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The Yummy Fur’s first album of new material in over 25 years is seductive and ambiguous; a fast-paced flip through scenes from art, myth, life and fantasy; a witty whole made from glittering scraps. The band’s original incarnation – fronted by singer, songwriter and guitarist John McKeown from 1992 to 1999 – morphed from making quick-hit cartoon-art songs to Eno and Cale-influenced creepers, populated by characters from McKeown’s life in Glasgow and the films, books and poetry that he lived a parallel life through. Everybody Talks About The Weather delights in using every past iteration of the band as potent collage material: a melee of sounds and ideas existing at once, revealing themselves then dipping back into hiding.
Recorded by the original core trio of McKeown, Brian MacDougall (guitar) and Paul Thomson (drums), Everybody Talks About The Weather comes 17 years after the band reformed for sporadic live shows, and seven years after the release of their sorta-greatest hits compilation Piggy Wings (Rock Action). Ten tracks long with nothing to spare, it is as condensed and vital as their best songs, with a new clarity of sound that allows their ambiguities to come into the light.
The album begins with “Cogs”, a taunting inquisition from within. As McKeown stages a fight between his id and ego, the tension heats up between conversational guitar lines and minimalist repetition; threatening sing-song melody and real, palpable menace. The band members are forced in tandem only to break apart, sustaining a genuine sense of just-hidden danger throughout the whole record – except, arguably, “Headphones”, a looser moment which sees McKeown make an existential something out of nothing while waiting for someone in the car (“I should have brought a book.../My ears are bleeding from the compression on your album”)
The songs are riots of reference: “Unity Over Europe” is a slyly complex two act play about the Mitford sisters – Diana, Unity, and Nancy, in a wink to the YF canon – smashing tragic biographical detail together with allusions to Thomas Pynchon and Francis Bacon. Pynchon is also lifted to serve “Blue Sunshine”, a collision of school shooters, serial killers and fictional fuck-ups (“Fast forward to Compton/Fast forward to Pynchon/Fast forward to Columbine'”) whose buzzy guitar lines are taunting and confrontational like a smarmy teenager. The innocuous title of “My Lasagne” belies a song that exists in several time periods at once: a visit to see Guernica, 50 people with their backs to the portrait of Dora Maar; the time that Picasso painted from; the Reina Sofia and the dirty streets of the Malasaña; myth-making musicians and the myths they’re riffing off overlapping and leering at each other.
All this could be laboured in lesser hands, but cultural verbosity is second nature to The Yummy Fur, who transform all this source material into songs that are weird, sexy, funny and absurd. Meaning is not happily understood or flattened. Susan Sontag's essay Against Interpretation accompanied McKeown as he wrote this album, and she’s paraphrased in “Semolina Ballerina”, the album’s justification of artistic ambiguity. Thomson’s motorik beat leads a gathering of back-and-forth instrumental phrases – including a wiry contribution on saxophone – embodying the futility of trying to parse something definitive from repeated action. “Listen to the very first thing that’s in your head,” Sontag-via-McKeown commands directly, then slinks sideways: “Interpretation is a conversation in an unmade bed”
The album features two more focused portraits, or at least The Yummy Fur’s version of such a thing. “Wanda” merges the life of filmmaker Barbara Loden and the title character of her semi-autobiographical 1970 feature film, with Loden’s then-husband Elia Kazan joining the fray of no-good men in her film. It’s a mix of adaptation and avant-criticism, with McKeown’s wordplay and mannered pronunciation mirroring the way that non-fiction and fiction twist around each other in the song. The title track is a series of vignettes and impressions from the lives of the band’s ‘90s inner circle, positing painter Mac McNaughton as a kind of Falstaffian ringleader. As with Piggy Wings and the recent single “New T-Shirt”, McNaughton painted the cover of Everybody Talks About The Weather – like the album’s music, the image of a coy girl in a white dress is an uncanny amalgamation of styles, suggestions and references just out of reach, as though seen in an art museum in a dream.
The album ends with two reads of the same frustration. “King of Nothing” is the closest The Yummy Fur will ever get to sludge-rock: the band melts together into a dusty, dreary haze as McKeown drowns in a drudgery of personal struggle (“Two jumpers on in Babylon/And only cats to talk to”) and the rhythmic toppling of heroes (Rowlands, Duvall, Munro). The majority of visible dirt is cleaned off for “Say Hello”, an uncharacteristic depiction of throwing the windows open after a dark night of the soul. Here, the situation is still cold and hard (“When the sun burns gold, but the heat never reaches your fingertips”) but it feels surmountable. Everybody Talks About The Weather is an unpredictable album from an unpredictable group, but ending on a moment of almost uncomplicated light is maybe its biggest surprise. - Claire Biddles (2026)

Following last year's world tour, Sparks were invited to perform a one-off show on the Moon - the first band in history to do so! Includes an introduction and outro from Cate Blanchett, who accompanied the band on their lunar trip.

Sparks Live On The Moon comprises a full live set of twenty songs spanning the band's 54 year career, including 'This Town Ain't Big Enough For Both Of Us', 'The Number One Song In Heaven', 'When Do I Get To Sing "My Way"', 'The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte' and songs from their most recent album MAD!

This limited vinyl edition of Brain Invaders offers another chance to experience the album in
its most iconic format. Faithful to the original release, it features high-quality pressing andpackaging, making it a must-have for collectors and fans alike. Part of Be the Change, a project conceived and developed by Rude Cares to raise awareness about climate change and environmental sustainability within the music
community, this exclusive eco-friendly variant is more than just a vinyl release. Created in collaboration with artists who share this vision, each edition supports a more sustainable future: a donation is made to Green Future Project for every release, and 100 new trees are planted to fully offset the project's residual environmental footprint. A timeless album with the same energy and impact that made it a fan favorite, Brain
Invaders remains an essential addition to any punk rock vinyl collection—now with a positive
impact beyond the music.

With Fuck, Marry, Kill, Tink delivers her most provocative and conceptually sharp body of work to date, firmly reclaiming her position as a premier storyteller in the modern R&B landscape. Moving beyond the diary-entry style of her earlier years, this project utilizes the titular game as a brutal yet honest framework for the complexities of modern intimacy. Tink navigates the chaos of the dating world with a dual-threat precision that few can match, seamlessly blending the grit of her Chicago rap roots with the velvet textures of contemporary soul. Under the executive production of Hitmaka, the album finds its heartbeat in the friction between high-gloss production and raw, unfiltered lyricism.

The album is meticulously structured to mirror the chaotic cycle of urban romance: the adrenaline of fleeting lust, the heavy stakes of long-term commitment, and the inevitable coldness of a bridge burned. In the "Fuck" segment, Tink radiates a lethal confidence, delivering anthems of autonomy and physical desire that demand space in the club and on the charts. As the project transitions into "Marry," she peels back the armor, offering a vulnerable look at the desire for stability and the terrifying leap of faith required to trust a partner. However, it is in the "Kill" section where Tink’s songwriting truly bites; here, she chronicles the aftermath of betrayal and the empowerment that comes from cutting ties, transforming her heartbreak into a weapon of self-preservation.

Ultimately, Fuck, Marry, Kill is a masterclass in "Toxic R&B" that refuses to settle for easy answers. Tink captures the specific anxiety of a generation trying to distinguish between a temporary thrill and a permanent soulmate, all while navigating a world of ghosting and digital infidelity. By leaning into her flaws and her triumphs with equal intensity, she creates a sonic space where listeners feel both seen and vindicated. This isn't just an album about love—it's a survival guide for the heart, narrated by an artist who has seen every side of the game and lived to write the definitive soundtrack for it.

Everything I Ever Saw finds THE MENZINGERS entering a new era in what"s already been a storied career. The Philadelphia punk legends" eighth album chronicles moments of significant change-the personal, the political, and the universal-while returning to the core creative principles that first put them on the map with listeners the world over. Twenty years in, the Menzingers have discovered that the wisdom gained with time"s passing is even stronger than the emotional armor they once wore in their youth, and Everything I Ever Saw captures the quartet embracing the here and now while strengthening the bonds that have held them together. THE MENZINGERS have always created as a four-headed unit, with all members (vocalist/ guitarist Greg Barnett, vocalist/guitarist Tom May, bassist Eric Keen, drummer Joe Godino) throwing in their respective talents as part of the craft-but for Everything I Ever Saw, the group worked in creative symbiosis more than ever before. "The way we made this record feels the most like how the band was in the very beginning: Me and Tom coming to the band with the most basic element of a song, and the four of us shaping that," Barnett says. Instrumental in building that excitement was locally centered and nationally renowned production legend Will Yip, who threw in with the Menzingers on 2017"s After the Party and their sonically expansive 2019 record Hello Exile. This time around, Yip once again became an unofficial Menzinger while the band crafted these 11 songs in their South Philly space. "Working with Will was like a homecoming," May beams while talking about Yip"s contributions. "We"ve grown up together over these years, and we"re still incredibly close friends. He"s the best at gassing you up and making sure everybody"s on the right page, but he"s also so good at pointing out stuff that might not fit the vision without being a fucking prick. He"s the hardest working person that we"ve come across in the music industry, and he"s incredibly inspiring."

