Cerca:viole

Computer Future is the sprawling and ambitious third album by amorphous Brisbane, Australia garage rock outfit Velociraptor! The 14-song opus is the best recorded capture yet of everything that makes the ‘Raptors so beloved, a stream of addictively catchy rockers characterised by stupidly infectious melodies, an overabundance of earworm hooks, guitars aplenty plus of course their trademark gang vocals and harmonies. The shadowy cabal behind Velociraptor have returned from a spell away from the spotlight with renewed vigour and focus, more committed to and appreciative of their combined talents and chemistry than their younger selves, who were perhaps more about concerned about chasing good times rather than long ones. These days there are more cooks in the ‘Raptors kitchen than before but that’s only allowed them to expand the palette of the Computer Future menu without compromising on quality. Their distinctively melodic take on the garage rock form is still entirely evident, only it’s now augmented by quirkily compelling sonic detours into psych and new wave realms, the band all the while sounding wholly like themselves and nobody but themselves (apart from perhaps the Devo-indebted title tracks). In their halcyon days Velociraptor were a force to be reckoned with, an amorphous collective sometimes up to 12 members strong - many of them wielding guitars of some description - who partied hard and played even harder, attacking their live shows with unbridled glee and genuine gusto. They toured Europe/UK, and staged with bands the calibre of Black Lips, New York Dolls, OFF!, Radio Birdman and Violent Soho. The unparalleled camaraderie of their renowned live blitzes - plus sheer size of the band - at times threatened to overshadow the genuine strength of their songwriting and recorded output, but now with Computer Future those concerns are firmly in the past!

Clothilde’s new album sounds like a constant departure from almost everything. Up until now, her music pieces seemed uncontrolled, a total commitment to the machines. She was, somehow, in between us - listener, audience - and the idea of a machine producing sounds she doesn’t seem to control. Of course, none of this was entirely true, she was mostly in control, but the fantasy, the orchestration of it was beautiful. It was sci-fi-ish, Metropolis-magnificent.

In “Cross Sections” everything is purposely under control. We feel, without being told, that Clothilde is directing the narrative, inviting us to partake of this raw and austere electronic sound, forcing us to learn to enjoy it. This is new. Whereas before she would expect you to stay put and listen, eventually you would understand and give in. Or your body would. Now she is telling you to be there, she doesn’t want to be alone, she wants us to feel this subterranean urgency at all costs.

The real eureka moment comes with “Medullary Rays”, when we start cohabiting with the sounds, when they feel familiar. The darkness becomes real; it is palpable how she is stretching each sound and making them come to life at every moment. It is violent, brutal. Like every track, it's a relief when it ends, it's like coming out of a car crash alive. Much of the A side of is Clothilde pushing the boundaries of her sound. She is not testing but finding new ground and sharing it with us. She is exorcising, demolishing and building over and over again, she is crying and screaming, dozing off with the demential levels of bass, making us constantly listen to alarm bells. She is scaring the shit out of us.

The B side keeps the levels of anxiety high up, especially on the 13-minute “Ring”. Surrealistic drones come and go, every second sounds like the end of something, the accumulation of tension is torrential and it never, never stops. We hope there is a conclusion to this. But there is not. “Cross Sections” builds and feeds on this darkness but, in a way, it is self-contained. Never explodes, never releases itself from itself. It is a continuous process of catharsis that it is never over. It never aims to be. Like, you know, life itself.

We've all been there. It feels familiar. Now it has a sound, or sounds. It can be heard and it is outer dimensional. “Cross Sections” is a tremendous effort from an artist trying to survive something. You never know what is. You don’t need to know what it is. It is just there. Cliché but it has to be said: highest possible volume on this one.

Punk pioneers Crass continue their vinyl reissue series, repressing their limited releases by adjacent artists through Crass Records, in association with One Little Independent. 1983's 'Multi-Death Corporations' broke new ground by addressing, in the lengthy liner notes and artwork, the growth of corporations and the violent suppression of leftwing politics in Central America. The Austin-based band released material through ex-Dead Kennedys singer Jello Biafra, cited influences such as Black Flag and D.O.A, as well as working with Crass Records. Penny Rimbaud tells us; “MDC were one of the first American bands to follow the political mantle set by Crass in the UK. Straight-edge purist to the last mouthful of sprouted grass, MDC were equally fierce with their polemic and uncompromising politics. Sharp as a blade, they cut through the crap. ‘They meant it, ma’am’, and some.”

