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Jesse Harris’ Freund und Arrangeur Maycon Ananias hatte zusätzliche Aufnahmezeit mit einem estnischen Orchester und lud Harris ein, ein Stück beizusteuern. Das erste Experiment, Dolores, entfachte eine neue kreative Richtung. Obwohl Harris – Grammy-Preisträger und langjähriger Wegbegleiter von Norah Jones, Willie Nelson und Cat Power – bereits mehr als zwanzig Alben veröffentlicht hatte, war es seine erste Aufnahme mit Orchester. Beflügelt von dieser Erfahrung schrieb Harris innerhalb von nur fünf Wochen acht weitere Songs – detailreiche Kompositionen, die von Beginn an für symphonische Arrangements gedacht waren. Entstanden ist ein Album, das zwischen New York, Rio und Talinn aufgenommen wurde und hochkarätige Gäste wie Norah Jones, den brasilianischen Gitarristen Guilherme Monteiro, Jake Sherman sowie Marine Quéméré von Nouvelle Vague vereint.Mit seinen opulenten, zugleich feinfühligen Arrangements taucht If You Believed In Me in Themen wie Erinnerung, Sehnsucht und imaginierte Möglichkeiten ein – in die „Was-wäre-wenns“, die jeden Träumer begleiten. Herausgekommen ist orchestraler Pop voller Wärme, Melancholie und leiser Überraschungen – ausgelöst durch eine einzige Einladung.

Ian Elms’s cult isolationist synth masterpiece Good Night returns via Dark Entries. Originally released in 1982, Good Night blends Berlin school minimalism and BBC Radiophonic weirdness with the aesthetics of then-nascent DIY punk electronics throughout its fifteen short tracks. According to Elms, these pieces were composed in two broad but interrelated modes: pieces with voice and synthesizer, which are obliquely narrative, and instrumental synthesizer pieces that aspire to capture fleeting emotions. Ian met with producer David Hoser at Octopus Studios and they began constructing pieces using a Polymoog Keyboard 280a, sampled drum tracks, and Elms’s synthesizer. On “The Street Enters the House”, live drums lurch along with skeletal motifs while Elms’s elliptical lyrics evoke domestic discontent. “A Light Moves Across Curtains” features metronomic pummeling and icy strings buttressing the scant cryptic lines from Elms. Instrumental gems like “Goodnight” and “Surrounded by Trees” are built around detuned riffs in round-like structure, both drifting and static like the motion of waves. With original pressings fetching three digits – if you can even find a copy – this reissue is essential listening for fans of John Bender, Transparent Illusion, and the early 80’s DIY cassette scene. Each copy of Good Night comes with a postcard featuring a photograph and notes by Elms. “This record is intended for anyone who by accident or design spends most of their time alone (whether in the body or in the mind).” – Ian Elms.

Acclaimed electronic musicians, producers and sound architects Max Cooper and Rob Clouth team up for a new collaborative EP; a dark, playful four-track dive into ambient, breakbeat and techno’s subconscious flow, featuring a standout vocal performance from South London rapper FLOHIO.

Recorded over a series of spontaneous London sessions, “8 Billion Realities” channels years of creative exchange between two of the genre’s most quietly innovative artists and is a result of a decision between the longtime friends to refrain from conceptual overthinking in favour of instinct and joy.

As long-time admirers of each other’s audio/visual work, Cooper and Clouth collaborated in London together after both emerging from intense, idea-heavy album cycles. What followed was a series of exploratory sessions, half-improvised, half-built around half-formed thoughts.

The result is a club-ready EP that feels alive and human: imperfect and hypnotically rich.

“Rob Clouth has been one of my favourite electronic music producers since I first heard his work in 2011,” says Cooper. “His work is more full of ideas and structure than anyone else.” “We were both coming from extensive conceptual studio albums and both in the mood for simplifying things and having some fun with the music, so that’s what we did”.

For Clouth, no stranger to Max Coopers Mesh label having previously released an array of EP’s plus his 2020 debut album “Zero Point” this record marks a new chapter, both creatively and personally.“Something pretty new for me is collaborating,” he says. “You kind of have to when to stop, because if you develop an idea all the way to its endpoint, the other person has nowhere to jump in.”

The first “A Moment Set Aside” began as a break from another idea, a live, unplanned improvisation based around arps and ambience. “The track was written in about as long as it took to play it,” says Cooper. “It was pulled from a 1 hour recording session, more or less as you hear it… the energy and excitement grew as the unplanned moment bore some magic.”