Everything I Ever Saw finds THE MENZINGERS entering a new era in what"s already been a storied career. The Philadelphia punk legends" eighth album chronicles moments of significant change-the personal, the political, and the universal-while returning to the core creative principles that first put them on the map with listeners the world over. Twenty years in, the Menzingers have discovered that the wisdom gained with time"s passing is even stronger than the emotional armor they once wore in their youth, and Everything I Ever Saw captures the quartet embracing the here and now while strengthening the bonds that have held them together. THE MENZINGERS have always created as a four-headed unit, with all members (vocalist/ guitarist Greg Barnett, vocalist/guitarist Tom May, bassist Eric Keen, drummer Joe Godino) throwing in their respective talents as part of the craft-but for Everything I Ever Saw, the group worked in creative symbiosis more than ever before. "The way we made this record feels the most like how the band was in the very beginning: Me and Tom coming to the band with the most basic element of a song, and the four of us shaping that," Barnett says. Instrumental in building that excitement was locally centered and nationally renowned production legend Will Yip, who threw in with the Menzingers on 2017"s After the Party and their sonically expansive 2019 record Hello Exile. This time around, Yip once again became an unofficial Menzinger while the band crafted these 11 songs in their South Philly space. "Working with Will was like a homecoming," May beams while talking about Yip"s contributions. "We"ve grown up together over these years, and we"re still incredibly close friends. He"s the best at gassing you up and making sure everybody"s on the right page, but he"s also so good at pointing out stuff that might not fit the vision without being a fucking prick. He"s the hardest working person that we"ve come across in the music industry, and he"s incredibly inspiring."

These days – on the new, ninth Fink album – Greenall is operating within a lineage of authentic, quietly revolutionary artists from England’s verdant southwestern toe. Artists like Michael Chapman. In 1970, the elusive acoustic guitar wizard released an album called Fully Qualified Survivor. The cult-classic served as a lodestar for Greenall – along with bandmates Tim Thornton and Guy Whittaker – as he began jigsawing together The City Is Coming to Erase it All, the follow-up to 2024’s Beauty In Your Wake. He even considered covering a song from it, but in the process, inadvertently stumbled into what became the album’s opener. ‘Wishing For Blue Sky’ circles a universal teenage ache: waiting for life to start. “No point dying of patience” goes the first lyric as crunching footsteps cue a resonant, open-tuned acoustic swaying into view. By 18, Greenall was fed up with waiting, so he left suburban Bristol and saw the world, sending postcards from the edge, waiting tables, squirreling away tips for the next flight. Thornton had similar experiences when the guitarist/drummer busked across Eur

This is nowstalgia more than nostalgia, though; there’s a parallel between these 18-year-olds and Fink’s autumn-aged family men. “You’re expected to be boring and settling down at this age,” Thornton says. “But we’ve still got this tremendous wanderlust. We want to go and discover, and also achieve things. It’s a nice life – home and family – but fuck, I can’t wait to get back out there.” City is a product of this hunger for discovery, and idolatry of the album as a form – like we had in 1974. City’s cover mirrors its interior, the first song is the greeting, the instrumental closer the conclusion. It’s a story. It’s a record for people who, like its creators, are curious. People who happily face a little cold for music, who light a crackling fire back home, who sit with these songs until they’re ready to chase after their own blue sky

DYING VICTIMS PRODUCTIONS is proud to present Invoking Terror, the highly anticipated debut mini-album of Ireland’s CUTTHROAT, on CD and 12” vinyl formats. The island of Ireland may not appear often when it comes to underground bands…yet when it does, it strikes hard and swift! Witness CUTTHROAT, the goriest addition yet, who are now delivering their debut mini-album following two demos in 2023 and 2025, respectively. Aptly titled Invoking Terror, this five-song / 25-minute blast of filth & fury delivers violent, thrashing DEATH METAL that worships the underground’s forgotten days of old. For sure, CUTTHROAT may be “new,” but they definitely sound OLD here: think early / best Possessed, Morbid Angel, Merciless, and Necrovore and you’re within the power-trio’s wheelhouse. And no, they don’t intend to reinvent that wheel any time soon; the wheel that is Invoking Terror simply rolls over you – FAST – and the only recourse is to submit and headbang like a fucking maniac or summarily get flattened like the wimp that you are. The modern underground has yet to see such unbridled violence since the glory days of the aforementioned bands, and indeed is that CUTTHROAT’s aim on Invoking Terror. There is no story, no fashion, no trends – this is simply audial torture sent to invoke terror over all who listen

A lo- fi and uncompromisingly honest body of work, the record is considered a departure from his work with blur at the time, although it marks a world first hinted at in his song 'You're So Great', recorded for the eponymous blur album a year prior. Written, recorded and produced by Coxon, with original artwork by Coxon, the album was originally released on Coxon's own label Transcopic. The Sky Is Too High and The Golden D are the first in a comprehensive reissue of Coxon's complete solo catalogue, spanning 9 studio albums and 2 soundtracks, to be released across the next 12 months.

These days – on the new, ninth Fink album – Greenall is operating within a lineage of authentic, quietly revolutionary artists from England’s verdant southwestern toe. Artists like Michael Chapman. In 1970, the elusive acoustic guitar wizard released an album called Fully Qualified Survivor. The cult-classic served as a lodestar for Greenall – along with bandmates Tim Thornton and Guy Whittaker – as he began jigsawing together The City Is Coming to Erase it All, the follow-up to 2024’s Beauty In Your Wake. He even considered covering a song from it, but in the process, inadvertently stumbled into what became the album’s opener. ‘Wishing For Blue Sky’ circles a universal teenage ache: waiting for life to start. “No point dying of patience” goes the first lyric as crunching footsteps cue a resonant, open-tuned acoustic swaying into view. By 18, Greenall was fed up with waiting, so he left suburban Bristol and saw the world, sending postcards from the edge, waiting tables, squirreling away tips for the next flight. Thornton had similar experiences when the guitarist/drummer busked across Eur

This is nowstalgia more than nostalgia, though; there’s a parallel between these 18-year-olds and Fink’s autumn-aged family men. “You’re expected to be boring and settling down at this age,” Thornton says. “But we’ve still got this tremendous wanderlust. We want to go and discover, and also achieve things. It’s a nice life – home and family – but fuck, I can’t wait to get back out there.” City is a product of this hunger for discovery, and idolatry of the album as a form – like we had in 1974. City’s cover mirrors its interior, the first song is the greeting, the instrumental closer the conclusion. It’s a story. It’s a record for people who, like its creators, are curious. People who happily face a little cold for music, who light a crackling fire back home, who sit with these songs until they’re ready to chase after their own blue sky

The epitome of a modern artist, Jana Bahrich does most things herself, no matter how painstaking - writing, producing, directing, often hand painting t-shirts the day of shows when the band have run out of merch. This has helped give her band Francis of Delirium a unique identity, with her rock confessionals breathing a new life in to the genre and her paintings creating a striking design aesthetic. Released as she was finishing high school, 2020’s single 'Quit Fucking Around’ was a great introduction and it remains one of her most enduring songs.

Shortly after it’s release, she signed to artist-first indie Dalliance Recordings (Gia Margaret, HighSchool, lilo) and three EPs - All Change (2020), Wading (2021), The Funhouse (2022) and a striking debut album - Lighthouse (2024) - on and Jana has Francis of Delirium flying. While the EP’s fizzed with promise, her debut album Lighthouse landed its punches. Seeking a more vulnerable and open sonic palette, she wove in pop elements to create anthems that celebrated heartbreak and love. Lead singles ‘Real Love’ and ‘First Touch’ were the first tracks she made with an outsider - working with GRAMMY winning producer Catherine Marks (boygenius, The Killers, Wolf Alice) - while the rest of the album was produced by Jana herself and day one collaborator Chris Hewett. The critics were impressed too - “Bahrich’s choruses, almost every one, are lumpin-your-throat gorgeous.” NME; “Jana Bahrich seems too young for this tremendous debut’s ambitious anthems.” Uncut; “A rewarding experience that captures a talented, young artist at the crossroads between adolescence and adulthood." Paste. Live, Francis of Delirium are Jana (guitar and vocals), Jeff Hennico (bass) and Denis Schumacher (drums). Together, their brilliant quiet-loud dynamic and tight interplay only elevate her songs and over the last 5 years, they’ve toured across Europe and North America, playing headline shows, festivals and tours with the likes of Blondshell, Briston Maroney, The Districts, Horsegirl and Soccer Mommy. They’ve also supported The 1975, Alanis Morissette, DIIV and Wolf Alice.