A career-spanning Compilation, including new and rare mixes, compiled by Dr. Alex Paterson. "Orboretum: The Orb Collection" goes way back, but also focusses on recent highlights from albums such as "Abolition Of The Royal Familia" (2020) and "Prism" (2023) - which were cited by the media as some of their greatest work - up there with the bonafide gold of yesteryear. "I don"t want The Orb to end up milking it like Roxy Music, who were always cranking out another best-of, although we did release the "History Of The Future" best-of in 2013, and its part 2 in 2015 to be fair. We have such a gigantic catalogue though, that sometimes even I need a reminder of what I"ve done, especially these days. This is a sort of director"s cut, reframing our output, making new neuro pathways, and new juxtapositions. Some of these tracks are 30 years apart, but there are clear through lines, a continuum." Alex Paterson
























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On How It Ends (?), slinky melodies snake through nocturnal atmospherics, drawing you into a world built on poetic, painterly lyricism. Night Crickets, a long-distance groove affair that materialized during the drawn-out days of lockdown, has emerged once again to soundtrack our waking dreams.

David J (Bauhaus, Love & Rockets), Victor DeLorenzo (Violent Femmes) and multi-instrumentalist Darwin Meiners spearhead a loose collective of like-minded creative souls whom, through sheer tenacity and a burning desire to collaborate and create, transcend the restrictions of space and time. Audio files shared from Los Angeles to Milwaukee, from London to the San Francisco Bay, and the ghosts of Candlestick Park shimmer through the fog, coalescing in a glorious ‘gesamtkunstwerk’ that draws from the past, the present and the imagined future.

Declaring Bauhaus, Love And Rockets, and Violent Femmes iconic, foundational bands in the history of alternative music would receive little pushback from those in the know. San Francisco born artist Darwin Meiners is a fan of all three. A chance meeting with David J grew into a friendship, and Darwin not only became a bandmate, but his manager. After reaching out to Victor DeLorenzo through e-mail, Darwin met the Violent Femmes drummer after their set at Coachella. Soon, after the three collaborated on Darwin’s 2014 release Souvenir.

As the pandemic took hold, Darwin was looking for a new project to occupy the lock down time and approached Victor, who was keen to proceed and suggested that David join as well. The musical trust established between these three was immediate and Night Crickets were born. Within weeks a global process was initiated between them, the recordings eventually forming the album, A Free Society.

Following that release, inspired by how well – and quickly – they all worked together, the trio kept up their collaboration. “We are each free to discover musical connections that could only exist in an ideal creative setting” explains Victor. “We are very lucky to have three musicians who write, sing and play various instruments in one trio… our egos seem to melt into one when we face musical decisions, so our expeditions are always filled with pure discovery, humor and drive!”

How It Ends (?) was crafted with the same collaborative spirit as A Free Society. Each member contributed contributed unique elements to spur their collective creativity—whether a drum pattern, a lyrical concept, or a musical idea—and together, they expanded these initial sparks into the finished work. True to their approach, much of what you hear was captured in the first take, reflecting a genuine, unfiltered moment.

The music on the How It Ends (?) is a true evolution of the debut album. It is deeper and darker. Having said that, the dark tone is alleviated by a healthy measure of the buoyant, bouncy and melodic. “Much of the new material is very psychedelic and the contrast between this heavy, dark psychedelia and the more uplifting pop elements puts me in mind of The Beatles’ ‘Revolver’ album to some degree,” tells David J. “The recording process for the new album was exactly the same as the first in that we all recorded remotely, taking turns to share files and reacting spontaneously to the previous track, overdubbing then passing on once again until we all felt that the track was done.”

“While we didn’t start with a specific theme, the album emerged as a contemplative exploration of endings” says Darwin. “It touches on the loss of individuals, the shifting of ideas, and the fragility of systems. Beneath this sense of darkness and finality, however, there are threads of beauty and glimpses of hope. We invite you to immerse yourself in the album and experience the journey we’ve embarked upon.”

