Поиск:wound

Editions Mego presents The Psychologist, the sophomore album by the Istanbul born and raised, Berlin based electronic music composer and sound artist Hüma Utku.

As the title suggests, The Psychologist, is a series of sonic essays based around themes of psychological phenomena and can be read as a musical enquiry into the human condition. With Utku’s background as a graduate of Psychology and her current practice as a conceptual music composer we see the two main threads in her professional career intertwine on this unique and ambitious release.

Including recordings of Buchla 200 from Utku’s Elektronmusikstudion residency in October 2020,The Psychologist is a genre aversive work that embodies elements of synthesiser music, electroacoustic, experimental techno, industrial, modern composition and spoken word. Piano, string compositions and vocals hold weight throughout a number of pieces providing a dramatic acoustic edge to the psychological explorations contained within.

The foreboding mood of much of this release is the product of investigation that lends the unsettling theme of anticipatory grief to the mood of the tracks Light of All Lights and Continuing Bonds. Islands of Consciousness refers to Jungian metaphor for consciousness whilst the unnerving Rüya twists around dream analysis in Gestalt psychology. Fuel For The Flames proceeds as a buzzing and swirling representation of alchemy and psychological symbolism. Dissolution of I is haunted by a strange sensation of dissociation whilst defense mechanisms support the sublime Sublimation. The bright shapes of Chironian Wound represent archetypes and analytical psychology whilst the fried soundscapes and rhythms of Ataxia encapture neurological states.

The results unravel with both the clockwork rhythms of the human body and the unpredictable nature of the psyche, the pieces follow arrhythmic patterns in a harmonious way. It tells the raw and intimate story of the human experience with a new work whereby the predictable operates in parallel with the unexpected and like human experience itself, is dark and complex.

Composed, Written & Produced by Hüma Utku
Piano by Hüma Utku
Vocals by Hüma Utku
Double Bass performed by Adam Pultz Melbye
Cello performed by Florina Speth (aka Schloss Mirabell)
Violin performed by Marta Forsberg
Cover photography & art by Gözde Güngör
Design by Eloise Leigh

Wrapped Up In Time is the fourth vinyl release by Night Foundation; the solo project of Intermedia artist and Noir Age label owner Richard Vergez. An existential suite of sounds comprised of analogue synth and drum machine, guitar, clarinet, tape loops and other assorted space racket.

The LP offers solo, instrumental passages punctuated by duets with Noir Age alumni: Underground vocal legend Little Annie reputable for her past collaborations with Coil, Nurse With Wound, Swans and countless others, lends her lived-in pipes for Blue Garage; along with Belgrade-based sound artist Zhe Pechorin for Night Blooming Jasmine; a tribute to our passed brother David Lynch.

Both rhythmic and expansive, Hinterland searching; Wrapped Up In Time is a processing of grief, memory, and the current state of our revolving loop of life. Recorded in South Florida, 2024-2025.

Mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi of Senufo Editions.

For fans of: Coil, King Tubby, Dead Can Dance, Scorn, Sabres of Paradise, and Vicious Pink

Limited edition of 100 on black vinyl with full color matte jackets

The capstone of Miles Davis’ electric period, Agharta reigns as a funk-rock fireball — a blazing comet streaked energy and elan, a fearless organism feasting on adventure and freedom, a seven-headed Godzilla stomping its way through Osaka, Japan. Recorded on February 1, 1975 at Osaka Festival Hall at the first of a two-show stand, the double album offers an endless abundance of surprises and shifts — as well as a road-proven ensemble whose chemistry and abilities equal that of any of Davis’ celebrated bands. If the true measure of jazz is the capacity to adapt to the moment and challenge perception, Agharta is consummate.

Sourced from the original master tapes, housed in a Stoughton gatefold jacket, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 33RPM 2LP set of this epic live release presents it in audiophile sound on a domestic pressing for the first time. Offering greater degrees of separation, detail, and richness than the compressed CD editions and more clarity, openness, and presence than older vinyl copies, this version of the 1975 release helps bring the concert stage to your home. Just make sure your turntable and speakers are up to the challenge of Davis and Co.’s explosive performances — and producing the decibels they demand.

Teeming with vibrant colors, tones, and pace, Mobile Fidelity’s reissue captures the hear-it-to-believe-it flow, sweep, and moodiness of the music. Though the group honors looseness and freedom with religious verve, the specificity and scale rendered by this remaster allows you to detect methods behind the alleged madness that are often otherwise harder to discern. This insight extends to the understated changes in volume, harmonics, and phrasings. In many ways, you can listen as Davis himself did that early February evening as he helped coordinate the overall direction and decided on whether to blow his wah-wah-wired trumpet or take a turn on the organ.

