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Following her acclaimed 2023 release Flood City Trax, a dreamy, lo-fi take on footwork inspired by the crumbling rust-belt city she calls home, Nondi returns to Planet Mu with her second self-titled album, Nondi…While Nondi… retains some of the hazy, nostalgic atmosphere of Flood City Trax, it pushes her sound in bold new directions. “I made this album to capture the sense of freedom I used to get from music when I was first discovering it all,” Nondi says. “It’s meant to be cute, fun, kinda weird and emotional — but most of all, it’s a presentation of some of the prettiest tracks I’ve made.” Though she hasn’t really experienced club culture where she lives, her impressionistic productions evoke the surreal, lingering sounds of a night out — the melodic haze that hums in your ears as you drift off to sleep. Lo-fi and melodic, yet fluid and free, her music carries a sense of flight and intuitive logic. Nondi’s influences range widely — Actress, Aphex Twin, footwork, and the stranger edges of dub techno are all felt, yet she hallucinates them through her own weathered, dreamlike lens. Her tracks often build from clashing loops that evolve and transform organically, or from familiar genre elements reshaped by her instinct for misty, heart-wrenching melody. Some moments stay closer to genre, like Broken Future 175, a drum-and-bass tear-out that dissolves into lush, blurred chords, or Just Hanging Out, a bruised and beautiful take on 2-step. Lead single Tree Festival feels like a blown-out fusion of rave energy and sped-up new-age bliss, while Death Juke drifts through off-beat vocal samples, pulsing drums and 8-bit FX, reminiscent of early Steve Reich reimagined through a Game Boy. Nondi… is a uniquely moving and exploratory album that expands her sonic world even further. Lo-fi yet luminous, playful yet profound.

Brånd is one weird/post black metal act from the Upper Austrian town of Linz.

Started off in 2015 as a solo act by Vritra (also in Kringa and Weathered Crest) with the need for a form of expression free from perfection or boundaries, over the past ten years the ever-evolving project ventured into various soundscapes, from crude black metal to lo-fi ambient and from ferocious post-punk to psych downer rock, all while splitting releases with extreme underground torchbearers like Absolute Key, Calvary and Rosa Nebel.

Joined by musicians to evolve old and new ideas, Brånd debut full-length album grew from 4-track demos gathered over the last decade to become an album of richly arranged songs from all over the fields of interest, breaking from their lo-fi tradition to new horizons.

To describe thoroughly “Tåg & Nåcht” is possibly the hardest task to do, given all the influences that are skilfully intertwined and perfectly balanced. In this witches’ brew the most schooled listeners will hear some angular post-punk à la Gang Of Four sustaining pagan declamations in the vein of Fenriz folk metal excursus Isengard. Straight forward dark anarcho punk assaults are mitigated by almost new age juxtapositions. Traces of 70’s German krautrock like La Düsseldorf are melted into a heavy metal cast, while wind instrument raids that are equally James Chance and Death In June seem to drop when least expected.

The sound is crunchy and surprisingly warm, contrary to what one might expect of a band emerging from a black metal background. But right now, Brånd is so much more than this: they can master a wide range of sounds that span from 70’s space rock, passing through 80’s post-punk and UK82, reaching 90’s black metal and 2000’s blackgaze, all in one incredibly coherent album. If this sounds too good to be true, suit yourself and press Play.
Split released with Tour De Garde in US/CA.

'The World in Air Quotes' is a genre-shifting style-melting kaleidoscope of art-rock, jazz, techno, folk & industrial. The God In Hackney sound like very little else from the early 2020's and whilst 'The World In Air Quotes' innovative progenitors are manifold - Eno, Coil, The Durutti Column, 1980s ECM jazz to name a few - it sounds beholden to none of them.

The God In Hackney's first album 'Cave Moderne' was Andrew Weatherall's album of the year for NTS Radio.

The God In Hackney's second LP, 'Small Country Eclipse', was album of 2020 for critic Sukhdev Sandhu of The Colloquium for Unpopular Culture: "Mordant music: stuttering, dread, black humour. A record that felt truly independent, beholden to no genre, out of step with all centres and signposted nodes."


'The World In Air Quotes' is The God In Hackney's 3rd album and their most musically emotive and lyrically inventive to date. It's an album that resonates with feelings about climate change, isolation, extinction, the social impact of technology, the flattening of history—and illuminates the darkness with imaginative rhythm, melody, noise & poetry. Songs range from widescreen, anthemic rock, to strange intricately arranged jazz-influenced songs, to abstract, textural electronic pieces. There's a strain of dark and surreal comedy too that runs through the lyrics and some of the choices the band makes in their sounds and arrangements.

The core God in Hackney quartet of Andy Cooke, Dan Fox, Ashley Marlowe and Nathaniel Mellors has expanded to include American multi-instrumentalists and composers Eve Essex (Eve Essex & The Fabulous Truth, Das Audit, Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra, Peter Zummo, Liturgy) and Kelly Pratt (Father John Misty, David Byrne/St Vincent, Beirut, and Lonnie Holley among many others), signalling a new and ambitious direction for the band.

The album cover features original artwork by Iranian-American artist Tala Madani, recently the subject of a career survey exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles.

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Reviews & features:

Maggot Brain - forthcoming feature

Hi-Fi+ Magazine - album review in April 2023 issue

Dereck Higgins (You Tube review)

Sonosphere - interview / feature

Weirdo Shrine - interview

It's Psychedelic Baby - interview

Spettacolo (Italy) - feature.

