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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dennis Brown in fine 80s style singing classics such as

• Rocking Time

• Little Bit More

• Hold onto What You Got

• Tribulation

With typically heavy production from The Mighty Two.

Xzibit – Kingmaker markiert die lang erwartete Rückkehr der Westcoast-Legende, sein erstes Album seit 2012. Vollgepackt mit Heavyweight-Kollaborationen präsentiert Kingmaker Branchengrößen wie Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, Busta Rhymes, Redman, Royce Da 5'9", Ty Dolla $ign und viele mehr. Mit einer knallharten Produktion und Xzibits charakteristischer, messerscharfer Darbietung verbindet dieses Album rohe Lyrik mit erstklassigen Beats und bekräftigt Xzibits Status als Hip-Hop-Powerhouse. Kingmaker ist ein Muss für Shops und Fans gleichermassen und wird in der gesamten Kulturszene für Aufsehen sorgen.

In Gianfranco Rosi’s portrait of Naples, Sotto le Nuvole, the ground shakes periodically. Between Mount Vesuvius and the Tyrrhenian Sea, the fumaroles of the Phlegraean Fields hiss volcanic gas and steam. Below the sleeping volcano, modern day Naples emerges in black and white and fills with voices, with lives. From the traces of history and the concerns of the present, Rosi documents a city immersed in its continuous past, with Daniel Blumberg’s minimal soundscape hovering in a sonic space between liquid and air.
Tasked with creating a soundscape that would suspend space within Rosi’s film, Blumberg called upon the extended technique of saxophonists Seymour Wright and John Butcher to create a gossamer fabric of traces and sounds abstracted from their instruments. Having transitioned from theoretical physics to the saxophone, John Butcher has always deeply considered space in the context of his playing. His concerns are with flow, density and how the saxophone is situated in the living world. Zeroing in on the core sonic properties of the mechanical and acoustic components of the saxophone, Seymour Wright has integrated its every breath, reed vibration, keypad clatter and hissed microtone of his alto into his own, unique improvisational language. In his work with these two seminal players, Blumberg makes his most concentrated soundtrack to date - reinforcing the film's sense of overlapping time and space, and pushing at the limits of experimentation.

Initially recorded in Daniel’s flat in London, Butcher and Wright centre themselves around long, consistent tones, so soft that it seems breath is being gently pulled from the saxophone's bell by an invisible hand. Blumberg himself adds haunting bass harmonica, and recordings of Wright’s launeddas - a traditional and ancient triple pipe polyphonic reed instrument from Sardinia, Italy. Blumberg then travelled to the volcanic region of Baia, next to Pompeii. Once a flourishing classical Roman city loved by Nero, Baia slowly sank under hydrothermal pressure, leaving the city in a kind of geological purgatory. Using specialised geophones and hydrophones, Blumberg took those initial recordings and amplified them underwater, sending them calling out across the ruins of Baia’s mosaics, Nymphaeum statues and villas.

“It was important to me that the music was whispered in the same landscape that Gianfranco has worked for the past three years, so that you can hear the volcanic air gulping, the lapping of the waves, the steam and bubbles popping against John and Seymour’s saxophone breaths – an echo from a suspended time.”
What emerges is deeply melancholic, tender, subtle and right at the edges of audio technology. Submerged in an aquarian mausoleum, the mysterious vibrations of the saxophone and its bell become an echo of an echo, wading from the future into the past. ‘Sotto le Nuvole’ is less a soundtrack than a process of aeration - a sonic puncture in the material of the film which allows its central message to breathe, and a remarkable experiment at the limits of the saxophone’s possibility.

Original Press Release: ‘Headsoup’ is a new compilation that deepens the legend of mysterious Swedish psych collective Goat even further. Collecting rarities from across band’s celebrated career, including standalone singles, B-sides and digital edits and two enormous brand new tracks. It’s a globetrotting acid trip of a record that’s even bigger in its scope than their acclaimed studio LPs.


From the incendiary heavy psych of their earliest work, like debut B-side ‘The Sun And Moon’, to the serene Requiem’-era alternate take ‘Union Of Mind And Soul’, to the simmering menace of their latest material, it’s a record as multifaceted as Goat themselves, packed with detours in every conceivable direction. Taking in jazz-flute solos, pounding Afrobeat rhythms, ferocious desert blues, drifting Ethio-jazz, this is, as the name of Goat’s first album made clear, ‘World Music’ in its most complete form, a sound unrestrained by genre boundaries. Yet the band are anything but lazy appropriators. They approach their forebears with upmost reverence, articulating a celebratory cultural cross-pollination.And what about these two new tracks? ‘Fill My Mouth’ is a scuzzy psychedelic funk knockout, the sleaziest thing the band have ever recorded. ‘Queen Of The Underground’, meanwhile, is truly herculean, a swaggering psychedelic powerhouse of the very highest order. Sometimes dark and heavy, at others joyous and beautiful, like Goat themselves ‘Headsoup’ is mysterious, and constantly shapeshifting, difficult to properly pin down but constantly enthralling. Almost a decade since Goat first emerged from the depths of Korpilombo, there is still no other band on earth that sounds quite like them.

Yesca is back on Shall Not Fade with ‘Paint on Walls’ 12” EP.

2024’s Yesca EP on SNF - “Mood Loops” - set a high bar, so when we say this record is something special you should take note. Of course if you already know Yesca’s music or have had the pleasure of a Yesca DJ set then you will have already this queued up.

Sweet Spot: Ben Sims, Deetron, Oliver Ho, Vince Watson, Grain (Artwork’s Techno alias). Planet-E, Primate Recordings, Paul Mac & Stimulus Recordings found the sweet spot.

According to the OED the first use of the phrase “Sweet Spot” was in 1976 in reference to tennis rackets and golf swings. It’s where everything hits just right. And that’s what this EP does, hits just right. What strikes me is how descriptive the phrase ‘Sweet Spot’ is. Given enough swings and some luck we all know what it feels like to hit the sweet spot in some regard. Finding the sweet spot regularly though takes time and skill. But being able to hit the sweet spot by design every time, well that’s something different. That’s what makes the greats great.

For us at SNF there’s a consensus that in the lineage of electronic music there have been many moments where artists & labels converged on a sweet spot. One such sweet spot for us is in Techno
around 2003 when at the tail end of Hardgroove tempos began to slow and a groovier more refined tech house infused goodness appeared in the racks from a group of killer techno labels & artists (some mentioned above) that moment before the fuller emergence of the 2nd wave of Tech House in the mid 00’s.

That sound, while often emulated, never quite hit the same for us at least – until Yesca came along. His music has everything that we love about that sweet spot. Raw driving groove, rolling basslines and hip shaking percussion. What’s different on ‘Paint on Walls’ is that Yesca stepped on - he had already found the sweet spot on 2024’s Mood Loop EP - now his sound (or swing) is natural. Repeatable, refined and seemingly effortless. To revisit the tennis and golf analogy, this is the start of a Grand Slam run from an artist ready to etch their name in dance music history. Tiger..... Serena......Yesca.