Last summer saw a memorable UK tour with Bôa, the 90s band resurrected by a huge TikTok moment for their track ‘Duvet’. There was a real sense of excitement for these shows with young crowds snaking outside every venue hours before doors and bringing the sort of energy Jana thrives on, she road tested new material to an overwhelmingly positive response, giving her the impetus to go and finish album two. An artist who seeks to connect with her listener on a deeper level, it’s no surprise then that she’s made hope and inner strength central themes on her new album, Run, Run Pure Beauty. Jana says the title track is “an imagining of the world after it has been destroyed by humans and technology. Thrashing against what humans have left behind, ultimately the pure beauty of nature wins out.”

Wanting to bring different perspectives into her songwriting with this record - informed by both her travels and the tumultuous times we find ourselves in - she’s also brought about a progression in her sound with these new songs somehow sounding larger, with undeniable harmonies and more orchestration. Featuring the singles ‘Little Black Dress’ and ‘It’s a Beautiful Life’, Run, Run Pure Beauty serves as an excavation of hope in bleak times. Produced by Jana and Chris, and mixed by Nicolas Vernhes (Deerhunter, Dirty Projectors, Silver Jews, Wild Nothing), its eleven songs of discovery, despair and perseverance ultimately serve as a mirror on its creator and is a brilliant next installment in the Francis of Delirium arc.

Brown Spirits are a super-heavy psychedelic three-piece band who play raw energetic super-charged psych rock heavily influenced by krautrock, freejazz and deep funk music from the 1970s that gives them a truly unique and highly addictive sound. The group record and mix their own music to ¼-
inch analogue tape at home maintaining a strictly DIY-ethic.

Brown Spirits are Tim Wold, Agostino Soldati and Ash Buscombe. The group are from the suburbs of Melbourne, Australia, home to an ever-growing
music scene that includes Amyl and the Sniffers, King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard, Surprise Chef, Tropical Fuck Storm and more.
The group have already released two superb critically-acclaimed album on Soul Jazz Records – ‘Cosmic Seeds’ and Solitary Transmissions’.
Soul Jazz Records are releasing three new albums from the Australian group on one day. All three albums are super-limited one-off special coloured
vinyl pressings of just 500 copies each that will all be deleted on the day of release.

These three albums were originally released (between 2017-2020) in long-deleted very short run-editions - either self-released in Australia or on an
indie German psych label. No copies of Brown Spirits #2 or Brown Spirits #3 are currently available anywhere in the world. Both of Brown Spirits two
earlier releases for Soul Jazz Records are also sold out on vinyl and these three super-limited special edition LPs will also sell out.

DYING VICTIMS PRODUCTIONS in conspiracy with DE PANKRAKER RECORDS is proud to present SHEWOLFF’s highly anticipated debut mini-album, We’re All Gonna Fukking Die, on CD and 12” vinyl formats. Hailing from Belgium, SHEWOLFF emerged from the underground as a solo-project of K. Von Shewolff, which eventually formed into the solid three-piece band it is today. They find their origins in raw, punk-driven blackness galore, faithfully returning to the old-school spirit of making music by modest and primitive means. A five-song digital-only demo was released in 2023 - songs which contain absolute fury towards the known and long-overdue established order, existential live-or-die sentiment, and a small tribute paid to the old-school believers who came before them. Now, SHEWOLFF blend all that together on the debut mini-album We’re All Gonna Fukking Die.

With six new tracks pushing towards a final and inevitable end, this bleakly titled record is actually invigorating and inspiring: railing against the dying of the light with a paradoxically dark metalpunk sound, familiar in its stomping swagger but exuding cantankerous charisma that’s all their own. The aesthetic signposts are planted firmly in the ground – think Hellhammer, pre-Viking Bathory, Darkthrone’s record-nerd era, early Midnight, the almighty Venom, or even labelmates like KARLOFF, HELLCRASH, and Germany’s LUCIFUGE – but SHEWOLFF manage to stir some diabolical little twists into the bubbling brew, with K. Von Shewolff’s vocals in particular imparting a femininity that’s fierce, frightening, and fucking going for the throat.

Ein PUNK-ROCK-MEISTERWERK neu aufgelegt - mit, aus aktuellem Anlass, aktualisiertem 2026 Cover-Artwork! Das erste Studioalbum von NOFX auf Fat! Die Band behandelte ernste Themen (Punk-Kultur und Politik) mit ihrem typischen Witz und Sarkasmus und zielte auf George W. Bush. Nun ist ein neuer Clown am Start! Damals (2003) schaffte es das Album sowohl in Großbritannien als auch in den USA in die Top 50 und war auch auf dem europäischen Festland erfolgreich, wo es in der Schweiz und in Deutschland die Top 30 erreichte, in Österreich die Top 50 und in Frankreich die Top 100. "Musically, NOFX fuses its political cynicism with criticism of punk rock itself and suggests that the best thing for all the kids and the bands might be to close ranks and start their own little hardcore community. 'Irrationality of Rationality' and 'Franco Un-American'_two of the album's most melodic, catchy songs_are also two of War on Errorism's most biting commentaries. The first personalizes the trickle-down effect of corporate decision-making over a lockstep hardcore rhythm; the second gets all-new wavy as Fat Mike reasons out his own world view, and somehow rhymes "apathy" with "Noam Chomsky.'" - NOFX hat sich zwar aufgelöst, aber das Vermächtnis lebt weiter. Die Band ist derzeit Gegenstand ihrer ersten umfassenden Ausstellung im Punk Rock Museum in Las Vegas. Die Dokumentation "40 Years of Fuckin Upmakes" feiert beim SXSW 2026 Premiere und ist ab April umfassend zu sehen (Score & Original Soundtrack mit neuer Musik von NOFX folgen in Kürze). Der zweite Teil der A-Z-Raritäten-Trilogie "I to Q" soll Ende 2026 erscheinen. Und behaltet Fat Mike im Auge, denn Gerüchten zufolge hat er eine eigene Meinung zur aktuellen Weltlage. Warning: owning this record might piss off (more than ever) your army recruiter, grizzled grampa, or those wacky flag-wavin' nationalist buddies of yours.

Ein PUNK-ROCK-MEISTERWERK neu aufgelegt - mit, aus aktuellem Anlass, aktualisiertem 2026 Cover-Artwork! Das erste Studioalbum von NOFX auf Fat! Die Band behandelte ernste Themen (Punk-Kultur und Politik) mit ihrem typischen Witz und Sarkasmus und zielte auf George W. Bush. Nun ist ein neuer Clown am Start! Damals (2003) schaffte es das Album sowohl in Großbritannien als auch in den USA in die Top 50 und war auch auf dem europäischen Festland erfolgreich, wo es in der Schweiz und in Deutschland die Top 30 erreichte, in Österreich die Top 50 und in Frankreich die Top 100. "Musically, NOFX fuses its political cynicism with criticism of punk rock itself and suggests that the best thing for all the kids and the bands might be to close ranks and start their own little hardcore community. 'Irrationality of Rationality' and 'Franco Un-American'_two of the album's most melodic, catchy songs_are also two of War on Errorism's most biting commentaries. The first personalizes the trickle-down effect of corporate decision-making over a lockstep hardcore rhythm; the second gets all-new wavy as Fat Mike reasons out his own world view, and somehow rhymes "apathy" with "Noam Chomsky.'" - NOFX hat sich zwar aufgelöst, aber das Vermächtnis lebt weiter. Die Band ist derzeit Gegenstand ihrer ersten umfassenden Ausstellung im Punk Rock Museum in Las Vegas. Die Dokumentation "40 Years of Fuckin Upmakes" feiert beim SXSW 2026 Premiere und ist ab April umfassend zu sehen (Score & Original Soundtrack mit neuer Musik von NOFX folgen in Kürze). Der zweite Teil der A-Z-Raritäten-Trilogie "I to Q" soll Ende 2026 erscheinen. Und behaltet Fat Mike im Auge, denn Gerüchten zufolge hat er eine eigene Meinung zur aktuellen Weltlage. Warning: owning this record might piss off (more than ever) your army recruiter, grizzled grampa, or those wacky flag-wavin' nationalist buddies of yours.

They Came Like Swallows is the first album-length collaboration between Thurston Moore and Kramer (now officially Bonner Kramer), two giants of alternative/ experimental music. The accomplishments and influence of these two artists in the world of independent music cannot be overstated and the result of their artistic union is a startlingly cohesive statement that burns through landscapes of primitive outsider rock, avant-garde composition, progressive ambient and further locales boldly and beautifully unnamable. “Kramer and I reconnected in Miami, Florida, a few years back, many many years after each of us had departed NYC on separate life adventures. It was only a matter of time before Kramer and I started making plans to record together and with his irrepressible due diligence he quickly set up a mobile recording contraption in the pad I was decamped in, the Florida sunshine flowing through the palm leaves, lithe lizards skittering across the windowsills, and we just went for it.