Ghettoblaster Magtazine (USA) - feature

Airplay:

Gilles Peterson - BBC Radio 6 Music

Steve Lamacq - BBC Radio 6 Music

Dublab - playlisted & featured in Dublab Recommends (Los Angeles)

Cian Ó Cíobháin - RTE Raidió na Gaeltachta (Ireland)

WFMU - playlisted

Resonance FM - The Wire presents Adventures In Sound & Music

Human Pleasure Radio (New Zealand)

Pete Wiggs & James Papademetie - The Seance (Repeater Radio, Sine FM & others)

Peter Hollo's Utility Fog - FBI Radio (Australia)

Jonathan Lethem & Sam Sousa on Radio Free Aftermath (KSP Claremont 88.7)

Life Elsewhere

WRPB Princeton

In Memory of John Peel

Mike Watt's Watt from Pedro Show

OOOOH! by Alex Bad Baby Lukashevsky with Cocoa Corner (2025)

Celebrated veteran of Toronto’s music scene, known for his boundary-pushing approach to folk and avant-garde music, twists rock music into strange and brilliant new shapes with the help of young jazz players, U.S. Girls, and his own immensely talented son.



OOOOH! is hard on the outside and soft on the inside. Made in the spirit of unity,
humanity, and poetry — disobediently renouncing the glory of personal triumph for the
generosity of an honest experiment. On the last track of the album you’ll hear “Or do you only ever never want to make a single enemy? / That’s not freedom or humility / It’s nothing, honestly.” Oooh, that's a bad baby!

A celebrated Toronto songwriter and performer, Alex Lukashevsky has always been disobedient. Which simply means, nothing is off the table when he’s looking for his
poetic voice; when trying to find the realest I of the teller. As he sings on the lead track “that musician that’s dead” The musician is radical/ it’s the world that’s demented/ listening with their eyes, the music looks dented/ they’re over-represented.
OOOOH! was recorded in January 2024 at Sound Department in Toronto, engineered by Patrick Lefler (ROY), mixed by Grammy-nominated producer Matt Smith. All the songs were tracked live off the floor in two days, with one extra day for recording vocals, to keep the recording fully alive and breathing. As leader of Deep Dark United, as a solo performer, and a sideman in Brodie Wests’ Eucalyptus and Luka Kuplowsky’s Ryokan Band, Alex has been an outsized influence on the Toronto music scene that spawned acts like Broken Social Scene and Owen Pallett. (Pallett, who has toured with Lukashevsky, went so far as to record an entire album’s worth of Alex’s songs, backed
by a full orchestra.)

Lukashevsky has approached each of his albums and projects as something completely new, using only the musical boundaries he creates with each song. Even when he
has recorded songs with nothing but his voice and his own acoustic guitar accompaniment, the results are never “stripped down” or “back to basics,”
Gong! How do you get to heaven / have fun! have fun!
It’s cool to approach music as a game of “spot the influence”; Burt Bacharach-meets-Black Flag; Lana Del Rey-meets-LCD Soundsystem etc. Glorified mash-ups are promising because of their conversational nature. But they can turn us into hyperboreans; blowing cold air beyond ourselves while doing what we can to remain warm. To devise a game or a narrative is to have a winner and a loser, but we all know that just as you win/ so you lose. And does anything really change? Alex Lukashevsky and Cocoa Corner are more at ease drawing blind contours or playing an old game like consequences. They let things add up without knowing particularly how. Cognition is recognition.

Lukashevsky, in addition to writing all the songs, plays guitar and sings on OOOOH!, doing both in ways that are soulful and spikey at the same time. Joining him on guitar and vocals is his oldest child, Charlie Lukashevsky, who, at 23, is already a talented performer and songwriter in his own right. Cocoa Corner also includes Aidan McConnell, an in-demand drummer and composer, Jack Johnston, a jazz bassist and Barry Harris acolyte, and percussionist Evan Cartwright (The Weather Station, U.S. Girls, Cola, Tasseomancy), who plays steel pan and marching drum.

Working with his son and with other younger musicians is central to the album’s
unpredictable aesthetic. It reinvigorated the sound in unexpected ways. Lukashevsky says, “I had to reconsider my own instincts. I had to deal with being 99 years old.”
In addition to these performers, the album includes a tasty contribution from Meg
Remy, the visionary musician and producer who is the leader of the critically acclaimed
project U.S. Girls. Remy duets with Lukashevsky on the imagistic and sprawling album
closer “things keep happening.”
About that album title: OOOOH! is taken straight from “that musician that’s dead” an
arch and unhinged comment on the exertion required to navigate a lifetime of music making.
Lukashevsky’s delivery of that one emotive word is a kind of cultural posture, but also a
hundred percent primitive expression. The impact is never less than visceral. His vocal
delivery ranges through rich baritone blues to keening falsettos to a kind of sprechstimme that periodically steps out from the music to grab the listener’s shirt. He
doesn’t sound too nice, but he is sincere. When life gives you lemons lament.
For OOOOH! his first official full-length album since 2012’s Too Late Blues, (a collection of knotty-yet-effervescent tunes built upon the enchantingly serpentine harmonies of Lukashevsky and his vocal collaborators, Felicity Williams (Bahamas, Bernice) and Daniela Gesundheit (Snowblink, HYDRA)), Alex has once again broken apart and rebuilt his own approach to music. Or rather (because that sounds too over-determined), he
has allowed his music to build itself into strange new shapes that only fleetingly and
coincidentally, but happily, resemble anything that might be called rock and roll. There is some editorializing within the song’s lyrics— Lukashevsky even cheekily contributes to the “spot the influence” game with the line “Muddy Waters, Rite of Spring!” a funny preemptive strike against anyone already reaching for some variation of avant-blues to describe what the song is up to here. In fact there are many names checked on this record (literally and in spirit); they are the lily pads that trace the path of this expression! Palestrina, Peter Pears and Benjamin Brittain, Andrés Segovia, Stravinsky, Lotte Lenya, Alice Coltrane, Skip James, Chuck Berry, D’Gary, Betty Carter, Mukhtiyar Ali, Chuck D, Yoko Ono, Hailu Mergia, David Bowie, Jane Siberry. rhythm is a skeleton mansion / haunted by melody / feckless prodigy / the world is under a spell / cast by some demon angel / Practice day and night / Try as hard as hell / no one can sing that well Musicians are often worried by the way in which they are prepared to fail rather
than how they would like to succeed; it’s such a deep concern that it tempers their creativity and shackles their process. Current cultural proclivities, tend to comfort a certain kind of artistic failure and abnegate another kind. How many testimonials, full of heartfelt care and investment, have you heard for Taylor Swift, and yet a craftsman like Chris Weisman is often dismissed easily as though he’s doing something anti-social. what’s throwing itself in my ears and my eyes / arrogant devil ad hominem christ.
The music you will hear on this recording veers off in multiple directions at once,
and features a rock and roll spirit with a divergent heart. This is no sclerotic clomp of the Average Rock Song, but in fact a flood of humanity in all its darkness and moodiness and unpredictability. If most performers make songs that are like sports cars or pickup trucks to drive around, Lukashevsky has built something more akin to a rowboat in a tree: it’s weird and beautiful.

