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Dire Straits' arresting self-titled debut arrived in the midst of punk's reign but couldn't have been further removed from the era's slash-and-burn style. Recorded in West London in February 1978, the band's tasteful, jazz-inflected set embraces folk, blues, and pub rock while also tracing a direct line back to the beat-oriented sound of early rock n' roll. Country and roots accents further distinguish the British quartet's stripped-down music from any 1970s peers, as does the transparent production, which has remained revered among audiophiles the world over – and which has never been better than on this meticulous pressing.

Mastered from the original master tapes and pressed at RTI, Mobile Fidelity's 180g 45RPM 2LP version of Dire Straits features natural tonalities, superb balances, you-are-there imaging, deep-black backgrounds, and pristine clarity. Even if you've heard this album hundreds of times before, you've never experienced it with such lifelike sonics and premium richness. This numbered-edition collector's set immerses you within the smoky, laidback atmospherics of every song. This is how all vinyl should sound.

Crucial to every arrangement, Mark Knopfler's winding guitar lines emerge with supreme transparency and multi-hued textural detail. His intricate playing comes across as if it's being transmitted via his 60s-era Fender Vibrolux amplifier placed right before you. The cleanliness, dimensions, and live feel are that good. His bandmates, too, benefit from the extra groove space afforded by this 45RPM edition. Rhythms skate and swirl; percussive effects resonate with crispness and attack; the leading edges of notes naturally decay.

Dire Straits' strong, well-edited batch of original material further enhances the overall enjoyment and makes the record one whose pleasures go far beyond the organic sonics. Just as Knopfler's narratives pour forth with poetic and surrealist texts, the musical settings – an intoxicating combination of easygoing shuffles, back-hall boogies, and pop-honed ballads – mirror the old-fashioned soulfulness inherent in the classic recordings of the late 50s and early 60s. The lyrics are equally captivating.

Drawing from his time as a youth in Newcastle, Leeds, and London, Knopfler invests tunes with an autobiographical slant and emotional connectivity that become obvious the moment he opens his mouth to sing. "Down to the Waterline," "Wild West End," and "Lions" all feature colloquial touches that add to their reach. By extension, "In the Gallery" functions as a tribute to Leeds sculptor Harry Phillips (father of future Knoplfer collaborator, Steve Phillips) while the record's breakout smash, "Sultans of Swing," pays homage to struggling bar bands.


Through it all, Dire Straits performs with a subtle cool and clever poise that no band ever matched. Just how good is the chemistry? Bob Dylan heard the quartet and invited Knopfler and drummer Pick Withers to play on Slow Train Coming. But even Dylan himself didn't hear Dire Straits sound this magnetic back in its original heyday. Now, everyone can.

Devotional music most often gets distilled into earthy chants and ancient folklore, it doesn't always ascend to the sky like Julinko’s ‘Naebula’ an album that from the first organ note clearly trades in terrestrial dreams for ethereal visions. A feverish quality permeates the whole record, as if a ritualistic performance was being captured from start to finish, a collection of hallucinatory doom, synthetic neo-folk hymns and ghostly art-rock.

Julinko, stage name for Giulia Parin Zecchin, has long been one of the best kept secrets of the experimental community in North-East Italy, with three records that helped define her unique blend of heavy psychedelia, slowcore and dark ambient. On ‘Naebula’ what really stands out is how powerful and soaring her voice is, a weapon of undeniable force that can transform into a vessel of raw fervour or glide effortlessly as a delicate lament. Her unconventional approach shines through on tracks like ‘Jeanne De Rien’, where a marching pulse acts as a pillar for an extended mantra, almost verging into powwow territory. ‘Peace Of The Unsaid’ uses its arrhythmical structure to create space, a crepuscular night ode that reaches the heights of Sinead O’Connor’s most intimate force-fulness while retaining a sweet composure. Whether it’s glacial murderous shrieks or gospel-esque vitality, songs like ‘Cloudmachine’ or ‘Kiss The Lion’s Tongue’ seem to draw as much from a tradition of European minimalism, the use of drones and repetition, to the tradition of folksongs as hymns, where modal harmonies make way for an apparent stasis. Another key element in Julinko’s songwriting is the seamless blend of her minimalistic approach with these dense textures borrowed from a distant outsider metal heritage, Lynchean noir on steroids or wordless exorcisms with deep undercurrents.

An Elephant Eye; A Frozen Girl; and an Umbrella Man walk into an Icebox. All have been shoveled out of a Jungle-den and are covered in Mud Fleas. The Umbrella Man has been Dolt-ing around on the Machinery for Years. . .knowing it Hasn’t-Really-Rained since he threw his last Bacchanal. He thinks he owns birds; he just listens to them really. The Frozen Girl keeps away from him but moves Incredibly slow given the Circumstances. . .she’s been trying to tie her shoes for 700 years. The floating Eyeball, defying all Man Physics, Miraculously Phases himself All the way to the outside of the Icebox; Barreling through the Crisp air. He then comes to a Grinding halt before a Ginormous Totem pole of Speckled flesh, Grey and exceptionally thick, Wrinkling like telephone Wire. He quickly realizes that’s where the rest of his Body went. The only thing that’s missing is his Trunk. But he’s learned to communicate Decently Well without it. . .Using Semiotic chains of Eyelid-signifiers. . .An Eyeball shaped hole has been Burnt into the Icebox but the Frozen Girl won’t know for another 53 years and by then Big-Pants won’t even be in. The Umbrella Man doesn’t particularly so much as Notice and think its smells a lot like Burnt toast. He says he’s off to the Cemetery.


What do Them Three have in common anyway? Well they all Dig Pins; they also all Exist because of Him. And, Starting today, are Perpetually Entrapped in 10 millimeters divisions of Black resin upon a Circular Plain. I want to hear them cry and shout, You might say, because we are all Up-standers. But all crying and shouting Ourselves into the Icebox. . .

