quête:weird magic

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

Swedish DJ, producer and songwriter Johan Blende debuts on Hell Yeah with a journey to the heart of a grown-up dancefloor in the Med.

Blende is a master of mixing up retro 70s and 80s sound into modern dancefloor delights. He's been doing it for two decades on a wide range of cultured labels from Studio Barnhus to Eskimo, always with a rare charm and leftfield perceptive. With this EP, he taps into the magic of hazy afternoons turning into euphoric evenings by the sea.

'Off To Mallorca' jangles with taught bass notes and sunburnt vocals. Distant synths glow, the jumbled percussion injects just the right dose of ass-wiggling funk and this playful yet sophisticated cut builds toward a blissful rapture. 'Television' ups the ante with prickly acid panning about the mix over sleazy, low-slung drums. Tension simmers as edgy synth motifs stalk the groove and anticipation builds before the whole thing explodes into a cosmic disco payoff. It's raw, unpredictable, and perfect for when things start to get a little weird.

'Como No Brasil' gazes skyward and basks in a wash of shimmering melodies and breezy, wordless vocals that drift like clouds over layered, sun-drenched rhythms. It’s a dreamy, tropical float until a surprise acid storm rolls in and moves things from tranquil paradise to dancefloor hypnosis. Finally, 'Carousel Bagatelle' is a layered, late-night trip that feels both playful and introspective. Hypnotic synths swirl around screwy acid lines and supple, dubbed-out house drums that spin you into a daze.

Blende’s debut on Hell Yeah lands like a postcard from a perfect party - sun-dazed, acid-kissed and endlessly replayable.

The third and final volume of Classic’s 30th Anniversary vinyl series brings the party full circle - blending deep catalogue cuts, future-forward house, and tracks from the label’s tight-knit family of collaborators.

Like the volumes before it, this 2x12” release arrives in a raw reverse board outer sleeve, a nod to the aesthetic of Classic’s earliest releases. Inside, bold yellow and red GMUND card stock inner sleeves with embossed detailing reflect the label’s long-standing commitment to design, artistry, and collectability.

Record One kicks off with a certified Classic family affair. Home & Garden’s ‘Sexuality...He's 2 Young’ features the unmistakable voice of DJ Colette, a staple of Classic’s early era. Included here is JT Donaldson’s Porno Beat Down Remix—a stripped, low-slung rework with an irresistibly funky bass line and pure dance floor chemistry.

Brett Johnson’s ‘Jiffy Pop’, from his legendary Bounce! EP, follows up with a jittery, swaggering groove that epitomises Brett’s playful, funk-laced production style. Infectious, weird, and entirely unforgettable.

On the flip, Tiefschwarz’s ‘Acid Soul’ delivers a moody, muscular roller. Originally released during their prolific run on Classic in the early 2000s, it fuses baritone sax stabs, a Berlin-borne bass line, and a sultry vocal into a deeply spiritual house cut.

Roy Davis Jr. closes Side B with the propulsive ‘About Love’ (Solid Groove Remix)—a tough and driving interpretation by Dave Taylor that’s long been a DJ favourite in the Classic vaults.

Record Two showcases Classic’s more recent sonic evolutions. JT Donaldson’s return to the label in 2019 came with ‘Stay Inside’, a rich and breezy groove featuring the soulful voice of Liv.e. It’s an elegant and understated slice of modern house with timeless appeal.

Then comes Dam Swindle’s funk-charged ‘Hey Mister’. A punchy, bass-driven jam built around a 70s reggae-disco vocal sample. Raw and infectious, it’s been lighting up dance floors worldwide since its release.

Luke Solomon’s catalogue on Classic is vast, but ‘Come on Over’, his collaboration with Amp Fiddler, earns its place here. Seeing vinyl release for the first time, this cut overflows with musicality. Amp’s passionate vocal, free-time breakdowns, and deep funk grooves deliver pure emotional punch.

And to close, a modern masterpiece: Honey Dijon’s ‘Work’ (Extended Mix), taken from her ‘Black Girl Magic’ LP. Featuring Dave Giles II, Cor.Ece, and Mike Dunn, this powerhouse track brings together fierce vocal performances, live instrumentation, and top-tier production. It embodies everything Classic stands for: collaboration and innovation on the dance floor.

From the deep caves the screeches echo and the footsteps get closer. Welcome label head DJ Life as he takes you on a journey through the swamplands where goblins groan and the magic forms. A heady 4 tracker of weird and wondrous tech house that embodies the sound of Program. Another relic along the way, are you willing to take part?

Limited black vinyl. One pressing only. 700 copies worldwide. NON-RETURNABLE.

Full colour sleeve with unseen pics of Ron Geesin in his studio with Marianne Faithful, who was
supposed to provide the spooky voices but was so (allegedly) smashed out on various drugs she had no voice.

Wow! So you’re telling me Ron Geesin made this kooky electro jazzy score to a really unusual
British folk horror weirdy film that is also sometimes called Madhouse Mansion or Asylum of
Blood?

So what we have here is a unique and unreleased British horror score like no other - because
Ron Geesin made it and also because he used trad ideas and modern sonic developments at the
same time. So it’s bonkers. Half the pressing will go immediately to the Trunk mailing list, the
last 300 for the rest of the world. Be quick…

Comprising of sisters Eva and Grace Tedeschi, The Cords are the brightest new indiepop band from Scotland and this is theri debut. They started playing drums when they were little kids and later found that they liked 80s and 90s indie music more than their peers did, and so formed a band, just the two of them, with Grace on drums and Eva on guitar - and the songs started to flow. With only a cassette and a flexi single released so far (both of which sold out in a matter of hours), Eva and Grace honed their skills by playing a whole series of gigs with some of the biggest names in Scottish pop. Their first show was with The Vaselines, and since then they have played with Camera Obscura, Belle and Sebastian, BMX Bandits and others, while also sharing stages with the new generation of indiepop stars: the Umbrellas, Chime School, Lightheaded. Like all great pop bands, The Cords have taken familiar ingredients and created something utterly fresh. Older indie fans will hear echoes of The Shop Assistants, The Primitives, Tiger Trap and Talulah Gosh, but they will hear something else too: a yearning, dreamy melodic power that takes the songs into darker, stranger places. Younger pop fans won't care about these old reference points: what they will hear is the sound of two young women doing something utterly exciting: playing loud guitar and loud drums, taking analogue instruments and hitting them hard in the service of immediate and infectious pop tunes, and not giving a second thought about the digital world that wants to own everything we do. The Cords sound free: they remind us that pop music, played right, is expressive, liberating, joyful and deeply personal. First single `Fabulist' is a sweet and catchy pop song that races along, so headlong and hooky that, on first listen, you could miss the fact that it's a wholehearted take-down of people who lie for a living. And the album is a fun rollercoaster ride from that point onwards, with the real stars of this record being Eva's sinuous guitar and silky vocals, and Grace's clattering, expressive sing-song drums. It's the sound of two sisters having an intense musical conversation with each other, pushing each other on to greater heights, exhilarated by the set of perfect pop songs they have magicked up. DIGIPAK CD, LP on BABY BLUE VINYL.

GATEFOLD DOUBLE VINYL WITH SPOT UV FRONT COVER

Following the skewed-unself-help-brilliance of ‘Sus Dog’ (which marked his first full foray into songs, abetted by Thom Yorke), and its companion piece ‘Cave Dog’, Chris Clark returns to the dancefloor’s simple, but no less affecting pleasures, with ‘Steep Stims’.
“I found it hard to pull away from listening to this record, hard to stop making it, I had to remove myself from the Stims and stop enjoying it at some point. The album feels like nature to me. I love it when electronic music feels more naturalistic than acoustic music, more potent, that’s the devil’s trick, the promise of electronic music.” comments Chris.
“I used an old synth - the Virus on all of the tracks. I used it at Mess in Melbourne - run by my friend Robin Fox - I loved it so much I had to buy one when I got back to the UK, it took a while to find. They’re a bit clunky to program but make some of my most favourite sounds.”
‘Steep Stims’ marks a back-to-basics approach, invoking the early years of gung-ho creativity enforced by limitations in technology at the time. “Most of the tracks on this album capture the spirit of making music on old samplers, which don’t have much memory time”, explains Clark. “It reminds me of making ‘Clarence Park’, my first album, where I would have to finish tunes in the session, as they would be saved on floppy disks and I couldn’t easily go between tracks. This new record is just a few synths and a few choice sounds; the writing is the important thing.”
Made quickly, ‘Steep Stims’ reflects the immediate rave energy of his live show, but that’s not to say it’s basic floor fodder, as it’s rife with personality, synth magic, and knack for melody. Although swift and impressionistically captured rather than laboured over, it’s still formidably deft, with plenty of oddball weirdness lurking beneath the dancefloor.
Soft, orange, scorched, brutal, the opening track ‘Gift and Wound’ captures the classic dance music dread / awe / euphoria combo perfectly, before ‘Infinite Roller’ merges sparkly-minimalism with snarling bass and soft sines, which turn more dense and metallic as it progresses.
The melancholic smoke belch of ‘No Pills U’ gives strong classic vibrations, which is belied by its creation, made in just 20 minutes. “I love working quickly sometimes”, comments Clark. “Inspiration hits, rough and ready. It’s off the cuff but also screams ‘don’t gild the lily with nonsense, keep it simple keep it clean’”. Segueing into its elder brother, the piece becomes bigger and beatier on ‘Janus Modal’, where it permutates for over 7 minutes of fluttering, beatific club majesty.
At ‘18EDO Bailiff’ you inexplicably find yourself at a clearing, things have suddenly got much quieter. You enter a decrepit and eerie old house, and as you move through its unsettling interior, you arrive at ‘Globecore Flats’. A real piano tuned to 18 notes per octave gives the pair of tracks a haunted, olde worlde feel, which promptly gets eaten by a huge tech step tearout monster, birthing a strange but exotic beast.
The white hot ‘Blowtorch Thimble’ is all hooktasm-rave-hyper-amen-energy, whilst acidic flute leaps around like Ian Anderson on pingers throughout the catchily simple jump-up lurch of ‘Civilians’.
“‘In Patient’s Day Out’ is like some sort of Morricone-does-kraut-rock-with-drum-machines, but that’s probably just in my head” says Clark. “I made several versions of this then went with the early mix but cranked through some choice outboard because it just had something.”
Drumless, yet still full of exhilarating-big-trance-drama, ‘Who Booed The Goose’ flashes by in stroboscopic fast forward, then ‘5 Millionth Cave Painting’ gives a palate cleanser, letting “the virus with its delicious broken, luxurious reverb have a moment”, before ‘Negation Loop’ swoops down in all its glory, with Clark’s tweaked vocals leading deconstructed trance breakdowns, tape edits and brutal noisebursts.
An antidote to the bombast of its predecessor is ‘Micro Lyf’, which closes the set on a poignant note, of sorts. Muted staccato gives way to field recordings “that gradually put it in this outside space; alien in a meadow somewhere nameless. It feels like a sinkhole. The record kinda swallows itself up and then is gone”, ends Chris.