Run the Tracks:
‘How I Do It (They Wonder)’ - A masterclass in less is more, and a serious DJ tool. Full of groove - slow it down and it will light the touchpaper in a house set - speed it up and you’ve got techno weaponry. Forget gatekeeping, this will make you feel like you just found a 2004 techno white label from the likes of Grain or Ben Sims.

‘I Desire’ - House music that I reckon Deetron would be proud of... Blissed out machine funk, whispered vocals, slick jazzy chords and dubbed out techno stabs are all grounded by Yesca’s impeccable, loopy drum programming. The best tunes always end too soon.

‘Domination’ - The ever rising bass, err, dominates this track and this track will dominate on many a dancefloor, but Yesca's knack for dubbed out swinging synth lines has to get a shout out here too. He turns what would be melodic elements into what feels like part of the percussion. Double Threat. Hands Up and Heads Down business.

‘Paint on Walls’ - It would be a tough call to say Yesca’s saved the best til last with the EP’s eponymous track given what’s come before, but Paint On Walls works all the highlights from the rest of the EP into a latin techno/house infused anthem. Skittering percussion, a hint of Detroit goodness and a deep deep rolling bassline and THAT vocal. In every way hopeful yet resistant, and that is what techno is all about.

Yes, yes funky people, another super sexy, soul, classic dancer makes it onto the DYNAMITE CUTS 7” series. This all-time soul gem “That what friends are for” by the amazing Madeline Bell and Alan Parker. This version is taken from her solo album, uplifting, with a touch of Latin hip movement, is the fresh, must-have 45 everyone is waiting for. On the flip “That’s the way I like it” is a banging version club mover. When you get the best British Library musicians with one of the hottest American soul singers, the magic happens. The band is made up of some of the biggest library legends; Alan Parker, Alan Hawkshaw, Chris Karan and Duncan Lamont to name a few.

Repress 2026
Two years after releasing the acclaimed Crash Recoil, Anthony Child aka Surgeon returns to Tresor with new LP, Shell~Wave. Retaining the minimal equipment list and studio-version-of-live-show-sets approach of the previous album in order to focus on the work itself, Shell~Wave is a deeply personal document of both where Surgeon is and has been, converging three decades of experience with a continued curiosity in the untested.
“To make this project, I had to dig really deep in terms of what my relationship was to techno; I’ve been involved with it for a really long time and there’s a lot about it I feel dislocated from, so I had to really think hard about what techno is to me. I often get asked “what is techno to you?” but I can’t answer that with words; this album is the answer.” From the complex, twisting track Infinite Eye to the caustic Soul Fire, the eight tracks that make up the body of the album are single-take explorations of the vast, hard yet minimal techno Child is synonymous with.
Neatly dividing the record in two, the emotional centre of the record comes in the form of Dying, a vibrating, beatless piece that with a mantra-like vocal loop steeped in reverberating effects. Further echoes of dub production appear throughout the record as tracks like Divine Shadow, and Empty Cloud have an almost ever-present mist of reverberation, driven by the appearance of a new delay unit in the equipment list; while much of the philosophy of Crash Recoil’s creation is present, the process and the instruments have changed as Child again switches up his approach to studio work.
This insistence on trying novel techniques doesn’t preclude returning to old ones, as this use of modern digital machines with live, hands-on takes that are as inspired by 60s producer Joe Meek and 70s reggae as they are by this year’s synthesiser expos.
“For me, it’s an interesting experience returning to old techniques again after 30 years. I’m always exploring and finding myself back at the beginning. Connecting the present with the past.”
This philosophy of ‘time travel’ is inherent to the music itself as the synchronised loops repeat while the delay and effects branch out, forming unique eddies; distinct quantum moments within the circular whole; the future leaking through the spaces between the sounds. All of the concepts on the album are perfectly communicated through the painting by Taiwanese artist Jazz Szu-Ying Chen which suggests the movement of water, sound waves, and the chitinous shells of sea creatures.

Ismael Pinkler lives in Buenos Aires. Belly Dance Services head Nick Hanzo in Vienna. Turns out the exact midpoint between the two is somewhere in open ocean. So they abandoned the plan to meet on Earth at all, and met on planet 126 in outer space.

It turned out to be a strange, hospitable little world — spinning at its own pulse, 126 beats per minute, changing landscape every few kilometers, as if it couldn't decide what kind of planet it wanted to be either. Ismael and Nick wandered it together, letting each new terrain talk them into a different song, until ten tracks had quietly assembled themselves. What they brought back drifts somewhere between shoegaze, techno, ambient, trippy tribal house and pop — grounded and gravitational, emotional and mental, to put it in terms Earthlings might understand.

Now, speaking seriously: Ismael and Nick built Planet 126 by passing sounds and ideas back and forth across the ocean, night after night, for eight months. The entire process — composition, vocal recording, production and mixing — took just eight months, a dream scenario for any electronic musician. The collaboration stayed positive, proactive and fresh throughout, letting the project move forward effortlessly. All tracks were written and produced by both musicians together; Nick wrote the lyrics and recorded the vocals, Ismael handled the mix. No samples, no references — just two people building a world from scratch.

Planet 126 also marks a milestone for Belly Dance Services: the label's 30th release, and likely its last. BDS began with BDS001, a vinyl EP by label founders Hanzo & Yaman, and has been solely helmed by Nick Hanzo for the past five years. Now it comes full circle — laid to rest with a big bang: a double vinyl gatefold album co-produced by Ismael Pinkler and label head Nick Hanzo.

To call this album important would be an understatement - Space Time Continuum is the culmination of everything ASC has been building with the Spatial family of record labels, comprising the very best of what atmospheric music can be, and showcasing what is to come. Label stalwarts and debutants combine to bring you the ultimate compilation of this music. ASC is proud to present to you Spatial’s magnum opus: Space Time Continuum - Chris Hayes" Featuring new original music from: ASC, Aural Imbalance, Chronicle, Eusebeia, Ghosts of MIDI, JLM Productions, KMC, Law, Probe-One, Reviver, Senses, and tdel. ● Deluxe Foldout Box Set with Full Artwork Print Inside and Out ● Marbled Vinyl 3x12" ● Each 12" has it’s own individual Full Artwork Sleeve

Dark Entries is Elbow Deep in the Hoopla thanks to J.D. Slater. Legendary actor, director, and composer J.D. Slater is sometimes known as “the Lou Reed of gay porn.” Slater cut his teeth in the New York punk scene, even opening for the Talking Heads and Blondie at CBGB with his project Frenzy. A true polymath of the erotic, he co-founded Raging Stallion Studios with Chris Ward in 1999, which has remained a prolific outlet in the world of gay pornography. Elbow Deep collects the scores from three late 1990s fisting-focused Club Inferno films: At Arm’s Length, Hand Over Fist, and Heads or Tails. Never before released, these works show Slater digging deeper into the electronic music production techniques that were blossoming in that era, like loop-based sampling. Says Slater, “Suddenly I could have access to every instrument in the world. My whole concept of sound and structure evolved with the technology.” The works here are trance-inducing groovers, laced with acid and dosed with brooding ambience. Check out the Gregorian vibes on “Grand Fuck,” the legato lurch of “Stallion Funk,” or the frosty atmospheres of “At Arm’s Length.” Elbow Deep in the Hoopla comes with an insert featuring an interview with J.D. Slater. Starkly sexy, these tracks remind us of Slater’s creed: “The main rule for writing a porn score is to remember what you are writing for.”