Kramer had the idea to cover a Joy Division tune, a left turn from the improvisations we had been tracking, though wholly in keeping with both our sensibilities of light and dark unifying in transcendent songwriting, both of us devotees of 'the song' as well as 'the freedom.’ What transpired is They Came Like Swallows, a session we immediately felt should exist as a prayer to the war-torn souls of the families of Palestine continually decimated by the brutality of genocide. We agreed beyond words to offer our music as a sonic activism and as a beneficent energy. This album is our duo exchange for human dignity, it is our soul music for any semblance of a peaceful planet.” ~ Thurston Moore “For the first time in our nearly 45 years of friendship, we had identical time windows open to make a record together,” recounts Kramer. After all this time not a moment is wasted as the duo immediately taps into the heightened core of improvisational tension across these seven offerings. Volcanic opener “Urn Burial” notches a similar historic union (John Cale and Terry Riley) to meet the circumstances of the moment, with swirling mists of organ and pounding toms over guitar that thickens the atmosphere with jagged, grimy dissonance.

Solemn strings open the second track, “The Redness In The West,” with Kramer’s cello and viola in dueling bow beneath the high tension drive and sustain of Thurston’s electric guitar, tapping out a Morse code of tension that mounts endlessly into a fog of inevitable war by the end. Moore and Kramer’s sense of experimentalism is in free and full grandeur throughout They Came Like Swallows, though the duo keep a strong and constant sideways eye on melody, composition and architecture, to the ends that any strict lines between song and improvisation are blurred beyond qualification.

As if to punctuate this point, Swallows closes with a nightwork cover of Joy Division’s “Insight,” a doleful coda that breathes out with a solemn inner grace under Thurston’s instantly stylistically recognizable guitar melodies as they weave into he and Kramer’s unison voices. As the lone vocal piece and only traditional ‘song’ form on the album, “Insight” is unique to this set and as a closing statement draws connective lines back to the kind of dynamic, electrified melodicism that wove deep, melancholy patterns into the untamed fire of Sonic Youth’s Sister and Daydream Nation. In the album’s final moments, the two voices repeat the lyric “I’m not afraid anymore” as mantra, underscoring the heavy, unsettled themes and methods that preceded it. Kramer describes the creative process of They Came Like Swallows: “I had composed and recorded a few pieces at my home studio over the course of a couple weeks. Thurston was spending the winter in South Florida, so I flew down and spent a few days recording his guitar parts in his home there. Watching him spontaneously compose his parts was pretty astonishing, to say the least. Once we'd finished working on those pieces, we began improvising and following wherever the music pointed us, and another few pieces were born. We got straight to it, without anything driving us other than the joy of finally working together.

My personal goal was to remain present and catch as many surprises as I could from Thurston's guitar work, and there were plenty during those few days. We had a fucking blast.” Thurston’s contributions here will be readily familiar to any acolytes of his other works, the through-line between his inspired playing, cradled in Kramer’s meticulous, solid arrangements. “If I had to make this record again, I'd do it all exactly the same way,” Kramer says. “It’s like jazz, you don't think about it. You just do it. It was miraculous, and you don't fuck with a miracle.”

They Came Like Swallows is the first album-length collaboration between Thurston Moore and Kramer (now officially Bonner Kramer), two giants of alternative/ experimental music. The accomplishments and influence of these two artists in the world of independent music cannot be overstated and the result of their artistic union is a startlingly cohesive statement that burns through landscapes of primitive outsider rock, avant-garde composition, progressive ambient and further locales boldly and beautifully unnamable. “Kramer and I reconnected in Miami, Florida, a few years back, many many years after each of us had departed NYC on separate life adventures. It was only a matter of time before Kramer and I started making plans to record together and with his irrepressible due diligence he quickly set up a mobile recording contraption in the pad I was decamped in, the Florida sunshine flowing through the palm leaves, lithe lizards skittering across the windowsills, and we just went for it.

Kramer had the idea to cover a Joy Division tune, a left turn from the improvisations we had been tracking, though wholly in keeping with both our sensibilities of light and dark unifying in transcendent songwriting, both of us devotees of 'the song' as well as 'the freedom.’ What transpired is They Came Like Swallows, a session we immediately felt should exist as a prayer to the war-torn souls of the families of Palestine continually decimated by the brutality of genocide. We agreed beyond words to offer our music as a sonic activism and as a beneficent energy. This album is our duo exchange for human dignity, it is our soul music for any semblance of a peaceful planet.” ~ Thurston Moore “For the first time in our nearly 45 years of friendship, we had identical time windows open to make a record together,” recounts Kramer. After all this time not a moment is wasted as the duo immediately taps into the heightened core of improvisational tension across these seven offerings. Volcanic opener “Urn Burial” notches a similar historic union (John Cale and Terry Riley) to meet the circumstances of the moment, with swirling mists of organ and pounding toms over guitar that thickens the atmosphere with jagged, grimy dissonance.

Solemn strings open the second track, “The Redness In The West,” with Kramer’s cello and viola in dueling bow beneath the high tension drive and sustain of Thurston’s electric guitar, tapping out a Morse code of tension that mounts endlessly into a fog of inevitable war by the end. Moore and Kramer’s sense of experimentalism is in free and full grandeur throughout They Came Like Swallows, though the duo keep a strong and constant sideways eye on melody, composition and architecture, to the ends that any strict lines between song and improvisation are blurred beyond qualification.

As if to punctuate this point, Swallows closes with a nightwork cover of Joy Division’s “Insight,” a doleful coda that breathes out with a solemn inner grace under Thurston’s instantly stylistically recognizable guitar melodies as they weave into he and Kramer’s unison voices. As the lone vocal piece and only traditional ‘song’ form on the album, “Insight” is unique to this set and as a closing statement draws connective lines back to the kind of dynamic, electrified melodicism that wove deep, melancholy patterns into the untamed fire of Sonic Youth’s Sister and Daydream Nation. In the album’s final moments, the two voices repeat the lyric “I’m not afraid anymore” as mantra, underscoring the heavy, unsettled themes and methods that preceded it. Kramer describes the creative process of They Came Like Swallows: “I had composed and recorded a few pieces at my home studio over the course of a couple weeks. Thurston was spending the winter in South Florida, so I flew down and spent a few days recording his guitar parts in his home there. Watching him spontaneously compose his parts was pretty astonishing, to say the least. Once we'd finished working on those pieces, we began improvising and following wherever the music pointed us, and another few pieces were born. We got straight to it, without anything driving us other than the joy of finally working together.

My personal goal was to remain present and catch as many surprises as I could from Thurston's guitar work, and there were plenty during those few days. We had a fucking blast.” Thurston’s contributions here will be readily familiar to any acolytes of his other works, the through-line between his inspired playing, cradled in Kramer’s meticulous, solid arrangements. “If I had to make this record again, I'd do it all exactly the same way,” Kramer says. “It’s like jazz, you don't think about it. You just do it. It was miraculous, and you don't fuck with a miracle.”

Leather-jacket krautrock? Indeed. Welcome to the world of Carrboro NC's Object Hours. These generous saviors consist of three Triangle scene lifers who all worship the riff but imagine what happens if the riff fell into the middle of your favorite CAN LP. Yes, it lives up to the hype.

"Solved By Walking" was recorded in the winter of 2025 at Betty's in the Chapel Hill woods, these are mighty rock slabs ready for all seasons. Rock believers have felt the ripples and knew the day was coming. Object Hours is a band that fits right in on stage alongside acts as varied as Kim Gordon and Tropical Fuck Storm, bringing the house down in these and similar moments. These are songs that groove, peel paint, sandblast, inspire unconscious movement, make your head bob - frequently all at the same time. These are the jams inspired by the time that you heard "Fun House" coming out of that dude's car with the windows down in the middle of the summer, the ones inspired by the kids who own 3 copies of "Daydream Nation," the ones who listen to the last 1:30 of Wire's "Too Late" over and over. This is the band that has a timer on stage so they don't keep each song playing for days on end, the band whose Bandcamp bio succinctly summarizes their approach thusly: "We try to keep songs under 25 minutes for your sake." Every word here should be inspiration for you to *want* and *need* to hear this record and every word here is true. Just you wait.

Real heads know and the rest of the heads are getting ready to find out. Get ready for Object Hours' "Solved By Walking".

There’s this feeling that House Music is sometimes diluted into a pleasant, non-offensive and conformist formula. Well, Jackie Gritness - you may have heard of her big bro Gary - is bringin’ all the sweat, the attitude and the filth down - take it or leave it.

Jackie introduces herself from both sides on this well-strapped debut 12” - the slick swingin’ & sangin’
on the bass-heavy A side, and the raw clave trax and cunty snarls of the acid-laced B side.

No trace of over-production or tired sampling here: this is just Jackie, her mic and her lil’ groovebox -
gettin’ raw in the studio just like she does onstage. Only thing added is some wall-shaking mastering by New York OG Dietrich Schoenemann.

This is the kinda House that’s supposed to make regular folks wanna turn it off. This ain’t rated E for Everyone, it’s rated F for Freaks.