Blang Records are thrilled to announce another two vinyl album re-releases from Jeffrey Lewis's back catalogue: The debut classic The Last Time I Did Acid I Went Insane (originally Rough Trade 2001) and The critically acclaimed 4th album 12 Crass Songs (originally Rough Trade 2007). 12 Crass Songs (VV004LP): Astonishingly transformed covers of songs originally written by the band Crass in 1978-1984, this 2007 LP is the most rare and sought-after vinyl in Jeffrey's catalogue and is also now completely out of stock. "Weird? Very_ _ but it's also downright inspiring" (4 of 5 stars) - Rolling Stone. "The record presents Crass's lyrics calmly, often demonstrating how sane and practical they are; it proves once again, and kind of thrillingly this time, that no music is immune to interpretation" - The New York Times. "Folk maverick raids anarchist commune and finds catchy tunes_ Works wonderfully" - Spin "Jeffrey Lewis' talents appear without end_ (on 12 Crass Songs he) magically makes the anarcho-rockers' anti-establishment savagery his own, by wrapping their barbed sentiments in his trademark mottled tea-towel warmth" - NME. "12 Crass Songs succeeds utterly_ eerily beautiful and strangely affecting" - Plan B Magazine "He's taken hold of any number of my old stormy favourites and breathed fresh life and fire into them. . . Man, I'm in awe of Jeffrey right now. Who'd have thought he could have done that?" - Everett True/ Village Voice "Quite brilliant" - (4 of 5 stars) MOJO. "It's no mean feat to transform such abrasive harangues into lush, tuneful folk_ without defusing their righteous anger_ but Crass's intelligent and indignant screeds could not hope for a more sympathetic translator." (4 of 5 stars) - THE GUARDIAN. Blang Records and Jeffrey Lewis have history: before Blang was a label, it started life as a live night at the 12 Bar Club in Denmark Street, hosting many a set of the NY Antifolk artists over on UK shores, including Jeffrey Lewis. Now 20+ years since Jeffrey first played Blang. Native New Yorker Jeffrey Lewis is a comic book writer/artist and a musician. A cult hero birthed from the now infamous antifolk movement that sprung up on Manhattan's Lower East Side in the 90s, Jeffrey has released dozens of albums showcasing his unique blend of bleakly witty observations, scratchy, lo-fi punk and croaky folk/anti-folk, all firmly rooted in a strong DIY sensibility. Jeffrey and his band have toured the world multiple times over, released albums on Rough Trade, Moshi Moshi and Don GIovanni Records, and have been featured by NPR, The History Channel, The NY Times and more.

Clear Vinyl. Mit ihrem Debüt The Empty Space Between A Seamount And Shock Headed Julia hinterließen The Black Cat's Eye 2023 ein bemerkenswertes Echo in der Szene - ein energetisches und atmosphärisches Werk, das Psychedelic- und Postrock-Elemente auf einzigartige Weise vereinte und schnell vergriffen war. Nun, zweieinhalb Jahre später, präsentiert das Frankfurter Quintett sein neues Album Decrypting Dreams Of Weird Animals And Strange Objects. Auch diesmal lotet die Band die Grenzbereiche zwischen Psychedelic-, Kraut- und Post-Rock aus. Die Musik oszilliert zwischen hypnotischem Drive, verträumten Gitarrenflächen und dynamischen Spannungsbögen. Das Album umfasst sechs Songs, deren Spannweite von fünf- bis zehnminütigen Klangreisen reicht. Neu ist, dass diesmal zwei Bandmitglieder Kompositionen beisteuerten: Neben Gitarrist und Bandgründer Christian Blaser stammt die Hälfte des Materials von Bassist Jens Cappel. Sein kraftvoller, direkter Stil ergänzt Blasers atmosphärischen Ansatz ideal. Blaser: ,Auf dem Debütalbum stammten alle Stücke von mir. Als Gründer der Band lag mein Fokus zunächst darauf, eine musikalische Vision und Richtung vorzugeben. Jens war zu diesem Zeitpunkt noch nicht so in die kreativen Prozesse eingebunden, obwohl er ein außerordentlich talentierter und umtriebiger Musiker ist. Er veröffentlicht regelmäßig großartige neue Musik auf den Bandcamp-Seiten seiner eigenen Projekte, zum Beispiel The Black Black Paint. Als es dann an das Schreiben neuer Songs für das zweite Album ging, brachte Jens einige wirklich tolle Demos mit ein." Stilistisch verbindet das Album, wie schon der Vorgänger, klassische 70er-Einflüsse mit zeitgenössischer Rockmusik - man hört Anklänge an Can, Motorpsycho, Neu!, Indie- und Stonerrock, aber auch an David Gilmours Gitarrenästhetik. Die Musik ist instrumental, einzig im finalen Stück ,The Magic Balloon" übernimmt Jens Cappel den Gesang. Ähnlich rätselhaft wie bei der ersten Platte klingt der Albumtitel: Decrypting Dreams Of Weird Animals And Strange Objects. Blaser erklärt: ,Der Titel ist inspiriert von einem faszinierenden Aspekt der US-amerikanischen TV-Serie Westworld. Dort werden humanoiden Robotern Gefühle und Träume einprogrammiert. Doch weil diese Androiden dadurch immer menschlicher werden, geraten sie außer Kontrolle - die Programmierer suchen daraufhin den Fehler in den von ihnen geschriebenen Quellcodes, analysieren die künstlichen Gefühle, Gedanken und Träume mithilfe ihrer Computerprogramme. Übertragen auf unsere Realität ist der Titel durchaus ironisch gemeint. Unsere moderne Technik vermittelt den Eindruck, wir könnten jeden Bereich unseres Lebens vollständig steuern. Selbstoptimierung und die Kapitalisierung des eigenen Ichs werden zum obersten Prinzip. Eine trügerische Illusion, denn wir sind nur winzige Teile eines größeren, für uns unergründlichen Ganzen. Vor diesem Hintergrund stellt sich die Frage: Was kann Kunst zu unserer Wahrnehmung der Welt beitragen? Welche Bedeutung hat es, sich mit musikalischen Mitteln auszudrücken? Durch Technik, Mathematik, Physik und reine Vernunft kommen wir dem Wunder des Lebens und dem Sinn unserer Existenz nicht wirklich näher. Was uns bleibt, ist das Ritual, die Beschwörung, die Ekstase. Musik, Tanz, Malerei, Geschichten - sie offenbaren für kurze Momente den wahren Kern des Lebens, richten unser Verhältnis dazu neu aus und verbinden uns mit dem Universum." Aufgenommen hat die Band wieder im Tonstudio Bieber in Offenbach am Main. Oli Rüger, Studiobetreiber und selbst Musiker, hat langjährige Erfahrung mit dem Aufnehmen von Gitarrenbands. Innerhalb von drei Tagen spielte die Band die Basic Tracks live ein, anschließend ergänzten sie diese durch Overdubs. Rüger war auch als Co-Produzent beteiligt. Cappel: ,Oli hat das richtige Händchen für die perfekte Balance zwischen rohen, heftigen und filigranen Sounds, ohne gleichzeitig den Blick für das große Ganze zu verlieren." Das Werk wurde final von Krautrock-Legende Eroc gemastert - eine passende Wahl für eine Band, die sich nicht nur als Erben der 70er sieht, sondern diese Tradition aktiv in die Gegenwart weiterdenkt. Das monochrome Cover-Artwork unterstreicht eindrucksvoll die dunkle Atmosphäre der Musik. Es verdeutlicht den konzeptionellen Ansatz der Band, Musik nicht nur als Klang, sondern als Raum, Konzept und visionäre Erzählform zu begreifen. Das Titelbild - eine scheinbar endlose Spirale, Symbol für DNA-Strukturen und Ewigkeit - wurde vom italienischen Grafiker Daniele Stochino entworfen. Die Innenseite des Gatefolds verbindet dieses Motiv mit einer Illustration des in Berlin lebenden Grafikers und Musikers Max Emil Hurlebaus. Durch farbige Akzente eröffnet sie kontrastreich neue Perspektiven.

Jessica93, prodigal bastard of our glorious french squat scene, relocated on Born Bad : this is no picnic. Geoffroy Laporte, alone against all odds, alternates bass and guitar to build harsh loops with a drum machine spitting pre-Gulf War patterns. That’s where it gets tricky : every musical posse claims him. Grunge, sure, but Jessica doesn’t indulge in necrophilia. His circuit is punk, he doesn’t dress the part though. Cold wave, the atmosphere fits somehow, but the gear does not. The self-confident rock horde saw him playing with hair in his eyes… but he never joined the Party. Metal had something to say but sadly, nobody listened. Maybe it's time to give it a rest and let Jessica93 cook his great misery broth on her own, called « 666 tours de périph’ » (666 laps on the beltway). Witnessing Jessica93 live makes you dread that he'll get up the next morning, drive 200 miles and one nap later kick it again, when it takes us a good week to recover from the bad half of that same evening. Like so many other unknown soldiers during our very own world war of music, he patrols small venues relentlessly.



