Search:wait for me

On their second record as The Convenience, Like Cartoon Vampires, New Orleans multi-instrumentalists Nick Corson and Duncan Troast embrace a hypnotic physicality and collage-y, spur-of-the-moment approach to composition. The result is an avant-rock soundworld, peppered with spidery, atonal guitar work, pointy rhythms, and strident feedback, which may strike as a total reinvention following the sugary funk-pop of their 2021 debut album Accelerator. With their second LP, following their inspiration meant creating with their hands much more than buttons or switches. Sessions were characterized by gnarly, improvisational jams as they tinkered with everything from cassette loops, found sounds, and 808s. Tracks like "Target Offer" and "Fake the Feeling" quake with ear-splitting guitar feedback, while "Pray'r" and "Rats" eschew their groove worship in favor of haunting minimalism. Song after song, Accelerator's pop influences are traded in for more eccentric frontiers, with the clear common denominators of their first two records being the duo's spellbinding, funky instincts and a mastery of texture. Lyrically, Like Cartoon Vampires collects dispatches from a dying empire-characters are devoured by alienation and vanity, though society doesn't bat an eye. But make no mistake, these songs are not merely disaffected ennui-music-making and collaboration are intensely emotional practices for The Convenience, and they reflect a shrieking lust for life.

On their second record as The Convenience, Like Cartoon Vampires, New Orleans multi-instrumentalists Nick Corson and Duncan Troast embrace a hypnotic physicality and collage-y, spur-of-the-moment approach to composition. The result is an avant-rock soundworld, peppered with spidery, atonal guitar work, pointy rhythms, and strident feedback, which may strike as a total reinvention following the sugary funk-pop of their 2021 debut album Accelerator. With their second LP, following their inspiration meant creating with their hands much more than buttons or switches. Sessions were characterized by gnarly, improvisational jams as they tinkered with everything from cassette loops, found sounds, and 808s. Tracks like "Target Offer" and "Fake the Feeling" quake with ear-splitting guitar feedback, while "Pray'r" and "Rats" eschew their groove worship in favor of haunting minimalism. Song after song, Accelerator's pop influences are traded in for more eccentric frontiers, with the clear common denominators of their first two records being the duo's spellbinding, funky instincts and a mastery of texture. Lyrically, Like Cartoon Vampires collects dispatches from a dying empire-characters are devoured by alienation and vanity, though society doesn't bat an eye. But make no mistake, these songs are not merely disaffected ennui-music-making and collaboration are intensely emotional practices for The Convenience, and they reflect a shrieking lust for life.

On their second record as The Convenience, Like Cartoon Vampires, New Orleans multi-instrumentalists Nick Corson and Duncan Troast embrace a hypnotic physicality and collage-y, spur-of-the-moment approach to composition. The result is an avant-rock soundworld, peppered with spidery, atonal guitar work, pointy rhythms, and strident feedback, which may strike as a total reinvention following the sugary funk-pop of their 2021 debut album Accelerator. With their second LP, following their inspiration meant creating with their hands much more than buttons or switches. Sessions were characterized by gnarly, improvisational jams as they tinkered with everything from cassette loops, found sounds, and 808s. Tracks like "Target Offer" and "Fake the Feeling" quake with ear-splitting guitar feedback, while "Pray'r" and "Rats" eschew their groove worship in favor of haunting minimalism. Song after song, Accelerator's pop influences are traded in for more eccentric frontiers, with the clear common denominators of their first two records being the duo's spellbinding, funky instincts and a mastery of texture. Lyrically, Like Cartoon Vampires collects dispatches from a dying empire-characters are devoured by alienation and vanity, though society doesn't bat an eye. But make no mistake, these songs are not merely disaffected ennui-music-making and collaboration are intensely emotional practices for The Convenience, and they reflect a shrieking lust for life.

