Cerca:will ask

Jerry David DeCicca is songwriter and producer. He makes his living as a vocational rehabilitation provider for special education students and adults. He"s produced albums for Ed Askew (Tin Angel Records), Bob Martin and Ralph White (Worried Songs), Will Beeley (Tompkins Square), Chris Gantry (Drag City), Larry Jon Wilson (1965 Records/ Drag City) and worked on reissue projects for Numero Group. Collaborators on his DIY solo albums include David Hidalgo, Kelley Deal, Augie Meyers, Jeff Parker, Spooner Oldham, Will Oldham, and many others. He lives in the rural town of Bulverde, TX with his two dogs, three cats, five toads, and wife. His previous band, The Black Swans, released 5 albums and toured for 10 years.

WOW. Daniel O'Sullivan's transcendent new album, Eros, is one of the greatest things we've ever heard. A simply stunning song cycle of hypnotic, experimental contemporary chamber music composed for a 14-piece ensemble. Combining minimalism, complex syncopation, detailed acoustic textures, weird intervals and samurai precision, this record will elegantly blow your mind. When Daniel first sent us this, he pitched it as “Liquid Swords meets Michael Nyman”. Trust us, he wasn't wrong. A "unique hybrid orchestral music", it presents a confluence of Daniel's longstanding fixations; indeed, there's elements of Nyman, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Magma, Aaron Copland and RZA. But this is wholly O'Sullivan's. Originally commissioned for the Sonoton Music Library in Munich, Eros now receives a deluxe vinyl release courtesy of Be With Records, bringing this meticulously crafted work to a wider audience. Limited to just 500 copies for the world, these are gonna fly.

An English composer and multi-instrumentalist, Daniel O'Sullivan’s career has been marked by versatility and innovation. In addition to his work with Sonoton, he has composed extensively for the legendary KPM music library, contributing to its storied legacy of production music. As a deep virtuoso and collaborator, O'Sullivan has also played in a number of influential projects, including Ulver, Sunn O))), This Is Not This Heat, Grumbling Fur and Miracle (with Steve Moore), leaving an indelible mark on the contemporary experimental music landscape.

O’Sullivan’s first foray into classically informed chamber music, Eros is a culmination of his long-standing fixations and expansive musical influences. The album features arrangements that are as detailed as they are emotionally resonant, showcasing his unparalleled ear for intervals and mastery of counterpoint. The music brims with complex rhythmic syncopation and a sensitivity to texture and space, resulting in a soundscape that is both intoxicating and dauntingly precise.

Recorded June 2023 and February 2024, in Brussels, London and Carmarthenshire, Wales, Eros features members of Echo Collective (Neil Leiter and Margaret Hermant), Thighpaulsandra (from seminal post-industrial band Coil), and jazz pioneer Oren Marshall. Daniel's sonic weapons of choice, in his own inimitable words, were "Big Bad Drum, Pee Anne Oh, Low End Brass, Willowy Winds & Samurai Strings." You get the picture. As a cyclical suite, this is a record that really needs to be heard in its entitreity, from start to finish, to truly appreciate the genius at work here.

A jaw-dropping statement of intent, the minimalist "Golden Verses" sets the tone with its complex cue which has your neck snapping right when it feels like it needs to. Listen and you'll understand. A syncopated tangle of sharp strings, crunchy bass, drums percussion and bright piano and mallets vie for position with French horn and woodwind melody in the most compelling and unexpected ways. Quite simply, it's one of the finest album openers I've ever heard. It's followed by the atmospheric rippling minimalism of "Lyre Lyre", a gorgeous gem with shimmering chimes, bright melody, human percussion and syncopated pizzicato strings. It kinda comes on like a less-abstract Boards Of Canada, bursting with typical wonderment. The piano and string-drenched "Dolorous Stroke" effortlessly builds its warm, pastoral orchestration with flowing piano arpeggio, steadfast drums, expressive string quartet, rich low brass, woodwind and lyrical flute. Just sublime.