Dive into the soul-stirring depths of Snowgoose's latest album, "Descendant."
"Descendant" is crafted with their exquisite blend of folk and psych. Featuring the guitar of Raymond McGinley (Teenage Fanclub) the keys of Chris Geddes (Belle and Sebastian), the bass of Stevie Jones (Arab Strap), the pedal steel of Tim Davidson (Tracyanne & Danny), and the drums of Stuart Kidd (BMX Bandits) and Adam Stearns (Trembling Bells), this album is a testament to the collaborative spirit of Scottish indie royalty.
Following their acclaimed psych folk albums "Harmony Springs" and "The Making of You," Snowgoose continues to enchant with narratives of love, loss and the ephemeral beauty of life.
Praised for their "spellbinding" sound (Uncut Magazine) and vocals that evoke "the spirit of Sandy Denny" (The Scotsman),

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

Die britische Metalcore-Band Skarlett Riot nahm ihr neues Album "Caelestia" in den Treehouse Studios auf, wo auch Bullet For My Valentine, While She Sleeps oder Fightstar aufnahmen. Touren mit Künstlerkollegen wie Esoterica, mehrere ausverkaufte Headliner-Shows sowie zahlreiche Videoclips (Luminate, Chemicals, Hold Tight, Lullaby) haben ihre Fangemeinde auf das neue Album vorbereitet. Inhaltlich beziehen sich die neuen Songs auf Umwälzungen in den Privatleben von Sängerin Skarlett und Gitarrist Danny.

Originally released in 1982 on the band’s own label. Limited reissue on red/white splatter vinyl limited to 500 copies only.

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Nuclear's seventh studio release brings something different to the table. Three new rabid songs and three covers songs are going to be way too much brutality for you to easily process. Beware; this new album will transport you to the early 90s and will not let you go until it ends. Thick sounding guitars, insanely fast drumming and non-stop deafening screams are the key ingredients for the perfect storm: VIOLENT DNA.
Not to be missed songs: "Violent DNA" and "Psychological Infanticide", are just a hint of this short but effective aggression from this south American quintet. Even without listening to it, you'll be caught by just looking at the graphic and gruesome cover art.
Without a doubt, VIOLENT DNA will become a MUST for all metalheads in 2024.
This is something we cannot change: This is our Violent DNA.
Sound Like: Early Sepultura, Vomitory, Sodom, Exodus, Obituary, Slayer and Napalm Death.

Autumn Lady’ was the name of a project started in 1973 but was waylaid and forgotten about and was later replaced by the 1974 album ‘As I See it Now’. This album represents the songs that were intended to become that album - some became singles (‘Bitter Bad’ and the Goffin & King classic ‘Will you love me Tomorrow?’)…but most remained unheard • Limited pressing LP of 700, pressed on deep red vinyl • CD version gives the customer a wider range of material considered for this album in 1973 across 2 discs, crammed with rare tracks. Including the controversial 27-minute version of ‘Hearing The News’ • Packaged in deluxe card gatefold sleeve with colour booklet and liner notes by Melanie’s manager and UK music journalist Dave Thompson