At the heart of this cultural pentacle painted by french weirdos Bryan's Magic Tears, and Carine Krinator, Jessica93 has built a sound validated by years of chosen vagrancy, birthing bands with joyously stupid monikers, in the humid jungle of small labels. Jessica93's debut album had a track celebrating Omar Little, HBO’s gay bandit from Baltimore. This story begins on the beltway, where Florence Rey, accidental copkiller turned to political icon of the 90’s. Geoffroy offers his brilliant analysis : " C’est la police qui nous tire d’ssus / C’est mon trou d’balle qui leur chie d’ssus « (Police shoots us down / my dripping asshole gets the job done).



A previous album was haunted by bedbugs, this one is essentially about love, a delicious scourge just as hard to eradicate. Two black diamonds peek out of the LP : ’’La colline du crack’’, heartbreak song about the ultimate temptation of violent delights, located on crackhead central in Paris. The brilliant chorus, ‘Take my hand and come with me to Crack Hill’ will put an end to the rumours, almost everything was really false. And Bébé Requin, alternative obituary that’ll make you shiver, where our nice couple states ‘’on kiffe la drogue dure et les ptits chiens’ (‘we love hard drugs and little dogs’). And that is the reason we face the wall of sound jostled by unnecessary shoulder thrusts: those nice fat chunks of charcoal poetry, hidden under light sarcasm.



The rest of the record demonstrates the know-how acquired in loop-by-loop construction of ruins that are pleasant to squat in together. There’s your classic doom delicatessen, with bits of heavy metal inside, crafted with the manic care typical of hard wankers. Arthur Satàn, who produced and mixed the album at home in Bordeaux, helped him get his head out of the reverb safe house. And Jessica93 took the opportunity to switch to the dark side of the language : french at last. Worth the wait ! Sing along : « nique sa mère / nique sa grosse mère » (translate that yourself).

Mr Sam - HERITAGE (1995-2025)

HERITAGE celebrates 30 years of Mr Sam's career in a world-first collector's edition: a monumental best-of gathering 40 tracks across 10 vinyls. Never before has an electronic DJ and producer released such a project - an unprecedented box set that stands as a unique, sincere and intimate journey, blending emotion, innovation and musical memory.

Each track has been carefully selected, remastered, and placed as part of a personal narrative. More than just a compilation, HERITAGE is a musical journey - the story of an artist who has shaped the trance and progressive scene worldwide since 1995, and who continues to write history, with this release sealing his legacy forever.

The album features his most iconic productions (Lotus, the Screen series, Forever Waiting, Lyteo...) alongside timeless contributions from artists who influenced a generation, including D*Note, Timo Maas, Jam & Spoon...

This is more than a retrospective - with HERITAGE, Mr Sam permanently engraves his legacy in the history of electronic music.

‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is the latest collection selected by Mikey Young (Total Control, EddyCurrent Suppression Ring) and Keith Abrahamsson (Founder and Head of A&R at AnthologyRecordings), the mangled minds behind the beloved ‘Follow the Sun’, ‘Sad About the Times’,and ‘…Still Sad’ compilations. The twenty tracks of ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ make a conscious(and unconscious) detour from its predecessors, sourced entirely from private press releases,spanning new decades and production modes within homespun folk, soft rock and otherwise70s and 80s FM radio adjacent music.  The magic of ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is the untold story of the artists behind these songs; thosewho missed the big time, but whose song craft and unrequited care hit the right notes, bothhigh and low.
Where ‘Follow the Sun’ and ‘Sad About the Times’ introduced us to the fame chasing, ambitioncrashing crooners who missed their shot in the mainstream, ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ delvesdeeper into the isolated wilds - a private world where production quirks, late-night tape hiss andone-man studio dreams were not necessarily a choice but the hand that was dealt.
With the parameters set to ‘private press only’, Young and Abrahamsson follow a circuitous trailof invention and emotion, documenting a spirit that’s more homespun, sometimes lonelier andoften a little weirder. The guitars still strum, but the keyboards’ hum is more prevalent andprecious; wistful harmonies brush up against lo-fi drum machines; a bittersweet fog lingeringover even the brightest melodies.
As with their previous collaborations, Young and Abrahamsson weren’t interested inconstructing a museum or drafting a historical survey. ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is a sentimentalmixtape, assembled late at night when the mind wanders and old memories blur with imaginedfutures, those within reach and those far too mysterious to ever encounter. Songs wereunearthed in personal collections, deep YouTube burrows, dilapidated web archives and thedim corners of Discogs, with many selections tied not only to intuition but to personalconnection.  Some tracks arrived via friends - Kelley Stoltz, a frequent guide for Young, tipped him off toboth Peter Kraemer’s lost gem ‘Let the Light Slip’ and Awakening’s revelatory closer - addingan unseen but deeply felt thread of camaraderie to the compilation.
The journey takes in a wide, strange sweep: The Watson Brothers Band’s ‘Just Whistle’ opensthe collection with a sigh and a shrug, a song that feels like it’s been waiting for decades to beheard again. Jim Huxley’s ‘Tessa on a Magazine’, rediscovered after a long and winding searchby Young, shimmers with a distinctly Australian melancholia. The heartbreak of Rick Penta’s‘My Story Changes’ and Twice As Nice’s delicate ‘Thoughts of You’ float easily alongside themore buoyant, radio-dream sheen of Barracuda’s ‘Baby I Love You’ and MAK’s sunshinedappled ‘That’s Life’.
Widening the aperture to the late 1970s and early 1980s allows for a deeper exploration intoevolving production techniques and musical technologies. The Squad’s ‘D.L.M.H.I.M.A.’ andChristoph Spendel Group’s ‘Forever’ crackle with the kind of bedroom synth warmth that couldonly come from the analogue age, while the soulful, yearning undercurrent of Awakening’s‘Gotta Do Somethin / Might As Well Cultivate’ caps the collection with a call for action - ormaybe just acceptance - in an accidental Brian Eno ‘Here Come the Warm Jets’ parroting.
While ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ moves away from the ‘sad man with guitar’ archetype that hoveredover its predecessors, it remains tethered to a familiar emotional gravity - a balance of longingand lightness that defines this corner of the musical universe. Each track shuffles gentlybetween resignation and hope, sadness and serenity, as if the artists themselves were chasinga dream just beyond reach, recording not for fame but for the simple act of getting it, thatprimal, creative itch, out into the world.
Available on CD and 2LP, featuring the third eye-opening artwork of Dang Wayne Olsen. Thedouble LP set arrives in an outrageous double-wide spine jacket with printed inners and adream journal entry by Pacific Northwest artifactual authority Josh Lewellen.

"Chasing the funky symphonies that filled my head and my dreams..."

December 25th, 2023 - an Instagram post. Stimulator Jones shared half a dozen FIRE tracks from his beat tape archive. We were immediately drawn to the rough hewn boom bap.

"I'd release that", Rob commented.

Hours of material was shared and the result is this: Cool Green Trees (1999-2005). A collection of beats and loops Stimulator Jones created between the ages of 14-20 at home in his basement, bedroom and computer room in Roanoke, Virginia.

You will not believe the profound soulful genius contained within these naive schoolboy melodies.

December 25th, 1998 - 25 years ago to the day and his much-coveted Yamaha SU10 sampler was finally bestowed upon young Stimmy AKA Sam Lunsford: "I immediately hooked up a CD Walkman to the input jack and looped the beginning two bars of Grover Washington Jr.'s "Mercy Mercy Me". I don't know what exactly was so thrilling about hearing two measures of music repeating over and over but it was so infectious and hypnotizing and enthralling to me. I'll never forget that ecstatic rush of making my first loop - an uncontrollable, gleeful smile plastered all over my face." When you hear the pocket breakbeat symphonies featured here on Cool Green Trees, you'll feel the same sense of frisson.

In the wake of his Stones Throw breakthrough - Exotic Worlds & Master Treasures - Stimulator Jones was pegged by many as a 90s throwback artist. However, he literally IS a 90s artist. He's been recording music most of his life and he's now 40. He created the bulk of Cool Green Trees as a teenager. Everything before 2004 was recorded when Sam was still in school. He was in 8th grade when he made the 1999 tracks - he didn't even have his learner's permit. This album is a snapshot of a young man in a simpler time. Things were still mysterious back then and he was flying blind, relying on his ears and having to figure things out for himself: "I had no road map for becoming a beatmaker. I have been collecting music since I was a kid, I am a lifelong digger and seeker of cool and interesting sounds. I was there in the golden age of Hip Hop, and while I may have been a suburban white kid in Roanoke, Virginia, I was tuned in and I bought so many classic albums when they came out. I was attracted to Hip Hop because of the musical and poetic quality. I was hypnotized by the rhythms, partially because I was a drummer. I didn't brag about collecting my breakbeat records or making beats - it was something I did in isolation. It wasn't something I generally wanted to bring attention to and it didn't really score me any cool points. I certainly wasn't flexing on social media about it."

Hell, he can do that now!

Opener "Pharoah Jones" was inspired by Yesterday's New Quintet and Madlib's ability to capture that classic 70s sound whilst playing all the instruments. Sam created this one stoned afternoon by laying down a 2 bar loop and a shaker loop on his Yamaha SU700 sampler. He hung a microphone from the ceiling and played his Yamaha Stage Custom drum kit over the top before adding ender Rhodes and playing his dad's Selmer tenor sax through an Electro Harmonix Memory Man echo pedal. Yes! Up next, "Ghost Gospel" utilises a dope loop from a gospel record and adds some soul-funk drums overtop, whilst working that filter knob. Says Sam: "The loop reminded me of something Ghostface would rap over. The sample was in 3/4 waltz time but I flipped it for a 4/4 groove, a technique I picked up from RZA. "Ill Feeling" uses sped-up pieces from a dusty old funk record and putting them over a classic NOLA drum loop; gain chopping up a slow, bluesy 3/4 time signature and bending it to a 4/4 groove. Classy shit. "Capital Punishment" features drums tapped in live, inspired by MF Doom's Special Herbs series. "Do Not Adjust" consists loops found on a compilation of 70s French music at Happy's Flea Market, a classic Roanoke digging spot.