I must admit to being a sucker for two-guitar bands. Ok, Hendrix pulled off a trio. But I don’t care what anybody says: The Yardbirds were a better band than anything that came out of them (Ok, maybe not Zep. But Cream?).

Maybe the reason I go back so far in my references is that, within the two-guitar band format, original new roles are difficult and rare. There’s the classic (socially problematic and often boring) “rhythm/lead” solution. There’s the JB’s or Nile Rodgers’ chicken pickin’ vs comping solution (which avoids chordal clashes by relegating one of the guitars to the role of single-note percussion instrument). There’s Ornette’s Prime Time division between Bern Nix’s rolled-off “jazz” tone and Charles Ellerbee’s trebly wah. Almost everything else is a variation on one of these.


In Ches Smith’s record Clone Row, each piece is built around a different concept for guitar interaction. The delightful and gifted weirdness of Mary Halvorson’s playing is counterpointed, contrasted, unisoned with, played off, juxtaposed (that is to say, enters every relationship possible) with Liberty Ellman’s equally amazing sound palette, chops, and imagination. This definitely ain’t your father’s guitar band.
The overall vibe of the record—despite Halvorson’s occasional noise outbursts or Ellman’s distorted guitar lines (see Mixed Fridge) is neither punk/funk, nor Zorn-ish metal—and certainly not the looser parameters of Ornette’s improvised harmolodics. Smith’s vibraphone playing, Halvorson’s guitar tone (whammy pedal squiggles aside), the brilliant electronics, and (most of all) the compositions themselves are somehow strangely West Coast cool. It’s as if I’m hearing a Jim Hall concert in which one of us did a lot of mushrooms, or (dare I write this?) some post-punk post-Dave Brubeck post-trip-hop experiment with classical form.

This recording is, most of all, about Ches as composer. He’s picked up a lot on his long, strange trip of the last few decades. The Haitian funkiness of his work with We All Break is audible—but deeply buried, encoded in the polyrhythms (check out Heart Breakthrough). His long-running side musician collaborations with John Zorn and Tim Berne are also evident but sublimated here into something new.

Not that improvising is absent. Check out the compelling collective statements in Sustained Nightmare and Ready Beat. Check out the brilliant interplay and bass soloing on Abrade With Me (a Weather Report for the age of extreme weather?) Nick Dunston is my favorite bassist of the new generation, and he plays brilliantly throughout. And Ches’ drumming here has all the groove, energy, and incredible range that have kept him in demand from Saturday night Vodou services to jazz and new music recording sessions (…the thinking man’s rock barbarian?).
The sus chords in Abrade With Me do build, for a moment, towards a fusion type of climax...but just at the moment I was gritting my teeth in anticipated defense against some horrible synth solo, the drums drop out, and we’re transported to the ambient lounge at the rave, and we suddenly understand we’re in the hands of a composer with the power to transport us just about anywhere.
So, this is a composer’s record most of all; a composer’s record performed by musicians who happen to be great improvisers. Ches Smith builds here on his reputation as a gifted new voice with an important vision, while showcasing some of the most creative musicians of our time.