HOO - master builders of woozy dynamics, songs unfurl with a mysterious, hooky logic all their own to create deeply emotive, chaotic, cinematic and - surprisingly, with this album ‘III’ - indie pop tunes! Songs clocking in just over 2 or 3 minutes, driven by heavy grunge guitars & potty Moog magic, opening out at times during the breathtaking prog Ov Violence/ Evil Weeks and the epic gothy final track Method Papers. ‘III’ has been 10 years in the making and features friends Simon Rowe (Chapterhouse, Mojave 3), Ian McCutcheon (Mojave 3, Slowdive), Paul Blewett (Moon Attendant), Lee Lavender & long-time collaborator & award-winning folk artist Jackie Oates. The themes and feel of the songs meant they had to lay in wait in HOO’s church-like studio, patiently growing & spawning like a 70's Dr WHO monster. Newer songs like the almost indie disco Snake & Myself When I Am Real finally gave the album foundation. HOO songwriter Nick Holton explains “All my music, including stuff in the past with Coley Park & Neil Halstead (Slowdive), is made at home in my own studio ‘Oaki Room’, so they blend into one another and my broader life. This is why musicians like Paul Blewett, Ian McCutcheon and Simon Rowe are always in the band or on my records - because they are part of my life. I have always made music this way and intended to. Jackie’s beautiful lead on England Theme, a high for me, was a simple idea. A mirror, as is so much of what I write about, here pride and disappointment in your world. Politics, religion, conflict, human frailty & alien tentacles, the collapsing environment all feature heavily and inspire. Despite this, we aim to make these dark songs engaging & endearing, skipping about you at volume in a psychedelic fug.” “I cannot and will not explain what is going on, but ‘III’ definitely closes a door and feels the most complete work of my life” Holton concludes. ’III’ is playful, eccentric, explosive and shamelessly takes itself seriously. Finished and mastered by Heba Kadry (Beach House, Bjork, Slowdive). We hope you now enjoy HOO’s third album. “Highly recommended to those who dig cinematic dream pop & Krautrock.” Echoes & Dust “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo “Shoegaze guitars, space-folk synths, otherworldly drones & krautrock drums into soundscapes immersive, possibly hallucinogenic.” Uncut “Textural & cinematic guitar driven epic” Shindig “A place where you see shadows of ghosts and echoes of your imagination” HiFi World Highlights “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo feat ex-Slowdive & Coley Park

HOO - master builders of woozy dynamics, songs unfurl with a mysterious, hooky logic all their own to create deeply emotive, chaotic, cinematic and - surprisingly, with this album ‘III’ - indie pop tunes! Songs clocking in just over 2 or 3 minutes, driven by heavy grunge guitars & potty Moog magic, opening out at times during the breathtaking prog Ov Violence/ Evil Weeks and the epic gothy final track Method Papers. ‘III’ has been 10 years in the making and features friends Simon Rowe (Chapterhouse, Mojave 3), Ian McCutcheon (Mojave 3, Slowdive), Paul Blewett (Moon Attendant), Lee Lavender & long-time collaborator & award-winning folk artist Jackie Oates. The themes and feel of the songs meant they had to lay in wait in HOO’s church-like studio, patiently growing & spawning like a 70's Dr WHO monster. Newer songs like the almost indie disco Snake & Myself When I Am Real finally gave the album foundation. HOO songwriter Nick Holton explains “All my music, including stuff in the past with Coley Park & Neil Halstead (Slowdive), is made at home in my own studio ‘Oaki Room’, so they blend into one another and my broader life. This is why musicians like Paul Blewett, Ian McCutcheon and Simon Rowe are always in the band or on my records - because they are part of my life. I have always made music this way and intended to. Jackie’s beautiful lead on England Theme, a high for me, was a simple idea. A mirror, as is so much of what I write about, here pride and disappointment in your world. Politics, religion, conflict, human frailty & alien tentacles, the collapsing environment all feature heavily and inspire. Despite this, we aim to make these dark songs engaging & endearing, skipping about you at volume in a psychedelic fug.” “I cannot and will not explain what is going on, but ‘III’ definitely closes a door and feels the most complete work of my life” Holton concludes. ’III’ is playful, eccentric, explosive and shamelessly takes itself seriously. Finished and mastered by Heba Kadry (Beach House, Bjork, Slowdive). We hope you now enjoy HOO’s third album. “Highly recommended to those who dig cinematic dream pop & Krautrock.” Echoes & Dust “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo “Shoegaze guitars, space-folk synths, otherworldly drones & krautrock drums into soundscapes immersive, possibly hallucinogenic.” Uncut “Textural & cinematic guitar driven epic” Shindig “A place where you see shadows of ghosts and echoes of your imagination” HiFi World Highlights “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo feat ex-Slowdive & Coley Park