Compiled onto one vinyl album for the first time, Landlocked (Numbers, 2026) presents Hallucinator’s 1999 debut album originally released under Mark Ernestus and Moritz von Oswald’s label Chain Reaction. Writing much surrounding the culture of what would be later considered ‘Dub Techno’ and its’ primary distribution center, Hard Wax, leads one down roads of shifting primary sources and decades old overheard smoke break recollections. Maybe brevity primes the listener to the paralinguistic to approach the sound on its terms; focusing on how things are uttered and not what.

This theory will remain unconfirmed. Hallucinator original press release left us with three or so gestures to consider over the years since:

“A new act on CHAIN REACTION”s distinct productional thesis. HALLUCINATOR are 3 people from he UK/London and this their first release ever- that’s all what the artists want to let us know…. This record is dedidacted to the memory of Stephen Lawrence!”

The first gesture is one of personnel. Since ’99, we’ve gotten to learn a bit more about the artists behind the Hallucinator project. All London-based, all writers, composers, and sound-designers— Anna Piva, Edward George, Trevor Mathison. These three seem to flow between parameters as aesthetic tactic and tacit structure to the work itself. For example, other collaborative shapes have come from this lineup including Flow Motion (Piva, George and Mathison) as well as the now defunct Black Audio Film Collective of which George and Mathison are founding members.

The second gesture is in the second line of the previous press release, “distinct productional thesis.” Much of Landlocked’s affect and sequencing seems to suggest an emotional study of entropy at the level of sediment. Rhythms play with space and capacity through polyvalence. The production chose subtractive vertigo, often switching and bringing back in elements that vanished from the track 6 minutes ago. Dubbing out so much of a track, one begins to associate sound akin to memories held in the experience of running your hand across a concrete block as a child. Felt (re)memberance in lieu of narrative tale. Using textures that flicker between colour and percussion, Hallucinator’s 12-tracker of loudspeaker perception music might be a mediation on the psychic wake of the Cold War. Intermittent strata of ambience and groove convects an active margin rifting event underneath a scorched geology of power in Western Europe. Again, this is all grapevine hearsay.

But it’s silence that voices the third gesture. The album’s sparse application of the written word touches on the ennui paradox of being landlocked on an island. Stuck. Trapped in the psychosis of occidental hypercentricism. A looping silence of Black British tragedy: “to the memory of Stephen Lawrence”. 18 year-old Lawrence was stabbed to death at a bus stop in southeast London by six white men in 1993. The rift of grief and implicit reiteration of modern subordination left by this hate act went legally silent for almost two decades until Lawrence’s killers were ultimately sentenced to virtually life in jail in 2012. Only six years removed at the time of Hallucinator’s initial invocation of rememory, the mind-numbing accretion of what Black Studies Professor Denise Ferreira da Silva might call “unpayable debt”, finds demonic ground across Landlocked, forming an aural sense of what continues to be refused.

The album ventures through spaces of overactive non-happenings: ‘Red Angel’’s factory floor dub flashes between smokestack and jungle visions, or the halfway mark’s stilted breath of ‘Dusk’ lending its mood to the sort of sedated dreams built from daily life under colony rule for instance. That linked rhythm links us back to our linked fates across Black and Brown folk is real, thus the syncopated signals through this work behave on the level of transnational radiotelegraphy, sounding out its windswept tension of a body negotiating a meat-grinder schema of linear production and wage for others to know that unspeakable thing can be broadcast in every drum tongue.

As the silence continues to reverb, we return to the sort of meaning-making that cannot be told but felt. Soothing to some, disturbing to others. Landlocked, a Rorschach test for a crumbled empire.

The Nu’rons were a family group consisting of two sets of brothers and cousins, the four young men in question being brothers Daryl Howard and Raymond Gibson (Daryl’s mother registered him under his father’s surname of Howard and Raymond under her maiden name of Gibson) together with Otho Bateman and Charles Bateman. They were all born and raised in Salem, New Jersey and from the age of ten and eleven began singing with a fifth member and Gibson brother Rudolph as a group called The Gospel 5. They eventually decided to crossover to secular music and as a group known for their energetic dance routines they came up with the new performing name of ‘The Nu’rons’ (taken from the word ‘Neuron’ which is a cell that transmits nerve impulses). However Rudolph was soon to leave the group due to physical illness. Also Daryl Howard and Charles Bateman had also been part of a working group known as The Devotions prior to becoming The Nu-Ron’s.Following hours of practice The Nu’rons eventually felt confident enough to put their own shows together and began to perform at local dances and parties around New Jersey and Philadelphia, often being used as a non-paid warm up act for bigger named artists. They moved between several different managers including Jimmy Bishop (Duo Dynamic Productions) until they came under the tutelage of WDAS radio DJ Georgie Woods (his wife Gilda, being the owner of the Philadelphia Gil, Dion and Top & Bottom record Labels). It was Georgie who introduced them to Manny Campbell who in turn invited them to an audition at his and partner Charles Bowen’s Emandolynn Music studio in Chester P.A. The song The Nu’rons chose to audition with was the self penned “I’m A Loner”, the audition went well, as during late January/early February of 1970 Manny and Charles took The Nu’rons into the Sigma Sound Studio’s with Tom Bell and the TSOP musicians to record “I’m A Loner” and “All My Life” which was released on the Nu-Ron label in April of the same year. The two studio takes presente don this release came short after the band moved on from the collaboration with producer Emanuel Campbell to take music matters in their own hands. Beside recording "Disco Hustle" to be part of the disco boom in Philly of the times, they recorded also “You Came Thru”, a rough yet beautiful heavy bassline driven soul funk recording, and the just amazing “Hurry Up Tomorrow”, here presented in one of the original Studio takes.

