Cerca:void fill

This is the last album from Rico Puestel. After somehow three decades, Rico misses the cultural impact of Techno music as it has been and declares its spirits gone – at least personally. There's nothing more to tell. The self-consuming scene has reached its grotesque climax and left an empty shell of something once filled with so much passion, warmth, strength, heart and hope. The times just haven't changed – they lost their self-fulfilling purpose and authenticity.

Heavily influenced by prehistoric, tribal rhythms and trance-inducing dances within redundant structures, Techno music once had a natively true and unadulterated essence. A free spirit on the run. Rico found the right spot in time to gather all of his origins in Techno music for a last act of connecting to it. Being on an all-time high as a producer, he crafted the whole album on a course of twelve hours and relived all those deeply rooted moments and memories with Techno in fast motion. While the track titles are counting down from ten to zero in Esperanto, Rico clears up in peace and balance...

What once was, is now without form and void.
I left.
Everybody left.
Techno has left the building.

Farewell!

Iconic french punk band Ludwig Von 88 celebrates its 40 years birthday with a 4LP/CD box set including their recent albums "L'Hiver des Crêtes", 'L'Ete du No Future", "Le Printemps du Pogo" & "L'Automne de L'Anarchie".

Who managed the artistic feat of composing 56 cosmic hits in one year, recording them, engraving them with chisels on plastic discs that are not at all environmentally friendly, and packaging them in a magnificent box, with marvellous illustrations and sleeves of a taste that surpasses perfection? Who did?

Look no further than the Ludwigs, who could do it. And since they had no plans for 2023, apart from celebrating their fortieth birthday over a tasteless cake in a dingy old flat in a godforsaken suburb in the forbidden zone, they did it. And they're proud of it.

56 tracks. One album per season. The Mozart of pogo becomes the Vivaldi of stakhanovism!

Good rough punk, ska, swing, reggae, cumbia and even yodelling. What a gift to the universe before its final destruction.

Listen and enjoy. Sing along and get your groove on. After the Ludwigs, the music will have the flavour of a rosewater romance declaimed by Garou in Birkenstock and the colour of the cosmic void after his encounter with André Rieu's five poodles.

On For Annette, singer-songwriter ronja summons forth a certain unbridgeable void within our existence and the acceptance of the deafening silence that comes with it. Weaving the strands of her previous release something about us with multiple openings towards more abstract territory, this 5-track EP marks her debut under the forward-thinking Unguarded label, astutely situating her music well beyond the confines of the genre.

The opening track “Nothing Makes Me Feel” beckons the listener into a discreet moment amid the early light of dawn, commencing with an up-close acoustic guitar, soon to be graced by ronja’s hushed voice, softly whispering, as if to avoid waking someone near. “Just Once”, with its weeping waltz, is about losing one’s place in the world, about choosing the imaginary over the real. Behind the strummed chords hides a soft dither of sine tones that attempts to fill the gap that cannot be filled, only to transform into quavering distortion ever after. Where language may falter, ronja turns to choral-like instrumental pieces (“Light” & “Grass from Below”), characterized by her distinctive and multi-layered flute arrangements. The absence of words here allows for a sensible stage of introspection, a fleeting and diaphanous pause, forging a passage to a more hopeful outlook. Yet, these pieces are not isolated; hints of fluttering air and cavernous depths are subtly alluded to in the earlier, more song-based tracks. In just under 18 minutes running time, the theme of loss, or the anticipation of its arrival, lingers solemnly before transcending intermediate states in “Almost There”.

Admirers of the dreamgaze band Roomer, which made waves in and around the Berlin music scene this past year, might detect faint resemblances. Nonetheless, ronja—a pivotal presence in said band—unveils a distinct effort here, striking subdued but enticing tones, a foreshadowing of what is yet to come from this luminary artist. – Luka Aron

I feel a deep sense of loss listening to this music, but at the same time the possibility of going beyond it through sound. It doesn't want to illustrate anything, but I would like it to be transformative, even of a feeling that sounds like death. It is an elegy." — Furtherset

The Infinite Hour is a shattered elegy synthesized in electronics. Furtherset's music does not explain, settle or justify, it rather simply manifests the grip of anguish. As a whole, the album's six compositions resemble the labored breathing of one who mourns a disappearance and fears oblivion. A feeling like having one's chest weighed down by a stone, while still being attentive to one's breath, and aware of what remains. From this dimension The Infinite Hour arises and transfigures loss into a space that is always extending: the hour is infinite, the melody is circular, and even stasis has its own measure that is exceeded into eternity.

The album was created between 2020 and 2022, in a slow process of writing and continuous refinement parallel to the previous EP, Auras. The compositions found their final form during the mixing process carried out together with composer & sound artist Bienoise (Mille Plateaux). They were later named based on references to authors who influenced and are dear to Furtherset: Amelia Rosselli, Vladimir Chlebnikov, Hubert Damisch, Dante Alighieri. Each track, composed with its live rendition in mind, manifests itself to the listener as a possible variant of a path that is never definitive. Their live performance, an increasingly distinctive moment within Furtherset's work, is a gesture of concentration and extension, where every composition is developed through meticulous variations of each singularity.

The Infinite Hour is one possible manifestation of an ever-changing musical landscape, a universe with unmistakable sounds but always on the verge of disintegrating, collapsing, and opening up spaces, times, infinities.

Furtherset is the musical project of artist and musician Tommaso Pandolfi (1995). His compositions' distinctive traits are stratifications and recursive shifting modulations, synthetic clusters and sampling, alongside rhythmic and embracing harmonies. The project is envisaged as formal research that follows a path towards saturation and layering, but is always capable of generating voids in which the listener can take their place and fill them according to their own focus.

Balmat is a new label with a cloudy outline.

Jointly shepherded by Philip Sherburne and Albert Salinas, two friends living in Cardedeu, Catalonia, and on the Balearic island of Menorca, Balmat grew out of Lapsus Radio, a weekly show on Spain’s Radio 3. Balmat’s mission is simple: to foster new ideas, expand upon personal obsessions, and put enveloping sounds out into the world.

“Balmat” means “empty” or “void” in Catalan. But quite apart from any negative connotations, we prefer to think of it in terms of possibility: a space waiting to be filled.

Balmat’s first release comes from Luke Sanger, a Norwich, UK-based artist whose two decades of electronic music making have encompassed a range of tools and techniques, from MaxMSP to modular synthesis. Along the way he has built an extensive catalog encompassing ambient atmospheres, abstract soundscaping, and more. With Languid Gongue, he puts multiple approaches into play. Experiments in microtonal composition balance out pieces in standard tunings, while esoteric electronic machines merge with familiar acoustic treatments and microphone techniques.

The result is a constellation of his signature sounds: freeform new-age fantasia; spring-loaded toytronic arpeggios; quartz-driven braindance clockworks. Drifting between consonant, almost lyrical compositions and shape-shifting textural sketches, the album drifts with the nonchalance of a sky-high cirrus cloud, and it glows as if illuminated from within. When we heard the material, we knew that it was the perfect choice to launch the label. To us, it sounds like a roadmap for points unknown.