In Todmorden, the oddly-named market border town in West Yorkshire with a habit for embracing the weird and wonderful, a burst of sunshine is a precious thing. Through the thick of Winter, through every season in fact, the town’s folk are used to the wind and rain, fog and mist. As much a part of the town as the trademark deep valley it sits in, here the lay of the land invites the weather in, just as it does the many musicians, artists, and unique characters that have come to call the place home over the centuries.
Bridget Hayden is one such soul who found a home among these hills. The experimental musician, who invites the ghosts in for the classic folk songs that make up her stunning new album, knows only too well about such weather, how rare and treasured the breaks from it are. Her favourite thing to do in the valley, she says, is “to make the most of every tiny minute of sunshine.”
Such aspirations nearly derailed the recording of Cold Blows the Rain, her new eight-song collection released via the Todmorden- based label Basin Rock. Having hired the town’s Oddfellow’s Hall to record these new songs in the late summer of 2022, Hayden says the weather was so good she ended up basking in every second of it, only moving inside to begin recording when the sun was setting, working deep into the night to make up the time.
There’s a good chance, however, that it had to be this way. The songs that make up Cold Blows the Rain are not made for the sunlight. They come, instead, wrapped in mist and coated with drizzle, those elements shaping the album as much as the voice and the instruments held within, as real but ambiguous as the ghosts that linger in the shadows. The sound of the dark valley floor.
Mostly centred around meditative and experimental improvisation, Bridget’s work to-date has seen her spend more than two decades recording and performing on the underground music scene. She’s also toured internationally both as a solo artist and as part of bands such as Schisms and The Telescopes, while working on various side-projects with the likes of Folklore Tapes.
For all of this sonic exploration, so much of her work has been formed around elements of traditional folk aesthetics and, over time, she began to piece together a collection of reinterpreted traditional songs that she absorbed as a child from her mother: through The Dubliners and Muddy Waters, to Bessie Smith and The Leadbelly Songbook. Harvesting her love for Nina Simone, Karen Dalton, Margaret Barry, and more, Bridget takes these traditional songs and transforms them into something uniquely evocative
"It goes back to the womb,” Bridget says of that connection. “I would not call it a memory as it is so deep within my blood and bones. My mum was the source, she sang all the time, as part of life. So it was a very lulling and natural introduction. It seemed common to hear her singing – unbeknownst to her – in time with a raindrop dripping at the window,” Bridget continues. “I’ve always wanted to do a folk record as I love these songs so much. It comes much more naturally to me to sing other people’s words, especially when they’re as beautiful as these old verses.”
Underpinned by waves of analogue reverb, and led by Bridget’s stirring and weather-beaten voice, the songs on Cold Blows the Rain drift and crawl like low heavy clouds on flat-top hills, shaped by the land. The backdrop is equally as arresting, all subtle gloom cast in shadow, a gentle but pronounced swirling of textures, crafted from harmonium and violin courtesy of The Apparitions (Sam Mcloughlin and Dan Bridgewood-Hill).
“The weather speaks the most eloquently about human loss,” Bridget says, articulating such sentiments. “It’s good to feel enveloped by something so much vaster than ourselves. The rain and the tears all become one.”

On his third album as Etelin, Alex Cobb explores the intricacies of separation and belonging using field recordings and electronics, reconfiguring the dividing line between what is artificial and natural in the process. Maintaining a sense of playful reverence and lurking melancholy in its glitchy pastoralism, Patio User Manual hums with a meticulous and singular energy. From the loops and static pulses of "The Chemistry of Cobalt" to the tension and release of "Electrical Sailing," the listener is pulled into a sound world at once ambivalent and radiant, reaching its denouement in the lovely melody that closes the final track, "Picnic at Gas Station Park". Although the album might bring to mind the nuanced and imaginative ambient music published by labels such as Mille Plateaux, Sonig, and Silent Records in the 1990s, it is, in the end, a world of its own and very much of today. The patio as a stage for alienated life, pyrrhic in its isolation, deceptive in its promise of distinction. Orientation as disorientation, often unseen inside the frame but felt in the bones. What is out there, anyway, other than the thing we fear the most?



"Another day of weird weather and screens. What type of perfume did Philip Johnson wear when he designed Glass House? Is it actually possible to flee to the country when you’ve internalized a lifetime of intellectualized urban living? When you buy a DIY patio kit, you get instructions for how best to embed concrete or brick or flagstone into the natural world. The patio will make you enjoy your environment more. It will become yours. You can stand on it and think “this is Mine.” The structuralists talked about the importance of fixed camera position, but didn’t properly interrogate it because to do so would be impossible. It’s hard to believe that it really wasn’t long ago that computer music seemed exciting, novel, even radical. We’re now thoroughly estranged from eating what’s in season. Walking around the woods in southern Ohio in spring, I thought about the curious imperative of the patio, how my kids get excited about picking oyster mushrooms, the dynamics of switched capacitor filters, and how adequacy is tethered to doubt." - AC, May 2024

. 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

*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.

Here's the thing about ill peach: this band exists because they are too weird to not exist. The seed of ill peach was first planted in the recording studios of New York City where Pat Morrissey and Jess Corazza were working together as professional songwriters, collaborating with artists like Icona Pop, SZA, Weezer, Pharrell, Big Freedia, and others. Then came the day they were offered their own publishing deal. Cool, right? Well, about that: "Everyone kept saying, 'The stuff that you're writing is slightly too left-of-center-weirdo stuff," remembers Morrissey. "Why don't you start your own project?" Thus ill peach, a pop band with a punk streak and a taste for both the rotten and the sweet, with an approach to making music that goes something like: "Do you want to pick up a guitar and do you want to be on this water jug and we'll record it on the iPhone and create some weird drum pattern?" Following a series of well-received EPs on their own Pop Can Records (a record label and artist collective Morrissey and close collaborator Jesse Schuster run with friends), a digital single for Hardly Art's 15th anniversary series, and some colorful music videos that crystallized the band's visual aesthetic along with their sound, ill peach's "weirdo stuff" comes to fruition on first full-length THIS IS NOT AN EXIT: a collection of anthemic songs built out of bright pop and gritty experimental elements (Morrissey names the sculptural use of distortion on the final albums by Low as an inspiration), punctuated with hooky choruses ready to be screamed along to in the safety of your own bedroom or with a bunch of friends at one of ill peach's intense live shows. If ill peach first blossomed in New York, it took quarantine in Los Angeles for the project to ripen. The end of the world turned out to be what ill peach needed to get real with themselves. "It helped us creatively to zone in and removed us from the industry side of things to where we could just be like: this is our new identity, let's jump with both feet." THIS IS NOT AN EXIT's title is a reflection of something Corazza realized during a period of personal and familial crises "I kept walking into buildings and I'd try to exit somewhere and the sign would be like, 'This is not an exit,'" she says. "It just felt like a metaphor for a hopeful thing-don't give up yet." This combination of hope and anxiety is all over THIS IS NOT AN EXIT, reflected in a sonic palette (Alternative! Electronica! Indie! Radio pop! Coldplay!) as eclectic as it is unpretentious. Ultimately, THIS IS NOT AN EXIT is a record about healing, a process often spoken about in New Age-y terms but one that in reality can be really confusing and, yes, weird. But it is the beautiful strangeness of being alive that ill peach capture so well on THIS IS NOT AN EXIT.