Paraiso has been doing vital work in Portugal - documenting the underground dance scene's history and pioneers in various mediums while also showcasing equally brilliant artists from newer generations. And they've been doing it for a decade now: we all know that a label dedicated to its local scene through and through is something rare and should be celebrated. This compilation 'X - 10 Years of Underground House Music from a Paradise Called Portugal' is a manifestation of that cross-generational spirit, with ten never-before-heard pieces of music by initiators and legends like The Advent alongside more recent veterans like Roundhouse Kick and Vil or younger talent like Phoebe or Van Der. Things start off with Salbany's 'Trax 10', oozing a techno elegance and irrefutable groove that wonderfully portrays the spirit of the Lisbon sound: raw yet ethereal, disarming in its simplicity while containing rave, romance and rhythmic complexities. Label founders Maria Amor & Shcuro firmly carry on the torch with 'Intracellular', gelled by dubby washes, syncopated drums, infectious rhythmic sense and layered with a melodic vocal motif. Vil's 'Cave' brings in stone-cold tight percussion offset by rich, evocative pads and technoid know-how for days. The Advent steps in with an ode to acid-minimalism, raw and slow-burning, with curious and twisted moments peppered with the skill of an expert. Van Der storms in with a piece of hybrid qualities, impeccably blending a swing onto industrial territories for a hypnotic-yet-banging hands in the air dancefloor moment. Scam Dust (the duo of Tiago and Shcuro, from adjacent generations) picks up on the industrial flavours, adds furious jacking rhythmics and live sonic experimentation that takes us to peak-quality effect and noise manipulation. 'Subvert' follows and goes deeper, as if into the depths of the ocean, with aquatic arpeggios and sparse drums that morph into an 303-driven state of mysterious oceanfloor mania - Roundhouse Kick sending us messages from the South. Violet and her 'Dream Machine' emerge with its mutant noisy motif, delay-drenched percussion and steady beat interrupted by keys, drum variations - and a u-turn to its paranoid loopy beginnings. Phoebe enters the chat and brings sonic sun rays in 'Galaxia 2000', a wide-eyed moment lead by colourful, open synthesisers with gates and filters taking us on a beautiful ride on tense, swingy drum patterns. The tenth track comes from Lisbon's rkeat and is full of closing act ear-candy with its beautifully chiseled, groovy as hell percussion, organic sonics and metallic instruments that seem to announce that the next decade is about to be just as good, if not better than this lovely 2016-2026 stint of boundary and scene-pushing.

Deep, deep stuff on the debut album from K Wata. Long and dubwise, dark and detailed. With bass that fills and warms a space.

All noir. Cast shadows against the wall. Weight being shifted and distributed with singularly delicate poise, like a knife being balanced on the end of a finger.

There’s a silvery, loose flow state to this record that maybe reveals the way some tracks were first written to be deployed live at Sustain Release 2025. Then taken back to the lab and tightened up further into the album’s final form, with beautiful mixing work between Kenzo and Chris Botta.

With that in mind, Give U Space unfolds slowly and fluidly, giving the listener the chance to access and open up to the deepness of the sound, being led down a path. It rolls and builds momentum and groove, and ratchets tensions up toward peaks of energy "Whisper Dub" and "There Will Be Love".

The tunes feel architectural. Rooms to be in and settle into. Simultaneously stripped back and then etched with neat little details and characterful or atmospheric sound choices. The silhouette of slo mo Memphis and Houston trap is a leading influence, especially with the drums. Mixing with bits of click’n’cut sampling and psychoacoustic tricks, the penumbra of dub techno and drowsier dubstep, and SG’s soft vocals rising in the ether.

The presence and inspiration of the sound system is obvious in all of Kenzo’s work, the music can rattle when spun up louder or blended into the club. But K Wata’s uniqueness and signature comes from an often equally inward facing quality, touched by distance and longing and a sort of chiaroscuro incandescent light set up.



Written and produced by K Wata.

Mixed by K Wata and Christopher Botta at Fer Sound Studio.

Vocals on “Give You Space” and “Go” by SG.

Clarinet on “Radio Embrace” by Eugene Lai.

Mastered and cut by Mike Grinser at Manmade.

Art by S. Gong

Drop the needle on this latest dispatch from the tape vaults, and we are back in Chicago at The Curtom Studios in 1977. For instalment number five in the "Hutson Sevens" series, Home of The Good Groove Records are so very honoured to deliver this previously unreleased cut from Leroy Hutson—a true titan of soul music and an absolute master of his craft.
"Betting On My Love" carries that signature smooth orchestration we have come to expect from Hutson’s finest hours. It moves with a wonderful, breezy optimism. Hutson’s joyful, velvet lead tones skip effortlessly across the groove, wrapped in lush backing harmonies that instantly evoke the feel of the Hutson II
classic, "I Think I’m Falling in Love".

Now, a brief confession of pure, crate-digging indulgence: if tailored strictly for the dancefloor, the track arguably hits its logical peak and fade just past the three-minute mark. But to cut it there would strip away the raw human magic of the session. If you let the wax ride to the very end, the arrangement dissolves into a wonderful, lingering instrumental outro, culminating in the studio players purposely "clattering" their instruments in a moment of pure creative release. It is a brilliant, candid studio artifact that was fortunately preserved on the original master recording. Essential listening for the global soul family—do not sleep on this debut pressing.

For the flip we present Leroy Hutson’s 1979 cut “ So Nice”, a masterclass in late-70s soul music. A stand out track from the “Unforgettable” album and a vital reminder of Hutson’s unmatched ability to inject sophisticated romanticism into the bleeding edge of that disco era.