Recorded in 1989 on the remaining ten minutes left at the end of Swiz’s Hell Yes I Cheated reel-to-reel and originally released at the time as a 33 RPM 7-inch, this 2023 release presents a 12-inch 45RPM version remastered by Tim Green with an extra song recovered from the tape archives of Jason Farrell. The brief story of Fury: At some point in 1989, members of Washington DC punk bands Swiz and Ignition formed Fury as a loose experiment with no intentions beyond being a diversion. The band existed for a few months, wrote six songs, and played two shows. Shawn Brown and Chris Thomson switched their musical roles from their regular bands as vocalist and bass player. The eyes-closed leap into those unfamiliar positions imbued the recording its feeling of deranged chaos, while the well-seasoned duo of Jason Farrell and Alex Daniels nailed down each song with the signature agility and power displayed in their more familiar work together. The recording is a vexing listen that sounds like a Neapolitan swirl of Swiz, Void, and the Germs. Was it precision theatre? Or was it a natural step back into a more primitive and comfortable place for four young veterans that just wanted to fill the daily void of existential restlessness? The track “Resurrection” famously made it onto the final Swiz LP. The final track “Last One” got cut off halfway through recording and the band looped and spliced it into a dizzying psychedelic nightmare / masterpiece. The recording has faded into somewhat of an obsurity, a footnote to the larger careers of all of its members. In its time, it was revered by a small cult of obsessives from numerous early ’90s underground punk circles. It notably had a pronounced influence on the emerging Gravity Records scene, where its echoes can be heard on quite a few of the earlier releases. Resurrection is finally getting the deluxe treatment that it deserves after 34 years!

These are the kinds of things I learned from my teacher and mentor, the incredible Ukrainian pianist Mikhail (Misha) Alperin. Misha turned my world upside down from the moment we met. I was 19 then, and he continued to have a huge influence on me ever since. We didn't see each other very often in later years, but every time we did, I was filled with energy and inspiration. And in every meeting, he said at least one little thing that I would think about for months afterwards, whether it was during a brief conversation in the academy hallway, or a two-hour monologue in his office. He was intense. He celebrated life and love.

He was singing, dancing and certainly living through his music. His death has left a void in our world that can never be filled, and he is sorely missed. Helge Lien, December 2022

Silicon Scally, the alias of electronic music producer Carl Finlow, released his critically acclaimed album 'Mr Machine' in 2002 on SCSI-AV. The album was a masterful blend of electro and sci-fi soundscapes, showcasing Finlow's unique style and production prowess, which took the listener on a journey through a futuristic world of machines and technology. It ranks as one of the finest electro records of the early noughties. Fast-forward to 2023 and Sync 24's Cultivated Electronics label is proud to present 'Mr Machine PT 2'. Like its predecessor, the new album is filled with intricate synth melodies, driving rhythms, and pulsating basslines, all perfectly balanced to create an immersive listening experience. 'Mr Machine PT 2' once again showcases Finlow's ability to not only create relentless beats for the dancefloor but also dynamic soundscapes that transport the listener to another world. Created using a mixture of both old analog gear and very modern plugins, both albums were written with a very strong emphasis on the machine aesthetic, reflecting the cutting edge of what was available at their respective times. Futuristic and timeless. The album will be released on triple-pack vinyl and digitally.

Cyphon is proud to bring you brand new music from one of Europe’s pioneers of techno and IDM, Stefan Robbers aka Terrace and Florence. His early releases for Djax-Up-Beats and his own Eevo Lute Muzique in the early 90’s were hugely influential striking a sweet spot between stark minimalism, majestic analogue lushness and dance floor grooves. In more recent years his own reinterpretation of the Detroit sound can be found on the highly regarded Dutch label Delsin.

Here on his ‘Thermionic EP’ Terrace sings out with such intensity that minds are blown. Listen to the brutal, exhilarating sequences of ‘Territorial’ which leads the new EP, and you will receive that message loud and clear. While the music is as much about the consequence of soulful depth, it is also about edgy machines communicating intimately. Sweet chords fuse and then contrast with grainy acidic sonics, leaving the tempo poised at an irresistible pace like all our futures depended on it.

As you move next onto the more subtle electro pulse of ‘Thermon’, shimmering keys dance around a frame-by-frame remembrance of robotic disco in the 23rd century. The uplifting brilliance of ‘Woodward’ follows filling the void with an explosion of colour that is all about life-affirming instrumentation, hitting you fast and loose with a cascade of arpeggios, tough drums plus an incendiary surge of melodic distraction causing the airwaves to crackle with celebration.

Completing this stunning release from Terrace are the fierce, hotwired grooves forged by ‘Ritual’, conjuring up endless combinations of an analogue model rediscovered. The sheer dancefloor animation found within each of Terrace’s productions on this EP purposefully point to and enhance Cyphon Recordings own mission to explore, propelling the emphasis forever forwards.

DJ Support:

Sean Johnston, Kevin Reynolds, Vince Watson, Gareth Sommerville, Daniele Baldelli, Dj Rocca, Massimiliano Pagliara, Craig Smith, Jason Kendig, Rarish & Yoshi Horino

Ocean Abyss Colored Vinyl. Edition of 500 copies.

(Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality is the new album by Eluvium - the renowned moniker of prolific modern composer, Matthew Robert Cooper . Taking initial inspirations from T.S. Eliot 's The Waste Land and Richard Brautigan 's All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace , (Whirring Marvels) inherently deals both with humankind's need for meaning, and the emergence of algorithms reflecting the feedback loops of humankind's interactions with machines themselves.

This complicated relationship that we have with technology, automations, and algorithms - and the influence they in turn have on shaping our image of the world - is the mechanized heart and soul of an album that almost instantly establishes itself as a peak in Eluvium 's inimitable catalog.

During the writing process for (Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality , Cooper began experiencing shoulder and arm pain that rendered his left arm increasingly debilitated. This inspired new compositional methods that blended varying degrees of electronic automations with traditional songwriting. Lyrical themes were built using algorithms to cull content from a notebook filled with years of scribbled thoughts, poems, considerations, conspiracies, scientific notions, and notes on the spirit of existence.

Employing musicians from all around the world - including members of the American Contemporary Music Ensemble ( ACME ), Golden Retriever, and the entire Budapest Scoring Orchestra - much of the music was conducted and recorded remotely via teleconference during the global COVID lockdowns of 2020 and 2021. This approach to composing served as an unintended but serendipitous challenge for an album inspired by the complicated convenience of technology.

(Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality blends an ornate combination of ingredients to construct a narrative of our dynamic invention; technological advancement; loneliness and isolationism; and unchecked idealism in a world of never-ending growth. The resulting hope that somehow emerges is itself a marvel of innovation and inspiration.

Forest Moss Colored Vinyl. Edition of 500 copies. (Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality is the new album by Eluvium - the renowned moniker of prolific modern composer, Matthew Robert Cooper . Taking initial inspirations from T.S. Eliot 's The Waste Land and Richard Brautigan 's All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace , (Whirring Marvels) inherently deals both with humankind's need for meaning, and the emergence of algorithms reflecting the feedback loops of humankind's interactions with machines themselves. This complicated relationship that we have with technology, automations, and algorithms - and the influence they in turn have on shaping our image of the world - is the mechanized heart and soul of an album that almost instantly establishes itself as a peak in Eluvium 's inimitable catalog. During the writing process for (Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality , Cooper began experiencing shoulder and arm pain that rendered his left arm increasingly debilitated. This inspired new compositional methods that blended varying degrees of electronic automations with traditional songwriting. Lyrical themes were built using algorithms to cull content from a notebook filled with years of scribbled thoughts, poems, considerations, conspiracies, scientific notions, and notes on the spirit of existence. Employing musicians from all around the world - including members of the American Contemporary Music Ensemble ( ACME ), Golden Retriever , and the entire Budapest Scoring Orchestra - much of the music was conducted and recorded remotely via teleconference during the global COVID lockdowns of 2020 and 2021. This approach to composing served as an unintended but serendipitous challenge for an album inspired by the complicated convenience of technology. (Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality blends an ornate combination of ingredients to construct a narrative of our dynamic invention; technological advancement; loneliness and isolationism; and unchecked idealism in a world of never-ending growth. The resulting hope that somehow emerges is itself a marvel of innovation and inspiration.

