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Following up from the stunning 'You Will Soon Find That Life Is Wonderful' 12' on Phonica's Special Edi- tions imprint, Sad City returns to the label with his new EP 'Introduction To Lisboa/ Sloe'.

Glasgow-based producer Gary Caruth has evolved a highly original sound; deep, lush and widescreen electronics, from melancholic to ecstatic. Sonically, he continues where his last record left off and feels like the perfect companion to that well-received debut for Phonica. The record as a whole is composed of field recordings, with the basis for the first half of the EP, 'Introduction to Lisboa,' utilising sound recorded in and around Lisbon. He explains, 'I wanted the music and field recordings to meld at times, to obscure what was conventionally the musical element and what were field recordings, blurring the line between found sound and composition in the creation of a whole other.'

Opening track 'Introduction To Lisboa' builds and builds from near silence to a cacophony of field record- ings and looped horns. It melds into 'Baixa Saxaphone', where carefully paced percussion patiently enters over a wash of synth. From then on a delicate balance of restrained percussion and spine-tingling atmos- pherics interplay before descending into a blissful outro.

As with the previous EP, the 12' is packaged in technicolour artwork by acclaimed London designer Jack Featherstone.

Robert Nasveld (*1955 Utrecht) studied piano at the Utrecht Conservatory with Polo de Haas, Sas Bunge and Herman Uhlhorn, composition with Joep Straesser, and electronic music with Ton Bruynèl. After completing his piano studies, Robert Nasveld specialised in 20th-century repertoire, with a particular focus on Dutch, Russian and American music. He achieved international fame as a pianist for his interpretations of the works of the American composer George Crumb, which led to invitations to perform at various events, including the Warsaw Autumn Festival (1990). His connection with George Crumb also enabled him to produce a seven-hour live broadcast of Crumb's music for VPRO radio in 1986 and a television program with the composer. Nasveld recorded the complete works for one piano by George Crumb, which was released by the Attacca label in 1991. He has given concerts in Europe, Russia, and the United States.

Nasveld was also a member of the Orgella Quartet, founded in 1976 (with Margaret Krill, Polo de Haas, and Niek de Vente), Piano Kwadraat, and the Netherlands Pianists Quartet (with Marian Bolt, Corien van den Berg, and Niek de Vente). These ensembles specialised in performing music for two eight-handed pianos. He also collaborated with several vocalists, including Claron McFadden, Marjanne Kweksilber, and Liesbeth List (tour 1983/'84). Due to multiple sclerosis, he retired from performing in 1998.

From 1988 to 2021 Robert Nasveld worked for Dutch national radio (NOS/NPS/NTR) as a program producer for NPO Klassiek. Until 2004, he was editor of Supplement, which received the Silver Reiss Microphone in 1996, the highest award for a radio program, for its adventurous and innovative programming. Robert Nasveld also programmed concept evenings at Muziekcentrum Vredenburg, featuring contemporary music performed by soloists, ensembles, and the broadcasting orchestras for NOS/NPS. From 2019 until his retirement in 2021, he presented a series of podcasts for NTR/NPO Radio 4 about electronic music pioneers. The three compositions on this LP are the only tape pieces recorded by Nasveld. They were created at Ton Bruynèl’s studio at the Utrecht Conservatory and the Institute for Sonology in Utrecht.

2026 Repress

December 2012 I showed up totally exhausted in Vancouver BC after touring stupidly and relentlessly for however many straight months and got a job at a call centre raising money for the Red Cross. It was a scent free office but one time this woman cooked a piece of fish in the microwave for 10 minutes on low and hot boxed the whole office - we got sent home early no pay. There was the other woman I named the Call Centre Coltrane because her pitch and routine usually involved improvised flights of fancy that went off in both directions at once somehow landing back down with a credit card number and a donation. I used to sleep under the desk. I was there a few months and at the time I reconnected with John Brennan who I had played with briefly in Montreal at the Mutek Festival. In Montreal John was running an experimental music night at a burrito shop downtown called Garbage Night. While in Vancouver I began connecting with the music scene there and would go hang out with the Shearing Pinx lads who I think lived with Sydney the bass player at the time. I knew Nic and Jer from an AIDS Wolf Tour and was so stoked to get to know them both better. I really fell in love with that era of Vancouver's music scene.
Fast Forward to today. 2024
Actually it was the dying days of 2023 but you get it and John asks if I'll sit in with Earth Ball and I keep thinking about Earth Balance, the vegan butter everyone eats here. I brought my aching bones and my ipads on the beautiful ferry named the Queen of Oak Bay and out to Nanaimo BC, home of the nanaimo bar (a dessert treat - special to this region - that seems to be more popularly found under the weird glass sneeze guards in office building deli's out east in Ontario.... anyhoops ). No one in Nanaimo wants to talk to me about the famous treat. I asked a couple of people. Silence. Nanaimo is like London, Ontario but more fried and by the sea. The town is filled with blown out old sea dawgs with tin coffee pots and loose leaf tobacco, then there's the usual streetfolk you find in this part of the Canadian Pacific Northwest and a bunch of bohemians who I guess have left Vancouver behind - that fine city having become uninhabitable for those not making over 100k a year. And then up the way are all the retirees.
Yup Nanaimo is a strange one. They mined the shit out of this region and Nanaimo is surely haunted by those buried in mining shafts or maimed by the heavy machinery or blown up by accident in the explosives store house. And when Earth Ball fire up the amps in Izzy and Jer's basement you can hear the voices of the ghosts hum through electrical lines and out the speakers, Kellen's hued feedback, Izy's sturdy basslines, Jer's paperbag guitar tone and rumble pack zaps, Liam's (aka the Kid) sheets of sound and Brennen's multidirectional drums.
You wouldn't guess Earth Ball was auto-composing and from what my rat brain can tell - the lyrics are improvised too...Improvising lyrics and singing them is the hardest thing to do in all of music.. Izzy and Jer are pros. And their attitudes are pro too.
The live show is scorched and without naming names they've been known to make headliners nervous. Lucky ones will get to see them live as they tour this beast of a record entitled ‘It’s Yours’ (out May 17th on Upset The Rhythm) and I hope I'm one of them.
But now you, fan of fun but totally fucked up music, have the opportunity to Ball with them thanks to Upset The Rhythm. Enjoy
-Alex Moskos, Montreal QC, Feb 2024

Beneath the sleek, confident guitar line that powers “Overdrive,” the lead single of All Over You, another guitar marks the time more impatiently, as if the groove its locked into is the timebomb- tightness of a pre-hookup heartbeat. Its energy isn’t nervous — after all, it’s hard to be nervous with Will Schwartz cooing come-ons like “I just wanna get you in the bed / Light you up like a cigarette” in your ear — but it is urgent. Excited. Titillated.


That’s the word that best describes the prospect of a new Imperial Teen record: titillating. They come out every five or six years, each new album acting as, to quote Roddy Bottum, “an episodic piece of where we are now, where the world is now, who we have become, and the geography of our collective consciousness.” There is considerable distance between Imperial Teen, its members — Bottum (guitars, keyboards, vocals), Schwartz (vocals, guitars, keyboards), Jone Stebbins (bass, vocals), and Lynn Truell (drums, vocals) — having made lives for themselves in different cities, but the collective consciousness that exists between them makes distance and time seem immaterial to the listener.


Time, especially time together, is not immaterial to Imperial Teen: it is precious. “For the last few records,” Stebbins explains, “the process has been similar. We live great distances away from each other, so initially, we get together to collaborate, write, and create. When we have enough material, we reconvene to record. Both scenarios, creating and recording, take multiple trips, sometimes with big lapses of time in between due to our various schedules.” Bottum concurs: “The biggest challenge in writing and recording is the distance between us, but the longing and desire and the ultimate coming together becomes more potent as a result.”