Slightly edited for the 7-inch pressing, up steps our remastering and editing maestro Mr Phil Ward. Phil always has the utmost respect when remastering and editing original content, ensuring that every second of the groove is fully respected and preserved. His stellar work here includes the studio recording of the three-count drum intro, never heard before now, leading into that meditative smooth groove layout.
It is an exquisite arrangement of simmering electric keys, nimble basslines courtesy of the legendary Keni Burke, and subtle bongo accents that collectively deliver a timeless masterpiece. Now available on 7-inch vinyl for the first time.

Rod Bartlett
Home of The Good Groove Records

When the first JIM album Love Makes Magic was released in 2023, it was the end product of an experiment that had begun during the strange days of the pandemic. Cooped up in his studio, James Baron started fiddling about with an as-yet unnamed new album idea. It became Vicious Charm’s first LP release. Labelled variously as Balearic, folktronica, blue-eyed soul and Laurel Canyon, Love Makes Magic was perhaps all and none of those things: a record rooted less in Californian mythology than in Baron’s own musical world, somewhere between Sherwood, Nottingham, classic songwriting, electronic soul and the no-nonsense good times that have long run through his work under his other monikers (principally the anagrammatic Ron Basejam and, of course, Crazy P) One thing was indisputable, it connected with people... and still does.

The album was a minor hit, appearing in many a Best of 2023 chart and voted Album of the Year in Bill Brewster’s Furtive 50. A tour and a few memorable festival appearances – his 2024 We Out Here Festival being one of those wonderfully timed ‘moments’ - perfectly captured the horizontal vibes on the album, while injecting some live energy into its delivery. While there was a follow-up remix album for Love Makes Magic, JIM was already preparing a sophomore LP: “I wrote the majority of The Curious Case Of Existence in a couple of months at the beginning of 2024, then it was just a case of making the record over the next couple of years in between everything else.”

Released in 2000 on Tommy Boy, the album fi nds Capone and Noreaga leaning into their chemistry: Capone's colder, clipped delivery grounding Nore's wild-eyed charisma and off-kilter bounce. The record features heavyweight production and appearances from names like DJ Premier, The Alchemist, Havoc, L.E.S., Nas, Mobb Deep, Foxy Brown, and Carl Thomas, surrounding CNN with some of New York rap's most recognizable voices and architects. Highlights like "Bang Bang," "Invincible," "Queens Finest," and "Phonetime" keep the album rooted in hard drums, prison- call tension, borough pride, and that unmistakable CNN slang. Commercially, it made a solid showing, reaching No. 31 on the Billboard 200 and No. 8 on Top R&B/ Hip- Hop Albums, with "Phonetime" hitting No. 22 on Hot Rap Songs. The Reunion stands as a hard-nosed second chapter for CNN: a tough, guest-heavy, post- millennium Queens record that captures Capone and Noreaga reconnecting without sanding off the grime. This deluxe edition features the remastered original album with 3 bonus tracks.









i B3. Shows! (Interlude) [Feat. Timbo of M.U.]









[i] B3 | Shows! (Interlude) [Feat. Timbo of M.U.]

2025 Repress

For the second installment of its renewed imprint, Fuse's own in-house resident and one of Belgium's proudest exports Phara takes the reins for a deep dive into thick percussion and vibrant club landscapes. 'The Wall' puts current dance music under a microscope with a brush of truly vintage spontaneity, merging techno's confrontational nature with house's harmonic genuineness. This duality is reflected through Phara's own relationship with his home base Fuse and the complementary contrast between its two rooms.

The EP's title track serves as a hypnotic introduction for the A1, imposing a bass-heavy rhythm and a persistently oscillating synthline. A dense production full of energy, 'The Wall' inspires intrigue throughout its duration, revealing its true intentions through a capable sound system. Sharing the first side of the press is 'Blaes 208', a name that Fuse club goers will likely recognise, that guides the listener from effect into embrace. With lush keys echoing past a comforting drum sequence fit for a close-eyed dancefloor experience, Phara's impactful tendencies meet his affinity for the melodic through a blissful six minutes of crowd to selector connection. Switching sides, a return to a cold cold aesthetic is quickly apparent through 'Hush Now 206'. A pummeling, saturated bass competes with a kick of equal effect, rolling through a storm of metallic stabs. Mastering the message of urgency, Phara presents a lightshow of resonating percussive work, defining his space just to cut right through it. To close out with a lasting impression, the producer mutes the acoustics of his work through razor-sharp sound design dotting along playful snares, a duality reminiscent of the dynamism of Detroit electro. 'Motion Steps', referring to the stairs that ascend from Fuse's main room to its more left-field counterpart, captures the atmosphere of the almost shimmering music that can be expected to be played there; a place where Phara and many others have been known to explore the extremities of their music. He swiftly throws in melodic elements to recontextualize an otherwise pressing composition, and after three chapters of considerable weight, he concludes his record with infectious groove that flaunts technical ability.

Killer Groove Records presents a new 7" by Electric Circus, pairing "High Fever" and "Ogres": raw, hypnotic funk built on obsessive bass lines, sharp horns, dub delays and wah-wah guitars.

Both tracks are taken from Rites, the band's second studio album, out November 27 on limited-edition LP, CD and digital. The 7" is limited to 500 copies worldwide and is out September 25.
On the A-side, "High Fever" maps Electric Circus's territory: '70s funk, Afrobeat and psychedelia meet in a steady build toward a climax of synths and groove. The track grew from a bass line written over one feverish weekend and runs as a single continuous rise in tension.
The groove takes its cue from The Meters, locking syncopated accents into place while a punchy horn section cuts through from the opening bar. Dub delays and layered textures then open the arrangement out, trading space with wah-wah guitars and a treated clavinet that sounds vintage without dating the mix. After a darker, nocturnal passage, the saxophone rises over percussion and synths for the climax.