Proper analog mental tribe!!

ALL TRACKS BY ASTEKA!!

First release of this mastodonic triple vinyl featuring 12 bangers from the super talented and skilled ASTEKA!

NOT EVEN ONE FILLER!!

Tracks vary from 160 bpm to 170 bpm, HQ production with dark twists and very well designed analog synthesized sounds.

Must have in any bag of this genre lovers, very mixable with solid massive kicks driving you mental for real on the dance floor with surprising synths tricks and skills exercises from the artist.

PURPLE VINYL


A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Tape

A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Ground Groove, the third full-length release from the LA-based, Iranian-American producer and DJ, Maral, begins with an invocation: the sprawling, achingly heavy Feedback Jam opens the floodgates of history. Conventional (linear) spacetime collapses, crushed beneath the track’s lumbering 4/4 heartbeat and successive waves of distortion. As each wave recedes, samples trickle forward in the mix — seeking, perhaps, to fill the void. Voices and instruments rise and fall in uncanny reverse. Overlapping, implied melodies flicker into focus, then flit away. Feedback Jam is at once an initiation ritual, and a thesis statement for the record that follows.

Drawing upon a vast personal archive of Iranian folk, classical, and pop recordings (some sourced from mixtapes made by her parents in the eighties/nineties), Maral presents, on Ground Groove, a further refinement of the signature “folk club” sound she developed as a live DJ— a sound she would later codify on Mahur Club (2019) and Push (2020). By collecting, dissecting, and re/presenting sonic fragments from Iran, Maral practices a kind of dance-floor ethnomusicology. The subject of her inquiry: Iranian


culture and contexts, throughout history and in the present. But, crucially, this inquiry is instantiated within and throughout the body of the listener, whether this listener is dancing in the club, or riding the train, nodding along with headphones on.

Maral speaks of being in collaboration with her samples, treating each as a distinct bandmate, often consulting with an artist’s catalog (or even a single recording) as one would a trusted creative partner. In so-doing, Maral claims to seek to transcend the self. In this regard, her output neatly triangulates contemporary dance and heavy music with much of the traditional religious music that she samples. Broadly speaking, each of these idioms addresses a desire —shared by audience and performer alike—to transcend the self through volume, repetition, and movement.

Having, in her youth, studied the Setar under Nader Majd (the founder of Virginia’s Center for Persian Classical Music), Maral cycled through various genres (ex: punk, emo, dub) in her adolescence and early twenties, all the while expanding her knowledge of, and appreciation for, Iran’s diverse musical traditions during regular summer trips to Tehran. In college, Maral taught herself to make beats with a ripped copy of Ableton (which remains her DAW of choice), eventually transitioning to playing and hosting various club nights. Forever abiding by an autodidactic, DIY impulse to create art and foster community, Maral relocated to Los Angeles in 2013, where she quickly immersed herself in the city’s numerous overlapping music scenes.

Collaboration (beyond sampling) has proven an important component of her process, with notable spoken word contributions from the likes of Lee Scratch Perry and Penny Rimbaud, as well as a 2021 Panda Bear collab track (On Your Way), which the Animal Collective founder co-produced. Maral is equally attentive to the visual components of her records (album art, music videos, etc.), drawing upon the work of peers and friends for inspiration.

Indeed, the genesis of Ground Groove can be traced back to an audio-visual collaboration between Maral and the artist Brenna Murphy, originally commissioned for the 2021 Rewire Festival — a project that would eventually serve as the album’s foundation. Tracks eight through eleven on Ground Groove comprise Maral’s half of this installation, with tracks one through seven composed afterwards, inspired by the fruits of Maral and Murphy’s collaboration. Murphy’s visuals will be released alongside Ground Groove as a visual accompaniment. Additionally, Murphy designed the album’s art, directed the video for the lead single (the aforementioned Feedback Jam), and is featured on track six, Shy Night.

Composed largely on Ableton, Ground Groove features more frequent and more prominent live recordings from Maral (guitar, bass, and vocals) than either Push or Mahar Club. The cult favorite Roland MC-909 groovebox rears its head on Mari’s Groove. Mixed by Trayer Tryon (Hundred Waters) and mastered by Daddy Kev, the attention to sonic quality on Ground Groove constitutes another significant step in Maral’s development as a studio artist.

Ground Groove’s eleven tracks are “grooves” in the obvious sense, in that they are each driven by a persistent, propulsive rhythm, but the album’s title may just as well suggest the glacial passage of time—the scope of human history, in which individual voices, like streams, carve paths (impossibly) through earth and stone, winding their way to the vast sea of the present.

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.

Dark Green Vinyl

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.

Wipe your blade clean. The bloodline of Eastern European kosmische and groundbreaking, grinding cinematic psych rock finally emerges from fifty years of forbidden forestland to fill your thirsty grails. Poland’s prime progressive provocateurs Żuławski and Korzyński finally expose the jagged roots of Possession and The Silver Globe and give the devil his due via this historical vinyl release.

If an opening strapline that reads “Forget everything that you thought you knew about the history of psychedelic rock and horror movies” appeals to you, then further potentially hyperbolic phrases like “Lost Grail” and “Banned Forever” will surely clinch the deal, leaving the hugely significant wider context of this dream come true release surplus to requirement. But as we hope you have come to expect from Finders Keepers releases “The devil is in the detail” and the fact that any mention of the perpetually elusive original master tapes to a 1972 project entitled Diabeł and the phrase “Holy Grail” have become synonymously associated only adds the twisted irony that surrounds this genuine masterpiece of both aforementioned fields.

For those fastidious enough to pursue the hunt, these unearthed recordings represent the crowning glory of the lifelong unison of Maestro Andrzej Żuławski and filmmaker Andrzej Korzyński, two genuine mavericks of Polish experimental cinema who challenged artistic and societal norms, on both sides of a politically restricted regime and on an international artistic stage, without compromise. Friends since childhood, Korzyński and Żuławski may have become divided by limelight and geography (Żuławski the intrepid emigre), but they remained united in their kaleidoscopic creative vision, resulting in a fractured stream of troublesome and mind-bending golden era collaborations such as Possession, The Silver Globe, and Third Part Of The Night. This long-awaited liberation of the psychedelic masterpiece known as Diabeł finally completes the duo’s full vista with what many consider the most vital piece of the prism.

The Earth is burning, covering all environments in ashes. Smoke comes to us from computers-from social networks accelerating the spread of burnt affects, damaging our ability to feel and respond to what the planet strives to express. We need to cool down. Thomas Köner's music can help change the pace of our perceptions: 1) In DAIKAN (2002) - a Japanese term meaning "the coldest" or "the coldest part of the year"-the ear stretches until touching the depth of time that persists in the ice; a sonic drama offers the slowness thanks to which the skin of perceptions can reconstitute themselves; icequakes awaken listeners to the frozen life without scaring them. 2) Banlieue du Vide, considered by many to be Thomas Köner's most iconic audiovisual work and best kept secret, has not been released previously. It is in the collection of a couple of art museums, e.g. the Centre Pompidou in Paris, and has been awarded the Golden Nica at Prix Ars Electronica in 2004, in the category Digital Musics. Banlieue du Vide is the result of months of time-lapse observations of empty streets in the Finnish Arctic Circle, shown in glacially slow slow-motion. Phase cancellation, on which all noise cancelling technology is based, here affects the perception of time, the sense of the flow of time extinguishing itself. At this stage the void is not yet empty, traces of past noise fill the listeners mind with their haunting presence. A remastered stereo version of the soundtrack is released as a special premiere as Bonus Track of the DAIKAN album. Listening to this album, an excess of heat turns into an empowering coldness-like the transient feeling of our terrestrial embodiment in the midst of entropy.