All Over You is a triumph of maximized moments together, four people bringing the force of their personalities to bear on years of built-up ideas. Title track “All Over You,” initially built over the computer, gained its charming sneer in the studio, where Stebbins’ buoyant, fuzzed out bassline added bounce to the song’s punchy, sloganeering lyrics, a perfect set-up for Truell to drive the song home, screaming the last line of the chorus, “We’ve got nothing to do,” like a rallying cry for a generation that’s been given nothing and told to deny themselves everything. “In my head,” Truell says, “I just went back to punk, to that feeling of prowling around looking for anything to do and being so mad about how boring everything is that you just have to yell.” The track had an attitude, it had an unexpected texture thanks to Truell’s playing improvised percussion, but her scream is what took it to the next level, transforming it into a signature Imperial Teen song.


One of Imperial Teen’s less magical concerns on All Over You is the effect capitalism has on the creation of art. This expresses itself in the headspinning rush of music industry success and disappointment that plays out in “Hands All Up,” and also in Imperial Teen’s sound. All Over You features the band’s most expansive, textured palette to date, and much of it’s steeped in — bubblegum music and boy/girl harmonies, electro beats and grungy distortion, power pop mall anthems and kiss-off lyricism — has been dismissed, at one point or another, as a fad. Time, of course, has proven otherwise, and All Over You makes a case for Imperial Teen as four of that time’s architects, inheriting, preserving, and pushing the boundaries of what pop music can be from one song to the next.


“We want to make people dance and think and feel,” says Schwartz. In all of those ambitions, All Over You crushes, brought to life by four musicians who found each other in the clubs of San Francisco over three decades ago and have remained family ever since. It is less a return from hiatus than a broadcast from the sonic utopia Imperial Teen has long ruled over, where the music is bratty and sexy and the parties don’t stop until everyone’s found euphoria. A raveup for mind, body, and soul, best enjoyed in a dark room packed with as many sweaty bodies as possible

Beneath the sleek, confident guitar line that powers “Overdrive,” the lead single of All Over You, another guitar marks the time more impatiently, as if the groove its locked into is the timebomb- tightness of a pre-hookup heartbeat. Its energy isn’t nervous — after all, it’s hard to be nervous with Will Schwartz cooing come-ons like “I just wanna get you in the bed / Light you up like a cigarette” in your ear — but it is urgent. Excited. Titillated.


That’s the word that best describes the prospect of a new Imperial Teen record: titillating. They come out every five or six years, each new album acting as, to quote Roddy Bottum, “an episodic piece of where we are now, where the world is now, who we have become, and the geography of our collective consciousness.” There is considerable distance between Imperial Teen, its members — Bottum (guitars, keyboards, vocals), Schwartz (vocals, guitars, keyboards), Jone Stebbins (bass, vocals), and Lynn Truell (drums, vocals) — having made lives for themselves in different cities, but the collective consciousness that exists between them makes distance and time seem immaterial to the listener.


Time, especially time together, is not immaterial to Imperial Teen: it is precious. “For the last few records,” Stebbins explains, “the process has been similar. We live great distances away from each other, so initially, we get together to collaborate, write, and create. When we have enough material, we reconvene to record. Both scenarios, creating and recording, take multiple trips, sometimes with big lapses of time in between due to our various schedules.” Bottum concurs: “The biggest challenge in writing and recording is the distance between us, but the longing and desire and the ultimate coming together becomes more potent as a result.”


All Over You is a triumph of maximized moments together, four people bringing the force of their personalities to bear on years of built-up ideas. Title track “All Over You,” initially built over the computer, gained its charming sneer in the studio, where Stebbins’ buoyant, fuzzed out bassline added bounce to the song’s punchy, sloganeering lyrics, a perfect set-up for Truell to drive the song home, screaming the last line of the chorus, “We’ve got nothing to do,” like a rallying cry for a generation that’s been given nothing and told to deny themselves everything. “In my head,” Truell says, “I just went back to punk, to that feeling of prowling around looking for anything to do and being so mad about how boring everything is that you just have to yell.” The track had an attitude, it had an unexpected texture thanks to Truell’s playing improvised percussion, but her scream is what took it to the next level, transforming it into a signature Imperial Teen song.


One of Imperial Teen’s less magical concerns on All Over You is the effect capitalism has on the creation of art. This expresses itself in the headspinning rush of music industry success and disappointment that plays out in “Hands All Up,” and also in Imperial Teen’s sound. All Over You features the band’s most expansive, textured palette to date, and much of it’s steeped in — bubblegum music and boy/girl harmonies, electro beats and grungy distortion, power pop mall anthems and kiss-off lyricism — has been dismissed, at one point or another, as a fad. Time, of course, has proven otherwise, and All Over You makes a case for Imperial Teen as four of that time’s architects, inheriting, preserving, and pushing the boundaries of what pop music can be from one song to the next.


“We want to make people dance and think and feel,” says Schwartz. In all of those ambitions, All Over You crushes, brought to life by four musicians who found each other in the clubs of San Francisco over three decades ago and have remained family ever since. It is less a return from hiatus than a broadcast from the sonic utopia Imperial Teen has long ruled over, where the music is bratty and sexy and the parties don’t stop until everyone’s found euphoria. A raveup for mind, body, and soul, best enjoyed in a dark room packed with as many sweaty bodies as possible

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


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


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

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


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


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

Moulded By Industry is William D Drake's six album, his first for ten years and a return to the richly layered sonic texture and epic production of his majestic Briny Hooves. He is joined by long time collaborators James Larcombe, Dean Gaisburgh-Watkyn and Steve Jackson, with the addition of a new crew member, singer Treana Morris. Moving on from his nine years of pianistic and compositional duties in Cardiacs, Drake's solo work has been known for its synthesis of Mellotron-driven grandeur with a surreal playfulness.

But the deep heart of Drake's work is in its powerful evocation of the landscape of the countryside and its connection with love, longing and loss. To this end, his own enigmatic lyrics have rubbed shoulders with poetry drawn from across the centuries. From obscure sources such as Samuel Spree to the poetry of Thomas Hardy and Rupert Brooke, his settings make old words shimmer with human emotion. The texture of his music also reflects an inspirational lack of concern for distances of time. The earthy breath of his harmonium is interwoven with tones teased from archaic instruments by James Larcombe – hurdy-gurdy, dulcitone and melodeon.

But Drake's sound-world is no museum. Here, ancient words and the timbres of ancient instruments become one with the rush of a moment's emotion. Moulded By Industry brings this approach a new sonic depth, intoxicatingly shaded by Treana's lush vocal harmonies and underpinned by Steve's rhythm. Dean's evocative guitar textures give an oceanic sense, tinged with Americana, recalling his work with Drake in their alt country band Nervous. These many layers of sound are drawn together into vivid soundscapes by the painterly mixing of producer Ott. Renowned for his work in electronica and dub, Ott's two decades of experience working with artists such as Sinéad O'Connor, the Orb and Brian Eno bring an organic touch here, more akin to the elemental forces of land and sky than grid electricity. More than any of Drake's previous albums, Moulded By Industry reignites the emotional urgency of old texts. The gorgeous single The Flickering Shade, haunted by glimmers of lost possibilities, is set from words by Thomas Ashe. Turtledove's heady evocation of the blissful madness of love sets the words of an anonymous 17th century ballad. above all, the album is a testament to Drake's love of John Clare, 'The Northamptonshire Peasant Poet'. Clare wrote as the centuries old process of enclosure, in which wild and common land was appropriated commercially, was accelerating.