Just Like You is the follow up to Falling In Reverse"s 2013 release Fashionably Late. The album debuted at #2 on the Billboard Top Hard Rock Albums chart, #4 on the Modern Rock Albums chart, and #3 on the Top Independent Albums chart. Falling In Reverse"s first album, The Drug in Me Is You debuted in the Billboard Top 20 in 2011. In 2012, Alternative Press gave Falling In Reverse the title of Artist of the Year while Revolver named Ronnie Radke one of the 100 Greatest Living Rockstars. Additionally, Falling In Reverse/frontman Radke have been on numerous magazine covers worldwide, including Alternative Press, Las Vegas Weekly, Rocksound, Hysteria, and Kerrang!. In 2014, Kerrang! named Ronnie one of the 50 Greatest Living Rockstars in the World, in the company of Lemmy, Slash, Steven Tyler, and Ozzy Osbourne. Reissued on Clear with Neon Pink Splatter vinyl to celebrate the 10th anniversary of it"s release.

L.A. Witch haben schon immer eine Aura müheloser Coolness ausgestrahlt, sei es in Form des Americana Noir und des lakonischen Back-to-Basics-Rock'n'Roll ihres selbstbetitelten Debüts oder des glühend strengen Abenteurertums ihres zweiten Albums "Play With Fire". Die Band - bestehend aus Sade Sanchez (Gitarre/Gesang), Irita Pai (Bass) und Ellie English (Schlagzeug) - begann als informelle Angelegenheit, aber die schwülen und betörenden, von Hall umhüllten Songs, die sie schufen, fanden beim Publikum Anklang und brachten das Projekt über den isolierten Raum von Freunden und Gleichgesinnten in Südkalifornien hinaus in die weite Welt. Auf ihrem neuesten Album "DOGGOD" geht das Trio über die bisherigen kreativen und geografischen Grenzen hinaus - das Material wurde in Paris produziert und die Tracks im Motorbass Studio in der Rue de Martyrs aufgenommen. "DOGGOD" erkundet ein breiteres klangliches Terrain, setzt ein größeres Arsenal an Sounds ein und erforscht größere existenzielle und kosmische Themen, ohne dabei den für die Band typischen Sinn für das Verbotene, das Verlassene und die Vorahnung zu verlieren. "DOGGOD" ist ein Weg, das universelle Rätsel der spirituellen Natur von Liebe und Hingabe anzugehen. "Ich habe das Gefühl, eine Art Dienerin oder Sklavin der Liebe zu sein", sagt Sanchez. "Ich bin bereit, für die Liebe zu sterben, indem ich ihr diene, für sie leide oder nach ihr suche - so wie ein treuer, ergebener Diensthund es tun würde." Der Titel des Albums ist ein Palindrom, das DOG und GOD zusammenfasst - eine Verherrlichung des Unterwürfigen und eine Subversion des Göttlichen. Es ist eine Anspielung auf die Reinheit von Hunden und eine Anerkennung ihrer bedingungslosen Liebe und ihres beschützenden Wesens, die im Widerspruch zu den verschiedenen abwertenden Assoziationen stehen, die mit dieser Spezies verbunden werden. "Es gibt diese symbolische Verbindung zwischen Frauen und Hunden, die die untergeordnete Stellung der Frau in der Gesellschaft zum Ausdruck bringt", erklärt Sanchez. "Und alles, was solche göttlichen Eigenschaften verkörpert, hat es nicht verdient, als Schimpfwort benutzt zu werden." Diese widersprüchlichen Erkundungen von Liebe und Unterwerfung manifestieren sich in der sanften und rauchigen Garagerock-Alchemie der Band, mit einer neu entdeckten Nutzung der disziplinierten Zurückhaltung und eisigen Instrumentierung