Das Jeffrey Lee Pierce Sessions Project, das sich aus Teilen des legendären Gun Clubs, Freund*innen des Sängers Jeffrey Lee Pierce (1958-1996) und Fans des Künstlers zusammensetzt, präsentiert mit "Axels & Sockets" den dritten Teil eines außergewöhnlichen Projekts. Mit Künstler*innen wie Nick Cave, Debbie Harry, Mark Lanegan, Lydia Lunch, Warren Ellis, Mick Harvey und Kid Congo Powers sind hier viele bekannte Namen der ersten zwei Teile "We Are Only Riders" und "The Journey Is Long" vereint. Zum ersten Mal dabei sind keine Geringeren als Mark Stewart, Thurston Moore, Primal Scream, Andrew Weatherall und Punkikone Iggy Pop! Koordiniert von Pierce"s musikalischem Wegbegleiter Cypress Grove, schaffen es die Musiker*innen auch beim dritten Teil, aus Songskizzen, Demoaufnahmen, Riffs, Textfetzen und Soundschnippseln, die Pierce vor seinem Tod aufgenommen und niedergeschrieben hatte, neue und atemberaubende Songs zu machen.

Michael Mayer’s IMARA imprint is proud to announce a reissue of German electronica maestro Schlammpeitziger’s second album, Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut. Originally released in 1996 by Köln’s A-Musik label, it was the first Schlammpeitziger release to signal to a much wider audience that there was something very special going on in the music of Jo Zimmermann, the mastermind behind Schlammpeitziger. And while he’s subsequently gone on to release a further eight albums for labels like Sonig, Pingipung, and Bureau B, Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut is where it really all started for this most singular musician, illustrator and performance artist. Named after the ‘Schlammpeitzger’ or Weather Loach, a fish that breathes through its intestines, moves through substrate, and is surprisingly sensitive to changes in barometric pressure – hence its name – Schlammpeitziger is a similarly remarkable, singular creature.

Like all Schlammpeitziger’s music, Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut is overflowing with melody. Using the simplest of set-ups – much of his early music was made with Casio keyboards – Zimmermann magics entire worlds of joy and melancholy. The nine songs here are both rich tributes to the joys of the everyday, and surreal fantasias. “Cosmic Fick” sails out to sea on clouds of taffy and spindrift; “Winterschlafsüßbärentraum” slips and slides around a dream aviary of the mind; the closing “Mango und Papaja auf Tobago” is a diorama spun from springs and Slinkys. Sometimes there are echoes of more peaceable Kosmische music – think Cluster circa Sowiesoso – and both the pacing and the amorphous, tactile textures sometimes recall Chris & Cosey. But Zimmermann’s unique signature is everywhere on Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut – simply put, no one else makes music quite as lovely and incandescent as this.

The album’s initial release coincided with an explosion of interest in the music coming out of Köln. This was a unique moment – one where pop, techno, house, ambience, avant-gardism, musique concrete, heavy DSP, and all kinds of other creative phenomena got muddied up in the ‘general jelly’ of Köln’s fast-moving, spirited musical communities. Zimmermann was closely aligned with the music coming out of the A-Musik and Sonig labels – a tightly-knit collection of artists centred around the A-Musik record store, making all kinds of weird and wonderful music, from the electronica of Mouse On Mars to the compositions of Marcus Schmickler, from the electro-acoustics of C-Schulz and Hajsch to the digitalia of FX Randomiz. Zimmermann himself would collaborate with the latter on an album under the name Holosud; friends such as Mouse On Mars and Kompakt’s Reinhard Voigt turned up on Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut’s remix EP.

Here, then, is one of the loveliest albums of its era, a pop-electronics album of serious play, one as moistly melancholy as it is melodically riveting. Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut is rare beauty indeed.

Michael Mayers Label IMARA ist stolz darauf, eine Neuauflage des zweiten Albums des deutschen Electronica-Maestros Schlammpeitziger, “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut”, bekannt zu geben. Ursprünglich 1996 vom Kölner Label A-Musik veröffentlicht, war es die erste Veröffentlichung von Schlammpeitziger, die einem viel breiteren Publikum signalisierte, dass in der Musik von Jo Zimmermann, dem Mastermind hinter Schlammpeitziger, etwas ganz Besonderes vor sich ging. Obwohl er seitdem weitere acht Alben für Labels wie Sonig, Pingipung und Bureau B veröffentlicht hat, ist “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” der Ort, an dem alles für diesen einzigartigen Musiker, Illustrator und Performance-Künstler begann. Schlammpeitziger, benannt nach dem “Schlammpeitzger” oder Wetterbarsch, einem Fisch, der durch seine Därme atmet, sich durch den Untergrund bewegt und erstaunlich empfindlich auf Veränderungen im Luftdruck reagiert – daher der Name – ist ebenfalls eine bemerkenswerte, einzigartige Kreatur.