“What Robot Says L” on What Robot Says Records is a deeply immersive Dub Techno journey crafted for demanding listeners who seek atmosphere, precision, and emotional depth beyond conventional dancefloor music. Across four carefully sculpted tracks, the release moves through shifting moods and textures, balancing raw energy with subtle elegance while exploring the deeper and more hypnotic side of techno.

A1. Nicolas Barnes – Dusted Maze opens the EP with a smooth and introspective approach, combining delicate textures, refined grooves, and floating harmonic layers that capture the timeless spirit of classic Dub Techno through a modern lens.

A2. Continuing the journey with TM Shuffle, Monoder – Vihreesametti delivers a warmer and more fluid interpretation of the genre, blending rolling grooves, dub-driven chords, and sophisticated sound design into a deeply immersive experience.

On the B-side, B1. Denizo – Versus follows with dark dub pressure, stripped-back rhythmic architecture, and evolving ambient detail, creating a hypnotic late-night atmosphere filled with tension and movement.

B2. Closing the EP, The Open Circle – Shinkai dives into deeper and more mysterious territory, emphasizing submerged atmospheres, minimal rhythmic tension, and profound spatial depth that slowly unfolds with every listen.

WRSL1 – “What Robot Says L” is not designed for casual listening, but for those who appreciate Dub Techno as an evolving exploration of mood, space, and sonic detail — a refined and highly immersive statement from some of the genre’s most skilled contemporary artists.

but wait a minute.. Does anybody know What Robot Says?

Australian electronic icon What So Not redefined the boundaries of bass music in 2016 with the seminal Divide & Conquer EP—and now, this moment in dance music history finally gets the treatment it deserves. Celebrating 10 years, this vinyl pressing unleashes the EP’s signature mix of relentless bass and massive, soaring melodies like you’ve never heard them before.

Featuring the timeless sonic architecture of tracks like the explosive title track ‘Divide & Conquer’ and the unforgettable ‘Trust.’ Packed with iconic collaborations with Kimbra, George Maple, BURNS and GANZ, every track on this record holds up as a masterpiece. Drop the needle and re-experience the boundary-pushing energy that established What So Not as a global trailblazer.

IRST ALBUM IN 10 YEARS.
TOURING WITH TROPICAL FUCK STORM IN NOVEMBER (DATES BELOW).
PRODUCED BY DAN LUSCOMBE (THE DRONES) WHO IS ALSO PART OF THE LIVE BAND.
PREVIOUS ALBUMS ON HARDLY ART/SUB POP AND REMOTE CONTROL.
VERY LIMITED BLACK VINYL AND INDIES ONLY PINK VINYL . NON-RETURNABLE.

‘Jarrod Quarrell, creator of Lost Animal, is one of the most underrated songwriters in Australia and one of our all-time favourites. He creates poetic expressions. His work is very interesting in a highly original way and richly emotional. The songs reveal themselves more over many listens and always feel fresh. His powerful, beautiful, transformative, and unforgettable songs possess the vast depth of the human spirit.’ - GIMMIE GIMMIE GIMMIE ZINE

‘Quarrell has developed a collaged techne​ that embodies a heart-on-sleeve attitude. Lush melodic delays wash with an influx of lyrics that pierce with uncanny imagery and diction.’ - VICE

It’s not every day you hear about a new Lost Animal album. In fact, it’s been ten years between drinks. The debut Ex Tropical (Hardly Art/Sub Pop) was released in 2011, and followed by You Yang (Remote Control) in 2016. So what happened, and where’s frontman/mastermind Jarrod Quarrell been for the last ten years?

From the horse's mouth, “I don't give a fuck about productivity”. A humbling reply. It confirms Quarrell's MO: here’s an artist as a non-conformist. And when he does see fit to bless us with his unique vision of what music can sound like, it has the ability to completely charm and disarm. Amongst a sea of rock bands, LA is essentially a solo act. Simply put; LA is JQ. But on the other hand, amongst an ocean of solo acts, LA possesses the grandiosity of a full band, punk in spirit, but without being fast, or heavy.

Armed with keys and synths, timbres align more with what a toucan might listen to, as opposed to what's heard commonly throughout Melbourne's gig economy. Strings are gently plucked and horns are tenderly blown. These are the colourful brush strokes that decorate the upper frequencies. They’re the ticket to a far away land;exotic, and potentially very dangerous. If the crew from Hear My Eyes are reading this, consider Lost Animal performing Give Some Get Some as the soundtrack to the next time you screen The Hangover Part 2. Yeah, the one where shit gets super fried in Thailand.

The album examines the underbelly of what a ten year journey might rub up against. As one may expect, a lot of that action is below the belt. Tracks like Do That Thing, and In
Rewinding, a few things have happened in the past ten years that are worth illuminating. Shags is no longer commandeering the bass full time. Though he does make an appearance on a couple tracks. The main difference from present day to yesteryear LA is Dan Luscombe (The Drones). Luscombe has jumped into the role of producer (and also part of the live band). One could say he’s a producer of the Spector-ilk: playing a hands-on approach and assisting Quarrell's song crafting. He may have suggested to add a chorus or two, but the chord progressions remain distinctly Lost Animal. You'll recognise them easily by their beauty, combined with either fragility or rigidity. Luscombe is arguably the defining force that made this album happen. Perhaps he had Quarrell at gunpoint. Yet to be confirmed. Regardless, thank fuck for Luscombe because it may have been another decade.

But the album's defining feature is arguably Quarrell's lyricism. He may not cross-examine where he's been, but his voice does unmask where he is: absolved and reincarnated. The decade-long journey has resulted in him looking inwards and unlocking himself. The album's many mantras suggest that he may be a bird (I'm a Bird Now), or that he is living on another planet (Never is Forever). Whatever and wherever he may be,
Give Some Get Some invites the listener to reflect on their own journey over the past decade. Because the game's got a price. So ask yourself what have you taken, and what have you given? Life ain't a box of chocolates. It's a bowl of berries. And when fruit symbolizes temptation, get some.

IRST ALBUM IN 10 YEARS.
TOURING WITH TROPICAL FUCK STORM IN NOVEMBER (DATES BELOW).
PRODUCED BY DAN LUSCOMBE (THE DRONES) WHO IS ALSO PART OF THE LIVE BAND.
PREVIOUS ALBUMS ON HARDLY ART/SUB POP AND REMOTE CONTROL.
VERY LIMITED BLACK VINYL AND INDIES ONLY PINK VINYL . NON-RETURNABLE.