“The lesson being that sometimes it’s helpful to set aside a moment without forcing results, and let the subconscious have something to say.” What followed was darker, heavier. “Asymptote” is detuned techno. Subversive and euphoric in its descent. “We found a sort of brain mangling, half consonant, half wandering detuned techno pulse, which we started chatting about being a sort of pit of spiralling body parts we were falling into,” says Cooper. “It was a lot of fun to work on and let loose with bigger kicks than I usually ever get to unleash.”

Then came “8 Billion Realities”, featuring a standout rap performance from FLOHIO; an emerging figure in the UK grime and rap scene. The track was inspired by conversations about algorithmic echo chambers and hyper-personalised online worlds. Frantic, direct, and South London to the core, FLOHIO brings this tension to life. Her sharp, intense flow cuts through distortion and rhythm, landing the track somewhere between chaos and control instantly making it one of the most striking moments in either artist’s catalogue. “A different reality for all 8 billion of us,” says Cooper. “We weren’t sure if it would work… but there was something about the energy of the percussive idea and the story which felt like it might fit.” “Then FLOHIO had a play with it and straight off the bat absolutely killed it, not just with the lyrics and energy, but the harmonising too, it was a beautiful process.”

The final piece on the EP “Candeleda” originated from Clouth’s solo experiments with a live rig made entirely of vocals and keys, using his self-developed “cheatbox” system. “He put forward a beautiful stumbling melodic sequence which we bounced back and forth adding harmonies and synth layers,” says Cooper. “It rounds off a collection covering some of the breadth of music that we both love.”

Underground Macedonian techno rebel Stojche known for his no nonsense vibrant and dynamic Detroit schooled productions enters the dolly family! With releases on label like a.r.t.less, Syncrophone and Fuse Brussels he is an artist well in tune with his craft. 'Cause & Effect' is another consistent Stojche voyage, remaining true to his sound that stands for high quality techno with a heavy dose of funk and emotional content that simply never misses!

Munich-based duo Glaskin, brothers Jonathan and Ferdinand Bockelmann, have become pivotal voices in modern techno, known for their residency at the legendary Blitz Club and standout releases on labels like Mutual Rytm and Figure. Their live sets channel dynamic, forward-thinking energy, and now they bring that momentum to FJAAK's ever-expanding CROWD family. With the Blue Light EP, Glaskin deliver four impeccably groovy tracks that balance stripped-down flair and shimmering texture. "Blue Light" opens the EP with mellow synth tones, a lean, hypnotic beat and a vocal loop murmuring 'here we go' that signals the underground journey ahead. Next up is "Captcha", releasing as the single, where a spoken female voice is layered atop rhythmic percussion, marrying atmosphere with groove-driven momentum. On the B-side, "Tape", digs deep into rolling uncompromising techno territory, strict in structure yet irresistibly danceable. The EP rounds out with "Prophat Tool Board", stepping slightly into house-leaning warmth, its broader rhythm and melodic warmth offering a fitting counterpoint to the brooding energy before it. The Blue Light EP is Glaskin's debut on CROWD and a shrewd expansion of the label's sound palette: richly textured techno made for both peak-time impact and immersive listening. To celebrate the release on the label, Glaskin will join label-founders FJAAK for a CROWD night at Nitsa Club in Barcelona on October 10, an event primed to showcase the raw energy and precision behind their studio work. Don't miss this one!

funcionário delights in the freedom of creating freeform music for the first time in his career. On “horizonte”, he loosens the reins, his sound follows a wavy, organic structure rather than a rigid, formal one. If it feels freer and more colourful, that’s because it truly is.

Eight years ago, when we first encountered his work, he was composing soundtracks for imaginary video games and crafting sonic landscapes that felt like destinations for sci-fi anime characters. With “Cavalcante” (2022), he broke away from that past. It marked a turning point, he was ready to explore a “fourth world” in both sound and concept. The feedback was overwhelming.

Three years later, “horizonte” marks another evolution. He sends us music regularly, but this album stood out immediately. It felt right: more synth-driven, more open to improvisation. As he put it: “It’s like using oil pastels for the first time and discovering new possibilities. In a way, I’ve found new ways of creating using the same colours.”

Listening to horizonte is like waking up from a dream. Again and again. The opening track, “nascer”, suggests a new dawn, but it’s in “pássaros” that the vision fully takes flight: less processed, more raw, yet still detailed and expansive.