The insistent frenetic propulsion of "Plain Paper" is utterly beguiling, featuring a determined string motif, urgent drums and percussion, driving low brass and breathless, energetic flute. The haunting, interweaving string arpeggios that propel "Grapes Draped" presents a claustrophobic minimalism for chaos and darkness, with growling low woodwind and brass, spiky harpsichord, skittering flutes and tight drums. Up next, "Xanix Annum" is a stately minimalist waltz with expressive lyrical string quartet and delicate woodwind, anchored by drums and percussion. "Painting Rose" is a bouncy stop-start track with angular syncopated strings and a piano pulse underneath bright harpsichord and flutes. "Rotunda Garden" presents ethereal textural minimalism for landscapes and reflection with flowing string arpeggios, warm, low woodwind drones, floating choir and cymbal swells. Closing out this extraordinary side of music, the glowing, flowing minimalism of "Flowry Orb" features urgent organ, piano and woodwind arpeggios, half-time drums with shimmering cymbals, a soaring, beautiful violin solo and hypnotic vocal chant.

Side 2 opens with "Theia Mania" a determinedly off-kilter, angular track featuring low wind, brass and drum stomp in dialogue with lively string trio, woodwind and solo horn. The light, airy minimalism of "Painting Percy" is built around an interplay of rhythmic motifs for piano, low brass, bassoon, fluttering flutes, urgent strings, drums and percussion whilst "For Archetypes" is a delicate, gently syncopated chamber cue for nostalgia, nature, reflection and moments of calm, with steady piano motif, intimate woodwind and French horn, and warm, graceful strings. The urgent Ars Memoriae is a propulsive march for progress, processes and industry, underpinned by driving tuba, with determined strings, resolute drums, and vivid, expressive flute, clarinet and French horn.

The syncopated energetic minimalism of "Mirrored Seven" presents layers of melodic and cyclical piano, drums, low brass, harp, flute and strings. "Pure Ornament" follows, a slowly evolving chamber cue with flowing clarinet, string and harp arpeggio, plodding tuba and percussion, fluttering flute and graceful, lyrical solos. Stunning! Up next, "Brave Boy" moves from its tender, warm, lullaby-like intro with lyrical flute, clarinet and strings before opening into a playful backend driven by a bouncy tuba riff and syncopated piano, woodwind, string trio, and drums and percussion. Rounding out this astonishing piece, "Waxen Waned" is a warm, pastoral chamber cue with light lyrical woodwind, tender French horn and subtly pulsing string trio.

The album's title is a reference to Plato’s conception of Eros, which is more than romantic or physical desire. It is a dynamic and creative force that drives individuals to seek perfection whether in art, relationships, philosophy or the pursuit of truth. Wholly appropriate, here, we think. When asked what his influences were in making this astounding record, he answered thusly: "Non-musical: Householding, Pythagoras, Goethe, Grail romances, Hermeticism, Doctrine of Signatures (Parcelsus, Bohme, Pliny), Eric Rohmer, John Stezaker, Yasujiro Ozu. Musical: Duke Ellington (late suites), Smile-era Brian, early RZA, Wagner (Parsifal Overture), Magma, Mancini, Axelrod, YMO, Hildegard, Nyman, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Jobim (Stone Flower), Alessandro Alessandroni, Tavener, Moondog, Orthodox Music, Secular Music." That's some pretty deep shit. Makes you want to dive in, no?

Mastering for this vinyl edition was overseen by Be With regular Simon Francis, and it was cut by the esteemed Cicely Balston at Abbey Road Studios to be pressed in the Netherlands by Record Industry. Truly, Eros is a work of extraordinary depth and sophistication. It invites listeners to immerse themselves in its intricate layers, to lose themselves in its hypnotic rhythms, and to marvel at the precision of its execution. With this release, O’Sullivan reaffirms his position as one of the most inventive and uncompromising voices in contemporary music. Do. Not. Sleep.

The East Sussex three piece take a sidestep to their country punk debut. The revamped sound is gritty and raw, with basslines that rumble with unfiltered intensity and drums that drive each track with pounding, relentless energy. The dark twang elements have not disappeared but if you break the surface you will find a restless undercurrent of electronic rhythms, adding complexity and tension. Andrew J Davies’ baritone vocals help answer the question you never knew you needed to ask. What would Lee Hazlewood guesting on a Leftfield track sound like?

