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Six years after his last album on Miasmah, Schattenspieler, it's great to find Marcus Fjellström resurrected after several long years spent composing his audio-visual opera Boris Christ.

Born out of shattered dreams and an obscured vision of the future, Skelektikon is a delirious yet lucid exploration of the farthest and most conflicted reaches of the heart, teeming with confusion, passion, and ghostly shadows. Being no conventional composer in any way, Marcus stumbles further down his musical domain of detuned orchestral (re-)arrangements and pain-inducing synth passages, arriving at a most unique and personal result. Where Schattenspieler gave way to noir filled alleyways, Skelektikon fills them with paranoia. It's the sound of Limbo, of dancing amoebas, of deviant skeletons, nostalgia and futurism, or quite possibly none of that.

Inhabited by the bizarre and the beautiful, Marcus's music is a blurred yet encouraging representation of how you can never trust your own feelings - or eyes and ears for that matter. And yet, we can't shake the idea that the truth is to be found somewhere within this alien language, as delivered to us through the speakers. Opening our eyes after the final track has dissipated, we wouldn't be surprised to find someone or something there, staring at us, in silent and unsettling knowledge.

James K is a stranger to obviousness. Over the past few years the New York native has quietly honed her sound and peculiar aesthetic. Equally organic and electronic, her sound is a combination of odd dreams, industrial beats and vocals, both incomprehensible and appealing, with a thick layer of glitter on top of it. James K is a concentrated dose of emotion mixed with sorrowful iciness, which in turn ties together ripped, broken, morphed and enchanted samples. James K stands for a fusion of visual and sonic elements, deeply rooted in conscious art practice and downright freak-out. James K creates a mythology of her own.
'PET,' her first LP due out in early 2016, will be a co-release with Dial and her own label, She Rocks! A special edition of the album with added bonus tracks and interludes with be released on cassette through Canadian label 1080p.
In James K's words: 'The underlying desire of 'PET' divides into two parts: an escape into ethereality and a mischievous denial of my own experience. It narrates my search for honest expression by means of the premature denial- a childish excursion into a world of monstrosity and innocence.
PET reflects my mental state during its production - as a person, I was owned, objectified and hurt by other, and that wound I then unwillingly internalized. I turned to my music as a way to dissect these thoughts. The product became my possession, or 'pet.' In retrospective, this process gives me strength over myself; love—knowledge and wisdom enacted. The arrangement of the music and the PET itself relates to my endless struggle, namely, my attempts to reclaim myself.'
Her 'Sokit' 7' is a double track single for her album, which she released last Spring. James K is featured on the recent compilation released by Dial Records for their 15-year anniversary, and a mini LP of her noise pop project SETH (along with producer Gobby), was also recently released by label 1080p in June, in cassette and digital form. She rocks.

The stage is set from minute one on Clay Wilson's new 4-track EP, "Skandha," his second release for The Bunker New York.
The eponymous first track begins with a familiar techno throb, but is quickly overcome by a blooming swirl of coruscating synthesizer pulses that seem to gather inside the listener's head, a phenomenon Wilson seems particularly interested in: "I've never been into really straightforward club techno that works in neat 8- and 16-bar sequences," he says. "I'm always looking for things that have forward momentum, ways to escape that 'block-y,' downbeat-centric feeling that you find in so much contemporary techno. For me, it's the drone—what's going on in the background—that serves to hold my interest."

Nowhere is this more apparent than on the record's second track, "Cataleptic." The meat of the track is its tightly-wound techno core built from insistent, hypnotic percussion, but it's what's happening in the background that keeps you coming back for more: The sound of a babbling brook and a plaintive, meandering bird call ("the only actual recorded animal sounds on the record," notes Wilson) gently give way to the tintinnabulation of a distant bell, whose meditative timbre brings to mind a Tibetan singing bowl. It turns out that the naturalistic, organic sounds in many of Wilson's tracks are often just that: "I make field recordings all the time, actually—on my phone," he says. "I've found field recordings have been a great way to pull things along, never repeating themselves, but also never being so upfront as to draw your attention away from the synths and drums."

That's a key point, and make no mistake—for all the flora and fauna lurking in the background of Wilson's productions, they're designed for the dancefloor through and through. "Feres," the EP's third track, slows down the pace a little bit, keeping time with a static kick-hat pattern while chunky, stepped percussion laid on top makes the track feel remarkably dynamic. The final cut, "Pict," seems to slowly unfurl like flowers at dawn, while a ghostly vocal sample (or merely something approaching it) repeats itself underneath it all.

While at times the drawn-out shimmering tones in Wilson's work may recall modern minimalism, "getting into techno, and more specifically techno production, was kind of a way for me to get away from (formal, classical musical) training," he recalls. "I had been headed down an open-minded, anything-goes path with a compositionally-geared approach, and ... all those paths led to techno." And for that, we're glad.