide
where the human ends and the machine begins. Instead, it quietly suggests that, after enough careful
listening, the question itself may no longer matter.

"After a couple of years shaping her sound in the studio, Budino lands the "Signal EP", a record that grew out of the desire to make music for her own sets. Citing the journey she aims to create in the club as a key inspiration, she certainly put in the mileage, with a booking schedule tirelessly spanning all points of the compass. Although this is her first label-released original record, it's no novice effort: ALT027 shows a confident artist, fully in control, with a distinct vision and the technical expertise to bring it to life. On opener "Stay More", a trippy trance rendition, the sturdy kick and distorted sines leave ample room for mid-bass acid lines to roam freely. In its company, a myriad of risers, gated white noises and delayed fills appear - signifiers within the artist's palette, as will become apparent. "Wireless" features similar crafty sub movement, but this time the drums are infused with conga patterns and other exotic slices of battery. Because of the zest these rhythms bring, the track can keep building for several minutes until a synthesised lead emerges. When that finally happens, the affair really takes off. On the other side, "Alpha 7" rides the call-and-response dynamics between different formant and deep-vibrating leads, its shimmering arpeggios and atmospheric pads adding colour. Closer "1031" provides an organic touch with its live guitar bass pulse and enigmatic, eerie vocals. Amidst ever-evolving micro-frills, a sturdy square lead thrusts it forward. The groove, again, is endlessly seductive. This characterizes Budino's skilled approach: it's often so hypnotic it feels unclear whether the themes materialise from the surrounding, seemingly fluid compositions - or dissolve into them. In any case, these are multi-dimensional cuts you will love getting lost in on a nearby dancefloor."

ATA00BS will be released in a Number Stamped Edition, with Full Cover Art made by Pepe and will be Sealed / Shrinkwrapped.

'Keep it simple' 103636;"Reissue- Tracklist A1. Unknown A2. Pain Is Full B1. Damaged Memory B2. Damaged Memory ( Iori Remix ) Shortinfo: Roberto Bosco has selected Kiny's music to better prepare his first 12, consisting of four tracks, named 'Damaged Memory'.The track Unknown (A1) leads off the dance of the release on Last Drop Records imprint. It's a proper exploration in an unknown sonic territory to most of the people, and also a difficult element to make out for those who are novice to the visonary component in the musical poetic of Kiny. The track starts with rounds of recurring sirens, almost deafening, framed by dark and ghostly noises. Something not easily identifiable, ambiguous and unknown, as the title itself says, is perceptible in its sound. All this helps to shape a bad presage that fades away into the mystery. On the same side we find Pain Is Full (A2) that, according to the producer, was born in a moment of pain which can be overcome only by fighting. In fact, the track is characterized by a more combative and insistent tone, made up by the sound of snare and tom entering since the start and determining an atmosphere of contrast able to shake the listener until the end. Shouts of encouragement suggest an initiation rite in which there is struggle for survival. The titletrack, Damaged Memory (B1) has more quiet register with less ghostly vocals, perceived at times, unlike the previous tracks. The sounds have a vanished effect, such as when you create a halo on a white sheet with the dust of a pencil just sharpened. You will hear a sort of democracy among the sounds held together by the voice, a metaphor of a damaged memory, as the title itself recite, that always makes the same process till the end: it commences by recalling but then forgets. Last, is the version of the producer Iori, Damaged Memory (B2), on the same side.

byt’ continues its eclectic journey with the third release in its catalogue. This chapter sees the return of Telva, shifting into a new frequency with a story born between 11.11 and a full Taurus moon back in 2024 in Berlin. The composition recorded in a single take, is articulated through a dreamy, electronic, minimal house, and vocal infusion. Left as romantic and unrestrained as the artist’s reverie, it is preserved in its raw form to protect its intimacy.

“Every record I make is a guide towards a better understanding of all that I can be. 11:11 is a fragment of a special spark I experienced, which peeled back another layer of myself enriched by the lessons along the way, until finally holding it in my hands today. What started as an epiphany on Heideglühen’s dance-floor unfolded into a kiss of destiny, a fleeting delirious love affair, and a quest of passion that hugged my memory, compelling me to revisit my early days. An endeavor of surrender, no matter how unknown, unconventional or uncertain it all may feel. To finally have the courage to let it be messy, raw and true, so that I stand naked once again, while daring to honor the absence of order as part of the magic and mystery of life.” - Telva

33rpm Lacquer-cuts: Kevin Gray
200g Double Ultimate Record®
Limited Edition: 4000 copies
Box and Tip-on Gatefold printed in Italy
Pressed by Simon Garcia, Marciac, France

When the concert started that 4 November 1966 at the famous Berliner Jazztage, four musicians took the stage. Close-knit to the point of telepathy, they were about to give one of their last concerts. The mythical partnership of Stan Getz on saxophone and Gary Burton on the vibraphone was coming to an end, but were they even aware that this was one of their last acts? Accompanying them was an exceptional rhythm section with Chuck Israels on bass and the great Roy Haynes on drums.