Wie alle Musik von Schlammpeitziger ist auch “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” voller Melodien. Mit einfachsten Mitteln – ein Großteil seiner frühen Musik wurde mit Casio-Keyboards gemacht – zaubert Zimmermann ganze Welten voller Freude und Melancholie. Die neun Songs hier sind sowohl reiche Hommagen an die Freuden des Alltags als auch surreale Fantasien. “Cosmic Fick” segelt auf Wolken aus Karamell und Gischt hinaus aufs Meer; “Winterschlafsüßbärentraum” schlittert und gleitet durch einen Traum-Vogelkäfig im Geist; das abschließende “Mango und Papaja auf Tobago” ist ein Diorama aus Federn und Slinkys. Manchmal gibt es Echos von friedlicherer Kosmischer Musik – denke an Cluster circa “Sowiesoso” – und sowohl das Tempo als auch die amorphen, taktilen Texturen erinnern manchmal an Chris & Cosey. Aber Zimmermanns einzigartige Signatur ist überall auf “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” zu hören – ganz einfach, niemand sonst macht Musik so lieblich und leuchtend wie er.

Die ursprüngliche Veröffentlichung des Albums fiel mit einem Aufschwung des Interesses an der Musik aus Köln zusammen. Dies war ein einzigartiger Moment – einer, in dem Pop, Techno, House, Ambient, Avantgardismus, Musique Concrete, Heavy DSP und allerlei andere kreative Phänomene sich in der “Allgemeinen Gelee” der schnelllebigen, lebendigen musikalischen Gemeinschaften von Köln vermischten. Zimmermann stand in enger Verbindung mit der Musik der Labels A-Musik und Sonig – eine eng verbundene Gruppe von Künstlern rund um das A-Musik-Plattengeschäft, die alle möglichen seltsamen und wundervollen Musikrichtungen produzierten, von der Electronica von Mouse On Mars bis zu den Kompositionen von Marcus Schmickler, von der Elektroakustik von C-Schulz und Hajsch bis zur Digitalia von FX Randomiz. Zimmermann selbst würde mit letzterem an einem Album unter dem Namen Holosud zusammenarbeiten; Freunde wie Mouse On Mars und Reinhard Voigt von Kompakt tauchten in der Remix-EP von “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” auf.

Hier also eines der schönsten Alben seiner Zeit, ein Pop-Electronics-Album voller ernsthaftem Spiel, so feucht melancholisch wie melodisch fesselnd. “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” ist wahrlich eine seltene Schönheit.

A few years back I had this dream: I was walking through vast grasslands
towards a solitary hill
On top of the hill was a movie house. On the marquee: History of Jazz.I kept
thinking about it. What was in the movie house? What happened before? What
followed? Why was I going there? Why "History of Jazz"? To reach some kind of
insight, I began a film script, extending the dream tenfold. The script morphed
into a novella-sized book, a series of songs, and finally, a "mind-movie" podcast,
forming this labyrinthine, multi- medium story – equal parts dream, film and
waking life. Figuring out how to transcend the traditional parameters of the album
to create a more panoramic story- vision is something I've been unconsciously
trying to do for some time. I've been pushing against the edges – toying with
narrative, characters and visuals with Easterween and Niagara, a weird children's
book Daydreams for Night – but the scope of life behind Rialto felt too
irrepressible and expansive to be boxed in an album. The book and podcast have
kicked open the doors – allowing the album to lead or serve where it should.In
Rialto's extended narrative, Klaus (loner, insomniac) is working a stint as a driver
for a small town writer's festival. Following a series of unsettling paranormal
events, he finds himself agreeing to a strange request - to deliver a film reel in
time for its premiere at a secluded movie house - the Rialto. The journey leads
him through a circuit of strangely located, oracular movie houses, screening a mix
of dreams, fantasies, memories and prophecies - numinous films of personal
revelation. Inhabiting the movie houses are underworld characters and spirits
with ambiguous motivations, some helping and some hindering Klaus's quest. It's
a Dantesque, deep cleanse pilgrimage to untangle bitterness and trauma,
rediscover a lost clairvoyance, ancestry, and ultimately, the medicinal source of
eternal youth. A metaphysical noir. A hyperstition.Rialto's album stars seven
singer-artists playing characters alongside mine: Tamara Lindeman (The Weather
Station), Daniel Knox, Thom Gill (Owen Pallet, Beverly Glenn- Copeland), Ryan
Driver (Jennifer Castle), Felicity Williams (Bahamas), Robin Dann (Bernice) and
Martin Tielli (Rheostatics). All Toronto- based like me except Daniel (Chicago).
Performed by the Venuti String Quartet with arrangements by Andrew Downing.
Produced by Jean Martin (Tanya Tagaq). It's my 13th album and fourth on Tin
Angel - previous releases on Tin Angel: Miracle In The Night (2019), Small Town
Water Tower (2016), and Niagara (2014). Each of Rialto's eight podcast episodes
features a chapter from the book performed by a cast of twenty five - made up
almost entirely of musicians – including the speaking voices of the
aforementioned singers, as well as Meg Remy (U.S. Girls), Claudia Dey, Veda Hille,
Devon Sproule, Luka Kuplowsky and others. Rialto is available as a 101-page eBook (illustrations by David Ouimet) on Sud de Valeur Press. Premiere
performances begin fourth quarter 2021. Happy Rialto listening, reading,
watching, dreaming...