The sublime, evocative title track, "Cool Green Trees" was created when Sam was still living at home. He dumped samples off his SU10 into the family desktop and arranged them in a demo version of Pro Tools: "This track was sort of my ode to the DJ Shadow style of sample based production. Super spacey, slow, and moody. The heavily filtered drums were inspired by Alec Empire's 'Low on Ice' album. I later added some scratches and sounds from a Spider Man storybook record." "Chill Scratch" snags the final bit of a bossanova record and pairs it with a drum loop before adding experimental scratching run through an Electro Harmonix Memory Man echo pedal. "Poisonous Fumes" was made using a sampler, mixer and a turntable; a kind of mixtape beat collage with added scratches and sounds from various records. Using dialogue from superhero records was a nod to Madlib. "Welcome Aboard The Starship" is dark, downtempo trip-hop with a spooky bent. Sam paired a slow, hard drum loop with a guitar sample grabbed off a psychedelic rock record. To finish, he added various backwards sounds and weird atmospheric effects and a little scratching. Swoon.

Side B opens with "Keep On Runnin", made on a borrowed Roland SP202 sampler. Having always loved the sound of the Lo-Fi filter on those machines, reminiscent of the Emu SP1200, Sam always imagined Del or another of the Hieroglyphics crew rapping over this beat. You can certainly hear why. "Sounds Impossible" sees Sam experimenting with layering multiple kick samples at different volumes to create patterns similar to those heard by Showbiz and Lord Finesse during their God-level 1995 period. "Painted Faces" was made by chopping up a REDACTED record which he had gotten from Happy's Flea Market and paired it with a REDACTED drum loop. By the time Sam recorded "The Knew Style", he had acquired a shitty old 1960s portable turntable off eBay. It didn't function properly when he bought it but his brother opened it up, cleaned it out and got it working: "I remember he told me that there was a bunch of sand inside of it when he opened it up, as if its previous owner had taken it to the beach. I would take that turntable on my Happy's Flea Market digs so I could preview records...that's how I found this loop."

"Chicken Wing Blues Sauce" loops up a classic blues joint and pairs it with some REDACTED drums. A bit of filtering and arranging et voilà! "Kool Breeze", from 1999, is one of Sam's oldest surviving beats, as is "Sexx Bullets". The Roots sampled the same record, leaving Sam frustrated yet vindicated. "Soul Child" was an early SU10 creation, looping a dusty old Soul Children 45 and pairing it with 70s rock drum loops to great effect. "Take Off Runnin" was another loop found digging with a portable turntable. Paired with some boom bap drums it makes for a hypnotic head-nod groove. "Centurian" was intended to be a little beat interlude a la Pete Rock. The sample is from a sun-dappled soft-psych record and it's paired with a Robin Trower drum loop that just happens to fit perfectly. Sometimes you slap things together kind of haphazardly and magic happens. "Bozack" was the first beat Sam made using Pro Tools, his first foray into using chopped sounds instead of loops, an exciting new world. "Church" is beat interlude using a Phil Upchurch loop with the "Long Red" drums - a favourite break of Dilla et al. Sam was really on a tear in late 2004, probably because he was unemployed and phoneless and able to just make beats all day. He made "Splash One" on a borrowed Yamaha SU700 and again was experimenting with tapping the drums in live with his fingers, instead of using a loop or sequenced pattern. Channeling 9th Wonder, Sam used a water splash sound effect from a Batman record as a percussive element, hence the title (also a 13th Floor Elevators reference). The main loop is a backwards portion of one of his favourite Roy Ayers songs.

"Hank" is another fun little beat interlude thing, created on a borrowed Roland SP202 sampler with the fantastic Lo-Fi effect that resembled the Emu SP1200 at a fraction of the price. "73 goatee", from 99, is another of his oldest surviving beats, created in his bedroom with his Yamaha SU10 and his brother's Vestax MR-300 4-track recorder: "This one will always feel special. I can remember having a feeling all the way back then on the night that I created it that this was a solid beat with a catchy loop. There was something in the Fender Rhodes melody that resonated with me emotionally, and I had never heard a producer sample that portion before. I felt like I had found my own unique sound, my own unique loop. It came from an Ahmad Jamal '73. I actually even recorded myself rapping and scratching over this beat way back then, I still have that version in all its imperfect sloppy glory."

Sam explains just how much these tracks mean to him: "They all have immense historical and sentimental value and I'm proud of them. These beats come from an innocent, simple time when I was just figuring out how to craft these sounds. They're something very personal to me. They are the initial part of a journey that I really was taking *alone*. There was no YouTube. I couldn't Google shit. I didn't even know any other beatmakers, producers or DJs in my town that could teach me anything. It was always just me, alone, in a room with some equipment - chasing the funky symphonies that filled my head and my dreams. What I was doing wasn't cool. Most of my peers thought I was a weirdo and couldn't care less. Creating these sounds was an anti-social endeavour. In a sense, I felt like it was me against the world, and all I had to instruct and assist me were the recordings produced by my heroes - RZA, DJ Premier, Erick Sermon, Beatminerz, Showbiz, Diamond D, Beatnuts, Prince Paul, The Bomb Squad, Pete Rock, Q-Tip, E-Swift, Mista Lawnge, DJ Shadow, Cut Chemist, Peanut Butter Wolf, El-P and so many more...I dedicate this collection to them, and to my older brother Joe who has always been a musical and technical guiding light for me.

This was a time before every kid was a self-described producer and beatmaker, before everyone had a DAW, before Kanye and "chipmunk soul", before Red Bull beat battles, before there was any social media beyond chat rooms and AOL Instant Messenger, before Soundcloud, before SP-404 mania, before lo-fi beats to study to, before Splice, before targeted ads for MIDI chord packs, etc. In 99 when I told people that I had a sampler and made beats I was mostly met with bewildered confusion and indifference. Kids and adults alike would wonder why I got this weird machine for Christmas instead of something worthwhile like a Playstation or a mountain bike or even a guitar for that matter because at least that could be used to make "real music". Back then, sampling was still not widely respected as an art form - it was seen as lazy, talentless and unoriginal at best and outright criminal theft at worst. I had gotten respect for playing drums and guitar and things of that nature but this was a step in the wrong direction in the eyes of many."

The cover photo is a picture of Sam standing on his back porch in the latter part of 1998, just before he got his first sampler. He was 13 years old, in 8th grade. His dad took the picture with his 35mm film camera: "I actually wanted to be pointing my dad's .22 pistol at the camera lens but he wouldn't let me. He gave me an old walking cane to use instead. The Tommy Hilfiger puffer jacket came from the lost and found at William Fleming High School where my mom worked as a secretary. I was thrilled when she brought it home because we never spent money on expensive name brand clothing like that - we were for the most part strictly a sale rack, bargain bin, thrift store, yard sale, flea market kind of family when it came to clothes. My watch is some cheap off-brand fake gold department store watch." Mastering for this vinyl edition was overseen by Be With regular Simon Francis and it was cut by the esteemed Cicely Balston at Abbey Road Studios to be pressed in the Netherlands by Record Industry.

Secret Soul Society aka Cal Gibson backs up his already assured reputation for being something of an edit maestro here. 'Julians Cabbages' kicks off with dubby downtempo drums and some lovely twinkling arps. 'Make It All True' then refracts a shimmering vocal and some nice musical percussion around a lazy groove and 'Finally Got My Life Together' has a dreamy feeling and widescreen synth architecture. 'Next To You' shuts down with more textured bass and another weird yet wonderful vocal sample.

Following the hyperactive “Blood Karaoke” (2022, Reading Group), “Performing Belief” builds rhythmic thickets from gathered sounds interwoven with synths, drum machines and other samples. Having built these rhythmic nests, Krivchenia then called on two contemporary mages of the low end: electric bassist and fellow Angeleno Sam Wilkes (Wilkes/Gendel) and double bassist/multi-instrumentalist from Krivchenia’s native Chicago, Joshua Abrams (Natural Information Society). Wilkes and Abrams bring the presence of a grounding human witness to the rhythmic undergrowth, providing a centering and even at times melodic voice to the gathering. This alchemy carries a profoundly fresh sense of time, blurring the edges of the quantized grid and the generic boundaries of electronic music.

The core of the album is a lush, opulent matrix of percussion ranging from the familiar—hand claps and drum machines—to the mysteriously verdant, sampled largely from Krivchenia’s own performed field recorded collection. For years, he would record any and all of his musical encounters with natural objects: performing on a particularly resonant log on a hike, throwing rocks into a pristine pond, tap dancing in the mud. This archive of “natural” sounds became the fertile soil out of which the tracks on “Performing Belief” grew. What is gained in the process is not just a novel set of sounds, but a new rhythmic language. The particular give, the anticipatory rustle, the extra breath of a hollow log when functioning as a kickdrum provides a greenness that overtakes the rhythmic grid, giving this music a peculiar kind of stickiness. This rhythmic language, set in Krivchenia’s long-fermenting electronic musical palate, feels like a revelation, even while it calls back not only to his wonderfully elastic timekeeping behind the kit with his beloved band Big Thief, but also to his prior work in computer music as well as his deep study and love of the vast human archive of drumming. “Performing Belief” is in good company in the rank and file of the legendary Planet Mu label. From the foundational early releases of the likes of Jega and Venetian Snares, to the contemporary envelope-warping work of Jlin and hundreds of brilliant releases in between, Planet Mu has been a beacon of forward-thinking rhythmic music for decades, informing Krivchenia’s own sense of the weird metaphysics of musical time since he was a kid. Krivchenia’s contribution to this history calls to mind the principle of organic danceability that subtends Mu’s whole catalogue, while bending our sense of rhythm in new and gracious dimensions. Krivchenia brings out the loamy complexity of natural rhythms, a clearing as generous as it is inviting. Let the drummer give you some.

“Music is the weed that keeps popping out of the concrete in my life. It just seems to want to come out.” –Jeff Bridges

Extensive booklet including liner notes by Sam Sweet, new interviews with Jeff Bridges, and never-before-seen archival photos.