His works, rather than representing simple sentimentality, are passionate love poems to the landscape and cries from a soul reeling from the creeping unfamiliarity devouring it. This sense of the tension between passion and ill-ease has its most potent expression in Green Shadows. The brooding, slow-tempo energy of Steve's drums drive a horizon-wide lament, alternately lulled by Treana's vocal textures and made restless by James' plaintive hurdy-gurdy and the emotive pull of Dean's slide guitar. The present moment is also a time of enclosure, both metaphorically, as our lives, memories and emotions are drawn into the commercial space of social media, and literally as land and water are swallowed by vast data centre developments. Moulded By Industry celebrates a regained sense of being in the moment in the landscape, in life and in love. The album closes with the utterly delightful single Love In The Universe. The kind of song that could make a cynic use the word 'joyous' without irony, this Harry Nilsson-esque romp reassures us, with a wink, that 'in an infinite universe everything has its place ... even the human race'.

Transparent blue vinyl. October By Name is the latest solo album from Kavus Torabi, marking a luminous new phase for one of Britain's most distinctive psychedelic voices. Written in the wake of significant personal change and shaped by his work with Gong, Cardiacs and The Utopia Strong, the album blends adventurous psychedelia, melodic songwriting and mystical reflection into a sound that is both emotionally direct and unmistakably his own. Completing an autobiographical trilogy of solo records, Torabi once again performs, records, mixes and illustrates every aspect himself, creating a deeply personal work. The result is an intimate, expansive album that feels celestial, transformative and uniquely Kavus Torabi.

Blume returns to James Tenney's Postal Pieces with a second volume: the three Swell Pieces and Koan, written for Alison Knowles, Pauline Oliveros, La Monte Young and Malcolm Goldstein, on vinyl for the first time from one of the key suites of 20th Century avant-garde music.

In 1970, James Tenney (1934-2006) reversed the entropy of his own life and went west. After spending the majority of the post-war years at the centre of cultural ferment in New York, he accepted a position at the newly inaugurated California Institute of the Arts (CalArts), alongside Allan Kaprow, Simone Forti, John Baldessari, Nam June Paik, Alison Knowles, Morton Subotnick, Harold Budd and Charlemagne Palestine. While the move began an enduring period of relative obscurity, Tenney quietly remained one of the most distinct and groundbreaking composers of his generation, producing a remarkably focused body of work inquiring after the elemental character and perception of sound.

Among the most celebrated of his efforts are the Postal Pieces, a suite of eleven compositions completed in 1971. Citing his strong dislike of writing letters, Tenney sent his friends short scores on the back of postcards. The eleven pieces are composed around three themes: his concept of swell form (utilizing repetition and progressing through a structurally symmetrical arch), intonation, and the desire to produce "meditative perceptual states."

Composed for a group of friends - the visual artist Alison Knowles, the composers Pauline Oliveros and La Monte Young, and the composer and violinist Malcolm Goldstein - the four works on this second volume are intimate, poetic and discreet. They were written roughly contemporaneously with the formation of minimalism by many of Tenney's closest friends, and share its elements of chance, durational tone, repetition and constraint, but they approach them on different terms, anticipating the more complex forms of post-minimalism. Rooted in gestalt theory, they are music in which the composer almost entirely disappears, offering greater attention to the artists to whom they were sent and to the subjective experience of the listener.

A student of Carl Ruggles, John Cage, Harry Partch and Edgard Varèse, an active member of Fluxus, a pioneer of computer music at Bell Labs and a collaborator of Carolee Schneemann, Tenney represents a winding thread connecting the entire history of American avant-garde and experimental music. The second collection by Blume attending to the Postal Pieces, recorded by The Barton Workshop under the direction of James Fulkerson, follows the long sold-out first volume (BLUME 022). It comes with exact replicas of the original postcard graphic scores and newly commissioned liner notes by Bradford Bailey.

DINTE presents a collection of southern gospel sides from late 1940s to mid 1950s capturing the post-WWII departure from rural folk & shape-note singing traditions that had previously defined the music, to quartets and vocal harmony groups embracing of driving, uptempo boogie-woogie rhythms and spirituals borrowed from the black church. Meticulously transferred and restored from the original 78 RPM and transcription discs by collector James Zurek

Slacker and Seth Troxler presents He Ain’t Here. 15 tracks by Slackers for Slackers. All exclusives.

Featuring exclusive music from: Seth Troxler, O.bee & Tomas Station, Audion, Jonny Rock, Dr Dunks, Krystal Klear, Marc Houle, Hiroko Yamamura and more. This is our dysfunctional family – and this will get weird.

Seth Troxler:

"When I created Slacker I wanted to make something to remind me of my youth in the ’90s. Being born in ’85, the ’90s was a decade that defined me. Culturally America was at a pivotal point. Post Reaganism of the ’80s, the ’90s was defined by the anti-hero. The idea that we had had enough. From grunge to hip hop, house and techno.

"This was the time of independence and indie music. Life without boundaries. A world where everything felt possible and a belief that the future was coming. Home game consoles, futuristic new sports like the X Games. It was about being radical. Living life on the edge and turning away from the imaginary cookie cutter American dream.

"I feel we are in similar times. The future we were promised every day seems more like a nightmare than a utopian dream. And all we have left are our minds and bodies, but who knows how long our freedom to be an individual will exist.

"This compilation is protest – from fight songs to moments of joy. It’s about living, dancing and being. It’s for the freaks, perverts, for the rebels, for those who forever were other, and dared the impossible to just be themselves in a world where everyone wants to be the same. The revolution will not be televised because it’s within ourselves. It’s about being unapologetically individual.

"Freedom is a state of mind as well as a state of being. Being a slacker is as much about pushing, as it is about being. Not giving a f#ck about the rules and making your own. I’m a slacker, you’re a slacker, a loser and nobody. History will forget me, history forgot Elvis.

"The world is about to change. Might as well have a bit of fun while it burns. Welcome to our dysfunctional family. Join us for the bonfire, I promise you things are going to get weird, in the best possible way. HE AIN’T HERE."

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

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

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

Forgotten electronic treasures by composer Ton de Leeuw rediscovered: first release in the Dutch Oscillation Series

Dutch Oscillation Series (DOS) proudly announces the release of a box set featuring the complete electronic works of Ton de Leeuw (1926–1996). This publication marks the first instalment in a new series that brings the history of Dutch electronic music to life for a broad audience. The official presentation will take place on Saturday, 12 September, during the Gaudeamus Festival for contemporary music in Utrecht.

Unique discoveries from the archive. For far too long, twentieth-century Dutch electronic music has remained hidden away in dim archives, only occasionally accessible under optimal conditions. Many compositions have not been heard for decades, perhaps after being presented to an audience only once. For this project, the original tapes were carefully traced in basements and archives, including the mysterious work Chronos, which was rediscovered in the collection of the Netherlands Music Institute (NMI). Even close collaborators of De Leeuw were unaware of the existence of Chronos. Another highlight of this release is the radiophonic oratorio Job (1956), which was awarded the Prix Italia radio prize by broadcaster Rai.

The recordings were digitised by experts at the Institute of Sonology and the Instituut voor Beeld en Geluid (Netherlands Institute for Sound and Vision). The music was then meticulously restored and mastered in the studio of Jos Smolders (EARLabs), in accordance with modern standards, while strictly adhering to the composer’s original artistic intentions.

The edition includes eight works composed between 1956 and 1982. The collection is released as a deluxe LP and CD box set and is also available via streaming and as high-resolution downloads. For an optimal listening experience, originally four-channel works such as Elektronische Studie (Electronic Study) and Antiphonie (Antiphony) are available as special Dolby Atmos downloads, allowing listeners to experience at home the unique spatial sound world envisioned by Ton de Leeuw.