With the first notes of “On Green Dolphin Street” the audience was won over by the rapport of empathy within the quartet. The programme was beautifully compiled to alternate flamboyant standards conducive to the most exuberant solos (“The Blues Walk”), heady ballads where Getz demonstrated his splendid sound and lyrical singing (“The Shadow of Your Smile” and “Once Upon a Summertime”), and compositions by Gary Burton where the vibraphonist displayed his subtle harmonic universe (“The Singing Song” and “Edelweiss”).

Suddenly, a high-spirited version of “O Grande Amor”, the standard by Antônio Carlos Jobim and Vinícius de Moraes, sounded out to prefigure the distinctly bossa nova vibe of the second part of the concert: Astrud Gilberto was to take the stage. With the opening bars of “Samba de Uma Nota Só” the flavours of Brazil were palpable. Gilberto’s voice, fragile yet mischievous against the background of the iridescent vibraphone and wrapped within the airy countermelody of the saxophone, recreated all the freshness and innocence of the legendary recording of 1964. As if they were performing together for the first time, Gilberto and Getz played a subtle game of seduction to create music that was sensual, light and melancholic.

The colourful sequence of bossa nova standards – “Você e Eu” by Gilberto Gil, “Corcovado” and “The Girl from Ipanema” by Jobim – intermingled with numbers that were jazzier in both form and spirit – “Jive Hoot” by Bob Brookmeyer, “The Shadow of Your Smile” and “It Might as Well Be Spring” – was simply irresistible.

With the final notes of “Jive Hoot”, Stan Getz smiled and bid farewell to the audience with a simple “Auf Wiedersehen”. The recording of this dream-like performance lay untouched for nearly sixty years, until we unearthed the original tapes in the archives of Berlin Radio. This album is the very first edition of a memorable live concert, entirely restored using Phoenix Mastering®.

WHIMM formed around the shadowy heart of the Toronto post-punk underground over a decade ago. The partnership between Mounir Al Shami and Andrew Matthews has emitted sporadic musical shards over time, while slowly evolving into something so much bigger than its beginnings. Ideas seep out of every corner of No Promotion, showcasing a burning desire to explore and challenge while delivering very direct sonic offerings. The result is an album that feels as if you took the entire Coil discography and smashed it into pieces, assembling these precious songs from the fragments. Or as if Vangelis beckoned Section 25 to the studio in hopes of recording the score to a seedy film. The resulting LP is in a state of flux – equal parts motion and decay.

Patrick Flegel, of Cindy Lee, welcomed Al Shami and Matthews into REALISTIK Studios in Montreal to engineer half of the tracks for the album, including lending guitar to the opening track "Five in Decline." That influence is evident early on, as the first three songs are taken from those sessions. "Five in Decline" throbs and barks before racing through the hallways closing in around it. "Another Labour" slows to a spidery waltz as anxious melodies call out to one another. "Returnal" pulses, floats through the night sky and haunts you forever. "Rye" carves a percussive pathway toward similar travellers like Terry Riley and Jon Hassell, before the lament of "A Death Remembered" forms the perfect midpoint for the record. A slow build countered by twitching drums and blanketed by organs recorded at Metropolitan United Church in Toronto, it feels like emotion right on the edge of resolve.

"Rhymes of December" screeches through on a solitary train under the towering cityscape as the flickering lights blur past, its doors opening to the candlelit altar of "After the Last Sky" (those beautiful organs again) with an operatic swirl. "K'20" throws you into a claustrophobic and chaotic cab ride (Who is talking? Are those sirens?) until you finally find the quiet of the early morning, waiting at the window for the sun to join you once again as the first notes of "No Promotion" are delicately plucked. The final song from the Flegel sessions, it is over eight minutes of contemplative beauty. A restless heart that is ready to rest. Closing with a final apparition in the key of The Caretaker, "After the Last Sky (Reprise)" is a return to melody when words lose all meaning.

Al Shami and Matthews weave their lyrics throughout, words describing a search for lucidity, and of reactions and reflections. Al Shami – speaking from the Palestinian diaspora – ruminates on displacement, both personal and collective. His journey from having "been without a land and I can still see clearly" in "Rhymes of December" to a more defiant "we will be back again, no matter how it ends or where we've been" in "Returnal" takes a very insular turn on No Promotion. That sense of alienation pulls at the very center of a relationship when land and circumstances separate: "And after our last breath, all that's left in me is our flesh and fears, your last words would swim for years, you'll never find a home in me." Hearts on the outskirts that know the direction.

Dylan Atlantis' Insta bio read 'amateur artist' at the start of the year.

Now she's on a billboard in Times Square.

With vocals and lyrics that extend well beyond her young years, Dylan Atlantis is the definition of meteoric rise.