Featuring Burgess Meredith (Rocky, Batman), members of Oingo Boingo, and assorted characters from the West Los Angeles art and music underground
Culled from a single decaying cassette tape labeled “July 1978,” these recordings are a window into the secret musical life of the Dude. Even after becoming one of Hollywood’s biggest stars, Bridges spent all his free time jamming and recording with a trusted circle of musicians composed of childhood friends, artists, and assorted L.A. oddballs.

Imagine The Band playing at CBGB with The Exploding Plastic Inevitable. Or Arthur Russell and the Talking Heads collaborating on a suite of mutant disco. Though Bridges and his friends were brought up around the movie industry, they decided to create their own private musical universe, where they could be as weird as they wanted.

Their music opens a portal to a hidden world of outlandish creativity and camaraderie in 1970s Los Angeles. It’s the missing piece of his musical evolution, revealed here for the first time in all its joyful abandon.

Waxwork Records is proud to present BARBIE Score From The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack composed by Mark Ronson and Andrew Wyatt! The score is featured in the juggernaut film Barbie, directed by Greta Gerwig and starring Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling as Barbie and Ken.

On composing the score, Ronson says, “Greta’s Barbie overflows with emotion in a way that inspires us to no end, not just with harmony and melody but also textures, sonics and rhythms. Sometimes Greta wanted us to elicit tears, sometimes she wanted it to feel like a disco. Sometimes she loved the warmth of vintage analogue synthesizers, sometimes she wanted the richness of the orchestra. Often, she wanted both.

“The late nights and crazy hours we put into Barbie were all worth it to us, because we were so in love with this film. And we truly hope listening to our score from beginning to end will give others the same emotional, whimsical experience they had watching this magical film.”

The highly anticipated film score vividly brings Gerwig’s vision to life and adds the perfect layer to the film that immerses fans into the Barbie Universe.

Tracklist:Creation of Barbie , Pink ("Barbie" Opening Theme) *Lizzo Cover , Beach Off , Ken Thinks , Stairway to Weird Barbie , Thoughts of Death , Send Me Through the Portal , Ken Makes a Discovery , Bus Stop Billie *Billie Eilish Cover , Mattel , Meeting Ruth *Billie Eilish Cover , You Failed Me! , Alan vs Kens , Deprogramming , Warmth of Your Gaze , An Ending , I Don't Have an Ending , What Was I Made For? (Epilogue) *Billie Eilish Cover

ON SAND COLOUR VINYL FOR FIRST TIME

Post-Punk? Indie-Rock? Post-Hardcore? The Van Pelt walked between all these worlds. Spoken/sung vocals, anthemic pop hooks, fiery guitars and a tightly wound rhythm section made them stand outs of the DIY basement scene they emerged from.
RELATED TO: The Lapse, Native Nod, St Vincent, Blonde Redhead, Enon, Jets to Brazil, Vague Angels.

ABOUT “STEALING FROM OUR FAVORITE THIEVES”:
90s NYC indie heroes The Van Pelt have had a lasting power far greater than so many of the other once bigger bands of that era have had. The sort of interest that has neither waxed nor waned over the decades since they disbanded, yet just mysteriously continues on despite their discography being out of print since the end of the last millennium. So what is it that sets them apart? Too soft to have ran with the AmRep or Touch and Go crowds, not hip enough to have made sense on Matador or Merge, ernest yet not histrionic enough to make it onto the “best emo bands” lists, not weird enough to be on bills with Arto Lindsay and Thurston Moore, etc. In a sense, their outsider status comes not from the wings, but from the dead center eye of the storm. The 90s were happening all around them, they were witnesses thereof, yet they emerged transcendent of it all. You Follow? Maybe it’s worth having a listen to see what I mean.
Barcelona’s La Castanya records is treating us with the first ever rerelease of the two Van Pelt albums to mark the 20th anniversary of Sultans of Sentiment, their benchmark album. They teased us in 2014 that this might be on the docket with the release of Imaginary Third, a collection of singles and unreleased Van Pelt tracks which were originally intended to have been the components of their third album, including the alt-famous “Speeding Train”. Now we’ll finally have access to their entire discography. The first album, Stealing From Our Favorite Thieves is an explosion of anthems belted out as if the war was already lost yet they were hoisting that tattered banner anyhow until there wasn’t a shred to salvage. The momentum coming out of that album had every major label in the States salivating at the possibility of turning them into the next Nirvana. Instead, The Van Pelt followed it up by pulling the van into the garage, leaving the engine running, funneling the exhaust into their lungs, and blissfully deciding to bow out of the race with the epic Sultans of Sentiment. Of course as the story goes, their intended financial flop was the exact opus that jettisoned them into the history books. Buy both albums. You’ll need them both.

Two-Piers präsentiert die nächste Killer-Compilation: "Weird Scenes From The Hangout (Psychedelic & Freakbeat Dancefloor Anthems 1967-1982)", kuratiert von Richard Norris (The Grid, Beyond The Wizard's Sleeve, The Time And Space Machine) und zentriert um seine Liverpooler Clubnacht "The Hangout" in den 1980ern. Dort brachten er und weitere DJs bewusstseinsverändernden Wahnsinn aus Psychedelia und Freakbeat auf die Tanzfläche. Herausragende Songs wie "The Left Banke - I've Got Something On My Mind", "The Turtles - Buzzsaw" oder "Can - Outside Your Door" wurden zu echten Hangout-Hymnen. Man widmete der eher trendy Ausbeute der Spät-Sechziger ebenso viel Zeit wie angesagten Acts, solange der Groove auf dem Dancefloor funktionierte. Das Hangout kam und ging im Nu, aber sein Erbe, psychedelische Fußstampfer auf die Fläche zu bringen, lebt weiter, gemeinsam mit der Liebe zu allem, was mit Beat und Freak zu tun hat.
** Exclusive tracks to Vinyl Format

Mac DeMarco, formerly Makeout Videotape, is the anti-thesis to your stereotypical singer-songwriter. Disregarding the seriously somber moments, he replaces them with whimsical and youthful spontaneity, whilst retaining the endearing and subtle commentaries that exude his familiarity. Promptly after leaving his Edmonton garage for Vancouver he embarked on a North American tour accompanying fellow Canadians Japandroids on a grand voyage of enlightenment and alcoholic debauchery. DeMarco's a weird cat cultivating an affinity for occult imagery, nudity and social satire. But his most impressive trait is his undeniable and instinctual ability to compose magical pop jangles, of which he'll likely refer to as "jizz jazz". His dusted jams have garnished him accolades that are as ever-increasing as his song writing abilities; his sound rendering comparisons, but in a nomadic fashion alluding no distinct origin. DeMarco's debut solo EP entitled "Rock And Roll Night Club" will ramble into the great unknown guided by Captured Tracks, DeMarco's inner Elvis a tow.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Mike Paradinas, veteran producer and Planet Mu label owner has written a new album called 'Grush' and it's full of weird bangers that reclaim the 'dance' part of the woeful term IDM. A back-to-first-principles record, inspired in part by the group of artists IDM was coined for; melodic dance music that didn't come out of urban scenes, but interpreted them from a distance. The tracks on 'Grush' are all road-tested live favorites developed with feedback from Mike's touring partner and visuals guy Mora (Jan Moravec). It's a detailed and energetic journey which replicates the flow of a live gig. A lot of the tracks have been made in hotel rooms in response to shows, 'Imperial Crescent' is named after a Japanese Hotel, as is 'Belvedere' in Prague, while some tracks such as 'Hyper Daddy' were created specifically to play live. Drums are confidently at the fore here and the album feels like it traces Mike's musical history and interests neatly around his sweetly nostalgic melodies, with atmospheres and structures which twist and turn with a charming softness which contrasts with the tension in the drums. Take 'Hyper Daddy's' spiralling notes and twinkling piano which remind one of early Black Dog or Omni Trio rushing alongside splashy jungle drums, or the aquatic acid footwork of the title track with its drums softly bubbling and kicking. Elsewhere there's territory which harks back to his Tusken Raiders pseudonym, like the heads down Drexciyan funk of 'Windsor Safari Park,' which transforms from moody electro into a sunny hardcore track midway. The album is interspersed with Reticulum A, B and C at the start middle and end of the album which suggest a theme which carries across the music in an effortless and joyful way. 'Grush' is a strong album that works both for listening and DJing and a great snapshot of where Mike Paradinas musical head is at in 2024.Tracklist Vinyl A: 1/Reticulum A 2/Hyper Daddy 3/Fogou B: 1/Magic Pony Ride (Pt.4) 2/Imperial Crescent 3/Reticulum B 4/Grush C: 1/Belvedere 2/Raver 3/Windsor Safari Park 4/Hastings D: 1/Manscape 2/Metaphonk 3/Reticulum C

Coming out on September 6th on Sharptone Records, Sundiver is Boston Manor’s fifth album and one that represents a glimmering dawn for the Blackpool five-piece. Grown from a seedbed of optimism and sobriety, the LP celebrates new beginnings, second chances and rebirth. With two members recently stepping into fatherhood, hope is baked into every note. “Datura came out of these really dark few years over the hangover of the pandemic,” Henry reflects. “I'd been struggling a lot with drinking and not taking care of myself and bad mental health and stuff. We wanted Sundiver to be the next morning of the following day.” He explains that it feels good this time round to write through the lens of positivity. “The themes began to emerge, of rebirth, spring, dawn, sunshine and then other elements just started to fit into that.” It was during the making of Sundiver that Henry found out he was going to be a dad. This album is a significant one for the band. Originally coming out of the emo and pop punk scene, they’ve explored sonics and genres throughout their career, taken risks and achieved more than they could ever had dreamed of. They’ve grown up as Boston Manor – their lives and the world changing around them. They’re now taking stock, at a crossroads of the band they were and the band they could be.
While writing the album, they revisited the bands that shaped them in the late 90s and early 00s. “I was listening to the music I loved when I was a teenager and I just thought, why don't we make music like our favourite bands?”, guitarist Mike Cuniff remembers with a smile. “So we brought our interests to the table that way. Y2K kind of vibe. There are elements of Deftones, there are elements of Portishead in there, some Garbage, The Cardigans.” He laughs and adds NSYNC to the list of inspirations. From this cocktail of classics comes a dynamic and ambitious record, rich with depth, groove and more hooks than Peter Pan’s nightmares. Lyrics that foxtrot from parallel universes to personal growth, vivid dreamscapes to raw grief. Individually they’re single strokes full of meaning and magic. Together they’re a landscape.
Container (out Feb 15th) is the first single and it’s them at their best – impassioned and infectious. “This song is about the stagnancy of life creeping up on you & how that can bring about change.,” Henry explains, citing Ocean Song by US band Daughters as an inspiration.