Legendary shoegaze band Chapterhouse will share their first ever recordings on a new EP, White House Demos, released via Sonic Cathedral on May 9.The four tracks were laid down at The White House studio in Weston-super-Mare on January 15, 1989, when the band were only four gigs old. "They were the first songs we wrote as a band," says the band's singer and guitarist Stephen Patman. "At the time our live set consisted of Stooges and '60s garage-psych cover versions which we mixed with these original songs." The tracks weren't included on 2023's career-spanning Chronology boxset because they had been forgotten about - until the intervention of Slowdive guitarist Christian Savill. He and Patman worked together in an office in Reading as their respective bands were starting out and he says the demo remains "their best record"."When the boxset was released, Christian got in touch and reminded me of these demos and how much he loved them," says Stephen. "He was probably the first person I gave a cassette copy to. He still rehearses and records at The White House and was going in for a session the following week, so I asked if he could ask the owner/engineer Martin Nichols to check if he still had them in his archive. Thankfully he did." Of the four tracks that make up the EP, `Ecstasy' has appeared in various versions and permutations on Chapterhouse compilations over the years, but never in its full eight-minute glory; a much later version of `Guilt' was included on the band's 1991 debut album and shoegaze classic Whirlpool; a version of `Die Die Die' was also included with that album on a bonus 12", and remained part of the band's live set for a while. The stunning `See That Girl', however, has never been released before. With 36 years of distance, it sounds like something of a lost classic, and the White House Demos as a whole feel like a brief moment in time captured forever.

Perc & Passarella Death Squad's cult classic 'Temperature's Rising' returns for a special 15th anniversary release with an updated 2025 mix of the track from Perc himself.
Since its original release on French label In Fine back in 2010and it's re-release on Perc Trax in 2016 the track has continued to grow across multiple vinyl pressings and now boasts over 1.5 million streams across all digital platforms.
'Temperature's Rising' never needed a big remix package or tobe transformed into some trend chasing hard techno banger, but Perc's 2025 remix subtly modernises the track, raising its tempo and giving it the extra dance floor muscle that fans of the original mix have been asking for.
Perc is the only person he would trust to retouch a track that means so much to him and Passarella Death Squad and he displays a deftness of touch on this reworking, keeping the mysterious atmosphere of the original mix whilst making it perfect for today's DJs and dance floors.
Temperature's Rising 2025 will be released on magenta transparent colored vinyl with new artwork by Danny Passarella, which builds upon the visual aesthetic of the 2016 Perc Trax release.

ENG Mamalarky thrive in the in-between, a tri-coastal outfit straddling Atlanta, Austin, and Los Angeles, crafting a sound that feels both meticulously constructed and effortlessly unspooled. Their brand of indie rock is delightfully askew-swirling psych flourishes meet wiry guitar tangents, all anchored by tender, off-kilter hooks that burrow deep. It"s music that invites you into its strange little universe, full of inside jokes and late-night musings turned into melodic gold. Their sophomore effort, Hex Key - marking their Epitaph Records debut-lands in April, with plenty of mileage ahead as they road-test new material. A spring tour includes a run with Hinds and a stop at Treefort Music Fest, where their shape-shifting sonics will no doubt translate into hypnotic, full-bodied chaos. Formed in Austin in 2016, Mamalarky"s lineup has since scattered across time zones, but their chemistry remains unmistakable. Guitarist Livvy Bennett (formerly of Cherry Glazerr), keyboardist Michael Hunter (White Denim), drummer Dylan Hill, and bassist Noor Khan (Faye Webster"s touring bassist) operate like a band that"s spent years finishing each other"s musical sentences. Their songwriting thrives on kinetic interplay-nimble and restless, yet always landing in some deeply satisfying pocket. While indie-pop might be the easiest tag to slap on them, Mamalarky dodge the genre"s more predictable trappings. Instead of settling into breezy melancholy, they embrace complexity-knotty time signatures, rubbery basslines, and melodies that feel like they"re winking at you. It"s heady but never pretentious, the kind of music that rewards repeat listens, each spin revealing a new hidden corner.