On the B-side, "Ogres" was the first track conceived for the album and the last to be completed. It began as a bass-and-percussion ostinato in an Ethiopian pentatonic scale, modelled on a war march, and grew into a dense groove with psychedelic and trip-hop textures. Its rhythm conjures a twilight bestiary of dark, menacing or perhaps merely curious creatures, building to a tense climax before resolving into a smooth, dreamlike finale that suggests awakening, or re-emergence.

Like the rest of Rites, both tracks started in jam sessions and were recorded in stages: live takes of the core arrangements first, then dedicated sessions for synths, horns and overdubs. Marco Sirio Pivetti engineered at Metrò Rec Studio in Riva del Garda, Gio Solo at Sberdia Studio in Turin. Overdubs were reamped through tube amplifiers and analog outboard. The band co-produced with Pivetti, who also mixed; Riccardo Ricci mastered at Velvet Room Mastering Studio in Brighton.

Electric Circus are based in Turin. They released their debut album, Canicola, in 2018 and have toured the U.S. Scoring Contrecourant (2021), a documentary series shot in Senegal and Mali, led them to Sahel Roots, a duo from the north of the country. The two groups recorded On est ensemble (Mieruba, 2023) remotely between Turin and Bamako, each writing two pieces for the other to finish.

For fans of The Heliocentrics, Calibro 35, BADBADNOTGOOD.

Dark Entries is Filling Your Silence with the help of J.D. Slater. Legendary actor, director, and composer J.D. Slater is sometimes known as “the Lou Reed of gay porn.” Slater cut his teeth in the New York punk scene, even opening for the Talking Heads and Blondie at CBGB with his project Frenzy. A true polymath of the erotic, he co-founded Raging Stallion Studios with Chris Ward in 1999, which has remained a prolific outlet in the world of gay pornography. Having spent years in front of and behind the camera, 1999’s Filling Your Silence was his debut as maestro. This album collects the soundtracks from the first two Raging Stallion films - Sexpack One and Sexpack Two - to bring us nine tracks of sleazy beats and trance-like moments of pure ecstasy. Album opener “Seduction” begins with the iconic synthetic pan flute, one of the defining sounds of the 1990s, before pulling us along with its wild grooves.

Halfway through its nine-and-a-half- minute course, it breaks down to bust out a jazzy electric piano vamp. “Running with Scissors” ups the tempo with some crunchy breakbeats to undergird its portamento-laced lead synth. Elsewhere, like on “Mercy” and “Mercy (2nd Movement),” we see Slater embracing a bleep-adjacent sound close to early Nightmares on Wax or 808 State. Filling Your Silence’s endless grooves pursue that oceanic feeling. This record comes with a one-sided insert that includes archival Raging Stallion press materials. In the words of the Bay Area Reporter, Filling Your Silence is “quite possibly the best music for sex ever written.” A bold claim, but we can’t help but agree.

If you dig deep enough into the internet's lower depths, you'll find a shaky video shot on a camcorder. In 43 seconds, we see a makeshift drum kit built out of backyard Ostbahnhof trash, hear distorted vocals, and feel the anarchic energy of band and ravers dissolving into each other. It's now been twenty years since Bonaparte played their very first show at the legendary Bar25 on Berlin's Spree river. The ringmaster of this unhinged musical theater was Tobias Jundt then, and it's Jundt again now bringing the Bonaparte extravaganza back to the stage. New and nostalgic sit close together when the party's been going this long. Or, as they put it: "PARADISE IF YOU CAN STAND IT."

From late October through mid-November, Bonaparte will tour Germany, Austria, and Jundt's native Switzerland at full intensity, the full lineup - band to burlesque. Since their 2006 debut through their supposed farewell in 2019, Bonaparte played over 800 shows in 28 countries. Bottom line: "Too Much" isn't enough to properly celebrate a body of work like this. And the new songs from "PARADISE IF YOU CAN STAND IT" are far too significant not to bring to the stage. The lo-fi trash-punk of Bonaparte's earliest records has been built out with added layers, in production (largely alongside British avant-garde electronic artist HELiX) and in the songwriting itself.

The world certainly hasn't gotten any simpler since 2006. Tracks like "EVERYBODY PRESiDENT," loosely riffing on Zoe Leonard's poem "I Want A Dyke For President," and the corrosive "BRAiN ROT" mirror the social chaos we find ourselves in 2026. "OBEY (THERE iS STiLL A RiOT GOiNG ON)" is just as furious, though here the principle of hope still holds, as a multigenerational choir concludes "everything will be okay." Jundt speaks across generations again on "i LOVE YOU (MORE LATER)," dedicated in equal measure to his parents and his daughters: "Let the echo chamber bleed - from here into eternity."

The reconciliation and hope Bonaparte allows for and tends to, amid violence and all that noise, make "PARADISE IF YOU CAN STAND IT" a singular document of an artist grown wiser. Separation and grief don't cancel out love and vitality - they depend on each other. Ultimately, the album is a record of searching for and finding a home. To arrive, you have to let go.

And what better place to let go than in step with Bonaparte's wild, hedonistic party circus, finally back to gently terrorize our cities?

Built with the immediacy that comes from limitation, iPhone Grime is almost exactly what it says on the tape case. Pulled directly from the portable communication device of Front Left Life's Louis Payne, iPhone Grime is the perfect distillation of raw ideas through a simple medium. When producers can drown in the infinite possibilities of the DAW vortex, a simple phone app can steer you swiftly to the sharpest results. Snippets of real world sound captured on the mic ground these quick-fire beats in a time and place, dynamic and street-level like grime and early dubstep was when it was being imagined on PlayStation games and filmed on ropey phone cameras.