des Post-Punk. Der Album-Opener "Icicle" zeigt, wie L.A. Witch aus dem Proto-Punk, der Psychedelia und den düsteren Riffs der 70er Jahre in die von Refrains durchtränkten Gitarren und den verlorenen Minimalismus von Joy Division und den frühen The Cure reist. Es wird eine Parallele zwischen romantischem Selbstmord und Märtyrertum gezogen, die sich im zweiten Song, "Kiss Me Deep", fortsetzt. Hier beschreibt Sanchez eine Liebe, die so rein ist, dass sie die Zeit übersteigt und sich über mehrere Leben erstreckt. Es ist ein Lied über Leidenschaft, vorgetragen mit dem weltlichen und verletzten Stoizismus der frühen Goth-Pioniere. Von dort aus geht die Band zur Leadsingle "777" über, einem Song über Hingabe bis hin zum Tod. Ein treibender Beat, ein treibendes, verzerrtes Riff und Sanchez' ätherischer Gesang vereinen sich zu einem Song, der sowohl düster in seinem Fatalismus als auch sinnlich in seiner treuen Leidenschaft ist. Auf dem gesamten Album "DOGGOD" weichen L.A. Witch nie von ihrer Muse ab. In "I Hunt You Pray" legt Pai einen hypnotischen Basslauf hin, während English einen zyklischen Krautrock-Groove einsetzt und Sanchez das Bild eines verlassenen Hundes am Straßenrand malt, der allein in der Nacht ist und sowohl als Jäger als auch als Gejagter lebt. Auf "Eyes of Love" macht sich die Band die meditativen Mid-Tempo-Wiederholungen, dekonstruierten Akkorde und esoterischen Betrachtungen über Liebe, Tod und Spiritualität zunutze, die Lungfish zu einer so beliebten Band gemacht haben. Es unterstreicht die Parallele zwischen der unerschütterlichen Liebe in den Augen eines Hundes und der Selbstaufopferung eines Erlösers. Auf "The Lines" nimmt die Band den treibenden Puls des Post-Punk und fügt dem Mix eine Extraportion Chorus hinzu. "Chorus ist ein moderner Effekt, der auf der Idee beruht, die leichten Tonhöhenunterschiede eines Chors nachzubilden. Es gibt eine schimmernde Qualität, die uns zurück zu diesem spirituellen, göttlichen Gefühl bringt", erklärt Sanchez. Gepaart mit dem Einsatz von Orgel und einer grüblerischen Moll-Melodie, beschwört der Song gleichzeitig das Heilige und das Sakrileg. Der Titeltrack "DOGGOD" hat vielleicht die größte Ähnlichkeit mit dem Material des Vorgängeralbums "Play With Fire", in den schlanken und gemeinen Gitarren auf eine raue Rhythmusgruppe und verträumten Gesang treffen. Aber während ihr vorheriges Album ein Aufruf war, seinen eigenen Weg zu gehen, bleibt "DOGGOD" dem "Bis dass der Tod uns scheidet"-Thema des Albums treu und geht sogar so weit, ein Maß an Unterwerfung zu beschreiben, das in gefährliche und ungesunde Gefilde übergeht, wobei Sanchez singt "hang me on a leash / `til I wait for my release". Letztendlich ist "DOGGOD" eine perfekte Verkörperung des Ansatzes von L.A. Witch. Es ist gleichzeitig romantisch und bedrohlich, ehrfürchtig und profan, eine Feier und ein Klagelied. Es spannt den Bogen zwischen Vergangenheit und Gegenwart, indem es vertraute Klänge aufgreift und sie für die Jetztzeit aufbereitet. Aber es läutet auch eine neue Ära für die Band ein, die über die Kodachrome-Erinnerungen an das Amerika der Jahrhundertmitte hinausgeht und tiefer in den mittelalterlichen und gotischen Energien von Paris und darüber hinaus gräbt, während sie gleichzeitig ein besudeltes Herz erforscht.