Pitchfork describes her as ""the silky R&B singer, sliding in with the laid-back cool.""

THE PHILIPPINES-BORN, WEST SYDNEY BASED MUSICIAN WAS RAISED on a musical diet of RnB and Hip-Hop by her Mum. Now a self-professed lover of all genres of music (even country), she's out here sharing her innermost thoughts and lyrical experiments with the world. ""I kinda just treat music like a diary but also a science lab where I can experiment expressing myself in different ways until it's awesome enough that I feel compelled to share it.""

Impressed Recordings are proud to present Dylan Atlantis' release - It Starts Again, on limited edition vinyl.

A limited edition clear vinyl pressing for Vol. 1 of DINTE's critically acclaimed collection of pirate radio adverts & idents, taken from recordings of London stations between 1984 & 1993.

Deluxe LP features 140g virgin vinyl; heavy-duty board jacket, artwork by Art Rosenbaum + DL. RIYL: Bob Dylan, John Prine, Townes Van Zandt, Ry Cooder, Michael Chapman, Michael Hurley, The Youngbloods & Bonnie “Prince” Billy. Jake Xerxes Fussell’s 4th album finds the acclaimed folksong interpreter, guitarist, and singer navigating fresh sonic and compositional landscapes on the most conceptually focused, breathtakingly rendered, and enigmatically poignant record of his wondrous catalog. Produced by James Elkington and featuring formidable players both familiar (Casey Toll, Libby Rodenbough) and new (Joe Westerlund, Bonnie “Prince” Billy), it includes Jake’s first original compositions; atmospheric arrangements with pedal steel, horns, and strings. One of the most striking and strangely moving moments on Jake Xerxes Fussell’s gorgeous Good and Green Again an album, his fourth and most recent, replete with such dazzling moments arrives at its very end, with the brief words to the final song “Washington.” “General Washington/Noblest of men/His house, his horse, his cherry tree, and him,” Fussell sings, after a hushed introductory passage in which his trademark percussively fingerpicked Telecaster converses lacily with James Elkington’s parlor piano. That’s the entire lyrical content of the song, which proceeds to float away on orchestral clouds of French horn, trumpet, and strings, until it simply stops, suddenly evaporating, vanishing with no fade or trace, no resolution to its sorrowful minor-key chord progression, just silence and stillness and stark presidential absence. It feels like the end of a film, or the cold departure of a ghost, and is unlike anything else Jake has recorded. In all his work Jake humanizes his material with his own profound curatorial and interpretive gifts, unmooring stories and melodies from their specific eras and origins and setting them adrift in our own waterways. The robust burr of his voice, which periodically melts and catches at a particularly tender turn of phrase, and the swung rhythmic undertow of exquisite, seemingly effortless guitar-playing here he plays more acoustic than ever before pull new valences of meaning from ostensibly antique songs and subjects. On Good and Green Again, Jake not only ventures beyond his established mastery of songcatching and songmaking into songwriting, but likewise navigates fresh sonic and compositional landscapes, going green with lusher, more atmospheric and ambitious arrangements. The result is the most conceptually focused, breathtakingly rendered, and enigmatically poignant record of his wondrous catalog. It’s also his most deliberately premeditated album, representing his fruitful return to a producer partnership after two self-produced projects, What in the Natural World (2017) and Out of Sight (2019) (William Tyler produced his friend’s self-titled 2015 debut.) This time James Elkington produced and played a panoply of instruments, bringing to Jake’s arcane song choices his own peerless sense of harmony and orchestration, balance and dramatic tension. The pair enlisted a group of formidable players including regular bandmembers Casey Toll (Mt. Moriah, Nathan Bowles) on upright bass, Libby Rodenbough (Mipso) on strings, and Nathan Golub on pedal steel. They were joined by welcome newcomers Joe Westerlund (Megafaun, Califone) on drums, Joseph Decosimo on fiddle, Anna Jacobson on brass, and veteran collaborator and avowed Fussell fan Bonnie “Prince” Billy, who contributes additional vocals. Album opener “Love Farewell” (featuring some beautiful singing by Bonnie “Prince” Billy), an elliptical tale of the folly of war, set to the world’s most heartbreaking goodbye march for a lover left behind. “Carriebelle” and “Breast of Glass” each similarly concerns, in its own way, romantic love and leavings. All three songs highlight Jacobson’s diaphanous, understated brass parts, tying them together in a true lover’s knot. “Rolling Mills Are Burning Down,” with its distant keening strings and capacious sense of space, observes and mourns the loss of work and community in the wake of elemental disaster. Nine-minute tour de force “The Golden Willow Tree,” the sole explicitly narrative song herein, is a hypnotic, minimalist rendering of a tragic maritime ballad about scuttling an enemy ship in exchange for wealth and glory and a captain’s inevitable betrayal. “Fussell is creating his own legacy within the long lineage of traditional folk musicians and storytellers that have come before him.” The New York Times // “So elegant … It’s relaxing in the way that pondering a Zen koan is relaxing, and sweet in the way that the wounded, honey-voiced blues of Mississippi John Hurt are sweet.” Pitchfork // “Music that resides at the seams of Appalachia and the cosmos.”