Payne is undoubtedly bringing perspective to his sketches, having forged a connection with London's club scene through his part in the widely hailed Front Left Life parties in Catford, at Venue MOT and elsewhere. With a roll call of guests that cuts a sharp line through the best of bassweight club music right now, his taste and knowledge precedes his first steps into the production arena. Rather than puzzling out the path to a thousand likes for a hardware jam reel, he's opted for a direct line between his brain and the beat at the end of it.

You can hear the naivety behind vocal loops like the one nagging away on 'Follow That', calling to mind the first time you ever tried making a Fruity Loops beat. But these are no amateur throwaways — the technology has moved on and Payne's instincts guide him towards legit constructions that could easily do damage in the club. Sometimes they exist as no more than an eight bar loop, while others like 'Wind It Up (Dream Dealers Version)' or 'Extra Dimensional Being' stretch an idea out. Throughout it all, the looming throb of square wave bass glues the record together and anchors the grime dimension of Payne's job lot of phone jams.

Payne's work is all his own, and the snatches of real life around the beats anchor this music in his own London life. But, like previous shifts in technology and accessibility, iPhone Grime also raises an important prospect—that anyone with one of these apps, a Bluetooth speaker and an idea can bring music out of studios and into the world. History has already proven, when that happens the possibilities become thrillingly unpredictable.

At the foot of the mountain. Our gaze is inclined toward the summit.

Toward the ascent. The destination that awaits us.

From the valley, we look up at the summit: our destination. But also the path: the true destination.

We can already trace our route, and we are already imagining ourselves walking up there. Along the small ridge, just above the tree line. There, we take a short break and look for the exact spot in the valley where we were standing earlier. It is strange to grasp that we have actually climbed this mountain. To look down from up here at the place where we were just moments ago – the same place we looked up from, toward the place where we are standing now.

And now, knowing what it is like to be up here, we remember what we imagined it would be like back then. What we believed it would mean to stand here.

Along the way, our gaze wanders back and forth. Up toward the mountain, down into the valley, sometimes only at our shoes. We keep walking, one step after another. Our thoughts detached. Our body functioning purely mechanically.

Step left. Step right. Step left. Step right.

Our mind has completely detached itself, and our thoughts race at an immense speed. They summon the most different moments. Moments from our lives. Moments that shaped us, that made us who we are. Or are we perhaps simply trying to understand who we are and how we got here?

It is strange that reaching the summit and looking down could make us believe that we have finally reached, or are striving toward, some superior, triumphant position. When in fact, it is really only about looking at the path we inevitably have to take. Processing impressions from a certain distance. Reconsidering what we have experienced, without losing sight of what lies ahead.

Our gaze turns back toward the summit.

Is there a destination?

An ascent? A summit? A descent? The return?

Or is it only about the insights we encounter along the way?

Am Fuß des Berges. Unser Blick ist zum Gipfel geneigt.

Auf den Aufstieg. Das Ziel, das uns erwartet.

Vom Tal aus blicken wir auf den Gipfel: unser Ziel. Aber auch den Weg: das wahre Ziel.
Unsere Route kann man jetzt schon abstecken, und wir stellen uns bereits vor, wie wir dort oben laufen. Über den kleinen Grat, leicht oberhalb der Baumgrenze. Dort machen wir eine kleine Pause und suchen genau die Stelle im Tal, an der wir vorhin noch standen. Es ist verrückt, zu begreifen, dass wir diesen Berg tatsächlich hinaufgestiegen sind. Von hier oben auf den Ort hinunterzusehen, an dem wir eben noch waren – an denselben Ort, zu dem wir hinaufgeblickt haben, als wir noch dort unten standen.
Und jetzt, da wir wissen, wie es ist, hier oben zu sein, erinnern wir uns daran, was wir uns damals darunter vorgestellt haben. Was wir geglaubt haben, es würde bedeuten, hier zu stehen.

Unterwegs wandert unser Blick hin und her. Hinauf zum Berg, hinunter ins Tal, manchmal nur auf unsere Schuhe. Wir gehen weiter, einen Schritt nach dem anderen. Unsere Gedanken losgelöst. Unser Körper funktioniert rein mechanisch.
Schritt links. Schritt rechts. Schritt links. Schritt rechts.

Unser Geist hat sich völlig losgelöst, und unsere Gedanken rasen mit einer ungeheuren Geschwindigkeit. Sie rufen die verschiedensten Momente herauf. Momente aus unserem Leben. Momente, die uns geprägt haben, aus denen wir geworden sind, wer wir sind. Oder versuchen wir vielleicht einfach nur zu verstehen, wer wir sind und wie wir hierhergekommen sind?

Es ist schon seltsam, dass das Erreichen des Gipfels und der Blick nach unten uns glauben lassen könnten, dass wir endlich eine überragende, triumphale Position erreicht haben oder anstreben würden. Dabei geht es doch eigentlich nur um den Blick auf den Weg, den wir zwangsläufig beschreiten müssen. Eindrücke mit etwas Abstand zu verarbeiten. Erlebtes noch einmal Revue passieren zu lassen, ohne den Blick nach vorne zu verlieren.

Unser Blick wendet sich wieder dem Gipfel zu.
 Gibt es ein Ziel?
Einen Aufstieg? Einen Gipfel? Einen Abstieg? Die Rückkehr?
 Oder geht es nur um die Erkenntnisse, die uns unterwegs begegnen?

Put your hands together and please welcome Linda Lo to Shall Not Fade's Time is Now imprint. The LA producer/DJ's new 12" EP "Masa" drops 23rd Oct 2026 and f**k is it sick.

Linda Lo fuses* mambo, samba, and salsa with UK garage, dubstep, and club rhythms to make guaranteed rewind material that is gonna light up the dance…

* imma talk about this fuses sh*t in a minute.. First we need to get a bit philosophical. Cos rewinds and fusions aside, this EP is alive. It's part of something bigger and cyclical, without a start or an end. It is music. It was part of someone else's music before and it will be part of other people's music in the future. Right now though, it's Linda Lo's music.