Tellingly, Agharta would likely never have been made if not for Davis’ ventures overseas and, specifically, to the Land of the Rising Sun. Having for years faced a backlash on his native soil for his choices to experiment and blow past all known borders, Davis was welcomed with open arms in Japan. The concert documented on Agharta — as well as the day’s later show, captured on the equally exciting Pangea — stemmed from a sold-out three-week tour that would ultimately mark Davis’ final public appearances for years, as he soon settled into semi-retirement and nursed the wounds connected to an unprecedented stretch of restless and relentless output.

For all the band-fueled merit of Agharta — and there’s plenty, given the cast of saxophonist Sonny Fortune, bassist Michael Henderson, drummer Al Foster, percussionist James Mtume, and guitarists Reggie Lucas and Pete Cosey seemingly blasts off to outer space and travels distant galaxies by the time this minimally edited record runs its course — Davis’ own playing often remains overlooked. As critics Richard Cook and Brian Morton observed, it is “often fantastically subtle, creating surges and ebbs in a harmonically static line, allowing him to build huge melismatic variations on a single note.” He attacks like a man on a mission, out to prove naysayers wrong and bent on trailblazing another new path forward. Convention and skeptics be damned.

Noisy and furious, dark and discordant, abstract and off-balance, radical and intense, abrasive and atmospheric, strangely beautiful and hypnotically eccentric: Agharta evades simple description, and refuses to be pinned down in any established category — rock, jazz, punk, ambient, prog, avante-garde, or otherwise. Shot through with trench-deep grooves, screaming riffs, scalding solos, and free-improv leads, its cosmic thrust comes on as the equivalent of an animated pointillist painting comprised of millions of textured dots, dashes, and dabs that hold your attention so raptly you want to revisit the ideas again and again.

Always steps ahead of everyone else, Davis knew what he was doing even when Agharta debuted in Japan before later hitting U.S. markets. Though “Maiysha” and “Theme from Jack Johnson” are identified in the track listing, the record contains a number of uncredited references to other Davis works, including a nod to “So What.” This decision to bypass labels only adds to the art of the reveal — the rare black magic in which Agharta expertly deals.

After finding fame with the Hollies and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, expatriate Englishman turned West Coast rock icon Graham Nash made an auspicious solo debut on this 1971 disc. It's an exemplary singer-songwriter effort, striking a vital balance between graceful introspection and political fervor — and while it's deeply personal, it still carries the harmonies, heart and politics that made CSN(Y) so essential.

With assistance from the likes of David Crosby, Jerry Garcia, and Dave Mason, highlights include the sensitive internal explorations "I Used to Be a King" and "Man in the Mirror" and the impassioned protest anthems "Chicago" and "Military Madness."

If Déjà Vu was a wild canyon party with four competing egos, Songs for Beginners is Nash's introspective morning after — a mix of heartbreak, hope, and a little bit of righteous protest. He recorded it while reeling from his split with Joni Mitchell, and you can feel that melancholy seeping through the grooves.

But don't mistake this for a wallowing breakup album — it's also a call to action, packed with the kind of folk-rock anthems that made Nash an indispensable voice of his era. If you love CSN's folk-rock harmonies but also crave a more personal, raw touch, this is a must-listen.

This Analogue Productions (Atlantic Series) reissue of Pain in My Heart is a standout for your collection. First, we turned to Bernie Grundman to cut lacquers from the original master tape. Pressing on 180-gram vinyl is by Quality Record Pressings, and the album is housed in a tip-on old style gatefold double pocket jacket by Stoughton Printing.

"Miracle after Miracle after ..." ist im Gegensatz zu Jeff Clarke's (The Black Lips/Demon's Claws) vorherigem Soloalbum "Locust", welches in einer einzigen Session in einem Wald aufgenommen wurde, schöner verziert, aber niemals überladen. Im Kern handelt es sich um Folk-Musik. Clarke könnte in einem Atemzug mit Connie Converse, Daniel Johnston und Atlas Sound genannt werden, obwohl solch traditionell exzellentes Songwriting Vergleiche sowohl leicht macht als auch von Natur aus reduktiv ist.

Introducing: Temporary Blessings, the new project by stalwart Naarm / Melbourne trumpet player and composer Liam McGorry.

Assembled to realise McGorry's compositions drawing on 1960s Italian & French soundtrack music, Temporary Blessings brings together trusted instrumentalists and fellow travelers from Melbourne's rich enclave of cinematic soul. With Liam at the helm, the group is composed of members of Surprise Chef, Karate Boogaloo, Saskwatch and Let Your Hair Down.