Heir Corpse One is one of the latest projects of
multi-shredder / vocalist Rogga Johansson
(Paganizer, Stygian Dark, Massacre, Blood Gut,
Dead Sun, Megascavenger, Ribspreader,
Putrevore, Revolting).
 For this zombie horror-themed album he teamed
up with some friends from the Swedish death
metal scene: Kjetil Lynghaug (Mordenial,
Paganizer), Peter Svensson (Furnace Moon) and
Marcus Rosenkvist (Assasins Blade, Void Moon).
 ‘Fly The Fiendish Skies’ is a concept story about a
zombie apocalypse that starts after a plane cockpit
crew crashes and dives in a zombie filled swamp.
Expect dirty old school Swedish death metal as
only the Swedes can produce.
 For fans of Unleashed, Grave, Entrails, Bloodbath,
(old) Entombed

Heir Corpse One is one of the latest projects of
multi-shredder / vocalist Rogga Johansson
(Paganizer, Stygian Dark, Massacre, Blood Gut,
Dead Sun, Megascavenger, Ribspreader,
Putrevore, Revolting).
 For this zombie horror-themed album he teamed
up with some friends from the Swedish death
metal scene: Kjetil Lynghaug (Mordenial,
Paganizer), Peter Svensson (Furnace Moon) and
Marcus Rosenkvist (Assasins Blade, Void Moon).
 ‘Fly The Fiendish Skies’ is a concept story about a
zombie apocalypse that starts after a plane cockpit
crew crashes and dives in a zombie filled swamp.
Expect dirty old school Swedish death metal as
only the Swedes can produce.
 For fans of Unleashed, Grave, Entrails, Bloodbath,
(old) Entombed

On their new album Looming, The Spindle, The Pleasure Majenta shape a
terrifying and sublime mix of noise, broken electronics and guitar
feedback that begs to remain untamed
From New Zealand by way of Berlin, these dystopian goth punks take their cues
from the harsh and heavy energy of The Birthday Party, Swans and The Fall
€"casting bummer vibes into the void to create the pain- soaked statement so
many albums want to make but wind up missing the mark.The lead single € Full
of It € fills the screen with flashes of cinematic post-punk savagery up to its ears
in swampy distortion and sleazy funhouse skronk. Velvety € 70s exploitation flick
saxophones hustle with devilish no-wave spaghetti western guitars and a slippery
bassline like a coffin dragged through mud in a grungy post- punk dirge. It's a
waking tour through a dysfunctional late- capitalist bardo where disassociation
becomes an effective coping mechanism for the cyclical, paralyzing grind of
clock- in, clock- out psychosis. € I felt okay when I wasn't myself "when I was
making music or playing onstage, so I decided I would contact myself in this way,
says The Pleasure Majenta's Lawrence Loz Fergus Goodwin. It's a dangerous
game to play.
Tracks: Satellite / Fabric / Sad2say / Smiles Through A Sneer / Anxious Patient /
Osc / Full Of It / It's Ten / Erik Satie / Gardens

A natural compendium to the 391 series, with a strong selection straight to vinyl. Spittle CDs series 391 is filling a void screaming out for revenge. We’re not actually talking about hard to find material, but properly unreleased songs and compositions locked for several decades in some virtual memory lane. A proper distillate from the ongoing series, which showed the hidden roots of the Italian new-wave (with all the possible links to art-rock, goth, post-punk and industrial). Creativity has never been lacking and sometimes complete with a burst of originality, what lacked was a good promotion and a more accessible way to the underground market.

Red Vinyl

Scottish DJ and production duo Co-Accused return with the second release on their own Co-Accused Records label. The thunderous EP features four tracks from Sosak, Fear-E, Acidulant and Co-Accused themselves. They kick things off with the pounding 'PA2 Crew'. An ode to the hardcore they both loved in their earlier raving days, the title of the track pays homeage to their hometown of Paisley. Track two comes from Sosak, an alias of Glasgow's Gary Beck. Sosak’s 'Do One' keeps the energy high with pulsating synths and driving drums. On the flip side, Fear-E’s 'Rhubarb and Custard' is a jackin 'journey filled with melodic elements and chaotic atmospheres. Self-confessed acid freak Acidulant brings the release to a close with the deep, dark and moody 'Drankx'. A hypnotic trip into the void.

When words trail off at the beginning of claire rousay’s »everything perfect is already here«, ornate instrumentation is waiting to fill a void left by the breakdown of language. Yet it becomes clear as we trace rousay’s collaged sonic pathway that breakdown, of meaning and also of melody, is also a place to rest. everything perfect… is made up of two extended compositions that cycle between familiarity and unknowing. There are seemingly infinite ways to feel in response to these pieces of music, which shift tone across their languid duration, earnest like a familiar song but unbound from the emotional didacticisms of lyrical voice and pop form.

rousay builds a fluid landscape around the acoustic contributions of Alex Cunningham (violin), Mari Maurice (electronics and violin), Marilu Donovan (harp), and Theodore Cale Schafer (piano), whose respective melodies weave gently in and out, sometimes steady, sometimes aching, sometimes receding altogether in deference to less overtly musical sounds. That is, percussive texture in the form of unvarnished samples and field recordings: the rattle and rustle and the stops and starts of life unfurling, voices sharing memories nearly out of reach, doors closing, wind against a microphone. Everything comes from somewhere in particular, possessing the veneer of the diaristic, but sound’s provenance is secondary here and so these details become tangled and fused. On this release I hear such details not as individual ornaments or stories but the collective architecture of the greater composition. It’s an architecture that is not quite formed and thus full of openings out to the world unfolding.

“The world unfolding,” that’s a kind way of saying change, movement, loss, transformation. Things rousay here indexes, not without shards of desire or pain, still somehow what I hear is coarse peace in the in-between. These two pieces sweep you away and then bring you to earth, but which is which, anyway? Where am I now? What is different outside of me? What is different inside of me? Um. I think. everything is perfect is already here, like the answers to these questions, is loose and beautiful in surprising ways.

The music guides a certain experience of the world around. In claire’s music there is this marriage—not just a pairing or juxtaposition but an interrelationship, an eventual confusion—of song/texture, narrative/abstraction, figure/ground. Everything comes from somewhere in particular but not just the voices, the field recordings, the what is being said or meant, what matters is the where you are now. There are so many ways of anchoring oneself in the present, some have to do with fantasy or storytelling and some with accepting what is.

These two compositions find peace between these modes. They sweep you away and then bring you to earth, but which is which, anyway? Their mode of feeling is inquisitive. Where am I now? What has changed outside of me? What has changed inside of me? The music, like the answers to these questions, is loose and beautiful in surprising ways.