Too esoteric? Let me elaborate and, let's talk about fusion. There is the fusion that is – steal a bit of genre X and culture Y, chuck it on the grid and strut about professing fusion – and then there's actual fusion: Music that is something "new" and real and genuine. Music that you end up describing excitedly as a "fusion of" things (even if it inevitably ends up doing it a disservice). Music that is simultaneously one thing and not that thing, and also something else and not that something else too. Music that is just "music" to the creator but is also part of the progression and evolution of music for others. Mala wasn't making "dubstep". Skream & Benga ended up not making Garage. Like many before and after they were making their music and Linda Lo is making her music so let's hear from her about it. Big up Linda. This is real.

Notes from Linda:

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“Like Croydon by way of Havana”

“Masa, or corn-based dough used to make tortillas and tamales, is a traditional staple food for many in Mexico and throughout LatAm. In the Maya worldview, people's flesh is made out of masa. In order to make masa, corn must be dried, nixtamalized, ground, and mixed (often by hand) to create the right textured dough. I find much of my music work is a collision and a mixing of many elements, all worked into one product. In this way, I've worked these songs, transforming raw rhythms and sub bass into hand-mixed tunes. ‘Masa - EP' presents four delicious heaters. The title track explodes with a fiery double-time dubstep groove. Mambo horn stabs bite through a bass inferno. ‘Cenote' looks down upon a subterranean pool of sound—still on the surface but impossibly deep. ‘Minifalda', pure flirt and gyration, calls in cuica and other voices from a samba bateria. Finally, claves stitch across ‘Mestiza', a fusion of blooming lush orchestration and jagged 2step rhythm.

Around 1960, my grandparents were regular dancers at the Palladium in Los Angeles: young, Mexican, and falling in love to dance music, specifically big band mambo. My mom, consequently, is a fantastic dancer, and her mambo collection along with my dad's exotica records formed the base of my own vinyl collection. When I first discovered garage and dubstep, there was something indescribably familiar to me, something mambo-like about the syncopated offbeat hits and drama. Later, as I began stitching together mambo claves and 2step drums, I assumed I was trying out something totally new. The farther I go, the more I see that I was wrong.

Dubstep, garage and jungle share a parental lineage back to dub reggae, originating from Jamaica. Mambo hails from Cuba, and sister genres of salsa to NYC & PR, and bachata and meringue to the Dominican Republic. Yet, these musical genres of the Caribbean have not developed in isolation. Reggae, mambo, dancehall, salsa, even son jarocho from Veracrúz, Mexico (where my family is from), all developed together, influencing each other fundamentally. Ultimately, all musics of the Caribbean have come from West African polyrhythmic musical heritages. Garage, mambo, dubstep, and salsa are points in time along one musical continuum.

I feel very honored to be a selector working in Los Angeles (and elsewhere!). I hope I can share some music for the next generation of young people to fall in love to. "

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I'm moved by what Linda writes here. #1 Doing what you love, and finding you are part of something bigger. Creating for yourself freely and hoping to inspire others with healthy amounts of care, humility, freedom, self awareness and enjoyment. (It is inspiring and I'm honoured we are now a part of sharing Linda's music). #2 There's something wonderful about finding connection and a sense of place. A place physical, spiritual and in time. Music can help us all find connection and be part of a place. Wheel it up wherever you are.

LIMITED PRESS ACT FAST

Ever-evolving Amsterdam duo ANOTR continue their forward momentum with the release of their highly anticipated third studio album, ‘Withness’, out via their own imprint No Art. Rooted firmly in dance music, ‘Withness’ sees the pair refine their sound into their most dance-floor focused and cohesive project to date.

Born during their global tour, ‘Withness’ was shaped in real time: written, tested and refined on dancefloors across the world. Following the expansive, genre-blurring approach of their 2025 LP ‘On A Trip’, the duo felt a pull back toward the club - not as a limitation, but as a unifying space. “We really wanted to have a wide variety of songs that we can play out and create moments,” they explain. “Every track needed to make sense wherever people come together to dance.”

That intention sits at the heart of ‘Withness’. A title that reimagines the idea of “witnessing” into something more active and collective. ‘Withness’ is an album about experiencing life with others. It’s about the moments you share, the people who shape them, and the energy that becomes real only when you’re fully present. The album captures the collective high of friendship. Whether in a packed club, at a festival, or in a living room with friends, the album is designed to soundtrack moments of connection.

“The memories you make with people, they’re the witness of those moments. Withness is about being in it together.” - ANOTR

Sonically, the album marks a clear evolution. Drawing from their early club roots while building on the songwriting confidence developed on their previous records, classic drum machines and 909 samples sit alongside warm, 80s-tinged textures, layered vocals and modern production techniques, creating a sound that feels both nostalgic and forward-thinking.

A key part of the process was spontaneity. The duo embraced a free-flowing, collaborative studio environment, often working with a rotating cast of contributors. Their now-signature “open mic” approach encouraged anyone in the room to experiment with melodies, lyrics and vocal ideas. This energy translates directly into the album’s standout moments. From the euphoric pull of ‘Withness’ to the groove-led ‘Do It With Ya’, the uplifting ‘Paradise’, each track is built to live beyond a single setting.

The LP comes at a timely moment, as their single ‘Talk To You ft. 54 Ultra’ has become the biggest global breakout dance single this year. Sitting firmly in Spotify’s Global Top 200, it has surpassed 175 million streams, and is currently No. 21 in the UK Singles Chart. Spotify have tipped it in their much-coveted global ‘Sound Of The Summer 2026’ list and other highlights include peaking at No. 7 in Shazam’s Global Chart, No.1 on Beatport Top 100 and gaining over 600M UGC views so far.