Forty years of cassette releases, pressed for the first time on vinyl

First of two instalments exploring the previously unreleased sonic archives of one of Poland’s most enigmatic
living artists - with its first volume focused on his deep listening practice and spiritual reverie (recorded 1990–2013)

The last time Andrzej Dudek-Dürer took a banknote bearing the face of the Polish anarchist Jarosław Dąbrowski from his pocket to trade it for a pair of shoes was in 1969. He bought them for 120zł - the equivalent of 100€ today - and never replaced them since then. Only rebuilt them, year after year, drawing a needle and thread through the leather each time it split, closing one wound before the next one opened. It became a ritual of precision, stitching a record of another year into their soles.

That same year, in Wrocław, he arrived at a conclusion that would recalibrate everything that followed. Convinced he was the reincarnation of Albrecht Dürer, he adopted the surname Dudek-Dürer, stopped cutting his hair and began wearing the same garments every day. It was the first ritual of many, though he wouldn't have called it that yet. Look closely enough, over the decades, and it is always the same gesture, returning in different material: hair growing in a single unbroken strand, a needle drawing thread through leather, sitar strings pulled taut across a neck he built with his own hands and magnetic tape spooling forward inside the cassette boxes stacked against his walls.

None of this began in a vacuum. Dudek-Dürer emerged from the Wrocław neo-avant-garde, in a Polish art world where an exhibition could be cancelled overnight by the stroke of a censor's pen. In 1973, his exhibition Auto-crucifixion was shut down by the state, and for a time he found himself blocked from exhibiting his own art at all - the one force in his life that ever came close to cutting the thread.

He seemed to experience it differently. In 1974, after long, patient research into sitar craftsmanship, he built his first prototype with his brother, a knowledgeable luthier. In 1978, in a smoked-out jazz club, he took his first steps into sound recording with the unreleased album Jazz From Underground with his first band. By 1979, recognition started to travel further than he could.

Turning toward Far-Eastern philosophy, meditation and the idea of reincarnation was another language of freedom for him. It was a way of claiming an inner territory the state could not reach, a border it could not close. Mail Art served a parallel function, reaching further out: in a country that restricted travel and expression, sending and receiving art through the postal system became an act of quiet rebellion.

The body, in his understanding, is only an envelope readied for constant transformation. From this came Metaphysical Telepathy: during the years he could not leave Poland, he treated that confinement as a rehearsal room, sending his mind out ahead on the same thread his body would later follow. Living Sculpture grew from the same root with performances of stillness beside static art objects, until the boundary between the object and the man beside it simply dissolved. Camera Meditation extended the same instinct into photography: a shutter click flattening three dimensions into two so that a single instant could be held forever. Inspired by the pioneers of self-portrait photography like Robert Cornelius, he used it to document time itself, and kept explaining to me: "You know. This is not about vanity. This is about observing time passing.”

The isolation did not end suddenly. It ended the way his own philosophy had already predicted it would, from the inside first. Mail Art quietly solved the problem politics couldn't. Correspondence built during years of confinement slowly worked its way through doors the state itself had kept locked. Contacts made through folded paper and stamps became invitations. Ultimately, invitations became passports.

In 1983 he made his first trip outside Poland, to Germany, in search of the audio technology he couldn’t get his hands on before. In 1985, he was invited by the Indian embassy in Poland to give a sitar concert on an instrument he had spent a decade patiently stringing together - half sitar, half tanpura, built from patience and determination. After the collapse of the People's Republic of Poland, the travels kept unspooling: South Korea, then Mexico, then Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Singapore, Japan and the United States - each stop leaving behind its own small knot of tape, tied off and carried home.

In the decades since, recognition arrived at the same unhurried pace: he conducted workshops at UC Berkeley, served as vice-president for artistic affairs of the Union of Polish Art Photographers and the Union of Polish Visual Artists between 2010 and 2014 and received the Bronze Medal for Merit to Culture - Gloria Artis. His visual work gradually entered collections including the National Museums of Warsaw, the Stedelijk Museum, Tate Modern, MoMA and the Venice Biennale. His musical practice, by contrast, never found that kind of room - left to circulate quietly, sharing his cassette tapes directly, waiting for someone willing to follow it further.