The concept of the butterfly effect is present on Sundiver – how small actions can lead to big changes. This is no clearer than on their second single, Sliding Doors (out April 5th). It has the golden sound of late 90s Lollapalooza rock – think Smashing Pumpkins - rebooted with crisp 2024 production and a potent heaviness. In the lyrics Henry wonders, what if?, pondering on what could be. The idea that there are infinite versions of you whose lives splinter off in different directions at every decision you make. That there’s another you out there somewhere right now reading this sentence, and another me writing it. “So much is down to chance and circumstance,” Henry says. “You might catch that train and your life totally changes. Or you might miss it and things stay the way they are.”
Heat Me Up (out May 30th) is defiant and victorious, the audio equivalent of quitting your shit job and driving into the hot summer sun with a head full of dreams. “The lyrics are about love and gratitude,” Henry shares. “Another theme on the record is just appreciating what you have. It’s about not taking for granted the things that you've been afforded.”
There was some natural magic in the creation of Sundiver. They worked with their usual producer, Larry Hibbitt, and engineer, Alex O’Donovan, but instead of recording in London again they ended up in the green pastures of Welwyn Garden City. “Because Larry lives out in the countryside now, it was a way different environment and way different experience recording this time,” Mike remembers. “That contributed a lot to the brighter sound of the record.” The daily barbecues they had during their recording sessions imbued the process with harmony – five old friends spending quality time together and making quality music.
However, the album is by no means one-note. Birthing this new world they’ve created wasn’t without it’s pain, and that can be heard in the heavier moments on Sundiver. What Is Taken Will Never Be Lost is the most-stripped back on the album, a slow rock number seasoned with the downtempo Portishead influence. The heartfelt lyrics are Henry’s way of processing the loss of his grandfather, who died in a hospice last year(?). “It was just fucking horrible. It was always cold when I went there and they were always trying to get rid of me. The song title, What Was Taken Can Ever Be Lost, is the idea of his memory fading at the time because of dementia.” Henry goes onto explain that shoeboxes of photographs, diaries and a legacy is what he’s left behind. “He lived a really rich life and it has really impacted me and my father. His legacy is etched into the fabric of history in a very small way.” This song continues the connection between his grandfather and the band, as his painted face is emblazoned on the cover of the very first Boston Manor EP, Driftwood. As well as emotionally heavy themes, there’s heaviness in the music of Sundiver too. The closing song, Oil In My Blood, descends into an intense shoegaze outro with Debbie Gough from Heriot screaming hellfire. It’s in moments like this that the band show us aggression and fury can be as much a part of positive change as quiet introspection. The last lyrics of the song, “It resets and starts again,” leaves us in contemplation as the final chord rings out.
Touring the US, Europe and Japan over the years makes for an impressive CV, but if you know anything about Boston Manor you’ll know that they’re all about their hometown. Their choice to work with Blackpool-based photographer Nick Barkworth is testament to that. They’ve been working with him since the pandemic. “He captures Blackpool in a light that really reflects the weirdness and quirkiness of the town,” Henry says.” He's got a really good way of presenting that.” For the Sundiver cover, Nick photographed a 30ft tall abstract glass sculpture made by the local artist John Ditchfield. A striking and bewitching monolith that’s familiar to them but unusual to most people. “It has such kind of a gravity and power to it,” Henry describes the sculpture which stands in a field just outside of the seaside town. “It reminds me of either an explosion or a star or a supernova. To me it represents new life, power and radiance.” Boston Manor have got a knack for that - connecting the otherworldly and the everyday, the stars and the streets.
They’re a band known for using their music to make bigger statements about society. This time round they’re harnessing the uplifting power of music, and the communion it creates, as an antidote to the daily doom and isolation. “It seems like absolute chaos out there at the moment,” Henry says. “You’ve got Gaza and Israel, you've got Russia, you've got the fact that 40% of the world is going to have an election this year and increasingly most governments are leaning very far to the Right. The internet is dividing everybody, people are getting poorer and more desperate. It's really, really scary.” They considered trying to tackle the weight of it all in their music. “We could’ve written Welcome to the Neighbourhood on steroids, where it's just absolute darkness and misery”. He’s referring to their 2018 concept album that deals with class, inequality and the bleaker side of Blackpool. “But I think it's really important to write something that people can be immersed in and find some sort of solace in. Somewhere they can escape to from the modern day pressures and everything that’s going on. We’re all in this together.”

We interrupt our regular Drum Chums programming to bring you a little V/A tackle via the 'Percussion Pals' project.
These razor sharp cuts come from friends near and far, old and new, each one primed to upgrade your record collection.

Debuts abound on the A-side, first via international man of mystery DJ Poufsouffle and his Balea-rock disco stomper "Totally Manic". Brimming with Flash & The Pan style pub-rock wonk this one boasts a growling vocal, sparkling keys and an uplifting chorus which doesn't quite break the spell of extreme silliness.
On the A2, Bristol's Spice Route rescue a nebulous reggae gem from Library obscurity, swinging the scalpel and working the desk to turn out an unstoppable groover.
Built around an irresistible rhythm section, "Gruler Dub" keeps on getting higher as the space-based vocals and trilling synths turn your brain inside out.

The B1 brings the return of Drum Chum extraordinaire Neil Diablo, who follows the Balearic brilliance of his last label outing with a cosmic caper into pure oddball pop. "Starry Night" slinks along in a chromed out catsuit, purring weirdo vocals over robo-chug and mechanical drums before indulging in a catchy chorus packed with addled innuendo. Not only is this as arch as Gina X doing a forward fold, but it also boasts some serious bass weight in the later stages - you have been warned.
We're delighted to finally feature a little magic from Australian Italo wizard Hysteric, who brings the curtain down in utterly emotional fashion via AOR disco dream "Pinball". A steady beat, infectious bassline and glistening chords play host to a swooning vocal, which reminds us to go with the flow and follow fun at all times.

100% Drum Fun Guaranteed.

*REMASTERED ROUGH TRADE 4 TRACK E.P LIMITED TO JUST 500 COPIES*

Everything on “Up Home!” is bigger, richer; the guitars are huge, as though they’re being played through the clouds, massive gusts of blue-green noise that move across the stereo spectrum like weather systems. “Baby Milk Snatcher” is built around face-flattening dub bass, with glinting piano and shards of guitar ricocheting through the song. “W.O.G.S.” is delirious to the point of expiration; “One Way Mirror” is their attempt at weird, lopsided ‘anti-funk’, the song’s melody crushed by avalanches of six-string interference. And the closing “Up” is AR Kane’s masterpiece, a disembodied thud pulsing at its heart as a six-note guitar melody spirals ever onward, Ayuli’s voice lost in its own reverie, hymning escapism via references to Jamaican political activist Marcus Garvey’s ‘black star line’.
• Jon Dale, lead review in Uncut Magazine
who grew up together in Stratford, East London. From the off the pair were outsiders in the culturally mixed (cockney/Irish/West Indian/Asian) milieu of the East End, with Alex and Rudy’s folks first generation immigrants from Nigeria and Malawi, respectively. The two of them quickly developed and fostered an innate and near-telepathic mutual understanding forged in musical, literary and
artistic exploration. Like a lot of second-generation immigrants, they were ferocious autodidacts in all kinds of areas, especially around music and literature. Diving deep into the music of afro-futurist luminaries such as Sun Ra, Miles Davis, Lee Perry and Hendrix, as well as devouring the explorations of lysergic noise and feedback from contemporaries like Sonic Youth and Butthole Surfers, they also thoroughly immersed themselves in the alternate literary realities of sci-fi and ancient history (the fascination with the arcane that gave the band their name), all to feed their voracious cultural thirsts and intellectual curiosity.

It was seeing the Cocteau Twins performing on Channel 4 show the Tube that spurred A.R. Kane into being - “They had no drummer. They used tapes and technology and Liz Fraser looked completely otherworldly with those big eyes. And the noise coming out of Robin’s guitar! That was the ‘Fuck! We could do that!
The duo debuted with the astonishing ‘When You’re Sad’ single for One Little Indian in
1986. Immediately dubbed a ‘black Jesus & Mary Chain’ by a press unsure of WHERE to put a black band clearly immersed in feedback and noise, what was immediately apparent for listeners was just how much more was going on here – a tapping of dub’s stealth and guile, a resonant umbilicus back to fusion and jazz, the music less a conjuration of past highs than a re-summoning of lost spirits.

The run of singles and EPs that followed picked up increasingly rapt reviews in the press, but it was the ‘Up Home EP’ released in 1988 on their new home, Rough Trade that really suggested something immense was about to break. SimonReynolds noted the EP was: Their most concentrated slab of iridescent awesomeness and a true pinnacle of an era that abounded with astounding
landmarks of guitar-reinvention, A.R. Kane at their most elixir-like.

If anything, the remastered ‘Up Home’ is even more dazzling, even more startling than it was when it first emerged, and listening now you again wonder not just about how many bands christened ‘shoegaze’ tried to emulate it, but how all of them fell so far short of its lambent, pellucid wonder. This
remains intrinsically experimental music but with none of the frowning orthodoxy those words imply. A.R. Kane, thanks to that second generation auto-didacticism were always supremely aware about the interstices of music and magic, but at the same time gloriously free in the way they explored that connection within their own sound, fascinated always with the creation of ‘perfect mistakes’ and the possibilities inherent in informed play.