10th Year Anniversary Reissue on Silver Colored Vinyl, Deluxe mirror board jacket, includes CD insert of Oscillate Wisely (2021), with expanded liner notes by Eric Harvey. Bonus Video + Audio of Live recordings included in Digital Download. Recommended If You Like: Pedro The Lion, The Sea and Cake, David Bazan, Major Murphy, Kurt Vonnegut & Guided by Voices. For ten years now, I’ve understood “Oscillate Wisely” as a play on the Smiths’ instrumental “Oscillate Wildly”--itself, of course, a pun on Morrissey’s muse, Oscar Wilde. This is not to say that anything about Mike Adams and his band reminds me of the Smiths (especially­Morrissey), as much as the idea that rock bands like Mike Adams At His Honest Weight take shape more or less as a thesaurus of past ideas--winking at them, borrowing them like a library book, checking them out from across the room, cloning them. But the best stuff is more ineffable, far more than just cut-and-paste. There’s a weird grandeur to Adams' music, starting with that fully formed, geekily majestic 2011 debut LP Oscillate Wisely, that I don’t hear in anything else, before or since. A sense that Adams is guiding his listeners toward a cosmic joke so personal, so inscrutable, so funny (“funny”), if you give him your attention. It's in his blood, I think. He's not Oscar Wilde, but a uniquely Midwestern type of deeply sincere romantic and dyed-in-the-wool goofball cast from the mold of Hoosier icons like Letterman and Vonnegut. He doesn’t want to believe in anything, he didn’t create this body, he­loves­a parade.­ It’s all in fun, but it gets so personal. Onstage, Adams is gregarious and playfully self-effacing, a college town denizen telescoping backwards to the brief early 90s moment when “college rock” entered the corporate suite, and performers forced to become showmen retreated to the comfort of their native tongue: irony.­And­Oscillate Wisely­has demonstrated for a decade that earnestness and sarcasm are as intricately bound in rock and roll's­lingua franca­as hang-ups and chill hangs. I’ve never heard any musician summon everything I love about being from Indiana so perfectly. And I’m­fucking­old. Eric Harvey.

repressed !

Biogen's a different kind of musician, always travelling the road less trodden. All law's broken - no chords, no build-ups and no traditional drum patterns. Instead Biogen offers listener's fragmented shredding's, constant irritations, glitches, imbalance—and enough creative ideas to supply a whole battalion of electronic musicians. His works are full of contrast. Occasionally soft and mellow - like a cloud in trousers - Biogen would call that 'sofa-trance'. Other times the music's harsh and uncompromising with uncomfortable, irrational beats and glitches - 'Weird-core' - a vast uncharted territory. Some might be tempted to connect the contrast and contradictions in his music to his long battle with manic-depressive disorder. But the disparity in his music is its strength, confounding and delighting the listener.
It's five years since Biogen passed away, but his influence is keenly felt among Icelandic electronic musicians. In the early '90s, Sigurbjörn 'Bjössi' .orgrímsson was a pioneer of the modern electronic scene as a member of the old skool hardcore band Ajax, who for a short time counted Goldie as vocalist, and cemented his reputation for pushing the limits under his Biogen pseudonym. His musical creations weren't made to serve the past or the present, but the future.
Each release and concert offered something different. Concerts were supposed to be challenging and engaging. His releases were not easy to come by and often he'd sell his music on Laugavegur - to unsuspecting tourists intrigued by his Viking-like appearance or mesmerised by his big blue eyes. He was a friend and a mentor to many; in 1995 he was a founding member of Thule Records, and in 2007 one of the leading forces in the Weird-core movement, a group of artists focusing on the unconventional. He'd encourage young artists to release their music into the cosmos - to make mistakes and learn from them - and that wouldn't be done while sitting in a basement. Many have memories of their first gig, watching a tall and comforting figure hovering above everyone else in the crowd. That was him, and it happened rarely that he wasn't there.
A fair amount of tracks on 'Halogen Continues' are previously unreleased, or self-released in very small amounts. The music moves from 'Irrelevant Information' where Biogen illuminates on 'Stabastab" a mysterious international institute he dreamt up, originally on the 'Mutilyn' LP that he handmade and sold himself. It was an anti-LP, a non-linear album of drones, crackles and weirdness. 'Bliss' is from the 1996 double CD compilation entitled "Icelandic Dance Sampler' that he helped compile. '303 Ambient' one of the recent works of the "Weird-core" era - also a regular event showcasing abstract electronica. He was the front man of the movement; regularly performing in Reykjavik with shows included lots of break-beats and 303's.
His creativity and freedom from tradition have seen Biogen gathering appreciation as an artist with the passing of time, and are hand in hand with the concept of . The artwork by Tombo is inspired by the idea of eternity and reverence after death. Nina compiled the tracks much like other album journeys on - 'I was in the car driving in the middle of nowhere in Iceland when I heard Biogen's music for the first time. Dramatic weather conditions outside probably influenced that instant emotional connection that I had with his music. Later navigating through a large archive of his recordings it took me some time until the album took form. I picked the most idiosyncratic cuts that show his creative approach most brightly. Some of them are short cuts ending obnoxiously with a lot of temper and others gorgeous atmospheric narratives - so deep and haunting that it feels like they are not familiar with a notion of time and dissolve slowly into the eternity. It's been an honour and felt exciting to have complied his work, a responsibility I feel keenly, and I hope he would like his music together in this album.'
Biogen's friend the Icelandic musician Ruxpin (Jonas Gudmundsson) who has worked to collect together Biogen's musical legacy through his DAT recordings and hard drives, and kindly granted Nina access to the files, provided much of the text for the press release. Following the album release of 'Halogen Continues', a further album of Biogen's ambient and experimental works will be released on GALAXIID later this year.

We're heading deep into the bowels of the cosmic basements with our latest vinyl release which is headed up by those 2 lovely souls from Leeds, PBR Streetgang.

From rocking it all over the globe to releasing a plethora of absolute yesmate bangers & a long player too, we're pretty thrilled that they have joined our family of music makers with their double A side E.P. 'Transpennine Express'.
GCP gets the party started and instantly takes you to 4am at Barbarellas Discotheque with stacks of throbbing-ness & pumping, laser reaching vibes whilst the boys take you down a wormhole of electronic music pleasure.

Condor jumps ships from Barbarellas & hot foots it over to Berlin to sweat it out in basement with only a smoke machine for company and tons of ravers. Pulsating synth surfs across a chubby bass with some slick as heck cosmic stabs making this a multitude of all that is good in proper dance music.