A collector’s gem at an unbeatable price!

Some time back just after then and before now, i was approached to work up a rough working script for a Punk Rock film, based on a boys entre into the whole Punk Arena and how it would affect his life. A loosely updated tale somewhere along the lines of a ‘Punk Quadrophenia’.

After many stop / starts and we are waiting for funding… etc, etc... and changing of ideas. I thought I better just get on with it. I worked up twelve tracks and put an opening script together for approval. Like some of the best made plans, as time moved on, so did the theme and the initial rush of enthusiasm rolled on to somewhere else.

A shame but lurking in the back of Punk Art studios the tapes were found and a bent up copy of the working introduction script. So here it is in all its rough and ready glory. Who knows what might have been but here is some of what could have been… hope you enjoy the idea.
Mal-One

Doomed Utility is the debut album by Alex Wang, a bass-heavy, noisy, and abstract work that blends industrial and club music into an unsettling soundscape.

Sound existed before there were human ears to hear it—ancient and eternal, as silence itself. In the first few hundred thousand years after our cosmos was born, a deep hum traveled through a plasma of hot particles, eventually finding its way into our machines. Now, computers weave a web of sound around us, abstracting from meaning, pleasure, or melody, crafting disharmonies that dig into us raw.

In Doomed Utility, that primordial hum resurfaces—fractured, raw, and discordant—pulling us into rhythms of exhaustion, exhilaration, and annihilation.

This is a sound that doesn’t merely enter us; it claims us. It lingers, waits—hungry. It tears through cognition and rips through bodies. We may have no obvious use for it, but it has a use for us.

Computer sound perpetuates itself through our ears, our thoughts, and our human culture. It recalls all things, binds all things, moves all things. We are its resources, its vessels for messages not yet decoded, and for purposes yet unknown.

*180g virgin leaded vinyl in a deluxe textured heavy gatefold cover, with paste-on artwork and special anti-static innersleeve.* Note: The pressing is absolute on point!!!!

Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon with a beautifully recorded suite of songs and instrumentals.

" More than two decades since he blew minds with a suite of brilliant releases on Warp, Vincent Gallo returns to the world of music at long last in Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon, with the project’s full-length debut, “The Music of Butterfly”. A gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, while interweaving fascinating flirtations with minimalism and experimentalism, it’s a truly captivating piece of work that’s hard to get off the turntable after the first needle drop.

In the arts, the lines between genius and madness, as well as fact and fiction, often blur. Such, it seems, has always been the life of the artist, filmmaker, actor, musician, and composer Vincent Gallo. A cult figure and a member of various creative undergrounds for the better part of half a century, Gallo has courted controversy, ruffled feathers, and made some of the most singular statements to flirt at the outer edges of popular culture that can be called to mind. Arguably most well known for his work in film, during the late '90s and early 2000s - notably with his soundtrack for “Buffalo 66” and a suite of releases on Warp - Gallo became something of a sensation in the world of independent music for a visionary, incredibly unique and sensitive approach to sonority. For a time, the world was abuzz, waiting on bated breath for more, and yet time passed. Bar a few fragments, appearing here and there, almost nothing has been heard from Gallo, within the world of music, for more than 20 years. That is, until now, with the release of “The Music of Butterfly”, the debut full-length of Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon: beautifully produced and issued by Family Friend Records - Gallo’s own label, founded in 1981 - in a deluxe edition that simply left us speechless: 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve. More or less picking up from where we last encountered him, spinning captivating melodies and gentle song-craft within the quieter temperaments of DIY, left-field pop, once again, and at long last, Vincent Gallo, encountered in an incredibly successful collaboration with Harper Simon as Butterfly, reminds us that he’s as much a force within the realm of music as he is within film. Not to be missed. This one isn’t going to sit around for long.

Vincent Gallo’s biography reads like the stuff of blaring beauty: a figure of moderate fame in his own right, who has remained at the centre of cultural ferment as the decades have rolled by. Born in 1961, in Buffalo, New York, as the story goes he ran away to New York City at the age of 16 and fell into the brewing counterculture of the Downtown scene, William Burroughs and John Giorno, in addition to the cream of his own peers, and began making paintings, music, and experimenting with film. In addition to being a member of the now legendary band Gray, with the artist, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and the filmmaker, Michael Holman, Gallo appeared in the cult 1981 film “Downtown 81”, before slowly beginning a career as an actor and catching the eye of Claire Denis, who brought his talents into the broader cultural gaze. Catapulted into the public by his own subsequent career as a filmmaker with “Buffalo '66” (1998) and “The Brown Bunny” (2003), both of which were marked by controversy and praise, Gallo further captivated the public with a partially brilliant, if not relatively brief, flurry of activity in the realms of music.

While Gallo had already been making music for roughly two decades at the time of his release of the “Brown Bunny” soundtrack, and the four release issued by Warp in rapid succession between 2001 and 2002 - “When”, “Honey Bunny”, “So Sad”, and “Recordings of Music for Film” - the almost fanatical fandom reached a fever pitch at the moment, allowing him, for some, to be regarded as much, if not more, as a musical artist than an actor and filmmaker. Anyway you cut it, in a few short years, he proved himself to be a polymath of rare talent. Somewhere along the way, while both were working as members of Yoko Ono's Plastic One Band, Gallo met the New York based, highly regarded singer-songwriter, guitarist, and producer, Harper Simon, who also happens to be the son of Paul Simon. The pair fell into an incredibly fruitful duo collaboration, which came to be called Butterfly, and “The Music of Butterfly” being their debut full-length release.