‘Jarrod Quarrell, creator of Lost Animal, is one of the most underrated songwriters in Australia and one of our all-time favourites. He creates poetic expressions. His work is very interesting in a highly original way and richly emotional. The songs reveal themselves more over many listens and always feel fresh. His powerful, beautiful, transformative, and unforgettable songs possess the vast depth of the human spirit.’ - GIMMIE GIMMIE GIMMIE ZINE

‘Quarrell has developed a collaged techne​ that embodies a heart-on-sleeve attitude. Lush melodic delays wash with an influx of lyrics that pierce with uncanny imagery and diction.’ - VICE

It’s not every day you hear about a new Lost Animal album. In fact, it’s been ten years between drinks. The debut Ex Tropical (Hardly Art/Sub Pop) was released in 2011, and followed by You Yang (Remote Control) in 2016. So what happened, and where’s frontman/mastermind Jarrod Quarrell been for the last ten years?

From the horse's mouth, “I don't give a fuck about productivity”. A humbling reply. It confirms Quarrell's MO: here’s an artist as a non-conformist. And when he does see fit to bless us with his unique vision of what music can sound like, it has the ability to completely charm and disarm. Amongst a sea of rock bands, LA is essentially a solo act. Simply put; LA is JQ. But on the other hand, amongst an ocean of solo acts, LA possesses the grandiosity of a full band, punk in spirit, but without being fast, or heavy.

Armed with keys and synths, timbres align more with what a toucan might listen to, as opposed to what's heard commonly throughout Melbourne's gig economy. Strings are gently plucked and horns are tenderly blown. These are the colourful brush strokes that decorate the upper frequencies. They’re the ticket to a far away land;exotic, and potentially very dangerous. If the crew from Hear My Eyes are reading this, consider Lost Animal performing Give Some Get Some as the soundtrack to the next time you screen The Hangover Part 2. Yeah, the one where shit gets super fried in Thailand.

The album examines the underbelly of what a ten year journey might rub up against. As one may expect, a lot of that action is below the belt. Tracks like Do That Thing, and In
Rewinding, a few things have happened in the past ten years that are worth illuminating. Shags is no longer commandeering the bass full time. Though he does make an appearance on a couple tracks. The main difference from present day to yesteryear LA is Dan Luscombe (The Drones). Luscombe has jumped into the role of producer (and also part of the live band). One could say he’s a producer of the Spector-ilk: playing a hands-on approach and assisting Quarrell's song crafting. He may have suggested to add a chorus or two, but the chord progressions remain distinctly Lost Animal. You'll recognise them easily by their beauty, combined with either fragility or rigidity. Luscombe is arguably the defining force that made this album happen. Perhaps he had Quarrell at gunpoint. Yet to be confirmed. Regardless, thank fuck for Luscombe because it may have been another decade.

But the album's defining feature is arguably Quarrell's lyricism. He may not cross-examine where he's been, but his voice does unmask where he is: absolved and reincarnated. The decade-long journey has resulted in him looking inwards and unlocking himself. The album's many mantras suggest that he may be a bird (I'm a Bird Now), or that he is living on another planet (Never is Forever). Whatever and wherever he may be,
Give Some Get Some invites the listener to reflect on their own journey over the past decade. Because the game's got a price. So ask yourself what have you taken, and what have you given? Life ain't a box of chocolates. It's a bowl of berries. And when fruit symbolizes temptation, get some.

The songs of Jules de Corte are condensed, folky gems with an almost effortless charm. Poised between the intimate and the universal, between lightness and darkness, they touch on religion, love, loss, and the small dramas of everyday life. Yet they resist easy translation. Packed with wordplay, de Corte’s signature alliterations, humor, and local cultural references, the songs inevitably lose something in another language. Still, when a Belgian quartet of improvisers takes them on, joined by American songwriter Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, the songs are reborn rather than merely transposed: literal fidelity gives way to interpretation, and what is lost in words is often gained in spirit.

Even without tracing every change, their overall effect is fascinating. Songs are slowed down, often doubled in length, and filled with unexpected musical intrusions. They gain fuller arrangements and are placed in an entirely new context. Replacing de Corte’s piano with guitar can create a radically different vibe, as in “Mariska.” An added solo can heighten the contrast between childlike perspective and the almost matter- of-fact brutality of “Little Anita.” In “The Stranger,” another use of contrast unsettles the everyday harmony, transforming it with a subtle, disorienting twist.

Ultimately, these performances show that interpretation is not successful simply because it is literal. With the groundwork laid by Linus, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy further liberated the songs from their original versions. Lyrics and melodies become malleable, shaped by his recognizable cadences, timbre, and personal quirks. Like his collaborators, he allows himself the freedom to bend the material to his own approach. There is no radical break between this performance and his other records. Listeners familiar with the originals may be puzzled at first; for those new to de Corte, it is a wholly different experience.

Does it really matter that the original “Little Jesus, Mighty God” is a 100-second nugget combining playful naivete with biblical fervor? In the hands of these five explorers, the song becomes an intriguing contemplation, with subtle musical shades and a recitation in which every syllable carries a maturity that offers a new perspective. Then there is “The Outsider,” which feels as genuine as any original American folk song. The musicians’ process is more than reinterpretation—it is reimagination, bringing new musical compatibility and emotional depth. Whether that depth was there from the start, waiting to be uncovered, or created in the process is beside the point. What matters is that Linus and Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy have made the essence of these songs their own, paying homage yet dancing to their own tune.

Linus is the Belgian duo of guitarist and banjo player Ruben Machtelinckx and reedist and synthesiser player Thomas Jillings. Across five previous albums — Onland (2014), Linus + Skarbø / Leroux (2015), Felt Like Old language at the crossroads of folk, jazz, minimalism, chamber music and free improvisation. Their music is adventurous, shaped by a particular sensitivity to texture, timbre and the subtle interaction between musicians.

What began as a duo gradually grew into a flexible musical world, bringing Linus together with musicians such as Nils Økland, Ingar Zach, Niels Van Heertum, Øyvind Skarbø and Frederik Leroux. Yet each new constellation has remained recognisably Linus: music in which carefully considered forms leave space for intuition, interaction and the unexpected.

For their sixth album, Linus takes a new step by moving into the world of song and text. Inspired by a shared love for the late Dutch songwriter Jules De Corte, the album is a reimagining of De Corte’s unique repertoire. More than simply interpreting De Corte’s songs, they absorb and reshape them, bringing them into dialogue with their own musical language. In keeping with this open approach, they are joined by celebrated vocalist Bonnie “Prince” Billy. With albums such as 1999’s I See a Darkness appearing on several greatest album lists, Bonnie “Prince” Billy is a cult figure in the alternative folk scene, and his highly intuitive way of singing seamlessly matches the subtle interplay Linus has developed over more than a decade.