It’s music from the underground, for the underground - as it was first revealed on the runway of Glastonbury’s infamous NYC Downlow last summer.

And if that’s more than you can take - it’s alright. It’s not like Jackie will hold it against you.

Jackie Gritness
“Gary’s little sister.” His studio session resume reads like a House music who’s who - from David Morales to Fred P. He’s also been rockin’ clubs with the Playin’ 4 The City and MLIU crews - but she’s also been seen on Gideon’s fierce Homo-Centric Records. See, this bitch’s true feelings about House are stripped-down, bare-bones, and unapologetically sexual. With a radical ‘live’ attitude, she’s serving the realness with an irresistibly acidic zing.

Emerging from the vivid chaos of Detroit’s underground, ZelooperZ returns with Dali Ain’t Dead — a surreal yet deeply grounded statement from one of rap’s most singular voices. Following his recent collaborative exploration Dear Psilocybin (with Real Bad Man) — which found him moving through a “stream of psychosis” just before sobriety. (Pitchfork) — ZelooperZ enters this new chapter not simply as the same intricate-flows rapper, but as a rising cult-figure in underground hip-hop who’s forged an identity both enigmatic and quietly unstoppable.

On Dali Ain’t Dead, ZelooperZ channels the spirit of the surreal — the album’s title a nod to the iconic surrealist artist Salvador Dalí — as he reframes his world post-substance, post-chaos, yet still dripping with vivid imagination. Reviews highlight that the album finds him in a more focused mode: one critic writes that “ZelooperZ seems to have adopted a similar outlook to Dalí… embracing sobriety and allowing his art to exist as the psychotropic fuel for his mind.” (Album of the Year) Production (courtesy of Dilip) is inventive and cohesive, blending experimental hip-hop, trap, cloud-rap and drumless textures to mirror Ze’s newly clear-eyed vantage point and trademark eccentricity. (Legends Will Never Die)

Tracks like “Mona Lisa Left Eye” and “Push Me Around” (featuring Zack Fox) carry Z’s jagged humor and restless energy, while deeper cuts like “Shrooms” and “Take Me I’m Drugs” trace his evolving relationship with psychedelia and the legacy of his past. (Legends Will Never Die) In doing so, the record positions itself as the sound of a freak-icon in transition — still wild, still weird, but sharpened, matured, operating with a purpose and increasingly commanding the attention of fans who relish the underground unusual.

ZelooperZ’s trajectory continues to rise. From his roots in the Bruiser Brigade collective in Detroit to the present moment as a cult figure whose every release feels like a mission statement, Dali Ain’t Dead confirms that he’s no longer just the oddball off-to-the-side: he’s the weirdo that others are quietly watching. This album isn’t just for the longtime disciples of his left-field aesthetic — it’s an invitation to anyone curious about hip-hop bending, breaking, and rebuilding itself from the fringes inward.

In the past, DVTR has definitely been shaking up the Canadian punk scene, racking up dazzling reviews, best of 2023 lists, soldout shows and some bootlicking awards for their first ever EP "BONJOUR". Somewhere between the B-52s and fast DIY punk à la Jay Reatard, Demi Lune & Jean Divorce's troublemaking duo pours out its bile on often surprising, sometimes awkward, and always salvatory soundscapes. Its unpredictable stage antics break all language barriers, already taking the band on stages everywhere from Mexico to the UK. DVTR is French-speaking, female-fronted, short and not sweet at all: it repeats, it repeats, it repeats - that's the only way to get the message across. Vasectomy for all, ACAB, Rhum coke and MDMA, etcetera, etcetera. A simple fuck off to anyone who'd need a reminder before everything burns? As the legendary magazine CULT MTL recently said: "This is a live band doing what great live bands do, live: entertaining, f*cking with people's heads, having fun, and showing what they've got - crazy licks - without showing off."

Vor 25 Jahren: Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Ashes ist das einflussreiche dritte Studioalbum der kanadischen Punkband Propagandhi, das 2001 auf ihrem Label G7 Welcoming Committee Records (und außerhalb Kanadas bei Fat Wreck Chords) veröffentlicht wurde. Es zeichnet sich durch schnellen, politisch aufgeladenen, metallischen Punk mit kraftvollen Texten und Riffs aus und wurde 2021 zum 20-jährigen Jubiläum überarbeitet (Remaster, neuer Mix). Seit 2021 als CD erhältlich, jetzt wieder auf schwarzem und farbigem Vinyl. Eine der besten politischen Punkbands seit den 90ern! 14 Tracks (plus 4 Bonustracks auf CD) mit nachhallenden Donner auf einem umwerfenden Album! Wissen ist Macht. Seid bereit.

Re-issued! 1993 nahmen PROPAGANDHI ihr erstes Album "How to Clean Everything" auf und veröffentlichten es über das damals noch junge Label Fat Wreck Chords. Es versteht sich von selbst, dass das Album nicht nur das Label bekannt machte, sondern vor allem PROPAGANDHI als eine der großen Kräfte in der Punkszene etablierte. "How To Clean Everything" war ein Start nach Maß und lehnte sich noch eher an die Skate-Punk-Tradition an als die folgenden Werke der Band. Trotzdem voller aggressiver Metal/HC-Riffs und jungenhafter, bissiger Texte über Menschenrechte, Gleichberechtigung und radikale linke Politik. Sänger/Gitarrist Chris Hannah erklärt seine Gründefür die Neuauflage (mit einem Hauch seines geliebten sarkastischen Humors): ,Vielleicht liegt es an den Badesalzen, aber ich bin zu der Überzeugung gelangt, dass es wertvoll ist, etwas zu haben, das einen bis zum Tod verfolgt. Ich präsentiere euch "How To Clean Everything". Die 2026 Neuauflage enthält wie die 20th Anniversary Edition das komplette Originalalbum plus die drei Outtakes, die Fat Mike für Fat Wreck seinerzeit für die Vinylveröffentlichung rausgenommen hatte. Natürlich wurde das Album auch von den originalen Analogbändern remastert. Schwarzes und farbiges Vinyl wieder erhältlich.
















p SEEMED FUNNY THE FIRST TIME BONUS TRACK
[q] NOT TO BE GENDER SPECIFIC, OF COURSE [BONUS TRACK]
















[p] SEEMED FUNNY THE FIRST TIME [BONUS TRACK]
[q] NOT TO BE GENDER SPECIFIC, OF COURSE [BONUS TRACK]
















[p] SEEMED FUNNY THE FIRST TIME [BONUS TRACK]
[q] NOT TO BE GENDER SPECIFIC, OF COURSE [BONUS TRACK]

cLOUDDEAD's debut album, compiling six 10" EPs that appeared between 2000-2001, is aurally dense and obscured. A sprawling mass of miniature beat-suites and Dadaist lyrics, this strange and beautiful 3xLP would influence a myriad of sub-genres (cloud rap, hauntology, lo-fi hip-hop, etc.) in the two decades since its initial release.

Only the three members of cLOUDDEAD – Why?, Doseone and Odd Nosdam – can speak to the group's origins, but in the context of underground hip-hop towards the end of the 20th century, their arrival makes perfect sense. Cincinnati had a vital scene; home to Scribble Jam, an annual confluence of MCs, DJs, B-boys and graffiti artists. While the trio soon relocated to the Bay Area where they co-founded the Anticon collective, their Midwestern roots – in ramshackle basements of off-campus hovels, as the "cerberus of Southern Ohio" – would remain the atomic heart of their early recordings.

As Chris Martins writes in the liner notes, "The only reason we know their names today is because of how loudly and curiously they aired their insularity. They rewrote the entire world as they knew it through their own fucked perspective, and when those mysterious 10-inches started popping up in record shops, it wasn't just a puzzle to investigate: there seemed to be a whole cosmology hidden in those grooves."

Each side of the album represents one of those elusive 10-inches, each embodying a universe unto itself. Opening salvo "Apt. A" and "And All You Can Do Is Laugh" are perhaps most emblematic of the cLOUDDEAD experience. Why? and Dose create a new language through boundless non-sequiturs, sing-song non-choruses and call-and-response hooks, while Nosdam's dexterous production shifts from crackling ambience of Flying Saucer Attack to tight Ohio Players drum breaks and oblique film samples.

Taken all together, cLOUDDEAD is an original interpretation of hip-hop in the surreal Y2K glow – a bizarre meeting point between William Basinski's Disintegration Loops and MF DOOM's Operation: Doomsday. All it took was a Dr. Sample SP-202, Tascam cassette eight-track and cheap RadioShack mic. There's truly nothing like it.

This edition has been faithfully restored by Nosdam. European exclusive version comes on clear vinyl, incl. fold-out poster and liner notes insert.