Finding new ways with the same colours has been his quiet mission all along. What’s new here aren't the tools, but the feeling. The movement. The invitation to travel with him. You can hear - and feel - his sense of wonder. Every sound radiates joy. Every moment sparks a new thought. The music moves quickly, but breathes slowly.

Tracks like “renascer” and “o caminho do regresso” echo the spirit of late-70s/early-80s Vangelis, in deep reverence. And just as you approach the end, “fantasma” arrives - a stunning closer, reminiscent of Eno’s “An Ending”. By then, it’s clear: the “fourth world” is behind him. funcionário has moved on. To where? We’re about to discover.

Anushka Chkheidze + Robert Lippok’s »Uncontrollable Thoughts« on Morr Music is the duo’s debut joint release. The Netherlands-based Georgian composer and the German sound artist from Berlin first met in 2019 in the context of a workshop programme that took place in Tbilisi, and later worked with Eto Gelashvili, Hayk Karoyi, and Lillevan on the massive »Glacier Music II« music and book project, released in 2021. This led them to engage in a less conceptually driven form of musicking and real-time composition that corresponds with their respective environments. They draw on traditions such as minimal music or late 1990s and early 2000s electronica to integrate subtle beats with elegiac organ drones, playful melodies with lush textures. The first document of an ever-shifting intergenerational dialogue, »Uncontrollable Thoughts« is a product of mutual listening outside time.

Though Chkheidze and Lippok had access to professional studios, they chose to rent a simple rehearsal space, equipped with only the bare essentials—bass and guitar amps as well as a small PA—to maintain immediacy in their working process. The music they made together corresponded to and drew on the respective possibilities and shortcomings of this studio, much like their collaboration in general is characterised by the care with which they approach each other's talents and ideas. While both had loosely defined roles—Chkheidze was responsible for the free-flowing beat programming and the evocative distortion came courtesy of Lippok, for example—they individually contributed in different ways to their joint process, which is as free of hierarchies as it is limitless. Hence, the duo’s focus on spontaneity and out-of-the-moment emergence makes them organically move beyond tried and tested conventions, resulting in music that seems to suspend time altogether.

When the first chimes on »Bird Song« announce a piece that sets rattling kickdrums against a backdrop of layered drones and rhizomatically entangled melodic elements, it becomes clear why »Uncontrollable Thoughts« carries this title: The album follows the constant detours of the subconscious of its makers, letting them explore moments of ecstasy such as on »Rainbow,« melancholy with »Field,« and the interplay of suspense and release through the ten-minute-long title track. But the different pieces also tie into one aother in various ways. The dirge-like organ drones on which »Rainbow Road« ends reappear in the beginning of »Uncontrollable Thoughts,« much like Chkheidze’s gentle yet emphatic piano chords on »Field« seem to provide the starting point from which the artist develops the striking motifs of the final piece »Opening«, whose title itself suggests that the record as a whole can and should be enjoyed as a loop. All this creates a unique, idiosyncratic temporal logic.

While there is much that sets Chkheidze and Lippok apart as solo artists, the major shared leitmotif in their respective bodies of work is the sonic engagement with space. »Uncontrollable Thoughts« is hence best understood as an extension of this practice; as an album that maps the geographies of their minds in motion, tracing musical movements as they melt into each other.

For the third time, they had been sent to this forsaken land. It was neither east nor west, neither north nor south. They said it had once been a kingdom, somewhere in the heart of the old continent, something they had pieced together from the ruins scattered across jagged hills sprouting here and there from the ground. Everyone else went islands, dived to the seabed, drilled at the poles, and explored waste in the east, but these two were sent here again, as if someone were trying to get rid of them, just to keep them out of the way.

What were they really supposed to find here? They wandered the land, aimless and bored, like the last bird watching from the sky. Sometimes they landed, took samples for the lab, and then caught a nap by the river bend. They avoided the hot fumes of active volcanoes. Compared to those on other planets, these were more like small, whispered fumaroles, but even so, they had to be careful.

They felt as if they had stepped into a scene from a movie they had once glimpsed. A mad and exhausted conqueror screamed and wildly flailed his arms on a ridiculous wooden raft in the middle of a raging river. It was somewhere in the south of this planet, deep in the jungle. There were many movies made on this planet, but only fragments of the reels survived, and this one quickly became iconic.

When a trumpet sounded in the distance and flooded the land with a booming murmur, when all the fumaroles hissed together, and when wind rolled in, covering the land in heavy fog, both of them knew the third expedition would not be like the previous ones.