About Ton de LeeuwTon de Leeuw was one of the most influential Dutch composers of the twentieth century. A thinker with a distinctly cosmopolitan outlook, he immersed himself deeply in musical cultures from India, Japan, and Indonesia, among others. His work consistently sought to bridge Eastern and Western musical traditions and concepts.

In addition, De Leeuw enjoyed a distinguished academic career. He served for many years as senior lecturer and director at the Amsterdam Conservatory and was affiliated as a senior research fellow with the University of Amsterdam. His book Muziek van de twintigste eeuw (Music of the Twentieth Century) remains a standard reference work.

»Baby Ghost« is the debut album by double bassist and vocalist Jordan Sand. Released through Hallow Ground, it blurs the lines between different genres and modes of expressions, improvisation and composition and showcases the unique playing style the composer has developed. Sand blends her voice with the bowed harmonics and subharmonics of her double bass. At once conceptually rigorous and musically open-ended, Sand’s wordless meditations on death and what comes after are both visceral and explorative.

Sand is a boundary-crossing instrumentalist, performer, and session musician who has worked in folk, free jazz, pop, classical and new as well as experimental music. In 2020, she took a hiatus. When she picked up the bass again, she began stripping down the relationship to her instrument to its core elements, searching for a way to melt the sounds of bow and voice together. This resulted in the appearance of ghost notes, tones emerging from the addition or subtraction of two frequencies, and harmonics that she adds with her falsetto.

On »Baby Ghost,« Sand utilises this acoustic sound and the spontaneous precision of her improvisational practice for pieces that deal with the subject of dying. They move from more polyphonic improvisations toward abstraction, touching upon harsh noise and minimalistic bow-chants before returning briefly to a melodic soliloquy, and finally landing on an extended subharmonic drone. This progression reflects the journey of the spirit after death; the experience of visions, memories, ecstasies and terrors before the dissolution of the self.

Sand performs this process physically, blending her voice with her instrument to explore how the senses might dissolve and merge when they enter a state between life and beyond-or-between-life. Born out of the moment and dedicated to a lost friend, »Baby Ghost« is quite literally an otherworldly achievement.

Liberation Front is a statement of pure intent from Sydney, Australia's TO THE GRAVE. Brutal and uncompromising in both sound and message, TO THE GRAVE create ugly music for uglier times. They rage against animal cruelty and environmental destruction, translating their death metal-infused deathcore into something unforgettable and utterly uncompromising. From the breakdown-laden assault of opener "MEAT THE HUMANS", Liberation Front is a suffocating return to form for the veganism-espousing quintet. While recent releases explored more hardcore-oriented territory, this album embraces deathcore at its most savage and relentless. Lead single "EYESTALK ABLATIONS" is a devastating statement, accompanied by a video every bit as violent and unforgettable as the music itself. Over the past 15 years, TO THE GRAVE have established themselves among the leading names of Australia's emerging deathcore scene, sharing stages with fellow Australians Thy Art Is Murder as well as international heavyweights including Lorna Shore. The band continues to tour extensively throughout Europe and North America, returning to the US and Canada in Fall 2026 alongside Crown Magnetar. Liberation Front is more than an album—it is a musical and lyrical call to arms, designed not only to rage against the machine but to educate, provoke and challenge listeners on every level.

Frequency of Love, out ​October 2nd, marks a new chapter for Victoria Monét - timeless, elevated, and utterly commanding. Weaving R&B with the romance of classic cinema and the energy of the dance floor, the album is a sensory experience that speaks to love, vibration, and the full breadth of who Victoria is as an artist. Victoria Monét is a multi-hyphenate superstar and 3x Grammy Award winner whose debut album JAGUAR II made her one of the most celebrated artists of her generation - earning seven Grammy nominations, placement on Best of 2023 lists from Barack Obama, Jay-Z, Rolling Stone, TIME, and Vogue, and praise from Beyoncé, Janet Jackson, Bruno Mars, and more.

Flug brings his singular vision to Backspin Records with 'From My Soul', a 7-track EP that marks a powerful new chapter for both artist and label, rounded out by a remix from Kashpitzky. Moving between deep emotional techno, raw percussive functionality and high intensity, the release showcases Flug's signature precision and narrative depth while keeping things classy and never falling for overused tropes. Kashpitzky completes the package with a remix that reinterprets the source material from a darker, more straight-forward angle. ??

Opening with the title track 'From My Soul', Flug sets off on an epic 8-minute journey built on reverberating melodic layers, shimmering chord pads and a strong low endthat unfolds slowly and deliberately, balancing emotional weight with a hypnotic drive. 'Make It Loud' follows with a more stripped, functional direction, where warm low-end energy, minimal percussion and reverb-drenched sine wave synth hits create a tight, circular groove anchored by a subtle but sinister vocal presence. ??

On the flip side, 'Human Instinct' turns the energy more direct and physical, driven by a saturated kick drum, looping synth motifs and sparse vocal cuts that heighten tension without disrupting the flow. 'The Awakening' expands the emotional scope with a deep kick and tom-driven bassline, expansive droning pads and dragging percussion that build a rich, cinematic atmosphere. Kashpitzky's remix reimagines the original at a faster BPM with distorted chord stabs, off-grid hi-hats and layered synth work creating a tense, industrial atmosphere that breaks into a spacious breakdown before dropping back into a stripped,high-impact groove. ??

With the 'From My Soul' EP, Flug marks a strong first statement on Regal's Backspin Records, delivering a cohesive body of work that balances depth, emotion and dancefloor utility, reinforcing the label's dedication to innovative techno.

The fifth instalment in the label’s well-established Fluid Files series, this new mosaic of sun-streaked joints summons the voices of faces old and new, sewn together with that similar Chicago-typical, laid-back attitude and a thread of unstoppable funkiness.

Diving first with a slice of velvety, looped out piano house boogie on a solid French filtered house tip, Dutch outfit Fouk lays down a proper enticing number for the late summer hours, packed with elastic bass jack, anthemic stabs and a sun-kissed shimmer straight out a blissed out coastal escape. Label alum Danou P follows up with a further bouncy number, dishing out a seriously infectious mix of acid-abraded bass and warped floor dynamics, ready to knock dancers askew with its lush, synth-flooded hooks and fun-loving, oddball swing.

More on the muscular side of things, Ben Diggins clocks in with the steroid-fueled balearic hoodoo of ‘Mascotte’ - a tune built for the undying after vibes, when the sun begins to rise and the crowd’s levels of serotonin hit a new high. Prismatic and powered-up, Diggins’ track injects any heavy-lidded engine with his own concoction of driving percussion, utopian motifs and fluttering, ambient-leaning harmonics.

Rounding off this four-part sonic journey, Colombian vibist DFRA teams up with Argentinian singer Denise Izaguirre on the heavily Latin jazz-informed, ‘Impulse’. Soulful and oneiric, the song taps in both artists’ musical heritage whilst pushing for new directions through the combined use of electronic and acoustic instruments (congas, trumpet, synths, drum machine…) - contrasting and complementary, shaping an entirely new and singular vision that is drenched in a bittersweet blend of warm melancholy and bracing hopefulness

The unconscious element to the conscious process.

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

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

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

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

Dub:

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

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

Push the mixer into the red.

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

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

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

Carelessness.

Noise:

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Miles

Dutch collective.multibeat return with OOO their third album and debut for Sonar Kollektiv. Rooted in Utrecht’s vibrant musical community, the trio of Boudewijn Pleij (keys), Thijs van Zutphen (bass) and Aron Smit (drums) blend hip-hop, jazz and beat culture into a groove-driven sound inspired by artists such as Robert Glasper, J Dilla and the contemporary UK jazz scene.