It took months before I could find a way to reach Andrzej Dudek-Dürer - his presence online is very close to nonexistent. Surprisingly, LinkedIn turned out to be the only door still open, a faintly absurd irony given everything else about him. I packed the strict minimum for a three-day trip and an empty notebook and made my way to Wrocław. His headquarters sits in the neighbourhood of Grabyszyn: a two-storey pre-war house that has belonged to his family for generations. The man who opened the door was long-haired, long-bearded, in his trademark leather shoes and patched jeans. We sat in his living room, in front of a computer where decades of recordings sat organised in cryptically named files, surrounded by books and objects that had arrived one layer at a time, leaving room for only two chairs in the middle. His shoes sat by the door, rebuilt so many times they had become their own quiet sculpture. Cassette tapes filled boxes against the walls, almost unlabelled, each one a spool of thread holding decades of sound that had never once been asked for, until now.

I listened for hours: meditating in front of strangers on the porch of a Seoul temple until the tourists stopped taking photos and simply waited with him; a stand-off with border guards at the US–Mexico crossing over an instrument they couldn't identify and didn't trust; a session with the Stockhausen family that he still, decades later, describes like it happened last week. All of it interrupted, occasionally, by the smell of soup boiling and fresh bread warming on the ceramic stove. After two days, it felt like being handed the end of a very long thread and asked, gently, to keep following it. I left with a USB drive holding his full discography, signed with his unmistakable signature.

Astral Meditations From A Living Statue is a length of that thread, drawn out from the boxes stacked against his walls - recordings gathered from different rooms, different countries, different decades. This first record breathes slowly: incense-thick, meditative, built for stillness. A cutting-edge séance in outer space where machines learn how to dream.

It begins with the neo-classical improvisations of Andrzej, space-delayed, recorded at Klub Muzyki i Literatury in Wrocław in 2002. 'When..So' opens the curtains with a deep-rooted meditation accompanied by slow-decaying piano figures illuminated by a candle-lit spirit gathering.

Los Angeles, 1990: a dormant villa, a grand piano, the voice of Bonnie Barnett. 'Exception' is captured in a single room, in a single afternoon - voice and keys circling each other, neither one leading, until the silence between the notes starts to feel like the instrument.

'The Meta...' and 'Tired Of...', recorded at Studio Morandi in Ponte Nossa, Italy, in 1992, settle into a sitar drone built entirely from patience - overtones stacking and beating against each other, strung by a man who never once set foot in India. 'Mastery Of...' follows, recorded the same year at Studio Suski in Łomianki, pushing that same hum further still, until pitch dissolves into a spectral reverie. 'Transcendental Sound', from 2000, closes the first record in a slow bath of celestial frequency - better heard beside the shores of the Odra river.

More than fifty years after deciding that a life could become an artwork, Andrzej Dudek-Dürer continues to inhabit that decision. His shoes keep wearing thin against the earth's crust. His hair keeps growing, one strand at a time. His cassette tapes keep spooling in the dark of their boxes.

Now the thread finds its last shape: a single unbroken groove, spiralling inward from the outer edge to the label at the centre. Never cut - the way nothing else in his life ever was. Drop the needle and it will find that groove and follow it, the same way a needle once followed leather, once followed a border it couldn't cross, once followed string into an instrument that didn't exist until he built it. This record is the other end of a thread that has been travelling for fifty years. For the length of both sides, it rests here, in your hands. This is a timeless proof that the Lord of the New Age was never lost."

Produced by Andrzej Dudek-Dürer

Mastered by Ruud Lekx

Liner Notes written by Mathias Chaboteaux

Pictures by Andrzej Dudek-Dürer

Artwork by Wojciech Gawronski

Executive Producer: Mathias Chaboteaux

℗© 2026 Huveshta Rituals Records. All rights reserved. HR006

,X3" von Amina Hocine greift schrittweise, subtil und unaufhaltsam auf die Komplementarität verschiedener Klangmaterialien zurück. Durch die geduldige und feinfühlige Verschmelzung von reinen Sinuswellen, Feldaufnahmen und Klängen, die mit einer ,Nebelhorn-Orgel" (einem von Hocine selbst entwickelten Instrument) erzeugt wurden, lädt ,X3" sowohl zur Selbstreflexion als auch zur Kontemplation ein. Inspiriert von einem Symbol des dänischen Mystikers Martinus Thomsen, das die Entwicklung eines Wesens in der physischen Welt darstellt, nimmt uns Amina Hocine mit auf eine lange Reise, die mit seltener Eleganz und Anmut zwischen dem Statischen und dem Wandelnden, zwischen dem fast Unwahrnehmbaren und dem Grandiosen balanciert. Es ist eine Musik des Übergangs, die Amina Hocine uns bietet, eine Musik, in der die Vermittlung von Klang, Welle für Welle, zur Meditation wird. In ,Until the Fish Eyes Shine" wirft Espen Sommer Eide einen inspirierten, umfassenden und rückblickenden Blick auf sein musikalisches Schaffen, das er oft unter dem Pseudonym Phonophani produziert hat. Indem er die Klänge seiner frühen Jahre vor dem Hintergrund der Ambient-Techno-Szene in Tromso Ende der 1990er Jahre neu aufgreift und neu interpretiert, beschwört Eide eine Musik herauf, die alles andere als nostalgisch ist, sondern vielmehr eine Art ,geologische Schichtung" bietet, in der Epochen und Stilrichtungen aufeinanderprallen, sich überschneiden und ergänzen und so die bemerkenswerte Einzigartigkeit der Klangpalette des norwegischen Künstlers offenbaren. Das Stück bringt zudem die extreme Beständigkeit und Authentizität seiner musikalischen Vision zum Ausdruck - einer Vision, in der technologische Innovationen, die reflektierte Umgebung und gelebte Emotionen in einem eigenen Raum zusammenfließen: dem der traumhaften Musik, die immer neu erfunden wird, immer in Bewegung ist, immer im Wandel begriffen ist.