LP + insert. A cosmically poetic duo playing Afro-Roots-Electro with a clear nod to spiritual jazz. Esinam Dogbatse (flute, synths, vocals, fx, percussion) | Sibusile Xaba (guitar, vocals, percussion).



ESINAM & Sibusile Xaba is a meeting of nomadic, wandering and kindred spirits in music. Both artists draw upon their ancestry: Belgian-Ghanaian(ESINAM) and Kwazulu Natal-South Africa (Sibusile Xaba) through a unique connection, a deep artistic and spiritual level, they use rhythms and grooves to translate stories to the audience. Their vocal chanting enhances trance to rhythmic patterns that grace us by melodies of the future and past.

On April 25th 2025, ESINAM & Sibsile Xaba will release their first joint album entitled 'Healing Voices'.

This album is a reflection of the kaleidoscopic multitude of musical inspirations running through the veins of two very talented solo artists. Both multi-instrumentalists, they provide many different layers to their music. Each track is a reflection of their cross-pollination. Musically inspired by Ghanaian Highlife and traditional songs from Zulu and Ewe culture, but with a distinct contemporary interpretation where their acoustic sound is enhanced by electronic gadgets.

As multi-instrumentalists, the two artists translate messages from their ancestors through rhythms and grooves. Their vocal chanting enhances trance to rhythmic patterns that grace us by melodies of the future and past.

Thanks to their Belgian-Ghanaian and South-African roots, they are unique in their being, strong in their union and connected on deep artistic and spiritual levels. The collaboration between ESINAM and Sibusile Xaba is bringing healing to body and soul.

In 2018 Esinam discovered Sibusile Xaba during his European (solo)tour. She was enchanted by his musical energy and craftsmanship and invited him as a vocal guest feature on the track 'Flowing River', from her debut album 'Shapes in Twilights of infinity'. When she was asked at the first edition of WOMAD Festival in South Africa if she wanted to collaborate with a 'local artist', she didn't have to think twice.

So in October 2022, Esinam and Sibusile seized this opportunity to dive into the rehearsal and recording studio, and discover and combine each other's musical universes to shape up new music together.

In May 2023 this collaboration continued with rehearsals, recordings and a first European tour with performances in Belgium, The Netherlands, France, Germany and Slovenia.

In March 2024 they released the first single 'Africa Wola' out of the fothcoming album. In November 2024, they released a remix of their first single by South-African DJ and producer DaCapo and played at Visa for Music in Morocco.

Jan Akkerman (b. 1946) stands apart as a singular figure in the realm of rock and beyond. A Dutch guitarist of unparalleled versatility, he earned international acclaim in 1973 when he topped the prestigious Melody Maker readers’ poll, surpassing icons like Eric Clapton (2nd), Jimmy Page (5th), and Carlos Santana (10th). His fame, however, has never defined his artistry. For Akkerman, it’s always been about the music—any genre, as long as it resonates. He’s a lifelong improviser who approaches each performance as a new adventure. Akkerman first rose to prominence with Focus, a band that embodied the grandiose instrumental rock spirit of the 1970s. Long compositions, dazzling technique, and adventurous arrangements made them a cornerstone of progressive rock. Despite the accolades, Akkerman remained true to his calling. When asked about his success, he has always brushed it aside, preferring to let his guitar do the talking. Side 1 of this record captures Akkerman’s stunning performance on July 10, 2011, at the Nile Hall in Rotterdam. Here, he showcases his ability to take listeners on a sonic journey. The mellow “Tranquilizer” offers a relaxed groove, followed by the heartfelt ballad “You Do Something to Me,” unfolding emotion without words. In “Piétons”—a gospel-tinged blues—trumpeter Eric Vloeimans delivers a fiery solo before the leader propels the piece into uncharted territory. Side 2 brings us back to an earlier moment, recorded in July 2005 at the Paul Acket Paviljoen in The Hague. “Streetwalker” delivers a funk-driven explosion featuring alto saxophonist Benjamin Herman, while “The Zebrah” sends Vloeimans soaring into the musical stratosphere, only to have Akkerman reignite the piece with blistering guitar lines, his band driving forward like a well-tuned Mercedes on an open highway. Akkerman’s live performances are as unpredictable as they are electrifying. Whether sharing the stage with legends or newcomers, his spontaneous creativity makes every concert unique—a master class in musical freedom. Jan Akkerman remains a touchstone for guitarists and fans alike, an authentic improviser whose name still elicits one universal response from any seasoned Dutch rock enthusiast: “He’s the best guitarist in the world.” The North Sea Jazz Concert Series includes officially licensed releases that will be released as standard on 180-gram white vinyl in a sleeve of heavy paper and printed on reversed board. The records are captured in mainly black-and-white artwork by Hans Pol in his signature style of the festival with inspiration from the covers of classic older jazz releases from the Blue Note label, for example. The liner notes are written by journalist and jazz expert Jeroen de Valk. For all recordings it’s a first time ever release on vinyl!