At that moment, Kult Masek and Petr Vrba were flying over the land that was once called České středohoří.

The word "amateur" originates from the Latin word "amator," meaning "lover" or "admirer". This Latin term is derived from "amare," which means "to love". The French adopted "amateur" from Latin, and the English then borrowed it from French, initially retaining the sense of someone who loves or is devoted to something. Over time, the English usage of "amateur" also developed a meaning related to a lack of professional skill or experience. How did a word derived from love become a slur? Is love really so defenseless? They say love conquers all, but in reality isn’t love quite ridiculous? It has no intention, no motive, no agenda. How could it possibly prevail? It can’t be bought or sold, or so they say.Its mere existence can't be proven or even measured. What an impossible thing. Trying and failing, time and time again, no wonder cynicism always seems to win. I see “amateurism” as a delighted, even foolish, protest. Protest against everything. Of what’s expected of someone, or expected of someone to desire or strive for. To be elite, to be expert, to be professional, to be a master, to excel and succeed. Where’s the joy in that? I just want to have fun. I want to want. I want to love. And keep doing it, forever. I want to have fun, even when it’s tiring and sometimes even heaven is boring as hell. I want to be bad. I want to do my own thing. “I vant to be alone”. I want to be someone so dedicated to their passion that it starts to seem like there’s something wrong with them. All the way. We can take it all the way, and never get it back. ” - Molly Nilsson Amateur is the 12th studio album by Molly Nilsson. Deep in the teeth of a career that threatens to tip into something resembling a “legacy,” Molly Nilsson celebrates with an album recorded instinctively, quickly and bursting with so many moments of emotional brilliance and clarity it may be her greatest yet. Hers has been a career spent reaching out, perennially powerful in her earnestness, a warrior ridiculously defenceless and armed with a glittering sincerity. Shearing herself of the machinations of the music industry, recording at home, writing direct to the heart. Amateur is a jubilee for losers. A treatise in 13 songs, Amateur states clearly that we should live our life with eternal curiosity, offers us an open hand of comradeship out of the rat race. The songs on the album are both some of the most personal of Nilsson’s career and the most anthemic. First single How Much Is The World asks us to re-evaluate value in the face of a Neo-liberal system squeezing the life out of our loves. Pulsing opener Die Cry Lie satirises the commercialisation of emotion in the form of a shout-along diss-track. With a pounding rhythm track held down by gorgeous chord changes, heartbreaker Valhalla carries the torch for the main themes of the album: never growing up, making mistakes with kindness, moving on. When the drums crash in on the line “It’s going to get better now, you’ll see, going to be much better off without me” there is a world of feeling swirling about in the vocal delivery. One reading of the track might be that it’s a break up song but the subtext is classic Molly Nilsson: by living truthfully, making mistakes, we’re active agents against the myriad oppressions of the world. All The Way takes the theme for a run into the eternal sunset. It’s a manifesto for living fully. “Take it all the way, and never get it back” - it’s the process that’s the important point. The journey not the destination. Big Life, follows on like a part 2: An ode not only to Molly Nilsson’s career of endless gigs, endless connections with people, it’s a massive ode for following your dreams, doing it yourself. Closer The Bitter End is a powerful anthem for friendship, another definition of love infused in Nilsson’s work, A beautifully poignant ode to comradeship til the end, it seems to be the songwriter approaching aging, approaching life’s inevitability with the same vigour and earnestness, the same love of life she enjoyed at the onset of her career. There are moments on Amateur shrouded in reverb, slightly out of focus, forcing the listener to step deeper into the Mollyverse.. Nilsson’s open-armed beseeching to the world permeates every beat, every chord. These are songs exploding with life: the chunky, aggressive bassline on the punker Get A Life can’t hide its massive, catchy chorus. The sweeping Swedish Nightmare might be a tongue-in-cheek self-reference, but at its heart it’s a song about the duality of living life large, what is a dream, what is a nightmare? Molly Nilsson says you can’t have one without the other, and why would you want to? Here’s to making mistakes.

Fides Records celebrates ten years of independent sound and vision with the monumental 41-track release “FIDES X – 10 Years of Fides”. The first 12” FIDESX 1, set to release on 24th October sets the tone for the seven-part vinyl journey, opening with a powerful statement of intent.