The three musicians first met while studying at the conservatoire in Utrecht, initially performing as a live backing band under the name Muddy Grease before evolving into a production-focused collective. Over the years they have built a reputation for connecting the worlds of jazz, hip-hop and contemporary beat music through an ever-expanding network of collaborators, while helping to foster a vibrant and experimental local scene around them.

Warm, collaborative and deeply groove-centred, OOO captures .multibeat at their most confident and expansive.

It is an album that honours the collective’s roots in jazz and hip-hop while continuing to push their sound into new and inspiring spaces, a fitting introduction to one of the most exciting young groups to emerge from the Dutch scene in recent years.

Jason Dungan (aka Blue Lake) and Johan Carøe find beauty in the rhythms
and repetitions of domestic life for collaborative album, 'Routine' - out September 25

Copenhagen-based multi-instrumentalists Jason Dungan and Johan Carøe didn't set out to make an album. Instead, as the title 'Routine' suggests, they found their way there through a process of habitual making and listening, developing an intuitive musical language to reflect the dreamlike meanderings and creative play of life's quiet moments. 'Routine' blends pop orientated sounds, Avant-garde minimalism, folk and new age with the emotive depth of film-score.

Their meeting was not entirely coincidental. Previously in bands such as Squares and Triangles, Jason Dungan has since recorded multiple albums under the moniker Blue Lake, including the lauded 'Sun Arcs', pursuing his passion for self-built percussion and multi-string instruments. Johan Carøe meanwhile is a composer whose film soundtrack work has seen him collaborate with Angelo Badalamenti, Arp, and Sofie Birch, at whose Andersabo residency (curated by Dungan) the pair first met, resulting in the highly praised album 'Repair Techniques' written by Birch and Carøe.

'Routine' emerged organically over many years against the backdrop of great personal change. As Carøe said goodbye to his father and welcomed his first child, the pair sent each other fragments of melodies and patterns, working up responses when time allowed to assemble a sonic palette that combined acoustic instrumentation of zither, clarinet, cello, saxophone (among others) with the textures of tape, drum machine and Yamaha DX7 synth. Inspired by the vulnerability and DIY ethos of Arthur Russell's home recordings, the vision of labels like Disques de Crepescule, and the art pop, experimentation inherent to late '70s and early '80s recordings from NYC and Japan alike, Dungan and Carøe conjured new forms for their folk, leftfield pop and avant garde influences from the low-lit living rooms of Copenhagen and rural Sweden. "I'm very interested in the ways in which music and art emerge from our wider experiences as people, workers, parents and in the daydreaming activity of making music," Dungan explains of a process which allowed the duo's individual styles to drift apart and merge together seamlessly. "I think the process was definitely capturing moments in time, but over a long time," Carøe adds. "It was a bit like improvisation, but with time stretched."

The music floats with grace and humility, remaining sophisticated yet acutely introverted.
Whether on 'Clouds', where soft layers of zither and clarinet are moved along by a featherlight bass riff and the hypnotic clip-clop of the primitive groovebox, or the gentle grandeur of cello rising and falling through 'Routine 1', the album reveals itself over 10 instrumental tracks, evoking the ineffable calm that descends when the light changes and the world turns inwards. The act of time passing became a key creative ingredient to the evolution of the album, enriched with the exciting challenge to transform their passing rounds of home recordings via a slow release musical dialogue. Jason found creative moments in the twilight hours to lay down zither, melodica, acoustic guitar to name but few, while Johan utilising "line-in and headphones" would manipulate, stretch and pitch Jason's melodic pathways during newly born naptimes.

Carøe rhythmically plucks and slides the stringed cello instrument, leaving palpable foundations on 'Hymn' and 'Chords', in a treated, stylistic approach akin to Mabe Fratti, while 'Silence' draws to a close with a gospel touch. Dungan's harp-motion zither flourishes reveal more classical connotations on 'Reunion' with inspiration of Bedroom Community's Nico Muhly as organs rise with Moogs, culminating with a climatic choral outro from friend, mezzo-soprano Anna Caroline Olesen.

'Routine' then is their first collaboration, an album of deep and sincere reflection with inviting overtones that gesture with unrushed authenticity. A document of a new-found friendship that opens a window into the most personal of spaces, where the daily practices of music and life exist side-by-side to wondrous effect.

*Re-release of Holy Fuck’s 5th album originally released in 2020, now on clear vinyl limited to 500 copies*
Holy Fuck have today announced details of new album 'Deleter', which will be released on January 17th and is further previewed with the video for acclaimed latest single 'Luxe' (ft. Alexis Taylor). Having just concluded a US tour alongside Hot Chip, the seminal Canadian band will play a selection of European headline dates later this month (with a London show at Moth Club on October 23rd selling out immediately).

Arriving at a moment where attention spans are shot and anxieties are going into overdrive, 'Deleter', Holy Fuck’s fifth studio LP, is a defiantly full-bodied affair. Polyrhythmic and pleasure- focused, 'Deleter' sees Brian Borcherdt, Graham Walsh, Matt Schulz, and Matt “Punchy” McQuaid utilises their signature sound - seamlessly fusing the gauzy drive of krautrock and deep house’s dreamy ineffability, expertly blending purring motorik percussion with the sort of fuggy synthetic fizz and tang they are renowned for.

From the thrusting minimalism of opener ‘Luxe’ through to the triumphant chug of closing track ‘Ruby’, via club-ready rollocker ‘Free Gloss’ and the cosmic clatter of ‘San Sebastian’, Deleter is a record that joins the Holy Fuck dots within their widescreen, technicolour, crescendo- heavy sound.