On one hand, it could be bumming out the people who enjoyed hearing what the band evolved into. On the other hand, nostalgia sells...and daddy needs to eat! So...Nevermind 2! Broken Bones and Bloody Kisses has seen a few vinyl pressings in the past, but landing a physical copy of You Are My Canvas (which was only released on burned CDs, crafted in the Lovat- Frasers' basement) is almost impossible. And ooooooh boy...the pre- demo demo (or PDD) versions of "Sketch Artist Composite" and "The Anatomy of the Journey"? Those puppies - with me (Connor...hi!) on vocals/drums and Jeff playing everything else - were only available on the Y2K version and basically only used to recruit other band members. Smash all these old chestnuts together in one release and see what happens! Why not? It perfectly captures the whole spirit of early BOYS NIGHT OUT. But what title does one bestow upon such a sonic siphonophore? There are 3 versions of "Sketch Artist Composite".

Do you call it Sketch Artist Composite Plus Other Songs? Do you go all in on a lyric- based title like Fuck Us Where We Breathe? Decisions, decisions! Probably best to follow Costa's sage advice and go with Nevermind 2. So, almost exactly two decades after our first show - July 19, 2001 @ The Oakville Pine Room with Sky Came Falling, Unearth, and Rise Over Run - may we present unto you, Nevermind 2! What's old is new again, probably?

Rich musical history of Yugoslavia reveals a long-lasting love for the music of Latin America.
Entwined in Afro-Cuban rhythms, ballrooms were shakin', swayin' and swingin', gathering musicians who were heavily into jazz bands and orchestras, most notably in Ljubljana, Zagreb, and Belgrade. Jazz could be heard on the streets of Split way back in 1919 when dancing became a symbol of freedom. Radio was the most loved household item, newest sheet music was in demand and collecting records was hip like today. In the aftermath of Second World War, jazz went underground but little by little, things changed and Ella, Satchmo, Dizzy and Miles came to visit, among others. Music festivals shaped the music for entertainment and variety of popular styles showed influences from all over the world. In the early sixties, one particular rhythm crashed on the coast of the Adriatic Sea: the rhythm of bossa nova!

In the whirlwind of various musical styles, Latin American music still played important part of the scene in the early sixties Yugoslavia. Beguine, tango, rhumba, samba, calypso, mambo and cha-cha-cha all found their place on the festivals inspired by famous Sanremo, festival of Italian popular song that largely shaped the musical taste of Europe. It was the era of instrumental rock, R & B and rock'n'roll - sounds of "imperialist America" now played freely on imported and hand-made electric guitars. While dancing halls had been turning into concert venues, bossa nova has come! Eydie Gorme with Blame It on the Bossa Nova and Paul Anka with Eso Besso (That Kiss!) tried to make us learn some new dance moves but it was Joao Gilberto's gentle singing and his new way of playing samba songs, along with Tom Jobim's modern dissonant harmonies and poetry of Vinicius de Moraes that created the magic. When American alto saxophonist and flautist Bud Shank visited Zagreb and Ljubljana in 1963 (with Boško Petrović in his quintet) "it was the first time we heard bossa nova!" remembers Stjepan Braco Fučkar. Jugoton, the biggest record company in Yugoslavia, released 4-track EP Bossa Nova by Bogdan Dimitrijević and his ensemble that same year! While not being fully accepted or understood completely, the archives of Jugoton reveal to us various interpretations of this new trend from their vast catalogue.

Vor 25 Jahren: Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Ashes ist das einflussreiche dritte Studioalbum der kanadischen Punkband Propagandhi, das 2001 auf ihrem Label G7 Welcoming Committee Records (und außerhalb Kanadas bei Fat Wreck Chords) veröffentlicht wurde. Es zeichnet sich durch schnellen, politisch aufgeladenen, metallischen Punk mit kraftvollen Texten und Riffs aus und wurde 2021 zum 20-jährigen Jubiläum überarbeitet (Remaster, neuer Mix). Seit 2021 als CD erhältlich, jetzt wieder auf schwarzem und farbigem Vinyl. Eine der besten politischen Punkbands seit den 90ern! 14 Tracks (plus 4 Bonustracks auf CD) mit nachhallenden Donner auf einem umwerfenden Album! Wissen ist Macht. Seid bereit.

Re-issued! 1993 nahmen PROPAGANDHI ihr erstes Album "How to Clean Everything" auf und veröffentlichten es über das damals noch junge Label Fat Wreck Chords. Es versteht sich von selbst, dass das Album nicht nur das Label bekannt machte, sondern vor allem PROPAGANDHI als eine der großen Kräfte in der Punkszene etablierte. "How To Clean Everything" war ein Start nach Maß und lehnte sich noch eher an die Skate-Punk-Tradition an als die folgenden Werke der Band. Trotzdem voller aggressiver Metal/HC-Riffs und jungenhafter, bissiger Texte über Menschenrechte, Gleichberechtigung und radikale linke Politik. Sänger/Gitarrist Chris Hannah erklärt seine Gründefür die Neuauflage (mit einem Hauch seines geliebten sarkastischen Humors): ,Vielleicht liegt es an den Badesalzen, aber ich bin zu der Überzeugung gelangt, dass es wertvoll ist, etwas zu haben, das einen bis zum Tod verfolgt. Ich präsentiere euch "How To Clean Everything". Die 2026 Neuauflage enthält wie die 20th Anniversary Edition das komplette Originalalbum plus die drei Outtakes, die Fat Mike für Fat Wreck seinerzeit für die Vinylveröffentlichung rausgenommen hatte. Natürlich wurde das Album auch von den originalen Analogbändern remastert. Schwarzes und farbiges Vinyl wieder erhältlich.
















[p] SEEMED FUNNY THE FIRST TIME [BONUS TRACK]
[q] NOT TO BE GENDER SPECIFIC, OF COURSE [BONUS TRACK]

2026 Repress

Flickering in ultraviolet, there is an elusive place where blue pill meets red, ups become downs, and day merges with night. Those liminal spaces where anything is possible is where you’ll find Nightbus and their hypnotic debut album Passenger. Doom, uncertainty, and opportunity lurk in the shadowy corners of their murky existence with stops at disassociation, co-dependency, and addiction before reaching its final destination - a glimmer of hope.

The in-between of Nightbus’ own Gotham lies where Manchester’s city pulse meets Stockport’s outer realm. An audio-visual entity formed among a musical family of friends, freaks, and foes in messy mills and after hours on dancefloors alike, their sound bleeds from tension where collective creative forces are bound together and collide with the fallout of being torn apart. Before even playing a show, their So Young released single ‘Mirrors’ – a knowing nod of respect to some well-known gloomy Northerners - may have made old school indie heads shimmy at shows in Salford’s The White Hotel but also signalled the duo’s knack for offering listeners a Bandersnatch approach to hitchhiking their own personal Nightbus in whatever direction they choose to take. “Everyone can have their moment with our songs; the music is our response to who we are as young people, living in the city full of this energy right now,” they say.

Whilst reverb hefty melodies and dread-filled loops embody isolation from writing at each of their home studio set-ups, magic happens in the ether across 90s trip-hop, indie sleaze and electronica; Jake’s production layers Olive’s pop sentimentality with drums and samples whilst tales of a cast of faceless characters place Olive as puppet master; her severed self’s perspective manipulating their stringed limbs at arm’s length to see how their stories play out when scenes reflecting her own lie close to the bone. “It’s a bit fucked; like having this out of body experience with a made-up movie running through my head,” she says. “As I write I can see they’re all from a similar world, but they allow me to explore different feelings without giving away part of myself.”

Recorded at The Nave in Leeds with producer-engineer Alex Greaves (Heavy Lungs, Working Men’s Club), surprise and danger lies in every crevice. Brooding whispers turn to chants on 6-minute opus ‘Host.’ Improvised when performed live, its immersive shift in tempo leads to hefty dub courtesy of Jake’s pedals. Even then, you won’t know shit’s hit the fan until its mid-point reveal when ominous bass blasts a thunderous soundtrack as its protagonist defiantly walks away after committing the perfect crime. “It makes you wait, and more songs should have sirens,” Olive grins.

Leaning deeper into alter-egos via the video game-psychological horror of a Silent Hill dystopia, the band’s Fight Club moment ‘Angles Mortz’ turns its literal translation of death angles on its head as it reflects upon kink and internalised shame reincarnated as pride. Elsewhere the ice cool ‘Landslide’ is a Requiem for a Dream about the addiction of being in a band; ‘The Void’ explores co-dependency and estranged relationships; and carefully selected samples revive house track ‘Just A Kid’ from the band’s early incarnation. Passenger’s every direction is to face challenges head on. “That is what’s so great about horror; you can see through predictable patterns so when the unexpected occurs it's more realistic and uncomfortable… I want to own the dark stuff!”

As for Passenger’s first single, the pulsating ‘Ascension’ is a spiralling deep dive into death, suicide, and legacy around who or what we leave behind. A noughties club banger by way of NYC beats - ergonomically designed for those who like to stay out a little too often and too late - it throbs like a house party’s partition wall as the literal levelling up undergoes a neon transformation; blue glitching to pink, diffusing the white construct of the Nightbus Matrix. “It really does feel like the end of something and was purposely written that way,” they say, “the ascension is like a firework going off!”