‘Unfindable Ring', out October 23 on Bayonet Records, is an adventurer’s epic. The arc of the journey, like any good Spirited Away or Neverending Story, lands its wide-traveled protagonist right back at home before bedtime. Grumpy, like many great hero tricksters before him, has always been a project of juxtaposition: upbeat radio-ready hits whose buoyant, goofy hooks belie the dark thoughts they describe. Much of this, Schmitt acknowledges, owes its due to the matter-of-fact morbidity of the trans experience in America. It’s from these experiences—personal, romantic, political, and existential—that the tale of ‘Unfindable Ring’ unfolds.
Ambition and play have always defined the Grumpy sound. Late last year, the Fader praised their “demented, hooky” EP, “Piebald,” whose innovative fuzz-pop confections earned them coverage in NPR and the New York Times. Stereogum heralded them as “wonderfully weird,” and Paste designated them “the best of what’s next.”” Through boisterous collaborations with the likes of Sidney Gish and Claire Rousay, they’ve effortlessly ingratiated themselves with the titans of DIY, and, more recently, Schmitt has become an unlikely favored collaborator of chart-topping country giant Zach Bryan, who named his new record––which prominently features Schmitt’s harmonies–– conspicuously, ‘With Heaven On Top.’
In Grumpy, Heaven Schmitt is joined by Anya Good, Ellie Long (Kid Lake), Austin Arnold, Diego Clare (D.A. Crimson), and Lane Rodgers, who each contribute to every step of the process—engineering and recording, mixing, drafting artwork, producing, and making music videos. A kind of interdisciplinary thieves’ guild, the project, while once Schmitt’s solo eponym, is a labor of communal love.
“We are living these happy lives, and there are people we come across who don’t know us at all who want us to die,” Schmitt, explains. Often the visibility of the joy itself is what prompts the vitriol––“I’m so happy I could die,” Schmitt belts over and over on the chorus (a familiar figure of speech, sure, but one which, upon any scrutiny, shows Schmitt’s hand in the macabre.) A middle finger to fate, Good started asking, “What are you going to do with your One Beautiful Life?” Grumpy is going to keep playing, touring, searching, finding.

Nine-time GRAMMY® winner Anderson .Paak and GRAMMY®-nominated rapper Cordae have been operating on the same wavelength for years. What started as pure chemical reaction on 2019’s “RNP” slowly turned into one of hip-hop’s most natural, low-ego partnerships, fueled by back-and-forth gems like “Two Tens” and “Summer Drop” and a series of dynamic TV performances that felt more like two best friends hanging out than a polished routine. On their debut collaborative album, Heavy Is The Crown, that organic bond gets the full-length treatment it’s always deserved.

At its core, the project is a tightrope walk between serious real-life stakes and uncompromising fun. The title isn't just bravado—it speaks directly to the shared weight both artists carry as the primary providers and anchors for their families. But instead of letting that pressure crush the vibe, .Paak and Cordae lean into each other. Meeting as total equals, .Paak’s elastic, soul-drenched musicality anchors Cordae’s razor-sharp lyricism, allowing both to unpack the heavy reality of success and family responsibility without ever losing their spark.

That balance is what makes the album tick. To drive the point home, the album art pays homage to the cult comedy Step Brothers—a nod to the silly, irreverent friendship that birthed the music in the first place. Heavy Is The Crown doesn't feel like a forced corporate crossover or a calculated career move. It’s a record about brotherhood, family, and what happens when two masters of their craft step into the studio simply because nobody makes them laugh, rap, or create quite like the other.

Nine-time GRAMMY® winner Anderson .Paak and GRAMMY®-nominated rapper Cordae have been operating on the same wavelength for years. What started as pure chemical reaction on 2019’s “RNP” slowly turned into one of hip-hop’s most natural, low-ego partnerships, fueled by back-and-forth gems like “Two Tens” and “Summer Drop” and a series of dynamic TV performances that felt more like two best friends hanging out than a polished routine. On their debut collaborative album, Heavy Is The Crown, that organic bond gets the full-length treatment it’s always deserved.

At its core, the project is a tightrope walk between serious real-life stakes and uncompromising fun. The title isn't just bravado—it speaks directly to the shared weight both artists carry as the primary providers and anchors for their families. But instead of letting that pressure crush the vibe, .Paak and Cordae lean into each other. Meeting as total equals, .Paak’s elastic, soul-drenched musicality anchors Cordae’s razor-sharp lyricism, allowing both to unpack the heavy reality of success and family responsibility without ever losing their spark.

That balance is what makes the album tick. To drive the point home, the album art pays homage to the cult comedy Step Brothers—a nod to the silly, irreverent friendship that birthed the music in the first place. Heavy Is The Crown doesn't feel like a forced corporate crossover or a calculated career move. It’s a record about brotherhood, family, and what happens when two masters of their craft step into the studio simply because nobody makes them laugh, rap, or create quite like the other.

“Negative Music / The Poorest! If they still know silence at all, then only as holes in the continuum of noise…” — Günther Anders, 1965

Editions Mego presents GETGETGET, a new release by Thomas Brinkmann which serves as an inquiry into silence, code, and the limits of perception.

The title GETGETGET references the trilogy of ‘Get’ lp’s made by Rehberg under his PITA moniker; Get Out, Get In and Get On. The music is based on material by Rehberg and Brinkmann morphing these two identities into a third colour, a disappearing color.

Emerging from a live performance at the label’s 30th anniversary in Berlin, the work unfolds as both sonic artifact and conceptual system: a study in what remains when sound is reduced, extracted, and reconstituted.

Taking inspiration from Günther Anders’ notion of “negative music”—composition through absence—Brinkmann’s approach aligns with Heinrich Böll’s idea of “collected silence”: silence not as void, but as a material framed against the constant pressure of noise. In GETGETGET, pauses are not gaps but structural elements, cut from a continuum and reinserted as signals.

The two side long tracks weave a dark abstract and ‘twisted’ presence where the ghosts of the machines and their operators fuse into a fantastical whole. One can hear traces of both Brinkmann and Rehberg logic which seems to fuse in a hallucinatory manner.

Brinkmann’s work reflects a broader condition: the translation of material processes into informational ones. As images detach from bodies and code separates from matter, sound too loses its fixed resonance. What remains is circulation—of signals, of data, of meaning—within systems that increasingly define perception itself.

GETGETGET is an album where absence is equal to presence, a metaphor with suggestive tones of the influence Rehberg had and continues to have in the world of the radical experimental electronic avant garde. The “zero” is not empty; it is what makes everything else work.

Brutal, uncompromising Slam from Greece. Years of obsession, ignorance, and absolute contempt spent keeping slam locked in its lowest, most primitive caveman state. Through collapse, and complete disregard for ourselves, we persevere. The "Embryectomy" project clawed its way from a deranged slam duo into a fully armed three-body beatdown slam monstrosity through uncompromised fury alone. No trends. No mercy. No concern for acceptance. Anyone who stood in the wreckage with us knows what it took to get here. We are now signing with Unique Leader Records. What you will endure in our next release is not meant to inspire or connect. It was composed in a chaotic state of antipathy, and absolute emotional absence. This is the most brutal material we have ever created—not for everyone, not for growth, but for those who understand that misanthropy is the only constant. We thank Unique Leader Records, who pushed us beyond what we thought possible: brutality to its limit while stripping away anything human. No benevolence. No empathy. No relief. Only violence, executed with intent.