“Oberst and company have eectively crafted a searing punk fueled half-hour funeral march for both small-town life and the days when you were more likely to hear the words mom and pop than multinational corporation. At the record's core, there is a sense of great disillusionment with watching the cold, calculated displacement of human interaction and community while the world tries to fill the void with money and chain stores.” - Tiny Mix Tapes

“Desaparecidos is like nding gold when you're looking for silver.” - Exclaim!

2022 nds us releasing the 20th Anniversary Edition of Desaparecidos' Read Music/Speak Spanish into a world in which the dread and disenfranchisement detailed throughout the album feel as pertinent today as they did then. The characters and settings may have changed, but the startling narrative has not.

In late 2001, Conor Oberst, Denver Dalley, Landon Hedges, Ian McElroy, and Matt Baum spent a week at Presto! Recording Studio in Lincoln, NE recording a punk album. That debut album, released in the post-9/11 fog of early 2002, screamed out observational commentary on urban development, the sacrice of human value for the dollar bill, and the new American Dream in a way that felt distinctly out of sync with the hyper-patriotic atmosphere of peak G.W. Bush-era America.

‘4-Vesta’ is the brightest asteroid visible from Earth. Measuring around 500km in diameter, it’s one of the four largest objects in the asteroid belt between Jupiter and Mars. Fragments of Vesta have been found on Earth, as meteorites that were ejected into space after two collisions that left huge craters on its surface. These fragments show that Vesta was probably once a planet itself, made of the same material as the four terrestrial planets (Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars).

It was an encounter with one of these fragments that inspired the name for Azu Tiwaline’s latest EP for I.O.T Records, ‘Vesta’, which features tracks that were written and recorded around the same time as ‘Magnetic Service’, her break-through EP for Livity Sound. Holding a piece of Vesta that had been found in the Saharan Desert - already a place of deep significance for her - she felt a sense of wonder, on a cosmic scale. In her hands, was an object so apparently familiar, of the same age and made of the same fundamental materials as the Earth on which she stood, yet from somewhere else entirely. A perfect name for the four tracks that make up ‘Vesta’. And also the perfect source material for the EP’s cover, an electron microscope image of a razor-thin slice of that same cosmic fragment that Azu held in her hand.

‘Vesta’ is familiar, yet distinct. It’s recognisably Azu Tiwaline from the very start, yet the unexpected always finds a way in. A booming, echoing kick opens ‘Low’, followed by the rattling, shivering sound of a tanbur hand-drum, courtesy of his regular collaborator, Franco-Iranian percussionist and producer Cinna Peyghamy. But then, tentatively at first, a jazzy synth line emerges, and disappears again, only to reappear later. An another colour to add to Azu Tiwaline’s already rich palette?

Azu Tiwaline’s music has always explored the dynamics between space and depth, and the contrasts between light and density. ‘Vesta’ often feels like a high-wire act, an exercise in finding space even as the air fills with drum patterns and synth lines. ‘Medium Time’ builds from a chorus of buzzing insects into a thick percussive track across eight minutes, without ever losing that initial wide-open sound of the dusk. ‘Into The Void’ pays homage to her well-worn collection of Rhythm & Sound and Basic Channel 12-inch singles, all swaying dub echoes and languid kick drums. Then mid-track, it pivots in intensity, each element suddenly expanded and magnified: a psychedelic shift. Those who’ve had the chance to see Azu Tiwaline perform in the past few years might get a few flashbacks - it’s been a key part of her live set.

But it’s the final track ‘Deep Theko’ that best fits the EP’s cosmic title. A shape-shifting ‘ambient’ track that never seems to settle, it drifts restlessly, sporadic percussion and synth washes injecting random bursts of activity. A sonic representation of planetary debris floating through space? Here, as with the airless void of space, emptiness enables a certain perspective. If the distances between the stars weren’t so enormous, we wouldn’t be able to gaze upon them in their entirety, after all.

"Rock and metal music have always been a haven for those who have bigger stories to tell; who have grander emotions to convey. For more than thirty years, Finnish figureheads Amorphis have done their best to carve their very own niche in heartfelt yet aggressive, melancholic yet soothing tunes. On “Halo”, their staggering fourteenth studio effort, the Fins underline their trailblazing status as one of the most original, culturally relevant and rewarding acts ever to emerge from the land of the thousand lakes. In the past, mythology and legend took the role of today’s pop culture: Stories and a set of values uniting us by giving us a voice and a tapestry on which we can find each other and identify with something. By weaving the tales of Finnish national epos “Kalevala” into their songs and interpreting them in a timeless way, Amorphis combine the role of ancient minstrels and luminaries of the modern world, honouring tradition without getting stuck in the past. The vibrant, lively, and touching beauty that is “Halo” highlights their musical and storytelling mastership on a once again soaring level: It’s a progressive, melodic, and quintessentially melancholic heavy metal masterwork plucked from the fickle void of inspiration by original guitarists Esa Holopainen and Tomi Koivusaari, bassist Olli-Pekka Laine, drummer Jan Rechberger, longtime keyboardist Santeri Kallio and vocalist Tomi Joutsen, the band’s long-standing lyrical consciousness Pekka Kainulainen and a selected group of world class audio professionals led by
renowned Swedish producer Jens Bogren. Considering the band’s prolonged journey in the forefront of innovative metal music, it’s difficult to grasp how Amorphis manages to raise the proverbial bar time and time again, presenting a more than worthy finale to the trilogy begun with 2015’s “Under the Red Cloud” followed by 2018’s “Queen of Time.” “It really is a great feeling that we can still produce very decent music as a band,” says Holopainen, a founding member of the band. “Perhaps a certain kind of self-criticism and long experience culminate in these latest albums.” To the songwriter himself, “Halo” sounds both familiar and different. “It is thoroughly recognizable Amorphis from beginning to end but the general atmosphere is a little bit heavier and more progressive and also organic compared to its predecessor,” he elaborates. Tomi Joutsen, the man with vocal cords capable of unleashing colossal, bear-like growls as well as singing soothing, mesmerising lullabies, adds, “To me, ‘Halo’ sounds a little more stripped down compared to ‘Queen Of Time’ and ‘Under The Red Cloud.’ However, don’t get me wrong: when a certain song needs to sound big, then it sounds very big.” He’s right, of course: By stripping down some of the arrangements, the monumental moments become even more monumental. That’s of course also thanks to producing renaissance man Jens Bogren who harvested the thirteen final tracks from a batch of thirty songs Amorphis offered him. “Jens is very demanding, but I really like to work with him,” says Holopainen. “He takes care of the whole project from start to finish, and he allows the musician to focus on just playing. I may not be able to thank Jens enough. Everything we’ve done together has been really great, and this co-operation has carried Amorphis significantly forward.” Indeed. Setting off with the stormy grandeur of opener “Northwards,” Amorphis take us on an epic journey through the lands of the north, their rich cultural and historical heritage and musical traditions. This is not only an album for fans or metal connoisseurs. It’s a must for every imaginative mind out there with a soft spot for cinematic soundscapes, triumphant melodies and breathtaking dynamics measuring the borderlands of light and dark. However, no Amorphis album would be complete without the imaginative and poetic storytelling of renowned lyricist and “Kalevala” expert Pekka Kainulainen. “From day one, Pekka has always been an enthusiastic and prolific lyricist for Amorphis,” says Joutsen. “It is a slow process of translating archaic Finnish poetry into English and adapting it our progressive rhythms. Fortunately, Pekka does everything on time and with great care.” Since 2007’s “Silent Waters,” Kainulainen has been navigating the mythological waters of his homeland with great skill and respect. For “Halo,” he outdid himself once again. “‘Halo’ is a loose themed record filled with adventurous tales about the mythical North tens of thousands of years ago,” he explains. “The lyrics tell of an ancient time when man wandered to these abandoned boreal frontiers after the ice age. While describing the revival of a seminal culture in a world of new opportunities, I also try to reach the sempiternal forces of the human mind.” Thirty-one years after their inception, with uncounted global tours under their belt and fourteen albums deep in their career, Amorphis still proves to be the musical fountain of youth, an extraordinary band constantly reinventing itself without abandoning its mystical roots. With “Halo”, they deliver an astonishing album that deserves to be played everywhere, transcending the realms of metal and rock by its sheer profoundness and musicality."