With wheels in motion, Nightbus has become a movement surpassing sonic realms. Between shows from Porto to Brighton taking in The Great Escape, Rotterdam’s Left Of The Dial and Paris’ Supersonic; DJing; remixing; guesting (BDRMM’s Microtonic album); and even enlisting talented like-minds to craft a 3-part queer coming-of-age music video series which ties in with a new ‘hyperpop’ phase in the evolution of their popular Nightbus Soundsystem club night, heads are now being turned from sports brands to high-end fashion designers. “There are things we can’t reveal just yet,” tells Olive, “but we’re excited about the direction this beast we’ve created is heading.” As the album philosophises and asks one ultimate question; what does it truly mean to be ‘Passenger’? Nightbus may not claim to offer a definitive answer, but it might make you feel a bit better about those demons.

Riding in on an eviscerating vocal alarm call and originally released in 1988 as the final installment of her Masque of the Red Death trilogy, Diamanda Galás" You Must Be Certain of the Devil is as unflinching now as it was on release in 1988. It remains a swaggering, furious fuck-you to those who might cast aside the sick and dying in the name of faith and scripture. Often misunderstood as simply dark for its subject matter, You Must Be Certain of the Devil in fact shines a light of such total exposure it leaves nowhere to hide, forensically unmasking the fury and pain of real grief and the vast spectrum of emotions rendered by the AIDS epidemic. It is an album that looks you square in the eye, pins you against a wall and makes you look at and feel the horror the virus visited upon a person, the knowledge of certain death in a hostile environment, and the hypocrisy of those who claim to be Samaritans or protectors.

Sex Tapes From Mars presents Outdom Records' boss, LATENT, who shares a brand-new four-track EP that spars with breakbeat, electro, house, and left-field electronics, neatly centring them all into a steady, sexy collision. The record as a whole captures genuinely original-sounding, rough-edged b-boy breaking badness - nostalgic, but never polite. It's a few BPMs slower than Sex Tapes' last few outings, but no less effective. Arguably, it's more late '80s sounding than ever, although, in fact, it's a brand-new, stonking release that showcases the label's versatility and unpredictability.

The opening track, "Break Machine", sets the pace with a clear nod to the '80s US group of the same name, bringing tidy drum workouts and clipped vocal samples that recall early Chicago, as well as choppy rave and street party energy at its most unfiltered.

"Disco Hijack" pushes the clutch into a more functional gear, merging delay-heavy, druggy, chuggy, sludgy bass with more robotic vocoder tropes, sharing something playful but IDM and European skewed. It's a dancefloor tool with a wink - just the style this now accomplished label has made its identity. Oh, don't forget the amens and clattering jungle breaks. 1990 or 2040? Fuck knows.

On "Distress Robot", pneumatic percussion and malfunctioning android chatter bring a darker, more mechanical edge, while "Virtual Body" closes with a spacious, garage-leaning shuffle that pulls the EP into recognisable contemporary yet still very much peak-time territory.

LATENT gives lean grit, pushes the edges, and lets the tracks feel alive in their imperfections. It’s music that thrives on tension between old-school reference points and modern floor pressure.

Bristol's label head Elon Dust HAS done it again.

Vinyl-only as per, don't sleep."

For his last solo record ‘Through a Room’, Bill Nace shifted his usual saturated guitar sound and added tapes, hurdy gurdy, doughnut pipe, bird calls and the mysterious Japanese taishōgoto. Setting up for the final night of his three day residency at OTO with only the taishōgoto soundchecked, Nace hoped that Parker would arrive with his small soprano as its opposite. “I’ve been interested in state change, you know, playing until there’s a shift in time.” Known for his development of multiphonics to produce a constantly shifting pattern, Evan Parker has evolved an instantly recognizable sound - his work the soprano most distinct. Happily, it was the soprano Evan brought with him and as soon as the two start to play they entwine - taking off in a double helix of keys and reed primed for endless reconfiguration. Space warps under the velocity of playing, the pitch rising unrelentingly. It felt like unending lift off in the room, sheer energy until the last note makes remember your feet have been on the floor the whole time. Total time bending shredding.

–

"They had never played together before. They had never even met each other before this springtime 2024 concert at London’s Café Oto.

Evan Parker, circular breathing maestro of the saxophone, a legend in the universe that is Free Improvisation since the late 1960s and Bill Nace, one of the most intriguing experimental “noise” guitarists of the 1990s/2000s underground scene.

For those of us who have been enamored by the live and documented work of both these gents, this Café Oto duo was a must-hear event. It could have gone anywhere musically and that would have been totally fine. Particularly with Evan having a history of being thrown into a variety of challenging collaborations throughout his career, employing the learned elegance of trust in his own sensitivity to listening, responding, leading, following, sparring, intertwining, dialoguing, creating in the instant and, essentially, dignifying the non-hierarchical grace of chance.

The aesthetics of socialist consideration in Evan Parker’s playing, in his community of expanded and personal technique, for a younger player such as Bill Nace, strikes an exemplary model. This notion of respect would be entirely the reason Nace, when offered a residency at the most critical “new music” room in England, would request to play in duo with Parker.

Bill Nace came to prominence mostly during the apex of experimental music activity in and around Western Massachusetts in the early days of the aughts, with a focus on visual art and free improvisation guitar action. He could be found in the daytime hours, his head hanging down over a notepad, penning fine-tuned illustrations and abstract line drawings, while in the evenings he’d be attending any number of basement noise gigs, many of which he’d be participating in. His guitar style came across as being informed as much as by the physicality of his writing utensils in friction to the page as it was to his hearing and redefining of radical recordings ranging anywhere from the Black Unity Group to Black Flag.

Utilizing various metal files and other small cylindrical objects Bill would allow his guitar and amplifier to be in tandem with the improvisatory movements of his body as the instrument balanced, intentionally and, at times, precariously, upon his lap. The performances came across thrilling and daring and they would be mostly in the context of venues nothing more than a low-ceilinged damp and dank New England basement, a clutch of people hanging onto rusty pipes or sitting up on dilapidated washer/dryer machines, the shards of Bill’s “file guitar” sounds ringing out like the most alive music on Earth.

By the time Bill reached Café Oto in early 2024 he had relocated to Philadelphia all the while releasing a succession of collaborative LPs on his Open Mouth label to present his developing progression of solo and collaborative work. He also would find himself considerably engaged with playing the electric taishōgoto, a keyboard-activated string instrument from Japan which can exist as a one, two, four, five, or six string oblong sound object. Bill’s approach to the taishōgoto would not be too unlike his approach to the traditional electric guitar, though no outboard implements such as files, sticks, and rocks are utilized. The similarity would lie wholly with Bill’s full immersion of high velocity action-playing where, with the taishōgoto, an electric drone beauty occurs. The flurry of sonics and resultant harmonics emanating from the amplifier (which Bill opts to dial into with borderline loud-as fuck volume settings) furthers the meta-mantra properties of the instrument in an astounding display of drone dynamism.

This sound world of Bill’s two-stringed taishōgoto on this Café Oto night worked beautifully with Evan Parker’s improvisatory saxophone conceptions. The duology achieved instant lift off at ground zero only to find it’s eventual finale as if it were organically ordained. Time seemingly morphed from its ancient human construct of control, rendered inconsequential to the torrential transcendence of the room wildly activated by the magic resonance of the multi-directional pan-spatial sonance of the music as if it were some beatific blessing. It was one of those nights where art as a liberating force of spirit gifted the listeners with an offering of exaltation and joy. It was entirely mystical and mind blowing. A night of Total Music."

Thurston Moore, London, 2025

"The very last day of recording the album that became checkmate, Ron Gallo wrote and recorded the title track. Which, in his words, half-jokingly, is ""my first true love song that also happens to be the best love song ever written"". It encapsulates the entire purpose of the album which takes his previous motto - ""The world is fucked, but the universe is inside you"" and changes it to ""The world is ending, what can I hold on to?"".

After years of navigating artistic reinvention and resisting change, Ron Gallo arrives at his latest album, checkmate, with a newfound clarity and sense of purpose. Stripped down and direct, checkmate marks a reset: a shedding of old selves, old anger, and the need for introspection. Social commentary has always been a driving force behind Gallo’s music, and checkmate finds the bridge between personal inner dialogues and cultural analysis, grasping the vulnerability he once avoided.

What remains here is distilled: raw thoughts about love, identity, and survival in a collapsing world. Gallo calls it “a process to kill off my old self,” a release from years of hiding, whether it’s behind a comic veil or a wall of instruments and noise. With checkmate, he finds himself aligned with a new audience who have found his music through social media riffs turned viral smashes, 7am Songs, who come with no preconceived notions—only a desire to connect. The personal vulnerability found in these songs are far more relatable than Gallo could have first imagined. Inner dialogues we all seem to be having, but struggling to find the words for, until now."