Mr. Luck & Ms. Doom is the Delines most realized and strongest album to date, a record of romantic misfits and grifters who live out of suitcases and cars, who can"t seem to settle down, who hope that in the next town or city will be the score that saves them. Mr. Luck & Ms. Doom features the stalwart Delines line up: Amy Boone on vocals, Cory Gray on horns and keyboards, Sean Oldham on drums, Freddy Trujillo on bass, and Willy Vlautin on guitar. The record features Amy Boone"s lush, world worn voice, the cinematic production skills of Askew, and the horn and string arrangement of Delines keyboardist and trumpeter, Cory Gray. This is wide screen, CinemaScope, Delines at their best.

Bryan Beller's (Joe Satriani, Aristocrats, Dethklok) epic progressive double concept 2019 album feat. 26 all-star musicians now on Blue Swirl 2LP in gatefold jacket available! Bassist/composer Bryan Beller (The Aristocrats, Joe Satriani, Dethklok, Steve Vai) presents a sweeping, epic-scale modern progressive double concept album that asks the question: When the storm comes for us, the big one after which things will not be the same, who are we and what do we become in those defining moments? What do we keep, and what do we let go? "Scenes From The Flood" employs an all-star cast of 26 musicians to explore themes of ambition and loss, intentionality and reality, hope and disillusionment. It uses every second of its 18-song, 88-minute running order to tell an emotionally consuming and unforgettable musical story. Produced and composed by Bryan Beller (except "Angles & Exits," composed by Janet Feder), mixed and mastered by Forrester Savell. "Scenes From The Flood" is performed by: Christopher Allis, Bryan Beller, Nili Brosh, Paul Cartwright, Darran Charles, Julian Coryell, Mike Dawes, Janet Feder, Guthrie Govan, Ray Hearne, Gene Hoglan, Mike Keneally, Jamie Kime, Fred Kron, Teddy Kumpel, Jake Howsam Lowe, Evan Mazunik, Nate Morton, Rick Musallam, Mike Olekshy, Griff Peters, John Petrucci, Matt Rohde, Joe Satriani, Rishabh Seen, Joe Travers, Leah Zeger.

Following up their critically-acclaimed 2024 LP Avoude (5 stars and 'Top of the World' on Songlines, Bandcamp top pick, Le Monde, BBC Radio, Pop Matters and more), Sol Power Sound is proud to present a blistering EP of remixes from the thrilling psychedelic West African outfit, Dogo du Togo & the Alagaa Beat Band.

Combining iconic traditional Togolese rhythms and melodies, Dogo du Togo’s sound is anchored in the country’s often overlooked, but extraordinary rich cultural history, reflecting the local Vodun religion and traditions that permeate everyday life in Togo.

For the remixes, Sol Power Sound enlisted a cast of renowned producers to rework the scorching originals into deeper club-friendly burners.

Captain Planet leads off the A side with a modern and percussive African house groove that will get any room with a pulse up and jumping

Sol Power All-Stars ask the question 'what if Prince joined Dogo du Togo in 1983?' and answer with a blistering dance funk track laced with synths, arpeggios, and Moog.

Rounding out the A-side is Detroit legend John Beltran, who transports Dogo and crew to Bahia for an Afro-Brazilian balearic heat rock. Perfect for your next sunset soiree.

Blair French, another Detroit icon, leads off the B-side with a deep and organic house groove that works equally well day, night, or early morning.