If the originals are on the dance floor then we made sure to go full on weirded-out on the remixes and crikey they don't disappoint!
ELLES totally flips the script on GCP and turns in a hazy, broken beat style electro groover with a full vocal giving it the sound of a lost track by A Certain Ratio.

Psychederek takes the 'make sure to go really wonky!' advice we gave when sending the parts to Condor and matches ELLES with his full on acid tinged psych wig-out rework. The beat sure is broken, the bass guitar punches, the old school piano thumps and the whole thing sounds like an amazing Andrew Weatherall remix from the mid 90's you never knew existed.

Something for everyone.from clubs to shebeens to after parties & beyond...

US based label, Lurid welcomes Spanish producer Señora for a stunning new double gatefold album entitled ‘Fósil’ that showcases his unique take on hypnotic rhythm, found sounds and sampling.

Señora became a firm favourite with the likes of Andrew Weatherall (R.I.P.) and Sean Johnston for his rugged grooves and innovative approach to production, melding the sounds of machines, animals, electricity and other weird noises in a flurry of FX and sonic experimentation. He debuted on this label in 2017 and has also landed on Shango Records, Night Noise and LNDKHN since then. Now based in Berlin and a regular at clubs and festivals round Europe he offers up a debut album that features nine stunning pieces that ”aim to reflect on the next evolutionary steps of the human race".

The otherworldly ‘Preludio: Ocaso Hominido’ kicks off with a swampy bass sound overlaid with cosmic details and downtempo drums. It’s a brilliantly mysterious opener than leads on to ‘Antropoceno’, a spacious soundtrack with bubbling synths, undulating drums and plenty of sonic details that paint a picture of a starry night sky up above. The tumbling drums of ‘Segundo Sexo’ sink you into a dubby reverie with bird calls and wordless vocal sounds mixing with percolating percussion.

The excellent ‘El Elefante Que Siempre Andaba Solo’ is a perfectly flabby and chugging dark disco cut with bright chords and scintillating drum work while ‘Código y Marfil’ is a futurist landscape in outer space with modulated synths and deft astral details making it colourful and cinematic. This most escapist of listens then plays out through the supple bass warbles and spacecraft sound effects of the entrancing ‘Papaver Somniferum’ and churning drums and twisted bass funk of the brilliantly slow burning ‘El Último Discurso’ before closing on ‘Fuga: La Gran Desconexión’ a downbeat offering with myriad pads circling the skies above a deeply rooted rhythm.

This is a hugely atmospheric album of perfectly realised inter planetary sounds, the whole thing taking you on a cerebral and evocative journey far away from here.

Supported by: Tim Sweeney (Beats In Space), Dr. Rob (Ban Ban Ton Ton), Balearic Mike, Elena Colombi (NTS), Andrew Wowk (Decoded Magazine), Faze Magazine Germany, DJ Mag Espana, Future Music UK, ClubbingSpain, and others.

2020 marks the 30th Anniversary of ‘Bossanova’, the third studio album by Pixies.

The band continued to work with Gil Norton after collaborating to such success on their platinumselling second album ‘Doolittle’; this time choosing to record in Los Angeles over their native Boston
(the track ‘Blown Away’, however, was recorded at the Hansa Tonstudio in Berlin during a European tour in 1989).

Their third album in as many years, 1990 was a particularly fertile time for the band with Kim Deal also having success with The Breeders, who released their debut album ‘Pod’ just a few months prior.

Featuring the singles ‘Allison’ (a tribute to jazz and blues pianist Mose Allison), ‘Dig For Fire’ and ‘Velouria’, plus the first cover to feature on one of their albums, ‘Cecilia Ann’ (originally by The Surftones), ‘Bossanova’ showed a less primal side to the band, with surf and space rock rising to the fore. Lyrically, Black Francis is even more cryptic with a recurring sci-fi theme running throughout, which in turn influenced Vaughan Oliver’s classic planet design for the sleeve.

To celebrate ‘Bossanova’ hitting its third decade, 4AD are releasing a special red vinyl edition with the original 16-page booklet being reinserted, having previously only been available with the initial UK LP pressing.

Andre Bratten was born in Oslo and grew up in a suburb of the Norwegian capital, which borders on the deep, dark Scandinavian forest. Like most kids in the late 1990s, he was bitten by the hiphop bug, but he also got turned on by the Led Zeppelin records he picked out from his father's record collection. He's broadminded enough to be into everything from the Norwegian electronica masters Røyksopp to Metro Area, Sigur Rós, Eno, Cluster and Weather Report. Currently dwelling in the heart of the city, his efforts with the synthesizer coincided with a huge boom in Norwegian electronic music, his productions recently came to the attention of Norwegian 'cosmic disco' mogul Prins Thomas and his Full Pupp colony. Andre's tracks share the exploratory vibe of the 80s synth pop pioneers, and misfit electronic pop musicians like John Foxx, who were forced learning to sculpt new sounds with new tools. Yet he updates those sounds to a contemporary rhythm matrix, in parallel with the dayglo analogue dance music of Lindstrøm, Todd Terje and Prins Thomas himself - and he just happens to share the central Oslo studio space used by that glorious trinity. But Andre has always known his own mind and was never going to be content with being just another anonymous insect in the logpile. So his debut album, Be A Man You Ant, is a string individual statement, his 'I am Spartacus!' moment. It computes almost infinite variations on the sounds he could extract from a single modular synthesizer - 'the limitations are inspiring', he says. So you'll find squelchy bugs in the bassbin, weird analogue squeegee smears, bright drum machine splats and the occasional significant pause. The spaces in his music are at least as important as what fills it.