Do not adjust your tuning! Cowper emerges disc in hand from the liminal static, exposing us all to his peculiar brand of outsider club chaos. Boldly, slowly, Goa-ing into the fray, these three tracks chew your ear off in the sonic language of acid, trance and progressive house, churning and gurning their way deep into the darkness. In the time since the first dispatch of edit excellence, Cowper’s Between Stations has firmly established itself as an essential underground outpost, adding tape releases by Tolouse Low Trax, Zato and Miles J Paralysis to a growing catalogue of genre-fluid mayhem, consistently captured by his essential Noods Radio shows. Introducing itself with a gut punching kick and gurgling prog throb, the first track here is simultaneously upbeat and downcast, a glorious gloom-core ode to narcotic indulgence.
Extra-terrestrial pads and choral synth hark back to childhood days of Perfect Dark before a trance lead interrupts all remaining neural connections. When that snare lands in the second half we’re in fully fledged techno-pagan mode, red-faced and rushing right till the end. Assuming that even xenomorphs dance sometimes, this end of the world apocalypso is absolutely their jam. Track 2 tunnels further into the planetary core, 16bit woodblocks and bells sitting atop synthetic swells and hoover-ish vamps, before a hooning bassline drops like a sledgehammer on your unsuspecting ear drums. An unexpected, but very welcome left turn into mid track breakbeat provides a moment of airy reprise before we lock back into the cavern-shaking groove until the run out abates. For the encore, Cowper didgeri-doesus with the oscillating bass and molasses-apache break of a techno-tribal, prog-frog delicacy. Complete with the type of mantra vocal usually found on pound-bin trance or superspenny Dream House rarities, and a little acid-gwamph resonance abuse Josh Wink would be proud of, this chug-athon sounds a bit like Psychic TV tuning into Psy-trance, which is a very good thing indeed. Dark, dense and musky stuff that will drive a proper dance floor wild.

****COVER WITH AUGMENTED REALITY**** Argentinian producer Translate synthesises states of consciousness and perceptions into his semantics of sound, creating a distinct language of mental techno through hypnotic repetition, precision and deeply immersive atmospheres. His presence in this realm extends through his label Relativity, whose latest EP brings together tracks by Mike Parker and Oscar Mulero, while his own productions have appeared on Svreca’s Semantica Records. For his DIG release, Translate shifts into a broader spectrum, revealing a side of his production that has remained unexplored until now. DIG Curated captures this moment of a new sonic expansion between his signature hypnotic journeys and a stripped-down techno sound. Expansive opens the record with Translate’s distinct mental techno, pushed into an added psychedelic dimension. With a vast and trippy sound, the track steadily fills the space, inviting the dancers to go inward and simultaneously reach out into a collective morphic field. With Discursive, the coordinates shift, introducing a very stripped-down techno side of Translate’s production and a palette rarely heard from him before. Reduced to its essential elements, the track cuts directly through the floor with a functional groove, whilst retaining the tension embedded in his sonic DNA. On the B side, Fuse accelerates with fast-moving pads, mechanical drums and swerving loops that gradually lock the body into trance. Quirky textures spiral throughout, with robotic glitches sounding like organic beings. Coefficients closes the record by pulling the listener into rich bass and expanding loops over a cold melody that guides the final journey into a cosmic unfold. Hypnotic sci-fi vocals emerge from an interplanetary future, traversing space in search of earthly traces. The record ends suspended somewhere between the transmission and unknown, like a sonic threshold. Words by Lora Mateeva Animation/Artwork - Marcin Pospiech Master - Nihad Tule Graphist - Ferdinand Prat

2026 Repress

Inhale. Exhale. Remember to breathe. In that rhythm lies the pulse of being - the ancient echo of stars from which we are made. Breathing is the bridge between the inner cosmos and the outer void. When you breathe, you testify to existence itself: "I am." The Moonrover - a child of reason - abandoned on the cold, dead Moon. It does not feel time, know fear, or comprehend solitude. But a human, in its place, would understand: Silence is not emptiness. It is a mirror. And in that mirror arises the question: "If I am alone, and silence is infinite - who hears my breath?" The answer lies in the breath. Each inhale is resistance against entropy. Each exhale is an act of remembrance. To breathe is to remember that you are not just part of the Universe - you are its awakened part. And just as the Moonrover crawls across grey lunar plains, driven by an unknown purpose, so do you move through life, led by an inner light, until you realize: breath is not just life. It is a prayer sent into silence. And if you can hear it - you are alive.