Sol Power All-Stars reappear again on side b with their mid tempo groovy Afrobeats flip of Von Na Agbeto, the one track that was not featured on Dogo’s LP.

Finally, DC mystery man Glenn Echo gets loose and trippy on the boards with a psychedelic digi dub (in 12/8!) that rattles your chest and puts your being directly into the echo chamber.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

Martin had been a surprise choice for the commission.

It was the Spring of 1977 and two Interstellar Mariners were to be sent hurtling into deep space. Glass was to provide weekly "sonologues" of their progress, audio diarist for a pair of mute mechanical adventurers.

Delivered with a near fanatical diligence over the course of nearly three decades, these stuttering musical biographies would soon bewilder those who had first asked for them.

Martin's work, they judged, had begun to plot its own eccentric orbit, charting more than just the ships' material progress, but rather their imagined psychogeography ("What will they say about me?" "I will never conserve my instruments" "Nobody has gone further").

With his sonic dispatches increasingly ignored and unheard, all funding for the project swiftly fell to dust.

The very best of these scores, chosen from a vast compendium of source material, are now assembled here for the first time. Their muses, two arthritic spacecrafts now nearly half a century old, limp on through deep space, forever onwards and onwards forever...

Every so often an album of such deceptive genius, of such aesthetic clarity, comes across our desk and transfixes us. Thought Leadership's III Of Pentacles is one such work of art. It's an instant classic and glides into the pantheon of timeless guitar-soul totems. Originally out on cassette only, we present the first ever vinyl issue. It's a hideously limited pressing of 300 for the world, so don't sleep on this.

Thought Leadership has already garnered big support from such tastemakers as Ruf Dug, Jason Boardman, Nathan Gregory Wilkins, J Walk, Evan Woodward, Justin Robertson and Heavenly's Jeff Barrett. The first time we heard III Of Pentacles, we nearly wept at the thought that something so beautiful, so bursting with real hope, could even exist in this brutal world. To quote the Quietus, "imagine if Stockport was situated somewhere along the Pacific Coast Highway rather than the M60, and you’ll have some idea of the coordinates to the post-industrial, sunburnt dream space opened up here."

So, who is Thought Leadership? What do we know about them? They reside in Stockport and are obsessed with ethereal guitar records. That’s about it. That and these X ideas shared with you, the listener.

Captured on a multitrack recorder in a terraced house in Stockport, this is as DIY as it gets. Glaringly obvious is a love for classic Factory and early 4AD. Perhaps it is the proximity to the River Mersey where the ideas arrived, and there being but three miles between where this and the Durutti Column’s classic “LC” was recorded, as the two operate across a familiar aural plain. Be it geographic or otherwise, limited by a true economy of means, namely guitar, pedals and drum machine, the fruit borne from these humble tools has been indelibly shaped by the perma-gloom that hangs low over the Manchester and Stockport environs.

Ushered in on 808 kicks, “I” opens the record as a beautiful Sketch for Stockport; a chiming maj7 chord dripping in chorus and delay sets us on our way. The Vini Reilly comparisons are unavoidable. “II” is all John McGeoch, with its trippy goth-psyche arpeggiated pattern cascading across the stereo image. Do those drums swing? But goths don’t swing?! They do here. We’re treated to a bit of crunch on the lead guitar part and some really lush reverb. We even step forth into shoegaze territory, albeit briefly, for the middle eight. “III”, a firm Be With favourite, continues the dreamy psyche leanings of the previous track, with an even bigger melody this time. We’re hearing The Teardrop Explodes on quaaludes here. A proto-dream pop cut soaked in melancholy. But watch out! The coda finds Johnny Marr has gotten into the ‘ludes and gatecrashed the final bars with some incredibly ignorant B minor pentatonic noodling.

“IV” ditches the drum machine for the first in a suite of three beatless electric guitar duets. The first of these semi-improvised rubato ideas is a striking departure from the earlier playful pieces, coming over emo and moody. Greyscale sulking for Stratocaster. Sign us up. “V” contains some really lyrical phrasing; a gorgeous conversation between two guitars. Real Stopfordian Primitive; meditative, crude, rain-soaked. We cycle through the same feels, then end on an alluring chord that breaks the pattern. Sometimes thoughts are like this. “VI” creeps in all plaintive, then a huge reverberating descending guitar line comes tumbling in like something off those classic Dif Juz 12”s. There’s some Maurice Deebank in there too, for sure, and the coda nods to early Meat Puppets.