The Yummy Fur’s first album of new material in over 25 years is seductive and ambiguous; a fast-paced flip through scenes from art, myth, life and fantasy; a witty whole made from glittering scraps. The band’s original incarnation – fronted by singer, songwriter and guitarist John McKeown from 1992 to 1999 – morphed from making quick-hit cartoon-art songs to Eno and Cale-influenced creepers, populated by characters from McKeown’s life in Glasgow and the films, books and poetry that he lived a parallel life through. Everybody Talks About The Weather delights in using every past iteration of the band as potent collage material: a melee of sounds and ideas existing at once, revealing themselves then dipping back into hiding.
Recorded by the original core trio of McKeown, Brian MacDougall (guitar) and Paul Thomson (drums), Everybody Talks About The Weather comes 17 years after the band reformed for sporadic live shows, and seven years after the release of their sorta-greatest hits compilation Piggy Wings (Rock Action). Ten tracks long with nothing to spare, it is as condensed and vital as their best songs, with a new clarity of sound that allows their ambiguities to come into the light.
The album begins with “Cogs”, a taunting inquisition from within. As McKeown stages a fight between his id and ego, the tension heats up between conversational guitar lines and minimalist repetition; threatening sing-song melody and real, palpable menace. The band members are forced in tandem only to break apart, sustaining a genuine sense of just-hidden danger throughout the whole record – except, arguably, “Headphones”, a looser moment which sees McKeown make an existential something out of nothing while waiting for someone in the car (“I should have brought a book.../My ears are bleeding from the compression on your album”)
The songs are riots of reference: “Unity Over Europe” is a slyly complex two act play about the Mitford sisters – Diana, Unity, and Nancy, in a wink to the YF canon – smashing tragic biographical detail together with allusions to Thomas Pynchon and Francis Bacon. Pynchon is also lifted to serve “Blue Sunshine”, a collision of school shooters, serial killers and fictional fuck-ups (“Fast forward to Compton/Fast forward to Pynchon/Fast forward to Columbine'”) whose buzzy guitar lines are taunting and confrontational like a smarmy teenager. The innocuous title of “My Lasagne” belies a song that exists in several time periods at once: a visit to see Guernica, 50 people with their backs to the portrait of Dora Maar; the time that Picasso painted from; the Reina Sofia and the dirty streets of the Malasaña; myth-making musicians and the myths they’re riffing off overlapping and leering at each other.
All this could be laboured in lesser hands, but cultural verbosity is second nature to The Yummy Fur, who transform all this source material into songs that are weird, sexy, funny and absurd. Meaning is not happily understood or flattened. Susan Sontag's essay Against Interpretation accompanied McKeown as he wrote this album, and she’s paraphrased in “Semolina Ballerina”, the album’s justification of artistic ambiguity. Thomson’s motorik beat leads a gathering of back-and-forth instrumental phrases – including a wiry contribution on saxophone – embodying the futility of trying to parse something definitive from repeated action. “Listen to the very first thing that’s in your head,” Sontag-via-McKeown commands directly, then slinks sideways: “Interpretation is a conversation in an unmade bed”
The album features two more focused portraits, or at least The Yummy Fur’s version of such a thing. “Wanda” merges the life of filmmaker Barbara Loden and the title character of her semi-autobiographical 1970 feature film, with Loden’s then-husband Elia Kazan joining the fray of no-good men in her film. It’s a mix of adaptation and avant-criticism, with McKeown’s wordplay and mannered pronunciation mirroring the way that non-fiction and fiction twist around each other in the song. The title track is a series of vignettes and impressions from the lives of the band’s ‘90s inner circle, positing painter Mac McNaughton as a kind of Falstaffian ringleader. As with Piggy Wings and the recent single “New T-Shirt”, McNaughton painted the cover of Everybody Talks About The Weather – like the album’s music, the image of a coy girl in a white dress is an uncanny amalgamation of styles, suggestions and references just out of reach, as though seen in an art museum in a dream.
The album ends with two reads of the same frustration. “King of Nothing” is the closest The Yummy Fur will ever get to sludge-rock: the band melts together into a dusty, dreary haze as McKeown drowns in a drudgery of personal struggle (“Two jumpers on in Babylon/And only cats to talk to”) and the rhythmic toppling of heroes (Rowlands, Duvall, Munro). The majority of visible dirt is cleaned off for “Say Hello”, an uncharacteristic depiction of throwing the windows open after a dark night of the soul. Here, the situation is still cold and hard (“When the sun burns gold, but the heat never reaches your fingertips”) but it feels surmountable. Everybody Talks About The Weather is an unpredictable album from an unpredictable group, but ending on a moment of almost uncomplicated light is maybe its biggest surprise. - Claire Biddles (2026)

The Yummy Fur’s first album of new material in over 25 years is seductive and ambiguous; a fast-paced flip through scenes from art, myth, life and fantasy; a witty whole made from glittering scraps. The band’s original incarnation – fronted by singer, songwriter and guitarist John McKeown from 1992 to 1999 – morphed from making quick-hit cartoon-art songs to Eno and Cale-influenced creepers, populated by characters from McKeown’s life in Glasgow and the films, books and poetry that he lived a parallel life through. Everybody Talks About The Weather delights in using every past iteration of the band as potent collage material: a melee of sounds and ideas existing at once, revealing themselves then dipping back into hiding.
Recorded by the original core trio of McKeown, Brian MacDougall (guitar) and Paul Thomson (drums), Everybody Talks About The Weather comes 17 years after the band reformed for sporadic live shows, and seven years after the release of their sorta-greatest hits compilation Piggy Wings (Rock Action). Ten tracks long with nothing to spare, it is as condensed and vital as their best songs, with a new clarity of sound that allows their ambiguities to come into the light.
The album begins with “Cogs”, a taunting inquisition from within. As McKeown stages a fight between his id and ego, the tension heats up between conversational guitar lines and minimalist repetition; threatening sing-song melody and real, palpable menace. The band members are forced in tandem only to break apart, sustaining a genuine sense of just-hidden danger throughout the whole record – except, arguably, “Headphones”, a looser moment which sees McKeown make an existential something out of nothing while waiting for someone in the car (“I should have brought a book.../My ears are bleeding from the compression on your album”)
The songs are riots of reference: “Unity Over Europe” is a slyly complex two act play about the Mitford sisters – Diana, Unity, and Nancy, in a wink to the YF canon – smashing tragic biographical detail together with allusions to Thomas Pynchon and Francis Bacon. Pynchon is also lifted to serve “Blue Sunshine”, a collision of school shooters, serial killers and fictional fuck-ups (“Fast forward to Compton/Fast forward to Pynchon/Fast forward to Columbine'”) whose buzzy guitar lines are taunting and confrontational like a smarmy teenager. The innocuous title of “My Lasagne” belies a song that exists in several time periods at once: a visit to see Guernica, 50 people with their backs to the portrait of Dora Maar; the time that Picasso painted from; the Reina Sofia and the dirty streets of the Malasaña; myth-making musicians and the myths they’re riffing off overlapping and leering at each other.
All this could be laboured in lesser hands, but cultural verbosity is second nature to The Yummy Fur, who transform all this source material into songs that are weird, sexy, funny and absurd. Meaning is not happily understood or flattened. Susan Sontag's essay Against Interpretation accompanied McKeown as he wrote this album, and she’s paraphrased in “Semolina Ballerina”, the album’s justification of artistic ambiguity. Thomson’s motorik beat leads a gathering of back-and-forth instrumental phrases – including a wiry contribution on saxophone – embodying the futility of trying to parse something definitive from repeated action. “Listen to the very first thing that’s in your head,” Sontag-via-McKeown commands directly, then slinks sideways: “Interpretation is a conversation in an unmade bed”
The album features two more focused portraits, or at least The Yummy Fur’s version of such a thing. “Wanda” merges the life of filmmaker Barbara Loden and the title character of her semi-autobiographical 1970 feature film, with Loden’s then-husband Elia Kazan joining the fray of no-good men in her film. It’s a mix of adaptation and avant-criticism, with McKeown’s wordplay and mannered pronunciation mirroring the way that non-fiction and fiction twist around each other in the song. The title track is a series of vignettes and impressions from the lives of the band’s ‘90s inner circle, positing painter Mac McNaughton as a kind of Falstaffian ringleader. As with Piggy Wings and the recent single “New T-Shirt”, McNaughton painted the cover of Everybody Talks About The Weather – like the album’s music, the image of a coy girl in a white dress is an uncanny amalgamation of styles, suggestions and references just out of reach, as though seen in an art museum in a dream.
The album ends with two reads of the same frustration. “King of Nothing” is the closest The Yummy Fur will ever get to sludge-rock: the band melts together into a dusty, dreary haze as McKeown drowns in a drudgery of personal struggle (“Two jumpers on in Babylon/And only cats to talk to”) and the rhythmic toppling of heroes (Rowlands, Duvall, Munro). The majority of visible dirt is cleaned off for “Say Hello”, an uncharacteristic depiction of throwing the windows open after a dark night of the soul. Here, the situation is still cold and hard (“When the sun burns gold, but the heat never reaches your fingertips”) but it feels surmountable. Everybody Talks About The Weather is an unpredictable album from an unpredictable group, but ending on a moment of almost uncomplicated light is maybe its biggest surprise. - Claire Biddles (2026)

“Man has such a predilection for systems and abstract deductions that he is ready to distort the truth intentionally, he is ready to deny the evidence of his senses only to justify his logic”
Fyodor Dostoevsky - Notes from Underground (1864)

The Intermittent Signal is the sound of resistance.

In the year since The Sick Man Of Europe’s debut album was released, the world has moved on. Steady hands have slipped from the levers of power, logic has shifted underground and the message grows more urgent with every passing day.