"Rock and metal music have always been a haven for those who have bigger stories to tell; who have grander emotions to convey. For more than thirty years, Finnish figureheads Amorphis have done their best to carve their very own niche in heartfelt yet aggressive, melancholic yet soothing tunes. On “Halo”, their staggering fourteenth studio effort, the Fins underline their trailblazing status as one of the most original, culturally relevant and rewarding acts ever to emerge from the land of the thousand lakes. In the past, mythology and legend took the role of today’s pop culture: Stories and a set of values uniting us by giving us a voice and a tapestry on which we can find each other and identify with something. By weaving the tales of Finnish national epos “Kalevala” into their songs and interpreting them in a timeless way, Amorphis combine the role of ancient minstrels and luminaries of the modern world, honouring tradition without getting stuck in the past. The vibrant, lively, and touching beauty that is “Halo” highlights their musical and storytelling mastership on a once again soaring level: It’s a progressive, melodic, and quintessentially melancholic heavy metal masterwork plucked from the fickle void of inspiration by original guitarists Esa Holopainen and Tomi Koivusaari, bassist Olli-Pekka Laine, drummer Jan Rechberger, longtime keyboardist Santeri Kallio and vocalist Tomi Joutsen, the band’s long-standing lyrical consciousness Pekka Kainulainen and a selected group of world class audio professionals led by
renowned Swedish producer Jens Bogren. Considering the band’s prolonged journey in the forefront of innovative metal music, it’s difficult to grasp how Amorphis manages to raise the proverbial bar time and time again, presenting a more than worthy finale to the trilogy begun with 2015’s “Under the Red Cloud” followed by 2018’s “Queen of Time.” “It really is a great feeling that we can still produce very decent music as a band,” says Holopainen, a founding member of the band. “Perhaps a certain kind of self-criticism and long experience culminate in these latest albums.” To the songwriter himself, “Halo” sounds both familiar and different. “It is thoroughly recognizable Amorphis from beginning to end but the general atmosphere is a little bit heavier and more progressive and also organic compared to its predecessor,” he elaborates. Tomi Joutsen, the man with vocal cords capable of unleashing colossal, bear-like growls as well as singing soothing, mesmerising lullabies, adds, “To me, ‘Halo’ sounds a little more stripped down compared to ‘Queen Of Time’ and ‘Under The Red Cloud.’ However, don’t get me wrong: when a certain song needs to sound big, then it sounds very big.” He’s right, of course: By stripping down some of the arrangements, the monumental moments become even more monumental. That’s of course also thanks to producing renaissance man Jens Bogren who harvested the thirteen final tracks from a batch of thirty songs Amorphis offered him. “Jens is very demanding, but I really like to work with him,” says Holopainen. “He takes care of the whole project from start to finish, and he allows the musician to focus on just playing. I may not be able to thank Jens enough. Everything we’ve done together has been really great, and this co-operation has carried Amorphis significantly forward.” Indeed. Setting off with the stormy grandeur of opener “Northwards,” Amorphis take us on an epic journey through the lands of the north, their rich cultural and historical heritage and musical traditions. This is not only an album for fans or metal connoisseurs. It’s a must for every imaginative mind out there with a soft spot for cinematic soundscapes, triumphant melodies and breathtaking dynamics measuring the borderlands of light and dark. However, no Amorphis album would be complete without the imaginative and poetic storytelling of renowned lyricist and “Kalevala” expert Pekka Kainulainen. “From day one, Pekka has always been an enthusiastic and prolific lyricist for Amorphis,” says Joutsen. “It is a slow process of translating archaic Finnish poetry into English and adapting it our progressive rhythms. Fortunately, Pekka does everything on time and with great care.” Since 2007’s “Silent Waters,” Kainulainen has been navigating the mythological waters of his homeland with great skill and respect. For “Halo,” he outdid himself once again. “‘Halo’ is a loose themed record filled with adventurous tales about the mythical North tens of thousands of years ago,” he explains. “The lyrics tell of an ancient time when man wandered to these abandoned boreal frontiers after the ice age. While describing the revival of a seminal culture in a world of new opportunities, I also try to reach the sempiternal forces of the human mind.” Thirty-one years after their inception, with uncounted global tours under their belt and fourteen albums deep in their career, Amorphis still proves to be the musical fountain of youth, an extraordinary band constantly reinventing itself without abandoning its mystical roots. With “Halo”, they deliver an astonishing album that deserves to be played everywhere, transcending the realms of metal and rock by its sheer profoundness and musicality."

Heir Corpse One is one of the latest projects of
multi-shredder / vocalist Rogga Johansson
(Paganizer, Stygian Dark, Massacre, Blood Gut,
Dead Sun, Megascavenger, Ribspreader,
Putrevore, Revolting).
 For this zombie horror-themed album he teamed
up with some friends from the Swedish death
metal scene: Kjetil Lynghaug (Mordenial,
Paganizer), Peter Svensson (Furnace Moon) and
Marcus Rosenkvist (Assasins Blade, Void Moon).
 ‘Fly The Fiendish Skies’ is a concept story about a
zombie apocalypse that starts after a plane cockpit
crew crashes and dives in a zombie filled swamp.
Expect dirty old school Swedish death metal as
only the Swedes can produce.
 For fans of Unleashed, Grave, Entrails, Bloodbath,
(old) Entombed

What is techno if not a powerful conduit for energy? The movement of a sequence, the surge of an effects rush, the respondent reaction in every individual dancer and the moving mass of the crowd as a whole. Whether the frequencies transmit directly into the brain through the intimacy of a headphone reverie, reverberate through the architecture of a space or fill the formless void of the open air, techno’s potency to initiate and stimulate energetic events is profound. This is something Pfirter understands intimately, having spent more than 15 years exploring ways of manipulating the energy on a dancefloor.

Of course, energy is not just about volume and aggression. Tonality, spatial processing and composition can have just as profound an effect as the thump of the kick drum. On his new album Altered States, Pfirter proves that point by zeroing in on the cerebral, psychedelic elements of his craft across 10 incisive tracks. The Argentine producer consciously approached his second album (following 2019’s The Empty Space) with a minimal mindset, using a very focused set of drum machines and synths to achieve a consistency across the record. Captured over a short burst of creativity, it’s the sound of an artist pushing a limited array of tools as far as possible. Despite this concise palette, it’s not an album that repeats itself, but rather an extended trip that flows from one detailed, textured immersion to the next.

The dense, febrile waves of hard-oscillating ripples in ‘A Future In Chaos’ and the sparkling, off-key chimes adorning ‘Yearn’ all speak to Pfirter’s gift for extravagant, surrealist expression within his tracks. ‘Altered States’, by way of contrast, succeeds in its absolute immediacy – a piledriving statement of bleep-driven intent. ‘Boiler’ and ‘Convergence’ land somewhere in between, coiling around kinked rhythmic incantations which still push forwards with precision while offering a different angle from which to approach the dancefloor. Cementing the idea of the whole album as a listening experience, Altered States is bookended by ‘Venus’ and ‘Dissolution’, two minimal exercises in drone-oriented mood setting.