“VII” rounds out the A Side, and succinctly presents a summary of all ideas explored thus far on our journey. The drum machine is back, this time with some wispy delay, before both guitars enter together playing interlocking lines. As we start, we end, with the delayed 808 guiding us out.

Opening Side B, “VIII” sees us embark on the other side of our journey as we slow down and space out. The drum machine is here, but the guitars are different now. Think Sensations Fix or Göttsching at his most peeled out. Drones, ambient drifts of broken chords and distorted lead lines all swirl round the mix. Side B is one for headphones for sure. “IX” is almost too exquisite for words. A New Age Mixolydian voyage through the cosmos. If you’re unmoved by the end you’ve probably got no pulse. We were left blunted ineffable by this one, such is the smudged elegance radiating from this idea. All hail the Thought Leader.

“X” is a full circle moment, and a fitting end. If you’ve not already elsewhere across the platter, you will be getting heavy Robin Guthrie vibes from this piece. Like the rest of Side B, this improvised jam sticks within a framework of related chords but the celestial energies channelled might invite us to wander “outside”, especially when the Tubescreamer is engaged.

RIYL Durutti Coulmn, Cocteau Twins, Dif Juz, Sensations Fix, Spike and adjacent guitar musicks – but, ultimately, this is just its own thing; such is the strength of ideas presented. "It’s good music to chill out to." (??)

Be With is honoured to present the first ever vinyl release of III Of Pentacles, carefully remastered by Be With's engineer Simon Francisco to ensure it sounds better than ever after its initial tape release. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry, in Holland. The original tape cover artwork, so crucial to Thought Leadership's striking visual aesthetic, has been rejigged for vinyl issue here at Be With. Its stark presentation befits the music contained within. They inform us that they shuffled their tarot deck to ask what the album should be called and the card you see on the cover popped out. The III Of Pentacles tarot card represents teamwork, shared vision and the ability to achieve goals through collaboration. We like to think Thought Leadership and Be With have nailed this one.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Now on album number seven , Metronomy has continued where many of their 2000s ‘cool’ band peers have dropped off along the way. Small World is a return to simple pleasures, nature, an embracing in part of more pared down, songwriterly sonics (some moments wouldn’t sound amiss on a Wilco release), all while asking broader existential questions: which feels at least somewhat rooted in the period of time during which it was made – 2020. For all that Mount seems to think he has made a comparatively sombre record, much of Small World still pulses with the zesty, tongue-in-cheek joie de vivre you’d expect of a Metronomy record.

So sure, things are different now Joe Mount is getting older and what’s on his mind is changing, but that doesn’t mark a change in quality for Metronomy. An immaculate set of tracks, Joe Mount’s ability as a songwriter and arranger shines through on Small World, evergreen. Metronomy might be growing up, but they’re not afraid to still have fun with it all. Through the tumultuous ebb and flow of the years, Metronomy continues to endure and make great pop music – and, really, that’s all that we could ask for.

You may not require any introduction to the members of ROACH SQUAD, or at least one or two of the band. Needless to say, Hugo Mudie (The Sainte Catherines), Frankie Stubbs (Leatherface), Graeme Philliskirk (Leatherface) have all graced the Paradise Gutters around the Punk Rock world for some time. Joining them is Alex Keane (The Murderburgers), along with another local Sunderland Lad, Sim Robson. As with many of the members previous works, a DIY approach to writing and recording the album was taken. The bulk of the recording took place at their own Rocket Studios in Sunderland, UK with the exception of Hugo laying down the vocals from his home in Montreal (Quebec, Canada). Some of you will have noticed the line-up contains two vocalists, and indeed this is the case. For this new Band, Frankie wanted to take some time out from vocal duties and concentrate on playing his guitar. This sees Hugo taking front stage... Not for every song, though! Who knows what you expect, but what we do ask of you before listening is that you find your comfortable spot, abandon any preconceptions, and as always play it loud.