Repetition has been relearned and the machine rhythms repurposed, this time with increased intensity. Arrangements have moved beyond the bare bones economy of the first record and there’s a newfound melodicism in places. Clarity and conviction ring true through the static and noise, while utopian ideas to remodel a broken system gain traction. This is a rejection of the attention economy and a call to reconnect through community and organisation. Those simple acts that were once commonplace have become increasingly radical as new fractures emerge.

“Through repetition the message has gained weight and become something more urgent,” The Sick Man Of Europe explains. “The vehicle for this message needed to evolve, grow to gain the strength to carry it. We’ve landed on something more expansive, immediate and immersive. Less is more. Until it isn't.”

“Man has such a predilection for systems and abstract deductions that he is ready to distort the truth intentionally, he is ready to deny the evidence of his senses only to justify his logic”
Fyodor Dostoevsky - Notes from Underground (1864)

The Intermittent Signal is the sound of resistance.

In the year since The Sick Man Of Europe’s debut album was released, the world has moved on. Steady hands have slipped from the levers of power, logic has shifted underground and the message grows more urgent with every passing day.

Repetition has been relearned and the machine rhythms repurposed, this time with increased intensity. Arrangements have moved beyond the bare bones economy of the first record and there’s a newfound melodicism in places. Clarity and conviction ring true through the static and noise, while utopian ideas to remodel a broken system gain traction. This is a rejection of the attention economy and a call to reconnect through community and organisation. Those simple acts that were once commonplace have become increasingly radical as new fractures emerge.

“Through repetition the message has gained weight and become something more urgent,” The Sick Man Of Europe explains. “The vehicle for this message needed to evolve, grow to gain the strength to carry it. We’ve landed on something more expansive, immediate and immersive. Less is more. Until it isn't.”

Iker is back with "Sinkronia". A gripping takes on Eastern and Western minimalist traditions influenced by the likes of Steve Reich, Suso Saiz or Midori Takada. Transcendental and esoteric rhythmic wonders that take time to unfold. A young percussionist and guitar player with electronic interests displaying a rich sonority and a great sense of structure and arrangements. This record shows the refinement of Iker's attributes, who initially worked in the noise/punk scene and now is part of the local Free Jazz/Improv landscape of San Sebastian, although he currently lives in New York where he has been playing several gigs including a rendition of Glenn Branca's Symphony No.13 at Lincoln center with 100 guitarists. For this new album he uses Xylophone, hand drums, electric guitar, synths and percussion instruments that guide us in an energetic way to territories somewhere between Italian avant-garde, Japanese New Age and American Minimalism. Iker Munduate Thusberg is a Basque multi-instrumentalist born and raised in San Sebastian and with strong ties to Mikkeli in Finland, where half of his family are from. A fine arts student at Bilbao's UPV (Basque university), his interest in sound, art and design has led him to combine all these different disciplines and convey them into his music and his work. "Iker Munduate is an artist and musician who brings a delicate sense of composition and design_ Inspired in part by new age music, Its rippling melodies and frictionless glide recall the futuristic utopias of Detroit Escalator Company and the interior reverie of Nobukazu Takemura (Derek Walmsley, The Wire Dec'24)"

Ancient spirits come alive as SKÁLD extend an invitation into times long gone but not forgotten. Ørlǫg, coming September 25, 2026, is their first album via Napalm Records, and it is our destiny. As the Norns weave our future, this album is a fascinating passageway into our pristine origins and the consequences of our choices. Ten new songs as stepping stones, Ørlǫg is an offering to listen, to dwell, to reflect—and to find something within yourself previously unknown. SKÁLD don’t just play music, they awaken ancient ways.

Quiet Village drop a version of Barry Reynolds' 'Till The Doctor Gets Back' with a remix from Mad Professor. The duo's latest release for their eponymous imprint is a love letter to the early-80s sound of Island Records.

Joel Martin and Matt 'Radio Slave' Edwards' Quiet Village project is back on their The Quiet Village imprint on July 10th with 'Till The Doctor Gets Back', a characteristically spaced-out cover of Barry Reynolds which features their first ever commissioned remix, having tapped Mad Professor.

Recorded in 2024, Quiet Village's 'Till The Doctor Gets Back' evokes the spirit of the 1982 original, a release born out of a period when reggae, dub, pop, rock and dance music were colliding. QV's version is exactly what the duo have been known for since their beginnings in 2005; unhurried, immersive and utterly compelling. With reverb and delays firmly on the 'dub' bus, the track is shot through rich synths, glorious overlapping melodies and a fresh vocal interpretation. Mad Professor's dub slow burns, doubles down on the dub aesthetics and embraces the source material wholly, resulting in a cosseting yet invigorating listen.

A long-lost Japanese acid folk gem, Niningashi’s 1974 private press debut Heavy Way shimmers with originality, deft song writing and a dream-like groove.

Although he was training as a pharmacist, Kazuhisa Okubo was much more interested in prescribing musical medicine.
A coming-of-age album, Heavy Way captured a turning point in Okubo’s life, and Japanese society more widely as a nostalgia for the pastoral calm of the traditional life, met the cosmopolitan thrill of coffee, sex and cigarettes in the big city.
Intoxicated by Tokyo, driven by a passion for music and surrounded by a thriving acid folk scene, the young student filtered his experiences through a psychedelic cocktail of soulful influences from the US and Japan.
Niningashi was his first band, and Heavy Way was their only album. It was honest and raw, deep and strangely funky, in an off-beat kind of way. Across nine tracks, Okubo and the 6-piece band put their own spin on the new folk sound of Japan, combining witty lyrics with electric guitar-driven solos and crisp, understated grooves.

Melancholy and profound, opening track ‘Ameagari’ feels like a synthesis of Harvest-era Neil Young and Haruomi Hosono’s Happy End. Then there’s the whimsical washboard country sound of ‘Semai Boku No Heyade’; the moody, low-lit charm of ‘Restaurant’; and ‘Hitoribotchi’, a sensitive portrayal of childhood, steeped in memories of rainfall that will resonate with fans of Woo and Mac Demarco.
While Okubo would go on to taste success with psychedelic folk bands Neko and Kaze, the latter of which scored three #1 albums, little is known about his mysterious debut with Niningashi.
Self-released by Okubo in 1974, and featuring album artwork by his brother, it has slowly generated a cult following online, intrigued by its soft and enchanting sound. So few records were ultimately pressed that those remaining have fetched up to £1,500 online.

Featured on Time Capsule’s era-spanning collection Nippon Acid Folk, Niningashi’s Heavy Way is a deep-cut grail of a vibrant time in Japan’s musical history, where even the pharmacists were making jams.

The record is largely sung in Scots language, one of Scotland’s three official languages along with Gaelic and English. “Scots gives me a way of expressing myself which is connected directly with the landscapes I love. It brings the songs alive and it is a fascinating language. The name of the record is in Scots - Forefowk means the people who came before, or ancestors. When we say ‘mind me,’ we can mean a few things- remind, remember, watch over or care for me. The record explores how tradition needs to be constantly reconnected with, built upon, looked after, and shared.”
Quinie sings with a style inspired by Scottish Traveller singers. “I began singing unaccompanied Scots Song in 2015 after hearing Scots Traveller singer Sheila Stewart on the radio. Initially I felt like I shouldn't sing these songs because I'm not a Traveller, and I saw people around me doing that in a way that made me uncomfortable. But on the other hand this music made sense to me and I felt driven to learn. Over the years I have met Traveller friends who taught me that settled people sharing these songs could contribute to raising awareness. Scottish Travellers are marginalised and discriminated against in modern Scotland, despite being custodians of so many of our important traditions. So I started to perform them and tell this story. From there I built on my repertoire and started writing my own songs”.
To develop this record, Quinie travelled across Argyll with her horse. They went on a pilgrimage of sorts through the ancient landscapes of the West of Scotland to explore the interconnected relationships between people, ancestors, animals, and place. The album’s vinyl release is accompanied by a book and film, documenting this unusual research process.
Forefowk, Mind Me was recorded in August 2024 at The Big Shed in Highland Perthshire with support from Creative Scotland. Quinie is accompanied by an ensemble of musicians: Ailbhe Nic Oireachtaigh (viola), Oliver Pitt (duduk, bouzouki, percussion), Harry Górski-Brown (small pipes, violin), and Stevie Jones (double bass, recording, and mixing). Each of these artists brings their own distinctive voice, bridging contemporary experimental practice with worlds of traditional and early music.