UFO95 introduces “After Light Comes Shadow”, a bleep-infused 4/4 cut whose broken accents unfold into layers of cinematic tension. Z.I.P.P.O and Claudio PRC follow with “Marte Rosso”, a poetic excursion across Martian landscapes shaped by evolving pads and hypnotic grooves. D-Leria’s “Underwater” plunges deeper still, driven by relentless modular propulsion and immersive aquatic textures.

The B-side expands the spectrum. Stephanie Sykes & Dyad contribute an untitled roller infused with spiritual intensity and organ-like resonance, while BIMOL’s “Fragmento en La” twists cinematic atmospheres and industrial edges into broken rhythms guided by a haunting Spanish vocal. Bringing the record to a close, Decoder delivers “We Keep Lying To Ourselves”—a slow-burning, 808-driven piece of subtle progression and timeless elegance

In May, fans were treated to the first new music from Trentemøller since 2022. A new single, "A Different Light," showcased a stunning blend of prismatic space rock and folk. For anyone wondering if it foreshadowed the release of a full-length, Dreamweaver will drop in September, on Friday the 13th.
Featuring 10 tracks that traverse Trentemøller's many musical strengths, Dreamweaver also represents an obvious artistic leap, treading new ground while retaining the overall plot. Tracks featuring vocals come courtesy of of Iceland's Disa, who has been in Trentemøller's fold since the Memoria tour.
Dreamweaver's nylon string-led opening track, and first single from the album, "A Different Light," contains many of Trentemøller's trademarks: exploring dichotomies, musical shadowplay, Nordic frigidity, and warm waves. It opens the door for the steady, hypnotic "Nightfall," with its tetherless vocal, wistful guitars, and early morning desert chill. The third track in the opening trifecta, "Dreamweavers" finds its footing with a percussive soft trot, which starts after what feels like a shortwave radio scan in search of the right chords, eventually dialing in a weightless voice. Ostensibly keeping a ruminative pace with the previous two tracks, the song and, by extension, album soon opens up as the rest of the elements drop into place with a grand, luxurious burst.
Dreamweaver is about to enter its next phase. With the hatch blown off of the portal, the noisy "I Give My Tears," driven by its glissed and fuzzy bass line, pours into the void. It's followed by its sibling, the most chaotic track on Dreamweaver, "Behind My Eyes." Arriving as a piece of noise rock pandemonium, "Behind My Eyes," can't be contained in its plush vault. A whip-crack snare and convulsing guitars smash against each other in the song's verse chamber. The tension builds, as the particles collide, pushing past the point of critical mass, kicking off the chain reaction which is the chorus. At times it harkens back to the proto-gaze tracks that gave birth to dream pop, at others it newly defines what that is. There's no time to contemplate it, though, as the song disintegrates in a microphonic feedback instant.
A respite follows with the somnambulistic pair of "Hollow" and "Empty Beaches." Then, a moment of intensity returns as the soaring textures and tribal drum bursts of "In A Storm" take control, before being taken out with the ambient slo-core of "Winter's Ghost" and "Closure." This diptych wraps up an album which certainly feels on-script for Trentemøller, but is also much more psychedelic than previous offerings.
Dreamweaver will be released on Trentemøller's own In My Room label. It is an exceedingly immersive experience, bound to release any dormant hallucinations you may be harboring.

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Nils Frahm has unexpectedly confirmed details of a new collection of solo piano music, his first album since 2022’s three-hour Music For Animals. Day will be released by LEITER on March 1st, 2024, and it will be available on limited edition vinyl as well as via all digital platforms. Recorded in the summer of 2022 in complete solitude and away from his studio at Berlin’s famed Funkhaus complex, it is preceded by a single, ‘Butter Notes’, out on January 19. Day may come as a surprise to those who, over the last decade, have watched Frahm shift slowly away from the piano compositions with which he first made his name in favour of a nonetheless still-distinctive approach that’s considerably more instrumentally complex and intricately arranged. In addition, in 2021, having spent the early part of the pandemic arranging his archives, he released the 80 minute, 23-track Old Friends New Friends, a compilation of previously unreleased piano music intended to enable him to ”start over” with a clean slate. Judging from the extended, ambient nature of Music For Animals, it proved a successful gambit, but Frahm has never been able to resist returning to his first love, and those who enjoyed earlier acclaimed albums like The Bells, Felt and Screws will once again revel in Day’s familiar, personal style. Day, which contains six tracks, three over the six-minute mark, is the first in a pair of albums Frahm has lined up for 2024. In keeping with their nature, however, he won’t be making a song and dance about the release. Instead, he’ll resume his ongoing world tour, which has already included fifteen sold-out dates at Berlin’s Funkhaus as well as a show at Athen’s Acropolis. It will continue with shows all over the world, among them several sold-out dates at London’s Barbican in July 2024, where he previously curated a weekend of music, film and art, Possibly Colliding, in 2016. The album is best enjoyed in the manner in which it was recorded, in the intimacy of a peaceful, cosy room. There are muffled pedal creaks on the cyclical, quietly jazzy ‘You Name It’ and, during the palliative ripples of ‘Butter Notes’’ arpeggios, the sound of dogs barking in the streets outside. The compassionate, hesitant ‘Tuesdays’ and emotionally ambiguous ‘Towards Zero’ linger with the poignant persistence of Harold Budd’s earliest work, while ‘Hands On’ is a sometimes brighter, airier tune that sets its own, deliberate pace, and, as he has on occasions before, ‘Changes’ sees Frahm employing elements of his instrument’s construction in a ‘prepared piano’ fashion. Characterised by its confidential mood, Day confirms that, while Frahm is arguably now best known for elaborate, celebratory concerts calling upon an arsenal of pianos, organs, keyboards, synths, even a glass harmonica, he’s still a prolific master of affecting simplicity, tenderness and romance.