The resulting recordings realise McGorry's sonic visions of film noir, giallo, library music and cinematic soul, captured live in one room with what the maestro describes as "a shared spirit". The recordings, produced by paragon Henry Jenkins, bring together emotive string arrangements, tough horns and a steadfast rhythm section with an acute attention to detail McGorry has developed over years in the saddle.

Liam says: "I find great comfort in collaborating with good friends and playing together in the same room and taking these blessings as they come."

A veteran of Melbourne soul, McGorry's steady hands have touched some of the city's most revered projects over the last 15 years; McGorry-led projects Saskwatch, Dorsal Fins and Ex-Olympian sit aside Sampa The Great, Ella Thompson and Adrian Eagle on Liam's heavy list of credits and collaborators. He has contributed more than his fair share of bricks to the great structure of Melbourne soul, always playing the background, true to his humble nature.

LP available in black or orange and brown splatter vinyl.

Introducing: Temporary Blessings, the new project by stalwart Naarm / Melbourne trumpet player and composer Liam McGorry.

Assembled to realise McGorry's compositions drawing on 1960s Italian & French soundtrack music, Temporary Blessings brings together trusted instrumentalists and fellow travelers from Melbourne's rich enclave of cinematic soul. With Liam at the helm, the group is composed of members of Surprise Chef, Karate Boogaloo, Saskwatch and Let Your Hair Down.

The resulting recordings realise McGorry's sonic visions of film noir, giallo, library music and cinematic soul, captured live in one room with what the maestro describes as "a shared spirit". The recordings, produced by paragon Henry Jenkins, bring together emotive string arrangements, tough horns and a steadfast rhythm section with an acute attention to detail McGorry has developed over years in the saddle.

Liam says: "I find great comfort in collaborating with good friends and playing together in the same room and taking these blessings as they come."

A veteran of Melbourne soul, McGorry's steady hands have touched some of the city's most revered projects over the last 15 years; McGorry-led projects Saskwatch, Dorsal Fins and Ex-Olympian sit aside Sampa The Great, Ella Thompson and Adrian Eagle on Liam's heavy list of credits and collaborators. He has contributed more than his fair share of bricks to the great structure of Melbourne soul, always playing the background, true to his humble nature.

LP available in black or orange and brown splatter vinyl.

Straight out of the local mud of the city of Antwerp comes dancing this next Souvenirs from Imaginary Cities slab of free-flowing bits of electronic wonder : Schönen Abend by Simon B. Just in time to ease you out of this endless winter and right into springtime. Like the previous hit by Purple Uncle, this flower takes some time to bloom and fill up your head and body with it's ear wormy fragrance.

It's hazy and cinematic, makes you think of Italian electronic pioneers and their library magic, Patrick Cowley's School Daze and Haruomi Hosono in some kind of gothic manner. It's quite stripped and lush at the same time, rhythms like minimal mechanics make you fly above the river and land just outside reality. It's a nice place where soft jazz tingles right around the dark corner, and that particular mix of exotica and melancholia — the trademark of this port city's best electronic auteurs is definitely in the air. The river still shines, but she’s deeply poisoned. The old town has lost every bit of fresh air but keeps on digging for old gold. This bitter pill is served with delicacy and lightness, the wound is dressed up seductively — feet in the mud, head in the air. Stuff is sensuous, with quiet places reminding of the good side of those times when the big wheel stopped turning ever so madly. A strange quietness whistles through the leaves. Some things take time to unfold. In or out of C.

Four years in the making, this is the solo debut LP of Simon B, a longtime contributor to Antwerp's improvised music scene (Groovecats Deluxe, Wij Blij Trio ). Primarily a double bass player, he also has a deep-felt passion for offbeat electronica and the rainbowy side of American minimalism, which takes front here. The smoky voice on the last track belongs to Nina-Joy Thielemans, Nina-Joy is part of Particals, a trio working with live electronics and field recordings, releasing an lp on Ultra Eczema later this year. Furthermore, you can hear the tenor and soprano saxophone of Adia Van Heerentals on 4 tracks, deepening out Simon's naturally flowing compositions and playing around with his melodies. You may know her from Bodem and her strong presence in the Belgian jazz scene lately.

Simon's electroacoustic experiments — using a clarinet and some outboard effects — were important tools in finding the very specific colour of this record. There's this airy character, like wind blowing through old layers of bricks and over the river, anchored with a deep sense of bass, gathering ages of dust and memories in these eight elegantly wobbling tracks, forming a perfect whole that’s really coming together in one deep listening from A to Z.

