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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

2023 repress !

After his debut on PoleGroup last year with a track 'Hate' selected for the compilation release Unknown Landscapes - EP 1, Kwartz makes a proper return to the label with Form and Void EP. Hailing from Madrid, DJ and producer Kwartz started his career in 2011 and within fairly a short time he has developed and refined his own hypnotic, dark and enveloping techno. Amongst notable releases to date is his first vinyl EP Fenomen (2013), a joint release with Pole Group artist Exium on their Nheoma imprint.

Form and Void EP features two strong originals and two equally powerful remix supports from the label mates and core members of Pole Group, Reeko and Exium. The title track 'Form and Void' kicks off with straight forward 4/4 rhythmic groove that gradually builds up layer by layer in to the darker shade to meet the mysterious break, followed by heavy brooding bass tones slashing through the kick drums, deepening the atmosphere with the hollowing echoes. Reeko's remix elevates the dark mood of original while pumping in even more energy with rolling kick/hat combo and psychedelic swirling chaos of synth that intensifies throughout the entire length of the track.

'Breakage' on the flip side possess much more hardened groove, pounding out the drums packed with blinding force. Exium's remix takes the tension-filled doomsday feel of original to another level and gives a new dimension to the heavy merciless percussion by adding haunting howling echoes that growls like that of ghosts combined with more muted drums and subtle layers of stabs of kicks and effects.

Kwartz holds nothing back with Form and Void EP, delving in to the darkest and deepest realm of subterranean pulses that fit perfectly for the dance floor with dimmed light and big sound system.

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.