Downwards present Alexander Tucker in metamorphosis from psych folk to techgnostic bard, aided by notable guests – Justin K Broadrick, Regis, Phew, Karl D’Silva, JJOWDY, and Elvin Brandhi – in a quest for disordered convention and new thrills. One up to Tucker’s outings for Alter and The Tapeworm, and spiritual successor to his »Nonexistant« trio on Downwards, »Clear Vortex Chamber« is an enigmatic take on the brownfield edgelands where the eldritch intersects electronic heck. Decades of work spread between hardcore punk, psych rock, folk, and drone — including work with Stephen O’Malley (Ginnungap) and Neil Campbell (Astral Social Club, ESP Kinetic) — feed forward into this album’s unsteady machine rhythms and cranky junkyard atonalities, where Tucker panel-beats aspects of his previous sound with a newfound industrial thrust and cyber-punky lust that suits him dead well.

A crafty example of how to mutate without losing sight of yourself, the album’s eight parts feel like a cyborg patching itself into modernity. On opener »Udug« Tucker’s signature falsetto peals from a A Scanner Darkly-style scramble suit of stereo-strobing electronics, setting a melodramatic, neo-gothic tension that riddles the album thru the knotted, fractured industrial dancehall bullishness of »Mallets« with Yeah You’s feral gob Elvin Brandhi, via a pair of standout »Fedbck« parts with Tucker’s personal idol, Justin K Broadrick (Godflesh, Jesu, and the rest), featuring the Brum deity’s claw-handed riffs and howl on the first, and smeared with Karl D’Silva’s brass in its noctilucent second part.

Regis also proves a staunch foil for the album’s most robust, club-ready cut »Zona«, hammered out from buzzing metallic drums and monotone bass drones, and pitting his severed vox against Tucker’s own androgynous harmonies to recall aspects of The Ephemeron Loop via British Murder Boys, whilst scene legend, Can and Ryuichi Sakamoto spar Phew (aka Aunt Sally) ideally tempers the flow in a relatively soothing »Sansu«, sharing more cyber-romantic, recombinant sentiments with the channelling of Robert Wyatt gone Funk Bruxaria on »Folded«.

Zum 50. Jubiläum von Bad Company und anlässlich ihrer Aufnahme in die Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 2025 erscheint am 24. Oktober das erste von der Band autorisierte Tribute-Album:
„Can’t Get Enough: A Tribute to Bad Company“

Diese besondere Veröffentlichung vereint namhafte Künstler*innen aus Rock, Country und Americana – darunter The Pretty Reckless, Charlie Crockett, Slash, HARDY und Def Leppard – die Bad Companys Klassiker auf persönliche, frische Weise interpretieren.

Ein echtes Highlight: Frontmann Paul Rodgers und Drummer Simon Kirke wirken selbst an mehreren Songs mit – in Kollaboration mit den teilnehmenden Künstlern.

Ein Must-Have für Fans von Classic Rock und eine ehrwürdige Hommage an eine der einflussreichsten Rockbands der Musikgeschichte.