12" (Limited Full Cover)

Ossie lands back on Heist after his 2025 hit ‘Are U still smiling?’ with a 4 track EP featuring Miraa May.

How on earth do you follow up your debut when that record got dancefloors moving across the world and picked up radio & dj plays from dance music’s finest selectors?
Many producers would get instant writer’s block, but not Ossie. His new EP on Heist is full of joyous melodies, catchy vocals and euphoric dancefloor moments. Across 4 tracks, Ossie takes us on a trip through rolling electronics, catchy UK sounds and big room anthems.

His Heist debut in 2025 did not go by unnoticed, and Ossie kept a busy calendar since, with regular shows in London and Hï Ibiza with Skepta’s Mas Tiempo crew, his own Supercali imprint as well as his appearance alongside heavyweights Louie Vega, Kerri Chandler, Cinthie and more on Heist’s ‘House of House’ much celebrated compilation.

The Motivation EP kicks off with a bumpy UK track that somehow reminds us of Bicep early day hit ‘Vision of love’. Where the Bicep boys went for a big sample, Ossie landed a surprise studio session with Algerian born-London native Miraa May where they wrote ‘Motivation’ in a single session. The track is stripped back to its core with catchy scats and chants from Miraa May and keys that’ll stick with you far after the track is over. If you’d need any extra motivation for your daily routine, to get out of bed or to go out dancing, this is your jam.

‘Can it get any better’ is a loopy house affair with soulful vocal chants, hints of disco and a subtle piano theme that drives the track into big room territory. It’s energetic without ever getting over the top; a thin line Ossie navigates effortlessly on this record.

On the flip, we’ve got ‘Left side’; a deep groover built around a synth & disco loop and cleverly sampled vocals singing ‘I believe… oooh yes I do’. This one is definitely a lowkey banger, where Ossie turns that one simple loop into a powerful theme made to ignite dancefloors.

The EP closes with the heavy warehouse groove of ‘Don’t stop’. A cavernous low end, rough percussion and chopped synth stabs all come together on this beast of a track. Ossie cleverly plays around with vinyl backspins, vocal chops and small changeovers to keep things interesting, while the groove just keeps on going.

Ossie’s ‘Motivation’ EP has dancefloor written all over it and with all its forward energy, there’s no doubt you’ll be hearing this one a lot in clubs all over the world.

As always, play it loud and share the music.

Lars & Maarten

Melissa Weikart and her piano have proceeded through life in step, from her early classical


training to the experimental practice that defines her work today, a blending of sounds and forms that has never been so clear—and so fully realized—as on her new album, Contact. Across twelve shifting and evocative tracks that examine the connective tissue binding us to ourselves and others, the Franco-American musician’s voice and piano navigate personal and emotional terrain with clarity and nuance, forging a rich dialogue between artist and instrument, artist and self, and artist and listener.


Winner of the 2022 Nancy Jazz Pulsations emerging artist award and the instrumentalist prize at the 2023 La Défense National Jazz Competition, Weikart has released two EPs and an album as a solo artist, and one EP and an album—Surprise and Secret—with her electronic duo Beatrice Melissa. A student of jazz and ’70s folk-pop, and a keen lover of improvisation since her time at the New England Conservatory in Boston, Weikart has always conjured the confessional candor of the singer- songwriter in her music, even as she dispenses her lyrics across rich, shifting, dreamlike tableaux.


On Contact, written and arranged entirely by Weikart (aside from “New angles”), she pushes her sound further than ever before. The album is animated by a pressing need for connection, observing what brings us together and what drives us apart, and the life-saving revelations that emerge along the way. The album’s opener, “Crash,” is a dreamy telephone-hour ode, a message in a bottle, to connections new and old. On the wistful “Mesurer le vent,” Weikart conjures Debussy or Ravel, layering contrasting sounds like an Impressionist painting. The title track begins as a showcase of Weikart’s frank lyricism, a splice-reel of missed connections and wasted time, then glides into a hazy, euphoric galaxy of pleas, circling around her thesis—“I wanted to make contact”—that ushers us into “The Intersection,” a song that recalls her the beginning of her career, when it was just Weikart and her keys. “Appétit.e” is built around a sample of her down-the-hall neighbor’s drumming—another subtle, affecting gesture toward proximity and connection—while pulsating synths reminiscent of Air lend the track an unsteady atmosphere. On the Carpenters-inspired “Expectations,” Weikart muses on the relationship patterns, universal and specific, that have always been a hallmark of her songwriting.

The psychedelic “L’amour de construit” is a slow-motion fall down the rabbit hole, as Weikart
considers the way her own emotions are captured and commodified by the confining ways we think about love. The interlude—“L’amour pt. 2”—finds her near the end of that trip, shouting into the void as a last-ditch effort to rescue herself from the fall. The drums near the end of the interlude warn us that there may be no cushion for, until she is saved, again, by the power of revelation, on the confident, resilient “Not Right”—on which a show-stopping, frenetic conversation between singer and piano is gracefully interrupted by a rush of transcendent strings, lifting her back up.

On solid ground anew, “New angles,” featuring Manu Delta, creates a percussion-less groove that relies on experimental synth sounds. The 11-o’clock stunner “Catching up”—composed in a church—meets the singer in a state of ecstatic confession, bringing her to the formative memory that propels “Bicycle,” the album’s closer. Younger, more wide-eyed, she reflects on her move from Boston to Strasbourg, those early days, when Weikart had no other companion than that loyal hunk of scrap metal that took her to the shores of her own soul. She seems to suggest, on “Bicycle,” that a backward-glance is not always troublesome, not always anxiety-producing, but can be grounding: a reminder of where we come from, so that we can keep moving forward.