Following the critically acclaimed Fantômes… Futurs, praised by FIP, France Inter, Radio Nova, ARTE and International jazz press, double bassist and composer Kham Meslien returns with Vévés électriques, a deeply immersive second album where memory, landscape and improvisation merge into a singular sonic journey. Joined by Laurent Bardainne, Roger Raspail, Naïssam Jalal and David Neerman, Meslien expands the intimate language of his double bass with subtle loops and organic textures, weaving together echoes of Iceland, the Caribbean and imagined territories. Blending spiritual jazz, contemporary classical influences and ambient soundscapes, Vévés électriques is an invitation to drift beyond geography and into a profoundly personal exploration of emotion, identity and freedom.

Set upon an oil-smooth sea, an immense range of directions opens up before Kham Meslien for “Vévés Électriques”, his second album after “Fantômes… Futurs.”

With only his double bass and bow as vessel and sextant, a distant journey nevertheless begins to take shape. Vibrations and the striking of strings against wood quickly trace lines and winding paths across the surface of the water—so many routes to follow before leaving them behind, allowing the outward journey to become an inward voyage as well.

After an improvisation intended to shed light on the course ahead, isolated lands came into view: the shores of Iceland, the lands of the far north, places cut off from the rest of the world by vast expanses of water. Islands battered by a harsh climate that can only be endured by drawing warmth from deep within oneself.

Then the Caribbean arc appeared. The archipelago, a setting for joyful and unsettling experiences, takes Kham back to a childhood from which the passing years have carried him away. Rather than following the conventional channel of the music of these places, the West Indies emerge through memories whose colors are still vivid.

Through the morning mist, Roger Raspail’s percussion locks into the same frequencies of the groove. Double bass and struck skins then become companions on a road that intersects with Laurent Bardainne’s saxophone. Carrying a dreamlike message, David Neerman’s vibraphone also joins the narrative to write a few chapters of its own, while others are enchanted by the flute and voice of Naïssam Jalal, or struck by the metaphorical rhymes of rapper Rocé.

On the surface, through the themes along which the pieces navigate, landscapes slowly reveal themselves and change shape as the shore draws nearer or recedes. Straying from the marked course and allowing oneself to drift, breaking free from pure acoustic sound by adding loops first played live and then sampled, allows Kham to explore the depths. The depths of the ocean, as well as those of his soul. To enter a world of improvisation that reveals itself even as he explores it. Examined up close, feelings become shells to pick up and hold to one’s ear, so that they can be felt intensely until they take material form.

This sea, which had appeared peaceful, became the stage for a succession of stories and images, which then accumulated to give birth to a larger narrative.

Four solid dub house and deep house cuts from Alessandro Crimi, pressed on blue green marbled vinyl. Get Up opens on a rolling groove, hats ticking against a bassline that breathes rather than pushes. Interstate tightens the low end into something more direct, built for the peak of a set. Look At The Stars slows the tempo down into dub house territory, chords smeared and delayed until they blur into the drums. Multiverse closes the record on a dubbier note again, echoes trailing off into silence between hits. Across the four tracks the mood stays controlled, functional, made for rooms where space and repetition do the work.

Following the success of the rework releases of Trip To Your Mind by Delfonic, LTJ Xperience, and DJ Friction, the time has finally come to reissue the original mixes of this essential and still highly sought-after Disco Funk classic.

Both the original Hithouse Mix and the re-mix by Chris Hill & Robbie Vincent were released in 1979. However, newly uncovered evidence has revealed that the track was actually recorded much earlier. After extensive research, including the rediscovery of Reginald Hudson's original flight ticket dated September 7, 1976, from Los Angeles to London, proof has emerged that the recording sessions took place in late 1976.

Due to unfortunate circumstances, the track remained shelved for several years and did not see release until 1979. By that time, the original backing band, Body Heat-a group of U.S. Army musicians stationed in Germany-had already disbanded. As a result, the record was released under the project name Hudson People.

Reg Hudson has since shared additional photographs and previously unknown information, which will be revealed in the coming months. To further celebrate the record's legacy, an official music video is currently in production and is scheduled for release this summer, marking the track's 50th anniversary.

As the original master tapes have unfortunately been lost, the audio has been transferred and restored using highest end equipment from the best available sources. In particular, the original Hithouse Mix now sounds better than ever before.

The 12-inch release will be presented in a faithful reproduction of its rare original "Disco 45" sleeve, believed to have been included only with the earliest pressings.

The Story Behind the Record

For decades, Trip To Your Mind was celebrated as a Brit Funk classic, although its true origins remained largely unknown. While the track was recorded at London's Advision Studios, Hudson People were neither a British group nor a London-based project-a fact first brought to light through the official 2022 reissue on Backatcha Records.