"Deeply tied to the composer’s own life, the narrative of Lacrimosa invites reflection in the face of loss. This sonic work draws inspiration from Alice Coltrane’s spiritual Eternity (1976) as well as the traditional structure of the Requiem, a mass for the dead. One of its sections, the Dies Irae, evokes Judgment Day and concludes with the Lacrimosa (literally, “full of tears”), depicting the weeping of souls in search of salvation.

In Lacrimosa, Low Jack transforms autobiographical elements into a messianic, polyglot form, unfolding across eight movements that chart the storms and serenity of grief. The piece unfolds from dawn to dusk, as the eyes open and then close. An initiatory solar cycle, from which one returns like Dante in his Divine Comedy, transcendent yet grief-stricken by the loss of a guiding presence.

Low Jack crafts one of his most intimate compositions, weaving together musical archetypes and universal narrative structures, drawing from both classical lyrical music and pop standards."

In between the folds of ceremony and commonality lies a perennial spring of musical expression.

A statement along the time continuum, or a testament to the resilient resourcefulness embedded in that truth, forms the philosophical approach of this album – the first outing of Dídac.
Studying an extensive archive of instruments, artifacts, and field recordings at the Musée d’ethnographie de Genève—a space steeped in folkloric gesture – Dídac encountered a cosmos of liturgical music and folk song. Anchored in reverance for tradition and transformation alike, this album navigates the old-world Mediterranean lore through a post-modern ambient lens, threading drone, gentle rhythm, electroacoustic textures and the crude tactility of archival material into one woven tapestry.

Under the guidance of Dr. Madeleine Leclair, Dídac was invited to work within one of the world’s most extensive ethno- musicological archives—L’AIMP. In the saturated basements and tape-lined backrooms of the museum, he submerged himself in the sounds of ritual and rural life: wax cylinders from the Eastern Mediterranean, tapes of liturgical hymn, the worn edges of communal song.
In a makeshift studio on the fourth floor of the museum, he sifted through the hours of material he collected, gradually discovering that the archive was no static source – It did not dictate; rather, it served as a companion—offering not answers, but questions. Not a beaten track, but a cluster of sonic clues and riddles. Samples do appear occasionally, tenderly interwoven into the dialogue of the songs. In Dídac’s self-titled debut, the past is not worn as ornament or kitsch; it is listened to and responded to. The museum, its archives, and the visit to Geneva became a foundational culisse of sorts, igniting a myriad of rough cuts and improvisational outtakes.
Dídac, or Diego Ocejo Muñoz, was born in Madrid in 1994 to a family of both Catalan and Castilian origin.

Brought up in a religious household, the influence of the Catholic Church innately shaped the social fabric, schooling and daily life. This lingering dominance led the adolescent Diego into a path of rejection of everything sacramental, promptly resorting to subversion in the shape of grafitti, skateboarding and underground music. Only later in life, after a rigorous venture as an acid and electro producer, the Church re-emerged before him in new light, invoking a deep fascination for its mysticism, iconography and choral tradition.

Spain in general and Catalonia in particular, has long served as a crossroads of the eastern–western Mediterranean continuum, with many of its cultures sharing aspects of way of life and ceremony. At the MEG, Diego found himself puzzled with this realization, resulting in a sonic amalgamation that reaches farther away from the rugged mountains of Catalonia than you might perceive at first encounter.

The deeply embedded memory of rite and public ceremony, religious hymn and landscape—sieved through the undercurrent of personal re-emergence, forms the emotional topography of this album. The record does not trace this landscape; it inhabits it. Its repetitive mysticism and ambient, wide-eyed gaze could possibly evoke (perhaps redundant) comparisons to artists such as Dimitris Petsetakis, or Popol Vuh’s late 70’s cinema scores.
The delicate lines between the sacred and the secular – between memory and re-invention – serve as a cipher to understanding this album in its entirety. Titles like Malpàs Mines or Pantocrator’s Portal Outro nudge toward a folkloric and devotional bedrock—places where labor and spirituality coexist, where names preserve both dust and veneration.

Nevertheless, this is far from mere nostalgia. It is a reclamation — singing alongside the spirits of the past, nurturing what still hums beneath the soil. It is an intimate reflection on tradition, rebellion, adolescence, ceremony and fantasy – a pastoral contemplation on what once was and what is to be.

Trystero returns with their new album Humming Fuzz on Knekelhuis — a kaleidoscopic voyage deeper into the band’s expanding cosmos.

Built on plunging basslines, acid-drenched loops, and spiraling kraut-inspired guitar textures, the record drifts between hypnotic repetition and free-flowing, hallucinatory songwriting. It echoes the visionary spirit of Psychic TV and the genre-blurring universe of Weatherall, while carving out a raw, magnetic space of its own.