Mike Paradinas, veteran producer and Planet Mu label owner has written a new album called ‘Grush' and it's full of weird bangers that reclaim the 'dance' part of the woeful term IDM. A back-to-first-principles record, inspired in part by the group of artists IDM was coined for; melodic dance music that didn't come out of urban scenes, but interpreted them from a distance. The tracks on ‘Grush’ are all road-tested live favorites developed with feedback from Mike's touring partner and visuals guy Mora (Jan Moravec). It's a detailed and energetic journey which replicates the flow of a live gig. A lot of the tracks have been made in hotel rooms in response to shows, ‘Imperial Crescent’ is named after a Japanese Hotel, as is ‘Belvedere’ in Prague, while some tracks such as ‘Hyper Daddy’ were created specifically to play live. Drums are confidently at the fore here and the album feels like it traces Mike's musical history and interests neatly around his sweetly nostalgic melodies, with atmospheres and structures which twist and turn with a charming softness which contrasts with the tension in the drums. Take ‘Hyper Daddy’s’ spiralling notes and twinkling piano which remind one of early Black Dog or Omni Trio rushing alongside splashy jungle drums, or the aquatic acid footwork of the title track with its drums softly bubbling and kicking. Elsewhere there's territory which harks back to his Tusken Raiders pseudonym, like the heads down Drexciyan funk of ‘Windsor Safari Park,’ which transforms from moody electro into a sunny hardcore track midway.

Los Angeles April 18, 2024The origin of this record is a weird one. In 2019, we had just returned from two long European tours when we decided to take a “little break” from the road. You all know what happened next. That “little break” turned into a couple of years and during that time Dane, our drummer, decided to quit the band and music in general (no hard feelings).. Sean and I had a discussion and thought about ending the band as a whole, but I knew I had to go out on my own terms. I had an ace in the hole, though. Jeff Murray, drummer from LA rippers The Shrine. I had been friends with Jeff and The Shrine’s founder, Josh Landau since our “Scavenger” 7” came out, around 2012. We had run into them in Berlin a few months back and I knew they weren't playing anymore. I called Josh first, ‘cause asking a dude if you can take his drummer, is like asking your girlfriend's Dad if you can marry her. And Josh said “go for it”. And Jeff was in. Honestly if he had said no, that would have been the end. I had written a ton of stuff since our last album but I had shelved most of it. I was trying too hard - basically. Eventually Sean, Jeff and I said, ‘Fuck it, let’s make a “Fake Live” record’ - like Kiss or Slayer did. John Dwyer from Osees was opening his new studio, Discount Mirrors and it seemed like the perfect place to record it. We settled on re-recording a bunch of old stuff while simultaneously demoing our new material, as the three of us were now starting to really get in the groove. The result is Strange Masters Vol. 1. These are not new songs. These are Zig Zags classics re-recorded with a ripping-ass band that’s old and angry and just wants to get on with it. We are already on to recording the next album of new songs. That one is coming soon, but in the meantime, enjoy this one…while you still can!-Jed Maheu-Guitars-Vocals-Zig Zags

"The Eighties spawned many iconic films such as Footloose, Dirty Dancing, Ghostbusters, Rocky and The Breakfast Club. Despite all the different genres, they all had something in common: great film music. 80’s Movies Hits Collected is a collection of music that is inextricably linked to Eighties movie classics, including Queen, Billy Ocean, Lionel Richie, The Bangles, Duran Duran, Pat Benatar, Tina Turner and Survivor amongst many others. 80’s Movie Hits Collected is available as a limited edition of 1500 copies on translucent blue (LP1) and gold (LP2) coloured vinyl. This 2LP-set includes an insert with liner notes, photos, and credits. "

80'S Movie Hits Collected by Various Artists, released 24 May 2024, includes the following tracks: "Philip Oakey & Giorgio Moroder - Together In Electric Dreams (From Electric Dreams)", "Limahl - Never Ending Story (From The Never Ending Story)", "Los Lobos - La Bamba (From La Bamba)", "Ray Parker Jr. - Ghostbusters (From Ghostbusters)" and more.
This version of 80'S Movie Hits Collected comes as a 2xLP. This release comes with (a) Insert(s).

The vinyl is pressed as a translucent, blue disc. Another vinyl is pressed as a translucent, gold disc.

In many ways, the music of Writhing Squares could have only originated in Philadelphia; the city itself a microcosm of creatives, go-getters, freaks & weirdos that have coalesced into a supportive & boundary-pushing crew. Former Purling Hiss bassist Daniel Provenzano & Ecstatic Vision sax-player & vocalist Kevin Nickles' first musical missive was shot forth in 2013 (the self-released CDR "Live In Space") & various singles, split releases, albums (and a double-album) later we arrive at the duo's fourth full-length "Mythology", their third for Chicago-based Trouble In Mind Records. "Mythology" picks up the pieces left shattered by their previous double-album "Chart For The Solution" and reconnects the broken shards together like Kintsugi, the ancient Japanese technique for mending broken ceramics, infusing the breaks with powdered gold. The Squares themselves are like mad-scientists, taking the ruined detritus populating junk shops & surplus outlets & constructing their own sonic laboratories in their New Jersey basements to record, mix & tweak "Mythology"s eight tracks. Their new location allowed the band to regroup, reassess & reconstruct their sound from the ground up, shearing away the cosmic excess of 2021's "Chart For The Solution" to a sharper point. Tracks like `Barbarians' & `LEM' are classic Squares; brutal, aggressive, unwavering assault of Motorhead/Stooges-inflected sci-fi punk scree, while others like `Chromatophage's mutant funk & `Cerberus's techno-slink owe a serious debt to electric-era Miles Davis or Herbie Hancock & show that the group has more to offer than bludgeoning you with sonic force. Provenzano's bass & electronics are like a tank rolling across the terrain - a gnarly construct of Hawkwind-ian headiness & `Vincebus Eruptum's snarl - uncaring of what gets in the way. Nickles' brass vacillates between Stooges-influenced sleaze, jazzy no-wave stabs, & cacophonous sonic storms, strafing the listener into oblivion. The duo are joined on "Mythology" by drummer John Schoemaker - who contributed drums to "Chart For The Solution"s epic closing track `Epilogue' - whose percussive pulse adds an organic swing to The Square's sonics, particularly on album closer "The Damned Thing"s cosmic strut. "Mythology" tackles a multitude of themes, from fantastical tales of hellhound `Cerberus' or the comic-inspired "Eternity " to `Chromatophage's colorful/evil yarn about animals that eat colors (or a Magic: The Gathering card) to the true-life influenced `Acid Rain' that deals with the uncertainty of consuming drinking water after a chemical spill in the Delaware River. Elsewhere, `Ferrell' is an homage to the late, great Ferrell "Pharaoh" Sanders & `The Damned Thing' by a short horror story penned by Ambrose Bierce about an animal whose coloring is invisible to the naked eye. Writhing Squares are in a transitional phase, mapping out a new sonic mythology for themselves after crossing the event horizon into unknown space. "Mythology" is streaming on most DSPs & released on black vinyl & limited fluorescent green vinyl (while supplies last) on April 26th, 2024.

In many ways, the music of Writhing Squares could have only originated in Philadelphia; the city itself a microcosm of creatives, go-getters, freaks & weirdos that have coalesced into a supportive & boundary-pushing crew. Former Purling Hiss bassist Daniel Provenzano & Ecstatic Vision sax-player & vocalist Kevin Nickles' first musical missive was shot forth in 2013 (the self-released CDR "Live In Space") & various singles, split releases, albums (and a double-album) later we arrive at the duo's fourth full-length "Mythology", their third for Chicago-based Trouble In Mind Records. "Mythology" picks up the pieces left shattered by their previous double-album "Chart For The Solution" and reconnects the broken shards together like Kintsugi, the ancient Japanese technique for mending broken ceramics, infusing the breaks with powdered gold. The Squares themselves are like mad-scientists, taking the ruined detritus populating junk shops & surplus outlets & constructing their own sonic laboratories in their New Jersey basements to record, mix & tweak "Mythology"s eight tracks. Their new location allowed the band to regroup, reassess & reconstruct their sound from the ground up, shearing away the cosmic excess of 2021's "Chart For The Solution" to a sharper point. Tracks like `Barbarians' & `LEM' are classic Squares; brutal, aggressive, unwavering assault of Motorhead/Stooges-inflected sci-fi punk scree, while others like `Chromatophage's mutant funk & `Cerberus's techno-slink owe a serious debt to electric-era Miles Davis or Herbie Hancock & show that the group has more to offer than bludgeoning you with sonic force. Provenzano's bass & electronics are like a tank rolling across the terrain - a gnarly construct of Hawkwind-ian headiness & `Vincebus Eruptum's snarl - uncaring of what gets in the way. Nickles' brass vacillates between Stooges-influenced sleaze, jazzy no-wave stabs, & cacophonous sonic storms, strafing the listener into oblivion. The duo are joined on "Mythology" by drummer John Schoemaker - who contributed drums to "Chart For The Solution"s epic closing track `Epilogue' - whose percussive pulse adds an organic swing to The Square's sonics, particularly on album closer "The Damned Thing"s cosmic strut. "Mythology" tackles a multitude of themes, from fantastical tales of hellhound `Cerberus' or the comic-inspired "Eternity " to `Chromatophage's colorful/evil yarn about animals that eat colors (or a Magic: The Gathering card) to the true-life influenced `Acid Rain' that deals with the uncertainty of consuming drinking water after a chemical spill in the Delaware River. Elsewhere, `Ferrell' is an homage to the late, great Ferrell "Pharaoh" Sanders & `The Damned Thing' by a short horror story penned by Ambrose Bierce about an animal whose coloring is invisible to the naked eye. Writhing Squares are in a transitional phase, mapping out a new sonic mythology for themselves after crossing the event horizon into unknown space. "Mythology" is streaming on most DSPs & released on black vinyl & limited fluorescent green vinyl (while supplies last) on April 26th, 2024.

TIPP!

Moisk aka Pletnev & Fourmi Rouz delve into the depths of psychedelia soundscapes with their latest release “Tetris Life’’ on Terra Magica Rec. The duo skillfully balances modular sounds and shimmers through acid synthesizers with a wide range of psychedelic soundscapes from uptempo half-beat to raw, energetic techno trance, inviting you into a mesmerizing sci-fi universe.