Chelsea Wolfe enters a new era with The Dark, forged in newfound sobriety and deep self-reckoning. Lead single "Cold" is the album's emotional doorway: the ache of being in relationship yet feeling utterly alone, of loving someone and still knowing they are toxic for you. It's about letting go of the person, the path, and the version of yourself that kept returning to the same wound — not dramatic escape, but the quiet terror of finally saying it plainly: "I'm letting you go."

MĀRARA, meaning flying fish, is a musical project born in the heart of a still largely unknown Polynesian island. While Tahiti commands attention and the spotlight, Mārara remains in the shadows, ignored by tourist circuits and dominant cultural narratives. This album aims to put Mārara on the map and give voice to an island that deserves to exist in all its richness.


Through this work, we offer an immersion into our traditions, customs, legends, and myths. These stories, deeply rooted in Polynesian culture, are transformed by the environment: for example, the legends of an atoll differ from those of a mountainous island, shaped by the climate, the terrain, and the elements. MĀRARA captures this diversity and reveals its unique character.


This album is not just a musical creation: it is an act of cultural transmission and visibility. Music becomes a vehicle for identity, a voice for an unknown territory, and a bridge between past and present.


"With MĀRARA, we make our island sing so that its voice resonates beyond its horizon."

Antorcha are one of the best-kept secrets of the Mexican underground rock scene. Their influences came from Iron Butterfly, Black Sabbath, Blue Cheer, Vanilla Fudge, and others. At times they also sounded like MC5, with whom they shared an anarchist and anti-establishment spirit. After a brief period during which they recorded only a couple of 7-inch singles for the Orfeón label that had a very limited distribution, Mexican rockers Antorcha fully embraced a DIY approach to managing their own career. They had evolved into a heavy psychedelic rock group, with no metaphors and no compromises. Anarchists in a country that could barely utter the word without trembling. It was the final years of the 1960s. They recorded five self-produced EPs, sold exclusively at their live performances, passed from hand to hand as if each record were a clandestine act. While MC5 stirred the streets of Detroit alongside the White Panthers, Antorcha was doing much the same in a Mexico that preferred to look the other way. The band operated as a cooperative: agreements were reached collectively, and income was shared equally. Antorcha became a forgotten band in their own country, overlooked even by Mexican rock experts. Yet their legacy proved influential on an organizational level for later groups in the independent scene, which followed Antorcha's model of self-releasing and self-managing their work. This compilation brings together the best of their discography, collecting self-released 7-inch records originally issued between 1971 and 1976, along with material that never appeared on their EPs. Includes an insert featuring liner notes by Carlos Icaza "Tropicaza" and photographs of the band.

Could it be that the world is finally ready for the tempestuous folk-rock opera that is "All the Leaves are Gone?" In 2004, only the truly informed and forward-thinking heads "got" this mini masterpiece. Critics scratched their heads and usually resorted to comparisons of past artists, like ol Grace Slick and her Great Jefferson Society, Fairport Convention (but which era? SURELY Judy Dyble's early reign?), and at best, Shirley Collins. A few fans attempted to connect the record to even more obscure "freak folk/rock" like Mellow Candle, Fear Itself, or Trees. "All the Leaves are Gone" was made by unique personalities not concerned with influences or copying any bygone era. Surely, some things are in our DNA or even early childhood, as Josephine Foster's roots in opera manifest themselves as much as any other influence in this organic song cycle. Sure, guitarist Brian Goodman may have heard Richard Thompson before, but his alchemical and molten guitar spray is purely his own, in tunings and intervals still not meant for normal humans to understand, mostly because his 2004 guts were poured into every sublime note (I think even Brian himself never even understood how good he was). That fiery emotion is also in every nuance of Foster's songs--like life, there's disquieting, jagged moments of unease, and there's calm both before and after the storm. There are moments of utter gentleness along the journey---because yes, every concept album should be a voyage, and this is one everyone should take. - Steve Krakow.

Zehn Jahre nachdem Lord Of The Lost die Menschheit erstmals auf die Suche nach einem Paradies jenseits ihrer eigenen Trümmer schickten, erscheint “EMPYREAN” nun endlich auf Vinyl.

Als Lord Of The Lost “EMPYREAN” 2016 veröffentlichten, schufen sie ein dystopisches Future-Metal-Konzeptalbum von epischem Ausmaß: eine Science-Fiction-Odyssee über eine Spezies, die sich seit Jahrhunderten selbst zerstört und dabei unaufhörlich der Verheißung von “EMPYREAN” nachjagt, einer vermeintlich perfekten Welt, die sich am Ende auch als letzte Illusion entpuppen könnte. Gothic und Metal verschmelzen mit Glam, Electro, Prog und Industrial zu einem übermächtigen Gesamtsound, getragen von einem dominanten elektronischen Fundament und durchzogen von Glam-Refrains, die ungebremst auf knallharte Industrial-Attacken treffen, mit Hooks, scharf genug, um selbst die größte Zerstörung zu überstehen.

Zum 10-jährigen Jubiläum des Albums bringt diese limitierte weiße 2LP “EMPYREAN” erstmals auf Vinyl und gibt damit einem der ambitioniertesten Werke der Band endlich das physische Format, auf das Sammler gewartet haben.

2026 Repress

Deadbeat & Tikiman's occasional collaborative performances have since blown the minds of many audiences

Deadbeat. Tikiman. Infinity. Dub. A quadrangle of such obvious statement and perfect musical inference may very well never have been uttered for those of the wholly weeded out persuasion. Indeed, when the great book of Dub music is written the names Scott Monteith and Paul St Hilaire will undoubtedly figure highly in its chapters devoted to recent years. Monteith, the last great prodigal son of the doctrine handed down from the Blue Mount of Lord Scratch and King Tubby, St Hilaire the undisputed voice of a generation, those fanatical warrior monks, followers of the most Holy House of Ernestus and Von Oswald incarnate.

Having developed a fast friendship from their very first meeting in Montreal at the premier Micro Mutek event a decade ago, Deadbeat and Tikiman's occasional collaborative performances have since blown the minds of audiences from Berlin to Tokyo and many points in between. No great surprise then that their first album length venture is a Tour de Force of Dub music of the highest order.

Nearly a year in the making, the genetic code of Deadbeat's Infinity Dubs series gets shot through with a Dreader than Dread Kingstonian logic, hi hats dropping back from the three to the one, Tikiman at his most militant, poetic, fierce, and flowing. These are the recordings of two lions uncaged, and none who bare witness shall escape their fiery judgement.

If music is truly eternal, here be two voices which shall echo in infinity with all the weight, reverence, and dire power unleashed with every tectonic bass hit, and every whimsical turn of phrase. And if these eight burnt offerings are any indication of what happens when these two sit down for a session of smoke and reasoning, here's hoping they choose to do it frequently. Dub without end. Ad Infinitum.