Dis Fig, producer and vocalist Felicia Chen, embraces every facet of heaviness. Chen is driven by a desire to express deeper emotions through meticulously crafted, innovative production and expressive vocals. On acclaimed collaborations with The Bug, The Body, and Asian Dope Boys, Chen"s sound is indelible. Her solo work utilizes electronic, industrial, and bass-forward music as filters for sonic plentitudes, unbounded and wholly her own. Every granule of sound is in service of alchemizing intense emotion and vulnerability. What To Make Of These Mortal Hands is an ambitious widening of Dis Fig"s scope, traversing tectonic dynamic shifts and heartrending arrangements in a filmic study of humanity"s capacity to create both beauty and devastation. Dis Fig has a preternatural ability to ground massive sounds with tactile rhythms and her instinctually connective voice. The album is a staggering display of innovative songcraft and unfathomable emotion-a musical world like no other.

Dis Fig, producer and vocalist Felicia Chen, embraces every facet of heaviness. Chen is driven by a desire to express deeper emotions through meticulously crafted, innovative production and expressive vocals. On acclaimed collaborations with The Bug, The Body, and Asian Dope Boys, Chen"s sound is indelible. Her solo work utilizes electronic, industrial, and bass-forward music as filters for sonic plentitudes, unbounded and wholly her own. Every granule of sound is in service of alchemizing intense emotion and vulnerability. What To Make Of These Mortal Hands is an ambitious widening of Dis Fig"s scope, traversing tectonic dynamic shifts and heartrending arrangements in a filmic study of humanity"s capacity to create both beauty and devastation. Dis Fig has a preternatural ability to ground massive sounds with tactile rhythms and her instinctually connective voice. The album is a staggering display of innovative songcraft and unfathomable emotion-a musical world like no other.

For their eagerly awaited third album, the Parisian trio Howlin' Jaws have teamed up with Swedish producer Kalle Gustafsson Jerneholm (bassist with The Soundtrack Of Our Lives and producer for Foals, The Hives, Jose Gonzalez and Junip) and have taken a major step forward, affirmingthe universal appeal of their explosive yet elegant psych-rock. This new album, Living The Dream, crystallises just about everything we'd ever dreamt of hearing from Howlin' Jaws. Here, more than ever, their dreams take the form of unifying choruses, transforming grief ("Troubled Mind") or separation ("Do What You Gonna Do", "So Sorry") into genuine bursts of hope. Rich in texture (with the Omnichord and Mellotron featuring on the spellbinding "Miss You" and the twilight-tinged "Up On The Roof" respectively) and in wit (led by the biting "Living The Dream"), the eleven-track album is equally diverse in its range of influences. Disco looms large on "Terminal Buzz", country creeps in on "Sunset Laundromat", whilst the fiery "Maximum Speed" is a joyful reminder of King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard's trippy flights of fancy. The trio are stunning when they're in full swing, but just as impressive when they slow the tempo down. Behind its layers of cosmic keyboards, "Time Has Come" immediately sets the scene and subtly invites introspection. Like an echo at the end of the journey, "That Kind of Pain" rubs shoulders with the stars of the French Touch (the Air school), letting the strings of the Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra burst forth amidst its melancholic swells. All in all, whether he simmers his albums like an omelette or a beef bourguignon, Howlin' Jaws proves he's never short of imagination.

For their eagerly awaited third album, the Parisian trio Howlin' Jaws have teamed up with Swedish producer Kalle Gustafsson Jerneholm (bassist with The Soundtrack Of Our Lives and producer for Foals, The Hives, Jose Gonzalez and Junip) and have taken a major step forward, affirmingthe universal appeal of their explosive yet elegant psych-rock. This new album, Living The Dream, crystallises just about everything we'd ever dreamt of hearing from Howlin' Jaws. Here, more than ever, their dreams take the form of unifying choruses, transforming grief ("Troubled Mind") or separation ("Do What You Gonna Do", "So Sorry") into genuine bursts of hope. Rich in texture (with the Omnichord and Mellotron featuring on the spellbinding "Miss You" and the twilight-tinged "Up On The Roof" respectively) and in wit (led by the biting "Living The Dream"), the eleven-track album is equally diverse in its range of influences. Disco looms large on "Terminal Buzz", country creeps in on "Sunset Laundromat", whilst the fiery "Maximum Speed" is a joyful reminder of King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard's trippy flights of fancy. The trio are stunning when they're in full swing, but just as impressive when they slow the tempo down. Behind its layers of cosmic keyboards, "Time Has Come" immediately sets the scene and subtly invites introspection. Like an echo at the end of the journey, "That Kind of Pain" rubs shoulders with the stars of the French Touch (the Air school), letting the strings of the Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra burst forth amidst its melancholic swells. All in all, whether he simmers his albums like an omelette or a beef bourguignon, Howlin' Jaws proves he's never short of imagination.

Seven years after the haunting resonance of Voids, electronic pioneer Martyn returns to the album format with Music For Existing. Arriving on 15 May 2026, the record is more than a collection of tracks; it is a profound exploration of what it means to remain devoted to a craft in an era of relentless noise.

The album’s announcement is heralded by the lead single "Heavy Sound." The track serves as the perfect bridge between Martyn’s past and present - a masterclass in tension and release that previews the album’s dialogue between the producer, the musicians, and the audience. We live inside a culture that has prioritised and monetised restlessness. The modern apparatus runs on the continuous production of "next," driven by algorithms that value novelty over depth.

Music For Existing serves as a love letter to the communal act of making music - something that is both healing and inherently defiant. For Martyn, a musician often finds solace in musical conversation with others; in the moment we press record, we simply exist together. This record is an invitation to build human infrastructure around what we love, leaning into the fluid nature of community and seeing exactly where the music takes us when we choose to listen.

The album is a sprawling, "off-the-grid" tapestry that echoes Martyn’s profound appreciation for jazz - free, instinctive, and bursting in every sonic direction. This collection features an expansive cast of collaborators, including Duval Timothy, Dan Only, Lucinda Chua, and Mark Cisneros. The record is further elevated by the contributions of jazz talents Mischa Porte and Cees Bruinsma, alongside the evocative words of writer and poet Musa Okwonga.

While the acoustic textures and improvisational spirit of this record may feel like a departure, they represent a homecoming. Jazz has always been ingrained in Martyn’s work; even in his most stripped-back club tracks, the DNA of swing, syncopation, and free-form structure was always present, if not always visible.

Music For Existing marks the beginning of an exciting journey that will continue from the studio to the stage, celebrating the radical act of existing in the moment.

Phenomena begins with two artistic voices that seem to speak different languages. Barcelona-based producer R-010 (Lucas Rojo) approaches composition through rhythm, space and electronic transformation; Madrid-born vocalist and multidisciplinary artist Venerandi through texture, breath and the expressive possibilities of the human voice. By the time the album reaches its final moments, that distinction has quietly disappeared.