The EP features tracks like “Tetris Life” and “A Glass of Coke with Ice”, that explore underground ambient deserts and immersive jungle improvisations. This is followed by dark and slow breakbeat cuts that transition into faster-paced, floating atmospheric IDM tunes. The 12’’ contains many choppy old-school loops and uptempo trance breakdowns, as in “Orange Button’’ and “Wrong Stability”. Featuring two weird dub/IDM/breaks remixes by Anatolian Weapons and HSDJs X Listensport to round off the wax. Don’t sleep on it!

..and this is how an endless summer night's dream sound! Puestel meets his alter ego Friebe again! Can you imagine that this whole song came to Rico Friebe in a dream?!

In that dream, he was sitting in a strange living room, playing a live set with very odd, weird and partially never-seen-before equipment while everyone was annoyingly talking to him (while performing) – one person right next to him even told him that he frequently manages to eat glass by accident. WTF?!

According to all this obscurity, he tried to escape into his performance, just looking straight into a weird countertop electronic device that created sound and suddenly he played this completely unknown song with these special vocals kicking in and he immediately fell in love with and got lost in it, forgetting all about the strange situation he was in – the distracting voices around him fell into a mute state.

Shortly afterwards, he woke up and kept trying to remember all the details, the lyrics, the melody, the production, just anything, wandering around like a maniac. Finally, all of it went pretty well and you're now listening to a dream composition. Magic everywhere!

The American singer-songwriter tradition has always been tethered to a rustic austerity, the sort of front-porch authenticity that suggests an age where home electronics are still considered luxury items. But there's also the ongoing influence of Bob Dylan and The Band's Basement Tapes-that strange and beloved document of the magic that happens when private experiments with the folk template flourish into layered and lush songs-and its genesis through informal recording sessions. In our modern age, these kinds of casual DIY constructions are perhaps the more honest contribution to the Americana lineage-the true homespun artform. When Michael Nau and Whitney McGraw struck out on their own in the wake of the dissolution of their beloved indie-folk outfit Page France, they continued their songwriting practice with a new project called Cotton Jones Basket Ride. As legend has it, Nau and McGraw were working on the material for their debut full-length Paranoid Cocoon (2009) when they realized they had an entire album's worth of odds-and-ends from various recording sessions. The resultant album - The River Strumming - was released in 2008 on St. Ives in a batch of 300 unique hand-packaged LPs. As the label advertised it back in the day, the band "initially set out to make a cohesive record, and made just the opposite." Like The Basement Tapes, The River Strumming is a document of a band exploring possibilities without the weight of expectation. The band would eventually condense their name to Cotton Jones and make a name for themselves in the indie world for their fusion of dreamy folk and psychedelic baroque pop. But in the beginning, there was this weird and wonderful collection of songs made by musicians who were enjoying the private process of finding their path. Suicide Squeeze is proud to present a 15th-anniversary vinyl reissue of this long out-of-print classic with updated artwork by Kayleigh Montgomery-Morris.

The Cornish improv noise / post-rock / shoegaze band’s cult classic debut, remastered and re-edited by Slowdive’s Simon Scott and available on vinyl for the first time since its release back in 2017, with original copies (released via The Weird Beard) now changing hands for triple figures. The three tracks that make up the album were recorded live, in one take. They are presented as captured snippets of the one song the band used to play, the continually existing and evolving ‘CPA’ (Cosmic Pink Alignment). It formed the blueprint for their unique mix of Sonic Youth squall and Slowdive-style beauty, which was later heard on 2021’s acclaimed debut for Sonic Cathedral, Sleepover. “People have told us they aren’t able to get a copy of the album, so a reissue was a good opportunity for us to re-look at it having learnt a bit more about the mastering process when we did Sleepover,” says guitarist Matt Ashdown. “Simon also mastered that, so we really trusted him and didn’t give him a brief – he knows we like to squeeze out as much low end as possible, which is why there is also a new cut; more low end means less space on the vinyl.” Simon’s magic touch has really elevated this stunning record, making it sound bigger, bolder and better than ever

A national musical treasure" The Guardian // Steven Adams, formerly of The Broken Family Band releases new album DROPS on Fika Recordings in November 2023. Since calling time on TBFB at the height of their success, Adams has released half a dozen albums under various names (Singing Adams, Steven James Adams, Steven Adams & The French Drops), his witty, incisive lyrics and melodic sensibilities taking in DIY indie rock, folky introspection, and off-kilter pop hooks. Originally from South Wales, Adams now lives in East London. “Every record I’ve made has been in a hurry of some sort” says Adams of his new album, “and with this one I took my time”. DROPS is the first album to be credited to him as a solo artist since 2016’s Old Magick, his first new music since 2020, and his noisiest record to date. Armed with a new batch of material, he began by upping sticks to the Welsh countryside to experiment with drummer Daniel Fordham and bassist David Stewart - both formerly of psych oddballs The Drink. The trio then took the songs to Big Jelly, a converted chapel on the south coast, with co-producer Simon Trought (Comet Gain, Johnny Flynn, The Wave Pictures) to lay down the basic tracks for DROPS. Eschewing a full band set up (“I wanted to concentrate on one thing at a time”), recording sessions in East London followed with Laurie Earle (Absentee) on guitar and Michael Wood (Hayman Kupa Band, Michaelmas) on keyboards. Adams then took the recordings home and to the French countryside, to work alone. “I finally got my head around home recording in 2020, while things were a bit quiet. Once I worked out how to record things I realised I didn’t have to think about time. I could let the songs evolve and change once we had the basic tracks down. After a while I started to think of them as paintings; trying something one morning, painting over it in the afternoon and attempting something completely different… it was about enjoying the process, making some bangers, playing around... and giving Simon the producer a mess to sort out when it came to mixing the record". Whenever Tom from Fika Recordings checked in to see how the album was progressing Adams would reply, “it’s taking ages but it’ll sound like it was recorded in an afternoon”. The result is a dynamic and spirited collection of songs, with Adams's love of 90/00s US underground rock (Pavement's Bob Nastanovich is a fan) to the fore. DROPS is a sonically compelling piece of work: from bleak/exultant opener Out to Sea and the motorik Living in the Local Void to the weirdly funereal Fascists (where Adams imagines the “little skip in our steps” that we’ll have upon outliving some baddies), and Day Trip's psychedelia in miniature. There are also moments of tenderness: the avalanche of empathy on closing track Cheap Wine Sad Face, and I Tried to Keep it Light’s “worse things could happen… I don’t know how, but give me time”. Adams says: “I'm preoccupied by the passing of time and the way it affects how we feel. This record is about time and bewilderment and trying to make sense of things". “…astonishing tenderness in its simplicity … brilliant lyrics.” Q Magazine //“…the tunes are instant and uplifting, but the real wallop comes from the lyrical imagery.” The Guardian // “…barbed modern life chronicles.”

KOU is the new project by Apolline Schöser (half of Nina Harker) & Thomas Coquelet.

Apolline & Thomas have been performing since 2022 under the KOU guise with 24 electronic harmoniums. Producing dense layers of tones & overtones. On their debut album KOU steers in another direction. The harmonium appears occasionally, but more prominent are delicate guitar pluckings, distant vocal effects, synths, flutes, piano strokes, a touch of musical magic and Apolline’s jazz not jazz vocals.

As soon as the needle drops it’s clear we are jump-cutting straight to the other side of the mirror. Cats purr, a woman sings as if asleep, drum machines stutter and warp and Alvin Lucier is not 'sitting in a room that is not different to the one you are not in now’. If you’re already confused, join the club. But, it’s the good kind of confused, a bewildering experience akin to the first time hearing the Faust Tapes or watching Inland Empire. Wait though, as pigeons coo and the tape machine clunk-clicks a gorgeous weirdo version of Roger's and Hart’s Blue Moon emerges to let you know this isn’t just dada splurge, there’s a genius pop sensibility at work here too. Side two takes us further into the murk with mournful detuned brass, stoned Joan La Barbara-esque vocalese and a droning Farfisa hymn, before ending with another too-tempting snatch of DIY pop. Some of the references are recognisable. All kinds of 70s/80s European art prog - think early Battiato, Pierot Lunaire’s Gudrun, Lucia Bosè and Gregorio Paniagua's Io Pomodoro etc etc. There’s a strong whiff of 90s us goof-off surrealism too- Bongwater, Siltbreeze, Royal Trux’s Twin infinitives, the damaged folkier side of Alastair Galbraith, Half-Japanese, early Beck even all feel relevant.

Like an oddball group of friends you might meet by chance and end up weirding-out with for days, the minds behind this deliciously odd music allow you to stay for a while in their strange subcultural world. You might not want to live here forever but a short trip, while it lasts, rewires your brain for the better.

The lush psych-pop sound of Copenhagen's Halasan Bazar returns with their ambitious third album, "Burns". After numerous shows, recording sessions, a powerful collaboration LP and tours, "Burns" finds the band even more seasoned and impressive, giving the record a breezy naturalism from these gurus of their psychedelic craft.

Recorded in the French mountains, armed with a magical unending bag of weed, Halasan Bazar laid down these tunes mostly live - all vocals, acoustic guitars, drums and piano. This immediacy emphasizes their blissed out sonics, buoyant melodies and kaleidoscopic composition, each moment purposefully placed creating their rich sonic tapestry. Inspired by the greats of Greenwich Village's '60s folk, the lavish production of Lee Hazlewood, vocal harmonies of yesteryear and hallucinogenic day tripping. Some surf-y guitar vibes and plenty of driving piano jams too.

Tunes like "Freak" wave that Halasan flag proudly atop infectious guitar melodies and layered vocal harmonies creating a sing-a-long anthem for the misfits and the weirdos out there. "Get Sick and Die" incorporates swelling strings for an unexpectedly dreamy passage alongside sophisticated rock 'n' roll. One of many highlights, "Burns My Mind" has a driving, catchy groove and the entire band firing on all cylinders crafting a bombastic party atmosphere.

A beautiful and vivid album from an unapologetic band of freaks and dreamers, Halasan Bazar effortlessly leave their mark with "Burns".

Steve Rosborough, Moon Glyph Records