In interviews with label owner DJ Scientist, songwriter and producer Reg Hudson revealed that the musicians behind the recording were actually members of Body Heat, a GI band based in Germany. Like Hudson himself, most of the musicians originally came from the Chicago area.

"The band included Tony Palmer on guitar, Herva Middleton on drums and lead vocals, Charles Walker on saxophone, Harvey Perry on trumpet and trombone, and Rickey on bass-a five-man lineup," Hudson recalls.

Recorded in late 1976, the track remained unreleased for several years. By the time it finally appeared in 1979, Body Heat was already on the verge of breaking up, prompting the decision to release it under the Hudson People name.

Since the late 1990s, Trip To Your Mind has been heavily bootlegged, widely compiled, and continuously championed by DJs and collectors worldwide, cementing its reputation as one of the most enduring and in-demand Disco Funk records of its era.

50 year anniversary edition! Recorded in 1976, first released in 1979.

“IRIE” is where the Paris-based artist Yasmin Regisford's next era begins. Built on echoes of reggae vocals, warm low-end pressure and slow-building psychedelic tension, the track blurs nostalgia and euphoria until they become impossible to tell apart. More than a collision of genres, “IRIE” is about coexistence: different influences and origins moving together without losing themselves. It mirrors Regisford’s own relationship to cultural hybridity — existing between worlds, and feeling fully at home inside the blend. The single sets the tone for Zentraï, a four-track EP that unfolds like a shifting ritual — morphing between groove-led hypnosis, psy-infused tension and percussion rooted in movement and memory. Across the EP, Yasmin Regisford maps a world where rhythms, textures and identities intertwine: fluid, layered and constantly evolving.

2026 Repress

Rhythm by Nature is back with Somefink Old, Somefink New, a three-tracker from seasoned producer Grant Dell that bridges past and present: sketches first laid down in the mid-2000s rediscovered and reworked alongside a brand-new cut, forming a dialogue between memory and renewal.

The EP opens with Feel Me?, a deep tech construction driven by a heavy low-end, its groove unfolding patiently while flashes of disco glimmer through the framework. On Light of Day, Dell shifts into full deep house territory — spacey pads and floating strings suspended across open structures until acidic stabs break through, twisting the track into brighter, playful directions. Closing with Death Disco in Dub, Dell channels the hallmarks of his Tribalation project: dub-infused atmospherics, light percussion and echo-drenched fragments circling around a hypnotic core, equally suited to open or dissolve a night.

With Somefink Old, Somefink New, Rhythm by Nature traces the arc of an artist deeply embedded in the underground, reuniting past forms with present gestures in a release that reaffirms the label’s consistency in quality and commitment to timeless club music.

Liz Harris has worked with film closely since she began making and performing music live - both her own work, and that of various filmmakers - including a near decade long collaboration with Paul Clipson, and multiple live collaborations with Dicky Bahto and Takashi Makino.

On Music For Two Films About Water she presents two recent scores for short films by the artists Tanja Engelberts and Takashi Makino. Each film, as the album title suggests, is an exploration of water, though beyond that, each work and soundtrack varies - blending literal, improvisatory and impressionistic translations of the theme. Her accompaniment layers mercurial threads of mellotron, tape loops, Wurlitzer and field recordings.

Untitled (from We Exhale)

This piece was originally composed for the film We Exhale. In the film, artist Tanja Engelberts takes the perspective of the river itself, tracing how centuries of damming, channelling, and industrial pollution have reduced the Rhône from a living landscape to a hydraulic object—its breath slowly distorting as chemical processes break down what remains. Her work asks what a poisoned river sounds like when it exhales, confronting us with damage that operates beyond human timescales, already embedded in the river’s body. In her artistic practice, Engelberts investigates how landscapes that are no longer visible can be documented. Rather than excavating the past, she collects and rearranges what she finds on the surface—as a creative exposition of the present. Engelberts’ work places attention on the ‘here’ and ‘now’, allowing traces of the past to be recognized while possible futures can be imagined.

Untitled (from Constellation)

This soundtrack scores the film iteration of a project by Takashi Makino titled Constellation, a collection of works exploring how new meanings emerge through the arrangement of existing images, memories, and fragments. In the film, images, appearing and disappearing within mercurial water textures, are clearly present before the viewer, yet maintain their abstractness and imaginative nature until the very end—projected onto the screen and delivered to the viewer as material for forming new images. Fantasy and reality merge in oceanic, lucid dream. Inspired by the way ancient people connected scattered stars to create narratives, his work invites viewers to discover their own relationships between images and construct new meanings from what already exists. In his artistic practice, Makino captures video of ready-made objects including natural phenomena, humans, and cities, with various formats. In the editing process, he layers and configures them into the fields of mesmerizing, shimmering textures that distinguish his imaginative films.