Rather than functioning as a meeting point between two individual practices, Phenomena gradually
becomes a third language—one that belongs to neither artist alone. Voice no longer sits above the music
but moves inside it, dissolving into layers of synthesis, percussion and guitar until performance itself
becomes another malleable sound source. Likewise, electronic production never behaves as a fixed
environment; it constantly adapts, absorbs and responds, allowing acoustic gestures and digital
manipulation to reshape one another in real time.

This continuous transformation defines the record more than any particular genre ever could. Echoes of trip hop, bass music, psychedelia and experimental electronics drift across its surface, yet they are never
presented as stylistic markers. Instead, they appear as temporary states within an ecosystem that remains
in constant motion, where dense rhythmic passages collapse into suspended atmospheres and moments
of stillness carry as much weight as those driven by pulse.

The presence of Matteo Caro (guitar and percussion), Pablo Gorostiaga (guitar) and Alessio Rodolico
(percussion) further expands this dialogue. Their contributions are not decorative additions but structural
ones, gradually dissolving the distinction between composition, improvisation and production. Instruments
emerge, mutate and disappear inside the same sonic fabric, making it increasingly difficult to distinguish
what was performed from what was transformed.

With Phenomena, Lapsus Records presents a work that feels less interested in crossing genres than in
questioning the borders between artistic identities themselves. The album never asks the listener to decide
where the human ends and the machine begins. Instead, it quietly suggests that, after enough careful
listening, the question itself may no longer matter.

TAR048 Chaz Moloney - Tar 48 - TH Tar Hallow The room exhales.The tunes work in the low. Moloney locks the loops. The floor feels low to the dancers, everyone dives higher. A1 - Chaz Moloney - Behind The Red Curtains A2 - Chaz Moloney - Irritation Realm B1 - Chaz Moloney - We're Going There B2 - Chaz Moloney - Look Into My Soul And Tell Me What You See

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


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


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


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

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

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

Blume presents two pieces composed in 1970 by the American pianist and composer David Tudor (1926-1996), one of electronic music's most important pioneers, for the Pepsi-Cola Pavilion, a unique artist-designed and programmed space for Expo '70 in Osaka, Japan, created by Experiments in Art and Technology (E.A.T.). Pepsibird and Anima Pepsi deploy electronic technology as a means to experience sound in ways that are anything but matter of fact, rendering liberated environments within and through which one might democratically express and commune. Viewed through the lens of what was, is, and might have been, they offer the tools for time travel: an unmediated encounter with radical, optimistic ideas that gave way to the complex cultural landscape of our time.

Initially trained on organ and then piano, Tudor emerged as a leading figure within New York's musical vanguard after his groundbreaking 1950 performance of Stefan Wolpe's Battle Piece and the American premiere of Pierre Boulez's Second Sonata. Within less than a year he had joined the Merce Cunningham Dance Company as its accompanist, a role he kept until his death, and began one of his most lasting creative relationships with John Cage, who would state that his entire output between 1951 and the end of the 1960s was written with Tudor in mind. Christian Wolff, Earle Brown, Morton Feldman, Sylvano Bussotti, Mauricio Kagel, and Karlheinz Stockhausen all wrote works for him during the 1950s and '60s. Through indeterminacy and chance-based methods, Tudor was noted for radically intervening with the works he played, often making them entirely his own, and it was this same singularity of vision that led him to gradually abandon the piano in favor of electronic process, through which he began working as a composer in his own right.

His engagement with electronics dates to the early 1950s and Cage's Project for Music for Magnetic Tape. By the following decade the pair had moved to live electronics, with Tudor rendering works like Cartridge Music and Variations II through contact microphones and complex systems of feedback and amplification. Before modular synthesizers existed, he designed and built his own electronics, often with engineers from Bell Laboratories, producing dozens of unique instruments and processing tools that helped lay the groundwork for the technological needs embraced by most electronic musicians ever since. A clear marker of his emergence as a composer came in 1966 with 9 Evenings: Theatre and Engineering, where he premiered Bandoneon! (a combine), turning the cavernous performance space into a feedback instrument and a total environment. The event led directly to the founding of E.A.T. the following year by the engineers Billy Klüver and Fred Waldhauer, alongside Robert Rauschenberg and Robert Whitman.

Among the most ambitious of E.A.T.'s projects was the Pepsi-Cola Pavilion, for which Tudor composed four pieces between March and April 1970: Pepsibird, Anima Pepsi, Pepscillator, and Microphone. Together with Forrest "Frosty" Myers, Robert Whitman, the sculptor and filmmaker Robert Breer, and the architect John Pearce, he was tasked with the design and function of the building: a 120-foot diameter steel and polyvinyl dome, shrouded in mist and fog and lit in the evenings by a square of intense blue-white xenon light. Tudor worked with Gordon Mumma and Fred Waldhauer on a unique sound system capable of processing and variable distribution through 37 speakers, controlled both by automated means and by the performer, and with Lowell Cross on a sound-activated laser deflection system inside the pavilion's mirrored performance hall.

Both pieces are an advanced form of musique concrète: libraries of tape recordings, live mixed and processed through the pavilion's sound console and distributed through 8 channels of stationary and rotating patterns designated by Tudor's instructions (small circle, great circle, large rhomboid, spiral, small triangles, small ovals). Pepsibird is focused upon a physical interiority, its source tapes being recordings of the brain wave activity of humans and animals: cat's eye, nerve firing, bats, EKG, alpha waves, a modified nightjar. Recorded in situ in 1970 and mixed down to stereo, it retains a striking sense of the space and ambience that Tudor achieved in performance. For more than eighteen minutes he merges subtle textures and pulses, at times resembling birdsong, within a blanket of vast, resonant ambience of subaquatic density, foreshadowing the relationship to the natural world of later works like Rainforest IV (1973).

Anima Pepsi is centered on the exterior: field recordings that Tudor made of animal and insect sounds (mosquitoes in a jar, a fly on flypaper, a wasp chewing, a beetle walking) and a mix of human and animal sounds that he called the "funny tape". Where Pepsibird deploys interior sounds in ways that allude to the natural world, Anima Pepsi pushes the sounds of nature and humanity toward the otherworldly through the clear presence of electronic sounds and processing, moulding detailed, pointillistic patterns of abstract sonority into gauzy blankets of ambience and space.

The collaboration did not last: less than a month after the opening, Pepsi withdrew its support, fired E.A.T., and disregarded Tudor's tapes, which according to accounts had to be smuggled out by staff, playing its own soundtrack in the pavilion for the rest of the Expo. Heard today, Pepsibird and Anima Pepsi anticipate many territories of later electroacoustic practice, from field recording to live processing, while the terms on which they were made, radically unpredictable, indeterminate, and experimental to the core, reconfigure what we've come to expect from electronic process, making one wonder if the past was ahead. Issued by Blume in a highly limited vinyl edition of 300 copies on red vinyl, with a 20-page LP-size booklet containing You Nakai's essay and newly commissioned liner notes by Bradford Bailey.