Recorded once again on a canal barge in the North of France, Humming Fuzz feels like a natural evolution from their debut Sfumare e Vedere — denser, more alive, and charged with electricity. Now expanded with Nelly on bass and Alexia on vocals, Trystero channels this expanded energy into their wild, expressive live performances, soon to ignite audiences on their upcoming tours.

Seit langer Zeit kursierten die Can LPs nur als Bootlegs, jetzt gibt es endlich die offiziellen Vinyl Reissues via Spoon Records! Das in nur drei Monaten aufgenommene Doppelalbum (Gatefold) der Band erschien 1971 und entstand noch auf Schloss Nörvenich. Es gehört zum Weltkulturerbe der jüngeren Musikgeschichte, so wie "Sergeant Pepper" von den Beatles, "Electric Ladyland" von Hendrix oder das Bananenalbum-Debüt von Velvet Underground. Die sieben hier versammelten Titel bestimmen bis heute die DNA der Populärmusik. "Tago Mago" nimmt eine Sonderstellung im Werk der Band Can ein. Sie ist der Mount Everest, die höchste Verdichtung eines schieren Ausdruckswillens, der weder stilistische Kleinkrämerei, noch musikalische Genre-Grenzen akzeptierte und das war, was "nur nach sich selbst klingt, wie nichts zuvor und danach" ("sounds only like itself, like no-one before or after" (Julian Cope, "Krautrocksampler"). Tatsächlich wurde "Tago Mago" gerne als "magische Platte" bezeichnet, eine geheimnisvolle Reise ins düstere Herz einer bis dahin nicht gehörten Musik.

The Dead 60s seminal self-titled album gets a timely Deluxe edition reissue on Vinyl for its 20th Anniversary, on Deltasonic Records



“Back in the day, punk and dub weren’t just sharing space—they were smashing into each other headfirst. Late '70s Britain was a pressure cooker, and for kids like me, growing up between Brixton’s bass bins and the chaos of King’s Road, that collision was everything. Jamaican sound system culture met punk’s raw spirit in a haze of smoke, sweat, and feedback. It wasn’t about genre—it was about energy. Identity. Defiance. so when The Dead 60s came along, post-Britpop and post-bullshit, it felt like someone had dusted off the blueprint and run it through a battered old tape echo. These weren’t just lads with good taste—they understood the assignment. They took the DNA of two rebel cultures and mutated it into something that could stand tall in the 21st century. Dub-soaked, punk-fuelled, dripping with that Liverpool attitude. I remember first hearing them and thinking—yeah, here we go again. Not in a retro way, but in a real way. Guitars that cut like sirens in the night. Basslines fat and warm, straight out the Channel One playbook. Lyrics that painted the grey corners of Britain like CCTV poetry. It was the sound of youth under pressure. The sound of not fitting in—and not wanting to.

Their debut album dropped in 2005, and it hit like a flare in the dark. “Riot Radio” was a pirate broadcast from the concrete frontlines. “Control This” swaggered with menace and reverb. It was like someone opened a time capsule from the punky-reggae party and rewired it for a new generation.

Now, with this 20th anniversary vinyl reissue—complete with the full dub companion produced by Central Nervous System—we get to hear the bones and blood of it all. The dub versions pull the tracks apart and let the ghosts speak. Reverb, delay, space—it’s not just production, it’s meditation. Revolution slowed down to a heartbeat. It’s music that makes you move and think. What they’ve done here is more than remix a record—they’ve revealed its soul. That’s what dub does when it’s done right. And The Dead 60s, they got that. They weren’t tourists in the culture—they were students of it, shaped by it, and ultimately, contributors to the legacy. Liverpool’s long had a love affair with Jamaican music—you can hear it in the streets if you’re really listening. The Dead 60s tapped into that lineage, but they brought their own thing to the table. Punk's fire. Dub’s depth. Ska’s bounce. All filtered through a Northern lens and blasted out like protest graffiti. This 20th anniversary reissue ain’t about nostalgia. It’s a reminder. A celebration. A call to arms. Music like this doesn’t belong in a museum—it belongs on a system, shaking walls and waking minds. Crate diggers, completists, young punks, old heads—this one's for all of you.

So put it on and turn it up. Let the punk edge sharpen your thoughts, and the dub shake your bones ‘cos this isn’t just a reissue - it’s resistance on wax.....”