Released on October 25th as a limited-edition double AA 7” on limited edition “Death Grey” vinyl, "Death Grip Kids" is The Lovely Eggs at their most punk rock. Kicking and screaming and stamping their way through three minutes of righteously pissed off fury. With more out of this world artwork by illustrator Casey Raymond, the Double AA features a re-release of their digital single “Memory Man” (which has not been previously available on 7” vinyl until now). ‘Memory Man’ shows the Eggs at their hypnotic, Can-like best. David’s drums lock into a flawless Krautrock inspired groove, whilst Holly’s vocals hang ethereally over the song’s swirling, mesmerising psychedelia. The strictly limited edition 7" also features one of the band’s first ever songs “True Grit” from 2005 which will not be available digitally and can only be heard by buying this vinyl. Both A-sides come from the band’s new album Eggsistentialism, released in May 2024. Recorded by the band at home in Lancaster with production work from Flaming Lips producer Dave Fridmann, the results are without doubt the most expansive, mind-melting ten songs the band have delivered yet. They head out on the final leg of their Eggsistentialism tour in October with support from Psych Poppers ‘British Birds’ as well as performance poet ‘Violet Malice’

Having established a legacy as one of the most highly regarded contemporary UK Jazz musicians of the past decade, Newham-based pianist Alfa Mist’s discography boasts such stone cold classics as ‘Antiphon’ ‘Bring Backs’ and ‘Nocturne’. Alfa is yet to be boxed into a specific genre as his music spans everything from hip-hop beat-making to producing for artists such as rapper Loyle Carner, composing neo-classical works for the London Contemporary Orchestra, and reworking tracks from composer Ólafur Arnalds and pioneering jazz label Blue Note, not to mention his collaborations with the likes of Jordan Rakei, Tom Misch and drummer Richard Spaven, producer Lester Duval and singer Emmavie.

Now unveiling his next offering, Alfa revisits his stellar 2024 performance with Manchester’s extraordinary string outfit Amika Quartet at heralded venue Kings Place (London), capturing the magic of the evening within this awe-inspiring live album. Featuring a handful of brand new, never-before-heard tracks (alongside a number of expansions of previous releases), ‘Recurring’ sees Alfa drawing inspiration from classic live Jazz recordings, capturing a unique moment in time that can never be replicated or replayed. Creating an authentic, unpolished and electric feel, feeding his long-running mission of real-time musical expressions that evolve with each performance. On the genesis of the record, Alfa says: ‘Some of my favourite albums are captured live performances. I came home from a long year of touring and decided to work on some music for Amika Quartet who I've been working with for years on a few different shows and projects. A lot of the music I release is recorded in whole takes, I think there's something nice about doing the best you can with the moments you have. I wanted to take that one step further by recording it as a live show and seeing what happens.'’

Due for release via Alfa’s own Sekito Records imprint, a potent, raw and spontaneous energy permeates the release. Marking his first project with a full string arrangement, the iconic Kings Place venue’s reputation for spectacular acoustics, as well as intimate setting made an ideal location for the live recording. The decision to record in a live venue rather than a studio was driven by Alfa’s desire to push beyond his comfort zone and explore new creative territories. On first single ‘Checkpoint’, Alfa also takes to the microphone, breaking away from his usual introspective lyrical style to make comments on the current state of the world. He explains: “ 'I've written lyrics before but this is the first time I've ever tried to write a poem and it ended up being about the double standards of violence we see in this world everyday”. This offering is a testament to Alfa’s continuous evolution as an artist, blending his introspective lyric with broader societal observations, all while maintaining the improvisational spirit of jazz.