‘When The 2000s Clashed: Machine Music For A New Millenium’ is the story of how, 25 years ago, a new form of electronic music – known as electroclash - reignited a tired clubland and gave the indie scene and mainstream pop a shot in the arm in the process. Over this 3LP highlights set, carefully curated from the 5CD box of the same name (also released, 3rd October) the collection showcases the back-to-basics electronic beats that heralded in a new generation of exciting and innovative new artists - Hot Chip, Peaches, LCD Soundystem, and Ladytron, to name a handful. It also shows how the sound and attitude of electroclash plugged into the decade’s cutting-edge indie bands, (Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party), and became intrinsic to the way chart pop would sound in the first decade of the 2000s (Kylie, Goldfrapp).

The collection also shows how the scene’s underground DIY ethos evolved and inspired the next generation of electronic buccaneers (Simian Mobile Disco, Justice Vs. Simian). ‘When The 2000s Clashed’ brings together a dazzling, diverse selection of artists, producers and remixers from right across the 2000s zeitgeist – from The Chemical Brothers and Daft Punk, from M.I.A. to Soulwax and many points in-between. For good measure, there’s also one side of LP3 given over to the original post punk and electronic sounds (including Kraftwerk, The Human League and Cabaret Voltaire) who’d played such a big influence on the electroclash sound. ‘

When The 2000s Clashed’ was compiled and sequenced for Demon / Edsel by Jonny Slut, founder of London’s electroclash citadel Nag Nag Nag. Established in 2002, in a small Soho venue called Ghetto, ‘Nag’ quickly became THE hottest club, first in London and then in the whole world. A glorious mess and hedonists’ hotspot, a night at ‘Nag Nag Nag’ (if you could get in!) saw the capital’s club kids, students and creatives rub up alongside names from the fashion and music worlds - Björk, Pet Shop Boys, Kate Moss, Boy George, Alexander McQueen, and Pam Hogg were among the regulars. Madonna visited, so did John Peel, Yoko Ono asked to perform and did, Throbbing Gristle’s Chris and Cosey DJ’d, so did Marc Almond, and Too Many DJ’s.

Justin Timberlake was refused entry (too many bodyguards)… even Cilla Black was spotted getting down! Jonny shares these reminisces – and many more - in the collection’s sleevenotes. Named after the 1979 Cabaret Voltaire classic, ‘Nag, Nag, Nag’ became the first place to hear the seemingly endless flow of thrilling new tunes coming from every direction during that decade of dance. Many of them are included on this collection.

END[GER] Die Band Wednesday aus Asheville, North Carolina errichtet im Laufe der zehn Songs von "Rat Saw God" einen Schrein voller aufregender Details: Halb lustige, halb tragische Botschaften aus den Südstaaten, die sich klanglich irgendwo zwischen dem wimmernden Skuzz von Neunzigerjahre-Shoegaze und klassischem Country-Twang entfalten - mit verzerrter Pedal Steel und Frontfrau Karly Hartzman, die mit ihrer Stimme, den Lärm durchschneidet. Ein Song von Wednesday ist wie ein Quilt. Eine Kurzgeschichtensammlung, eine verschwommene Erinnerung, ein Flickenteppich aus Porträts des amerikanischen Südens, der disparate Momente einfängt und als Ganzes doch irgendwie einen Sinn ergibt. Karly Hartzman, die Songschreiberin, Sängerin, Gitarristin und Leiterin der Band, ist eine Geschichtensammlerin als auch eine Geschichtenerzählerin: Eine aufmerksame Beobachterin von Menschen und witzigen Bemerkungen. "Rat Saw God", das neue und beste Album des Quintetts aus Asheville, ist ekphrastisch, aber ebenso autobiografisch und vor allem sehr einfühlsam. Es wurde in den Monaten unmittelbar nach der Fertigstellung von dem zweiten Album der Band, "Twin Plagues", geschrieben und innerhalb einer Woche im Drop Of Sun Studio in Asheville aufgenommen. Die Songs auf "Rat Saw God" erzählen keine Epen, sondern das Alltägliche. Sie sind lebensnah, erzählen vom wahren Leben, sie sind verschwommen und chaotisch und seltsam zugleich - was Hartzmans eigenem Ethos entspricht: "Everyone's story is worthy. Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Pressed on 140g nude pink vinyl, this edition comes with a 12x12 insert and includes the hit single ‘One Thing’. It’s sweet, subtle, and a little sarcastic, perfect for those days when you need to scream into the void and still look cute doing it. Call it “basic,” call it iconic, either way, it’s yours to define. This is for anyone who’s ever rolled their eyes and then turned the volume up. Who even decides what’s basic, anyway? Exactly.

If there is one person, who has been causing a stir on the international club circuit recently, it is Barcelona's John Talabot. Already his debut “My Old School“ (which is meant literally by the way) on Permanent Vacation in 2009 and shortly after that the single “ Sunshine”, which he put out on his own Hivern Disc imprint, made him one of the most promising musicians of the Spanish electronic scene. And those two releases also already set the mark for John Talabot’s unparalleled music: raw, loopy, heavy on the kick drum, sample based, moderate on the tempo, distorted on the drums and light years away from the clean and ever revolving house sound of today. This unique style which also blends influences from afro beat, Detroit techno, Chicago house and cosmic disco, but also northern soul or the energy of Flamenco, immediately turned some heads around. James Murphy, Âme and Aeroplane started including Talabot music in their sets like it was the most natural thing. However - and this is quite rare - he not only gained legions of fans in the house and disco community, but also amongst the leftfield pop and indie rock followers. NME and Resident Advisor both had “Breakthrough“ features on John Talabot and he can be proud of a “Best New Music“ dubbing on
Pitchfork. (Being rather elusive on showing his face in magazines or the web it also came to some funny rumors that John Talabot was the alter ego of a well-known techno producer from Detroit).
At the same time he drew the attention of like-minded artists like James Holden and Luke Abott from Border Community, Blondes or Delorean, which lead to a bunch of fertile collaborations: Luke Abbott and Blondes remixed Talabot’s “Sunshine“ single , John Talabot remixed a track by Delorean and vice versa Delorean’s Ekhi contributed vocals to the track “Journeys “ on John’s album). Another example is the Young Turks Label (home of Jamie XX, Holy Fuck, El Guincho or SBTRKT ) on which he released the “Families“ EP in 2010. It was praised beyond limits. Pitchfork for
instance hailed: “… where pop and house influences sweetly buffer up against one another to provide an unyielding sense of elation“ and even brought Talabot a comparison with artists like Four Tet or Caribou.
While staying true to his sound, John Talabot has nevertheless shown a constant evolution as a producer since his first release. He has traced a solid musical path that has turned him into one of the big references of European House and has made him also a highly in demand Remixer (for the likes of The XX, Francesco Tristano’s “Aufgang” project, Shit Robot on DFA, Thaiti 80, Joakim or Teengirl Fantasy to name just a few ).
A progression that now crystallizes in “ƒin”, his first full-length album for Permanent Vacation. A record, in which the Barcelona mastermind sets aside the danceable immediacy to expand his stylistic palette more than ever. For that purpose, Talabot melts all the elements that have constructed his distinctive sound until now and makes them emerge from a new perspective, in which the construction of complex song structures, intricate rhythms and superpositions of ever-evolving melodies and atmospheres pick up the baton of the “a kick-drum and a sampler” philosophy of his initial productions. The result brings us 11 tracks (we should call them songs really!) dominated by dark ambiances, gaseous textures and bittersweet moods that, above all, reveal a kind of vivacity that’s really hard to find in contemporary electronics. “Fin” is far from being a track collection. From the majestic opener “Depak Ine“ to it’s solemn ending with
“So Will Be Now“ , one of the two tracks that features Talabot’s soul and label mate Pional, each song traces an overall dialogue with the rest, culminating a highly emotional journey through Talabot’s always compelling and unique musical vision.

After a ten-year absence that left a palpable void in the hearts of millennial emo kids, MOTION CITY SOUNDTRACK are finally back-and yes, it"s everything we hoped for. The Same Old Wasted Wonderful World feels like coming home: a dizzying, emotionally articulate blast of guitar-laced pop-punk that reminds us why this band meant so much in the first place. It"s a sonic time machine, sure, but it never gets stuck in the past. Instead, it builds on it-older, a little bruised, but somehow more alive. Justin Pierre"s voice still wobbles gloriously between a scream and a sigh, only now it carries the weight of experience, not just anxiety. Rather than reinventing themselves, MOTION CITY SOUNDTRACK double down on what they"ve always done best: big hooks, bigger feelings, and that perfect tightrope walk between chaos and control. Tracks like "Particle Physics" (with Patrick Stump of Fallout Boy) and "Your Days Are Numbered" (featuring Mat Kerekes of Citizen) channel the kind of clarity that only comes after surviving your own worst years. In a world drowning in lazy nostalgia, The Same Old Wasted Wonderful World is a rare and welcome return that feels less like a reunion and more like a long-overdue continuation.