Pfirter understands the role of his music, and his own instincts as a performing artist. It’s crafted to be captivating for DJs as much as the attentive listener. Spanning linear rhythms and broken beats, moments of calm and writhing intensity, Altered States offers a multitude of energetic possibilities in the mix or as a standalone piece of music. Ultimately, it’s a masterful return from a leading light of the contemporary techno scene.

This is MindTrip!

Empty surrounds all of me. It’s a poignant line from the third album by Blackwater Holylight that encapsulates the search for self when suddenly everything has changed. There’s a theme of processing vast personal trauma throughout Silence/Motion that eloquently — both lyrically and musically — and simultaneously embodies the crushing emptiness, sorrow, strength and rebuilding of recovering from personal devastation.

“There was so much grief both in the world and interpersonally during the process of creating Silence/Motion,” says vocalist/bassist Allison “Sunny” Faris. “The four of us gave one another more space to be ourselves, to experiment with each other’s ideas and to be gentle with one another more than we ever have before. So, we knew this tenderness would manifest in extremely honest arrangements, and I think that you can hear that throughout the record.”

Curiously, considering the dark times in which it was created, this is the band’s most melodic and catchy music so far. Blackwater Holylight, as the name suggests, is all about contrasts: It’s a fluid convergence of sound that’s heavy, psychedelic, melodic, terrifying and beautiful all at once. And, Silence/Motion finds the band honing those contrasts, letting ideas and moods fully develop from song to song, rather than filling every song with a full range of their capabilities. It allows the band to go fully prog-rock here, and simply stay hushed and intimate there. There’s a new confidence to the band in how seamlessly they wield their stylistic amalgam.

“Writing this album was extraordinarily difficult emotionally, however it did come to fruition fairly quickly,” Faris says. “In the past, the theme of vulnerability has always been a big player and it definitely showed up full force while writing this album.”

Blackwater Holylight recorded the album as a four piece: Faris on vocals and guitar (on “Silence/Motion”, “MDIII”, “Around You” and “Every Corner”) and bass for the remainder, Sarah McKenna on synths, Mikayla Mayhew on guitar (and bass when Faris plays guitar) and drummer Eliese Dorsay. New second guitarist Erika Osterhout will perform the songs with them live. For Silence/Motion the band chose to work with a producer for the first time, bringing in A.L.N. (of Mizmor, Hell) to produce, along with recording engineer Dylan White — who also helmed their previous album Veils of Winter (2019) — at Odessa Recording Studio in Portland, OR. Guest vocals on album opener “Delusional” are by Bryan Funck (Thou.) Mike Paparo (Inter Arma) and A.LN. (Mizmor, Hell) lend guest vocals to album closer “Every Corner.”

Silence/Motion opens softly with interwoven folky single note guitars over an ominous sounding drone for the first minute, akin to moments from Pink Floyd’s Echoes. Suddenly an irresistibly head-nodding, groovy droptuned riff kicks in with the drums and it’s a full on blackened rocker with soaring synths and Funck’s witchy whispers over the top. “Who The Hell,” the track quoted above, takes proceedings into a Krautrock direction, centered around McKenna’s arpeggiated synth loop and Dorsay’s tom-tom triplets, while 16-note guitar strums add tension as Faris wearily sings, “So tell me who the hell would want to live this way — so afraid/ To feel this void, to dwell in it… I can’t describe this pain I wear/ It suffocates and you left it here.” It’s an incredibly powerful 6 minutes. The title track delivers the 1-2-3 punch of the album’s brilliant opening trilogy. It starts with lightly plucked acoustic guitar, plaintive piano chords and Faris’ voice gliding so softly it sounds more like a Mellotron. The song builds slowly toward crescendo, led by a swinging tom pattern, that abruptly switches back to a heavier version of the opening melody.“Silence/Motion” is about digesting and healing from sexual assault. As Faris explains, “It is an ode to the juxtaposition of feeling paralyzingly blank and and like your entire life is moving through you simultaneously.” Elsewhere, Black Metal guitars collide with dreamlike melodies. “Around You” brandishes a hopeful, hummable synth melody and shimmering shoegaze guitars like throwing down a gauntlet. In the end, it becomes undeniably clear just how completely into their own Blackwater Holylight has come.

“The analogy is that with our first record (Blackwater Holylight, 2018) we were getting into to the car and buckling up,” Faris says. “The second (Veils of Winter, 2019) we were turning the car on, and with this third we have kicked into drive toward our destination. Our destination is a bit mysterious and has the ability to change from day to day, but we’re on our way.”

Empty surrounds all of me. It’s a poignant line from the third album by Blackwater Holylight that encapsulates the search for self when suddenly everything has changed. There’s a theme of processing vast personal trauma throughout Silence/Motion that eloquently — both lyrically and musically — and simultaneously embodies the crushing emptiness, sorrow, strength and rebuilding of recovering from personal devastation.

“There was so much grief both in the world and interpersonally during the process of creating Silence/Motion,” says vocalist/bassist Allison “Sunny” Faris. “The four of us gave one another more space to be ourselves, to experiment with each other’s ideas and to be gentle with one another more than we ever have before. So, we knew this tenderness would manifest in extremely honest arrangements, and I think that you can hear that throughout the record.”

Curiously, considering the dark times in which it was created, this is the band’s most melodic and catchy music so far. Blackwater Holylight, as the name suggests, is all about contrasts: It’s a fluid convergence of sound that’s heavy, psychedelic, melodic, terrifying and beautiful all at once. And, Silence/Motion finds the band honing those contrasts, letting ideas and moods fully develop from song to song, rather than filling every song with a full range of their capabilities. It allows the band to go fully prog-rock here, and simply stay hushed and intimate there. There’s a new confidence to the band in how seamlessly they wield their stylistic amalgam.

“Writing this album was extraordinarily difficult emotionally, however it did come to fruition fairly quickly,” Faris says. “In the past, the theme of vulnerability has always been a big player and it definitely showed up full force while writing this album.”

Blackwater Holylight recorded the album as a four piece: Faris on vocals and guitar (on “Silence/Motion”, “MDIII”, “Around You” and “Every Corner”) and bass for the remainder, Sarah McKenna on synths, Mikayla Mayhew on guitar (and bass when Faris plays guitar) and drummer Eliese Dorsay. New second guitarist Erika Osterhout will perform the songs with them live. For Silence/Motion the band chose to work with a producer for the first time, bringing in A.L.N. (of Mizmor, Hell) to produce, along with recording engineer Dylan White — who also helmed their previous album Veils of Winter (2019) — at Odessa Recording Studio in Portland, OR. Guest vocals on album opener “Delusional” are by Bryan Funck (Thou.) Mike Paparo (Inter Arma) and A.LN. (Mizmor, Hell) lend guest vocals to album closer “Every Corner.”