Oliver Coates' Throb, shiver, arrow of time is a portal into somatic chiaroscuro, aglow with the embers of imperfect memories and smudged with the plumes of internal echoes, which augment in vast, mercurial dimensions. For his third album on RVNG Intl., the British cellist, composer and producer offers a capsule of personal resonance and remembrance, assembled over the past six years. Throb, shiver, arrow of time traces the familiar metallic anatomy and viscous string modulations of his 2020 release skins n slime, while recentering his inner compulsions following a procession of lauded score writing projects, including the films Aftersun (Charlotte Wells, 2022), The Stranger (Thomas M Wright, 2022) and Occupied City (Steve McQueen, 2023). While working on Aftersun, Wells asked Coates how music could signal that someone is going on a trawl through their memory_a question that has stayed with him ever since and fosters a heartbeat running through the record. Throb, shiver, arrow of time is "all about inaccurate transmissions from our memories, overlaid with emotions from other sources," says Coates. The release is imbued with the ache and glow of recollections mulched together, where the guttural dissonance of misremembering is shrouded by strange orbs of sentiment. At the record's inner core is "Shopping centre curfew," a swift yet cavernous track that emerged five years ago when two real world events, both occurring in South London during the pandemic lockdowns, became fused in a dream: the demolition of Elephant and Castle shopping center, and the discussion of a curfew as a real possibility for all men following a violent crime. A strange simultaneity occurred with this piece of music and Coates built the album out from there, a sense of temporal entropy refracting shimmers of lurking convulsions into lucid sonic topologies. The ten compositions of Throb, shiver, arrow of time find weightless melodies soaring across after-image gradients, magnified and compressed. Misted tones within "Please be normal" and "90" soften drone-soaked shudders of inner acoustics messing up. Vocal invocations appear from long-term collaborators Malibu and chrysanthemum bear, as well as drifting synth radiance from Faten Kanaan. Throb, shiver, arrow of time furthers Coates' reach in collapsing the digital into the analogue and vice versa, allowing serendipity to reorganize the material and push out against the confines of flatness. This sculptural approach to sound is deeply influenced by the intricate installations of artist Sarah Sze, whose permutations of visual matter with its own after-image form kaleidoscopic epitaphs for ephemera and emotion. Coates' thinking about Sze's work and processes flowed together with his own playing and editing techniques, superimposing the textural relief of a live take back into a composition, and allowing the sound to succumb to a dream of itself. As Coates expands, "The cello is a kind of melancholic instrument with a light ethereal spirit. When the sound is flattened into digital processes, with shifted frequencies and time stretching I'm trying to give it even more of those qualities. Sometimes I'm distancing myself from it, so it becomes a piece of discarded debris that has soul in it, a down-sampling. Or other times, it's trying to maximize the present tense in the act of playing, and collapse that vivid color into a burnished, photocopied kind of sound. So the music acts like weather, weathering the listener, or as flames licking at the sides of objects." As the record unfurls, the compositions swell in duration, until the granular glimmers of its finale "Make it happen" persist in almost violent delight. "There's a feeling of not wanting to let this album go, trying to defy the extinguishing sound at the end of the music, trying to push the colors beyond the confines of the structure, to defeat the silence." In the scramble to resist denouement, Coates suspends the arrow of time in its eternal flight, just for a moment, to reveal the solace of the dust settling in the afterglow. Oliver Coates' Throb, shiver, arrow of time will be released on vinyl, Japanese import CD, and digital editions on October 18, 2024. On behalf of Oliver and RVNG Intl., a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit The Traditional Music and Song Association of Scotland, an organization fostering opportunities for people of all ages to participate in the traditional music and culture of Scotland.

Forgive Yourself. Learn to live with yourself. Don't hurt yourself. This is the mantra of the new album Venus Smiles Not in the House of Tears from Samora Pinderhughes. Made over 8 years with loving detail by Pinderhughes and his longtime producer Jack DeBoe, it is a deeply personal exploration & reflection of mental health in the modern age. It tells a non-linear story about a relationship that didn't last, and the lessons learned through it. How can love exist when grief is in the way? Musically it's intentionally tough to pin down. Although Pinderhughes is Juilliard-trained, Venus is an open-genre exploration of musicmaking with wide-ranging production and a cinematic landscape of feeling and spirit. From quiet, contemplative piano pieces to hard-hitting and soulful full band jams, to expansive and fullthroated choir celebrations, Venus is a fitting accompaniment to a multitude of daily human experiences. It also features artists from Pinderhughes's tight-knit NYC community, representing a wave of new artists who thread the ethics of honesty & vulnerability into their work. Says Pinderhughes of the album, "Mental health isn't solitary; it's about how our feelings, fears, traumas, and conceptions of self meet the world around us. Like so many, I've struggled with depression, anxiety, and isolation within a complicated matrix of identities. I wanted to make a project that would be brutally and lovingly honest about what it feels like to try to sift through the debris of time. A project that really engages with what it means to love, in the midst of a society that teaches us all the wrong lessons. Our modern world wants us to get over things quickly and easily. That's where shame enters the picture, because when you struggle with deep cyclical feelings, the process of engaging with these elements in your life is never linear. It is always two steps forward, one step back. Kindness and honesty are required in equal measure in this life. Hopefully through the prism of these songs, you can feel something that resonates with you in your own life and experience." Pinderhughes is known for striking intimacy and carefully crafted, radically honest lyrics alongside high-level musicianship, and for using his music to examine sociopolitical issues and fight for change. His work delves into the things our society tries to hide - its history, its structures, and the things we all experience but don't know how to talk about. It is an invitation to feel and think deeply about how we live and a commitment to making art that is useful for everyday life. The New York Times described Pinderhughes' 2022 album GRIEF as a "visionary" work from "one of the most affecting singer-songwriters today, in any genre." Pinderhughes - a collaborator across boundaries with artists including Herbie Hancock, Glenn Ligon, Sara Bareilles, Common, Robert Glasper - is the creator and director of The Healing Project, a project that examines trauma & healing from incarceration, detention, and structural violence. Pinderhughes was the first-ever Art for Justice + Soros Justice Fellow and a recipient of Chamber Music America's 2020 Visionary Award. He is also a United States Artist Fellow, Creative Capital awardee, and Sundance Composers Lab fellow.