Written, performed, and recorded by Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon in New York City between the winter of 2018 and the spring of 2019, the ten tracks comprising “The Music of Butterfly” are cumulatively a gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, making one feel like barely a moment had passed since we’d encountered his graceful hand at song-craft. Stripped back and raw, while retaining a sense of warmth and intimacy, across the length of “The Music of Butterfly” the duo of Gallo and Simon weave something completely captivating at the juncture of minimalism, experimentalism, and pop: meandering moments of texture and tone, slowly forming toward flirtations of melody that flower into song and back again. Somehow playful and light, while also remarkably emotive and personal, it’s almost as though each of these tracks crystallised out the air, unlabored and exactly as they should be without a note or beat more.

An engrossing immersion into both Gallo and Simon’s remarkably accomplished minds, having followed the path toward one another after radically different experiences and careers, “The Music of Butterfly” is one of those records that’ll be hard to get off the turntable after that first needle drop, and rarely leave the listening pile for some time to come. Issued by Family Friend Records in a beautiful deluxe edition that is unmatched even among the most stunning recent productions we can call to mind - 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve - it’s lovely to have Gallo back in the musical mix after so many years. "

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

VINYL COMES IN A HIGH-QUALITY SCREEN-PRINTED COVER!
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES!

Coinciding the cinema release of ‘Der Wald in mir’, the soundtrack by Gregor Schwellenbach is being released in an exclusive edition in high-quality screen-printed covers by director and artist Sebastian Fritzsch. Microtonal strings in dialogue with electronic sounds, noise music, drones and ambient, complemented by improvisations by experimental string wizards Emily Wittbrodt and Matthias Kaiser. These different worlds of sound are linked by melodic motifs that come together in the final end credits song. This closing track was created in collaboration with indie artist Jungstötter, 'a singer, whose intense aura I associate with the sensitivity and emotional depth of the main character Jan, just as I hear the strength and unflinching devotion of the character Alice in co-singer Isabelle Pabst.’ (Gregor Schwellenbach)
Pünktlich zum Kinostart von „Der Wald in mir“ erscheint der Soundtrack von Gregor Schwellenbach in einer exklusiven Schallplattenedition in hochwertigen Siebdruck-Covern von Regisseur und Künstler Sebastian Fritzsch. "Um Jans Innenwelt gerecht zu werden, wollten wir uns einer enormen musikalischen Vielfalt bedienen: Mikrotonale Streicher im Dialog mit elektronischen Klängen, Geräuschmusik, Drones und Ambient, ergänzt durch Improvisationen von Emily Wittbrodt und Matthias Kaiser, bis hin zu New Wave und zur Indiepop-Ballade. Diese verschiedenen Klangwelten werden durch melodische Motive verbunden, die im finalen Abspannsong zusammenfinden. Dieser Schlusstitel entstand in Zusammenarbeit mit Jungstötter, einem Künstler, dessen intensive Aura ich mit der Sensibilität und emotionaler Tiefe der Hauptfigur Jan verbinde, so wie ich in Co-Sängerin Isabelle Pabst die Stärke und unbeirrte Zugewandtheit der Figur Alice höre." (Gregor Schwellenbach)

Die zweifache Grammy-Gewinnerin und mehrfach mit Platin ausgezeichnete Ariana Grande veröffentlicht ihr siebtes Studio-Album ”eternal sunshine”, welches das erste musikalische Werk der Künstlerin seit drei Jahren markiert. Ihre letzten fünf Studio-Alben platzierte die talentierte Künstlerin in den Top 10 der deutsche Charts. Die vorab veröffentlichte Leadsingle ”yes, and?” debütierte auf Platz 1 der Spotify Global Charts und verzeichnete damit ihr bisher größtes Spotify-Streaming-Debüt. Das Musikvideo zu ”yes, and?” erreichte Platz 1 der YouTube Music Trend-Charts

Keyboarder, Produzent und Songwriter Joe Armon-Jones präsentiert sein bisher ambitioniertestes Soloprojekt: All The Quiet. Ein mitreissendes Statement, das Jazz, Funk, Dub, Hip-Hop und Soulmusik verbindet und vollständig von Armon-Jones selbst geschrieben, produziert und gemischt wurde. Als Bandmitglied ist er als Teil des mit dem Mercury Prize ausgezeichneten Ezra Collective bekannt, das 2024 als erste Headliner-Jazzband die Londoner Wembley Arena ausfüllte. "All The Quiet (Part I)" ist das erste Kapitel eines zweiteiligen Albums auf seinem Label Aquarii Records. Gastmusiker und Featuregäste sind u.a. Nubya Garcia, Oscar Jerome und Goya Gumbani.