Silence/Motion opens softly with interwoven folky single note guitars over an ominous sounding drone for the first minute, akin to moments from Pink Floyd’s Echoes. Suddenly an irresistibly head-nodding, groovy droptuned riff kicks in with the drums and it’s a full on blackened rocker with soaring synths and Funck’s witchy whispers over the top. “Who The Hell,” the track quoted above, takes proceedings into a Krautrock direction, centered around McKenna’s arpeggiated synth loop and Dorsay’s tom-tom triplets, while 16-note guitar strums add tension as Faris wearily sings, “So tell me who the hell would want to live this way — so afraid/ To feel this void, to dwell in it… I can’t describe this pain I wear/ It suffocates and you left it here.” It’s an incredibly powerful 6 minutes. The title track delivers the 1-2-3 punch of the album’s brilliant opening trilogy. It starts with lightly plucked acoustic guitar, plaintive piano chords and Faris’ voice gliding so softly it sounds more like a Mellotron. The song builds slowly toward crescendo, led by a swinging tom pattern, that abruptly switches back to a heavier version of the opening melody.“Silence/Motion” is about digesting and healing from sexual assault. As Faris explains, “It is an ode to the juxtaposition of feeling paralyzingly blank and and like your entire life is moving through you simultaneously.” Elsewhere, Black Metal guitars collide with dreamlike melodies. “Around You” brandishes a hopeful, hummable synth melody and shimmering shoegaze guitars like throwing down a gauntlet. In the end, it becomes undeniably clear just how completely into their own Blackwater Holylight has come.

“The analogy is that with our first record (Blackwater Holylight, 2018) we were getting into to the car and buckling up,” Faris says. “The second (Veils of Winter, 2019) we were turning the car on, and with this third we have kicked into drive toward our destination. Our destination is a bit mysterious and has the ability to change from day to day, but we’re on our way.”

Bestial Mouth’s creations in the last two years, the INSHROUDSS EP and the RESURRECTEDINBLACK LP, are the phoenix cries of the project’s rebirth under the guiding hand of vocalist Lynette Cerezo, melding noise and darkwave pop into a theatre of skin-shredding catharsis that brings the project’s post-punk roots to new levels of club-ready destruction—equal parts intensity and accessibility.

THOUSANDNEEDLES pierces that veil with warped reimaginings of both releases, from a diverse selection of artists in the dark underground. Each brings their own unique twist, whether it’s to a dance ritual of pounding EBM and industrialized techno, fog-shrouded darkwave dives, cosmic washes of synthpop bliss, or soul-smashing noise dredged from a sewer cathedral. Dance through the pain, and make new paths of your scars.

LP pressed exclusively for National Album Day 2021 on gold vinyl in
single-pocket jacket with custom dust sleeve and digital download
coupon.
 Through ‘Titanic Rising’, Weyes Blood, aka Natalie Mering, has
designed her own universe to soulfully navigate life’s mysteries.
Manoeuvring through a space time continuum, she plays the role of
melodic, sometimes melancholic, anthropologist.
 Tellingly, Mering classifies ‘Titanic Rising’ - written and recorded during
the first half of 2018, after three albums and years of touring - as The
Kinks meeting WWII or Bob Seger meets Enya. The latter captures the
album’s wilful expansiveness (“You can tell there’s not a guy pulling the
strings in Enya’s studio,” she notes, admiringly). The former relays her
imperative to connect with listeners. “The clarity of Bob Seger is
unmistakable. I’m a big fan of conversational songwriting,” she adds. “I
just try to do that in a way that uses abstract imagery as well.”
 The Weyes Blood frontwoman grew up singing in gospel and madrigal
choirs. (Listen closely to ‘Titanic Rising’ and you’ll also hear the jazz of
Hoagy Carmichael mingle with the artful mysticism of Alejandro
Jodorowsky and the monomyth of scholar Joseph Campbell.)
‘Something To Believe’, a confessional that makes judicious use of the
slide guitar, touches on that cosmological upbringing. “Belief is
something all humans need. Shared myths are part of our psychology
and survival,” she says. “Now we have a weird mishmash of capitalism
and movies and science. There have been moments where I felt very
existential and lost.”
 As a kid, she filled that void with ‘Titanic’. (Yes, the movie.) “It was
engineered for little girls and had its own mythology,” she explains.
Mering also noticed that the blockbuster romance actually offered a story
about loss born of man’s hubris. “It’s so symbolic that The Titanic would
crash into an iceberg, and now that iceberg is melting, sinking
civilization.” Today, this hubris also extends to the relentless adoption of
technology, at the expense of both happiness and attention spans.
 But Weyes Blood isn’t one to stew. Her observations play out in an
ethereal saunter: far more meditative than cynical. To Mering, listening
and thinking are concurrent experiences. “There are complicated
influences mixed in with more relatable nostalgic melodies,” she says.
“In my mind my music feels so big, a true production. I’m not a huge,
popular artist, but I feel like one when I’m in the studio. But it’s never
taking away from the music. I’m just making a bigger space for myself.”

After the exploration of snowy mountains of Alpestres, released on Hands in the Dark in 2018, French composer Matthias Puech ventures into new territories, sketching a cartography of the invisible where the journey, in chiaroscuro, is announced as a rite of passage. A Geography of Absence, as introspective as unpredictable, immerses the listener into a unique sensory whirlwind where organic matter becomes almost palpable. A researcher in theoretical computer science and an engineer at GRM, Matthias Puech constructs a dialog between synthetic music and field recording, capturing sounds that surround him and creating his own sonic language with the help of synthesizers he designs and develops; notably the Oscillator Ensemble and the Tapographic Delay, made by the American company 4ms.

Composed during a moment marked by ordeal and mourning, A Geography of Absence retraces an inner journey where the physicality of sound leads the listener into an initiatory tunnel filled with apparitions, ghosts, visions. With sound oscillations as a navigational map, we progress, step by step, through the meanders of an unknown world, dazzled by the prospect of a new synthetic horizon, an electronic biotope teeming with life and incarnations. Playing with time, space and matter in an approach similar to that of musique concrète, Matthias Puech combines ambient and noise, floating sounds and electroacoustic experimentations, thus shaking up our listening perspective, which finds itself walking through a parallel universe, strata after strata, sequence after sequence.

The trip begins with “Hollow”, as if on board a night train travelling at full speed through ghost towns. Or is it a spaceship? Removed from their original habitat, sounds – picked up during walks or moduled by synths – are free to be interpreted differently by everyone, according to the memories that shape us. Granular and metallic, this first piece takes us to an elsewhere in orbit. "Work Song" is built around the pulsation of the void, of space, where strange creatures and liquid emanations abound. We become fetus, cocoon coiled in the placenta, heart beating to the rhythm of the gooey choreography of the human body. "Chrysalis" awakens the racket that lies dormant in us, when the skin changes, when the transition takes place. One seems to recognize certain sounds stemming from nature but they could also be mirages, imitating reality to render the barely perceptible engulfing. “Tunnel Vision” brings out a herd of haunted bells, slowly swelling in a pastoral maelstrom, ending in a deafening buzz. Further on, the chirping of an animatronic bird mixes with the hooting of an owl: "A Faint Beacon" invokes a nocturnal vigil that mixes the crackling of a fire and icy gusts of wind blowing everything away. Like an epic, sucking the listener into the breach of a black hole in the center of the Milky Way, it's up to "Homeostasis" to conclude in the high spheres and contemplative vapors, where the balance of dawn announces a rebirth.

A Geography of Absence is a meticulous and sensitive piece that constructs a delicate symphony of extremes, between introspection and desire for the unknown. Accompanied by the ink work of the artist Léa Neuville, whose folds of prints sketch this imaginary atlas, Matthias Puech becomes a narrator of mental adventures. And succeeds once again in transcending reality to dig a path to the unspeakable.