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

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

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

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

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

Among the most influential hip-hop artists to emerge in the rapid creative expansion of the early 1990s, Queens duo Organized Konfusion helped reshape rap's aesthetic horizons with the 1991 release of a groundbreaking self-titled album. A dizzying display of lyrical dexterity and forward-thinking production, Organized Konfusion helped lay the foundation for what would become underground hip-hop, with intricate wordplay and cerebral rhyme structures. Both Pharoahe Monch and Prince Po shine throughout the album, revealing
the immense talent that would later establish Monch as one of hip-hop's most revered voices and spark Po's collaborations with producers like Danger Mouse, Madlib, Large Professor, Oh No, and more. From playful nostalgia to sharp social commentary to surreal linguistic explorations, the duo navigates chaotic drum breaks with dense rhyme patterns, vivid imagery, and ever-shifting narratives. After decades of limited availability and unofficial bootlegs, this is the first official vinyl reissue of Organized Konfusion since its1991 release. Featuring three rare bonus tracks, this 35th anniversary edition is available on 2LP and CD, giving a long overdue spotlight to one of hip-hop's most important albums.

We worked closely with surviving members of The Nerves, Paul Collins and Peter Case along with Jack Lee's daughter Cynthia to bring The Nerves - Best Collection to you.

Unlike previous releases that often relied on secondary copies or rips from vinyl and CDs, we were able to locate the original source recordings and have Warren Defever master/remaster them at Third Man Mastering in Detroit for this release. This is what makes this record so special—it features the definitive versions of these tracks as they were originally intended, some have not been heard since the day they were recorded. We hope you enjoy it.

We worked closely with surviving members of The Nerves, Paul Collins and Peter Case along with Jack Lee's daughter Cynthia to bring The Nerves - Best Collection to you.

Unlike previous releases that often relied on secondary copies or rips from vinyl and CDs, we were able to locate the original source recordings and have Warren Defever master/remaster them at Third Man Mastering in Detroit for this release. This is what makes this record so special—it features the definitive versions of these tracks as they were originally intended, some have not been heard since the day they were recorded. We hope you enjoy it.

“The Hollowing of Godflesh is the most complete representation of Crown Magnetar we've ever put together. We pushed every aspect of our songwriting further without losing the intensity and rawness that defines the band. We wanted to take what people expect from us and push it further by adding more atmosphere, bigger moments, and even more aggression without sacrificing anything. You’ll hear it in the insane riffing of new guitarist Rob Maramonte, who has spent time as a member of Fallujah and The Zenith Passage, as well as performed live with Thy Art Is Murder and All Shall Perish.” “The Hollowing of Godflesh is a highly sharpened version of Crown Magnetar. It delivers unrelenting brutality and is sure to please old and new fans alike.”

Do you know what time it is? It’s Prime Time, the new EP on Punctuality from mischievous French duo Pureblast . Marking the label’s twelfth release, the record serves as a bold statement of intent from the Parisian pair and demonstrates why they’re quickly earning a reputation as one of France’s most exciting live acts.

Across the EP’s five tracks, Pureblast weave together a broad spectrum of influences while remaining deeply rooted in the duo’s singular vision. Every cut is fat, pumping, gritty and playful, ready to turn heads and hips on the dancefloor.

Side-stepping easy genre classifications, Prime Time is modern rolling prog at its most energetic. Tightly wound low-end, pummelling drums and restless basslines drive each track forward with purpose, while sa+ga’s vocals are manipulated and distorted to humanoid perfection. The result is something distinctly personal beneath the machine funk: robotic yet seductive, gritty yet playful.

Deep listeners will spot nods to tranced up breakbeats, Ray of Light-era big beat, Detroit electro and contemporary UK techno with psy-fluenced synth swirls and texture. Far from pastiche, these influences are absorbed into the Pureblast machine and transformed into something entirely their own.

Gritty, pumping, sexy and playful. It’s Pureblast, it’s Prime Time.
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The Malian virtuoso, indisputably one of the most creative talents of his country, deserved his solo career decades ago. In May 2026, we released his debut solo album SOBRA DANCE featuring his wife Mariam Kouyate on vocals. The groovy and variated electric album, went straight to the top lists of World Music Charts Europe and Transglobal World Music Chart as well as selected for TOP OF THE WORLD by SONGLINES. Gaoussou's solo debut got several 5 star reviews.DJANGO BLUES is a tribute to Gaoussou's father and childhood teacher, who's nickname is Django. On this album the talented guitarist and composer goes deeper into the roots of Malian Dessert Blues, with the variations from the Arabic soundscapes from the north.In Senegal, Gaoussou is nick named "The new Ali Farka Toure". But even though Ali Farka was one of Gaoussou's greatest inspirations, Gaoussou has developed an unmistakable style of his own. He breathes music and goes to his studio every day to work. He uses his composing to reflect, and as a ventilator when things are hard -they often are in his country of contrasts- and as a love declaration to life itself. He is a true Mandingue, a Griot, peaceful and kind, as the philosophy preaches.Accompanying such legends like Toumani Diabate and Kasse Mady Diabate, Gaoussou Kouyate, with his beloved village 'Sobra' as his middle name, has long proven his level. Yet his name has been relatively undiscovered. The trio performed a memorable concert at Dakar Music Expo, led by their producers, Dudu Saar and Lucy Duran. What started being noticed internationally through this exceptional trio was Gaoussou's composing skills.The electric SOBRA DANCE album was released first, to contrast and give space to the acoustic GUITARI BARO album. Now comes the time for DJANGO BLUES. This great album features Gaoussou's band as well as an exceptional Moroccan Ribab- Amazigh violin master and singer, Aziz Ozouss.

This is more a relic than a record. A token of respect to the music that made me who I am. Everything I do starts here — the urge to pull songs I love into the club shape I play today, for one reason only: to make someone else feel what I feel when I hear them. Two techno improvisations, ANG and OSC, built on two songs that mattered enormously to me and to electronic music — bands that started their own revolutions, in their own time, mostly off to the side of the mainstream.

These came out too good to keep to myself. Vinyl only. 300 copies. No repress, ever. First come, first served. Bandcamp and selected stores. No digital, no promos — this one stays sealed.

The first wave of British punk was overrun with smart kids from upper-class backgrounds playacting at being working-class yobs. Sham 69 was different; every bit as thick-headed and provincial as the band sounded, they took a perversely populist pride in its lack of musical or intellectual sophistication, just like The Exploited and Anti-Nowhere League.

Side one of Tell Us The Truth was recorded live, and it perfectly captured the Cockney vibe, complete with football chants and a spontaneous chorus of "Knees Up, Mother Brown." Frontman Jimmy Pursey's banter with the audience is impressive, and all the songs are brimmed with straight-ahead live energy. The studio side is a template for brash UK punk rock: snotty, in-your-face, fast and loud.

Tell Us The Truth is now available on black vinyl.

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

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

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

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