Sechs Jahre sind vergangen, seit Armon-Jones' letztes Soloalbum "Turn To Clear View" 2019 auf Gilles Petersons Brownswood Recordings veröffentlicht wurde, aber man darf diese Lücke nicht mit einer Pause verwechseln. Denn in dieser Zeit tourte er um die Welt, baute ein Studio auf, wirkte an Alben grosser Namen des britischen Jazz mit und nahm Kollaborationen mit Liam Bailey, Fatima, Hak Baker, Prince Fatty, Ranking Joe, Maxwell Owin und der Dubstep-Legende Mala auf.

Keyboarder, Produzent und Songwriter Joe Armon-Jones präsentiert sein bisher ambitioniertestes Soloprojekt: All The Quiet. Ein mitreissendes Statement, das Jazz, Funk, Dub, Hip-Hop und Soulmusik verbindet und vollständig von Armon-Jones selbst geschrieben, produziert und gemischt wurde. Als Bandmitglied ist er als Teil des mit dem Mercury Prize ausgezeichneten Ezra Collective bekannt, das 2024 als erste Headliner-Jazzband die Londoner Wembley Arena ausfüllte. "All The Quiet (Part I)" ist das erste Kapitel eines zweiteiligen Albums auf seinem Label Aquarii Records. Gastmusiker und Featuregäste sind u.a. Nubya Garcia, Oscar Jerome und Goya Gumbani.

Sechs Jahre sind vergangen, seit Armon-Jones' letztes Soloalbum "Turn To Clear View" 2019 auf Gilles Petersons Brownswood Recordings veröffentlicht wurde, aber man darf diese Lücke nicht mit einer Pause verwechseln. Denn in dieser Zeit tourte er um die Welt, baute ein Studio auf, wirkte an Alben grosser Namen des britischen Jazz mit und nahm Kollaborationen mit Liam Bailey, Fatima, Hak Baker, Prince Fatty, Ranking Joe, Maxwell Owin und der Dubstep-Legende Mala auf.

Look At Us Now: the long-awaited debut album from Song Festival sensation Gustaph!

"I wanted to make a record that makes people feel good about themselves."

Good things come to those who wait: after more than 20 years as a musician, Gustaph is releasing his debut album, Look At Us Now. The title is a phrase from the song Because Of You, which won him seventh place at the Eurovision Song Contest in 2023.

"Look At Us Now may be taken literally," Gustaph explains. "Look where we are now after 20 years of hardwork. And look where we are with the queer movement: as a queer artist, I can openly be myself and sing about the things that are important to me."

Gustaph's soulful voice takes us through various themes, from believing in yourself and fickle lovers to chosen family and loss.

Look At Us Now is a pop record infused with nineties house, dance and disco, but we also spot a ballad (Miss You The Most) and two Scandi-pop tracks: Like You, an ode to love and Darker Days, an epic track that will pull you through bleak periods with panache.

"I wanted to make a record that makes people feel good about themselves," Gustaph says. "One that they put on while getting ready to go out or just to start the day. A little pick-me-up that makes them think: Yes, now I can kick ass."

When you play the record for the first time, you'll already be able to sing along to a bunch of tracks: there's Because Of You of course, butalso more recent singles like Already Know, Faith In What You Feel and Calls Your Name.

The record was produced in London with Richard X, known for his work with Róisín Murphy, Alison Goldfrapp and Pet Shop Boys, among others. "That's very close to who I am as an artist, so that collaboration just made sense," Gustaph explains.

Look At Me Now sounds like a party where everyone is welcome. The club tour kicks off at Ancienne Belgique. Come celebrate!