2024 coloured (violet) vinyl repress for this year's Sonic Cathedral's 20th anniversary! Hull/Leeds based five-piece bdrmm release their much anticipated debut Bedroom on July 3, via Sonic Cathedral. The 10-track album was recorded late last year at The Nave studio in Leeds by Alex Greaves (Working Mens Club, Bo Ningen) and mastered in Brooklyn by Heba Kadry (Slowdive, Beach House). It's a hugely accomplished debut and a real step up both sonically and lyrically from their early singles, which were rounded up on last year's If Not, When? EP. Musically, there are nods to The Cure's Disintegration, Deerhunter and DIIV, while the band reference RIDE and Radiohead. There are also echoes of krautrock and post-punk, from The Chameleons to Protomartyr, plus the proto shoegaze of the Pale Saints' The Comforts Of Madness, not least in the cross fading of some tracks, meaning the album is an almost seamless listen. As a result, Bedroom becomes an unexpected and unintentional concept album, running through the different stages of a break-up set against the backdrop of the ups and downs of your early twenties. "The subject matter spans mental health, alcohol abuse, unplanned pregnancy, drugs_ basically every cliché topic that you could think of," reveals frontman Ryan Smith. "But that doesn't mean they ever stop being relevant. It's a fucker growing up, but I'm lucky enough to have been able to project my feelings in the form of this band, surrounded by four of the best people I've ever met." And that band name, in case it needs explaining, is pronounced the same way as the album title. "I never thought I'd get to the stage where I would have to explain it so much," says Ryan. "We have been pronounced as Boredom, Bdum and my old boss thought we were a ska band called Bad Riddim. We're all sarcastic cunts, so Bedroom spelt correctly seemed like the perfect title." He's right. The perfect title for the perfect debut album. "A modern day shoegaze classic" - NME "The general roller coaster of being twenty-somethings in post-Brexit England who find themselves awash with a shimmering soundscape that recalls Oshin-era DIIV, Deerhunter's Microcastle, or even The Cure at their most ambiently grandiose" - Under The Radar

The Midnight Rock label was home to some of the greatest productions of the era, and like any smart Jamaican producer, label owner Nkrumah Jah Thomas worked his rhythms hard, using them to create scores of records by dozens of artists. Sometimes the tracks that he created were released, but still more languished in the vaults. Caught on multi-track tape, but never released.

That was the fate of a session that he recorded with Sugar Minott. The singer - known in the UK for his monster hit ‘Good Thing Going’ - had made his name in the vocal group The African Brothers, before working as a soloist for Coxsone Dodd at Studio One. For the Acid Jazz distributed Roots Records, Thomas has worked hard in creating sharp new mixes for this single - a plea against gun violence as apt today as when it was put down on tape - the first fruits of that work.

A fantastic Radics rhythm with an exceptional vocal and brand-new dub by Jah Thomas and Rory on the flip. Adorned with the classic Midnight Rock label.