The centrepiece is perhaps Come to Me, instrumental and reprise with vocals, but no fillers on this one. Every part of the mystery is needed to come to its end and back again. It's a record that works in the morning, to open up a day and in the quiet corners of the night, with it's sleazy quirkiness, smiling towards you from the right corner of the eye. A perfect compagnon for your long-form wandering habits, light reflections on a wet surface obsessions, coffee slurping in the morning and the forgotten art of beachcombing. Quite essential these days, witnessing a world going apeshit.

Dieses spezielle Vinyl-Boxset enthält den kompletten Original-Soundtrack des Spiels sowie die DLC-Musik für Stir of Dawn und Wounds of Eventide. Der 4LP-Schuber in limitierter Auflage ist mit einem maßgeschneiderten Coverartwork von Diego Minguez sowie bedruckten Innenhüllen mit Artwork von Jesús Campos „Nerkin“ verziert.

Blasphemous präsentiert eine alptraumhafte Variante des mystischen Katholizismus und der gotischen Architektur der Heimatstadt von The Game Kitchen, Sevilla. Das angesehene Metroidvania-Spiel ist voll von verdrehter religiöser Ikonografie und esoterischer Symbolik. Die eindringliche Musik des Komponisten Carlos Viola ist untrennbar mit der einzigartigen Atmosphäre des Spiels verbunden. Er übersetzt Themen wie Leid, Schuld und Einsamkeit in eine tief emotionale Musik, die von der Tragödie zur Transzendenz drängt.

Der Soundtrack beschwört ein spezifisches Gefühl von Ort und Zeit herauf und schöpft aus den Traditionen der spanischen Folkgitarre, mittelalterlichen Chorälen und orchestralen Verzierungen, um eine Art okkulte Kammermusik zu schaffen. Geschmeidige Streicher und schwebender Gesang kreuzen Wellen kolossaler Drones, bevor sie wieder im Morast versinken. Hypnagogische Passagen pulsieren mit übernatürlicher Kraft, während klagende, beunruhigende Klavierstücke für Momente des Alleinseins inmitten des Gemetzels sorgen. Violas prächtige Kompositionen werden durch Beiträge der Instrumentalisten Sergio Carmona (Bass) und Manuel Soto "Noly" (Gitarre) sowie durch die mitreißenden Gesangseinlagen von Nadia Torres und Dolores Berg unterstützt.

Wie das Spiel selbst ist auch die Musik von Blasphemous beunruhigend und von Leid durchdrungen, aber dennoch seltsam schön und fesselnd. Schnappen Sie sich Ihr Schwert und Ihren Rosenkranz, bevor Sie eintauchen - Sie werden beides gebrauchen können.

Sugaring a Strawberry, the sophomore record from Julia, Julia, is a study in coming undone—on purpose. Recorded at COMA, Julia Kugel's home studio, and mixed through a custom Flickenger clone, the album drifts in and out of clarity like memory itself. It's emotionally retrospective, creatively unvarnished, and deeply human. You can hear it in the hiss, the warmth, in the vocals so raw they're like an open window. These songs weren't engineered for perfection. They were built to breathe. Her long-time collaborator and husband, Scott Montoya, mixes it all so loosely that you can hear the air between tracks— a space that makes the music feel inhabited rather than recorded.


"Bound" opens the album like a secret passed between sisters, solemn and unspeakably close. It begins with the softest of touches: hushed guitar, a near- whispered delivery that carries the intimacy of someone singing only for one other person. It's a love song, but not romantic, more ancestral in the way long bonds can be. All glow and undercurrent, "I Know," is like hearing someone hum through a wound. The track arrives as if it had been waiting, coiled and complete, to be sung. Its pulse is slow but insistent, anchored on a hypnotic loop and a vocal that's half-incantation, half-confession. One of the most outward-facing songs on the record, "Feeling Lucky," opens like a cigarette flicked in the dark– smoky and a little bit slick. Built on a skeletal beat and a nearly detached vocal, it leans into a sarcastic swagger that barely masks the ache beneath. The delivery is droll and glazed, the instrumentation is sparse and a little woozy, leaving space for her voice to sway—a shrug of a song, stylish in its sadness. "A Love That Hurts" drifts in on soft, fingerpicked guitar and a dry, close-mic vocal that feels both haunted and immediate. The mix is stripped down and analog-warm, letting tape hum and silence frame the emotion. Julia sings like she's remembering something she doesn't want to, each line a slight unraveling. Like the rest of the album, "A Love That Hurts" doesn't push toward resolution. It sits in the ache, sifts through it, makes it beautiful.

Sugaring a Strawberry doesn't seek catharsis so much as stumbles into it. There's a quiet volatility to these songs like they might fall apart if you press too hard. It moves in shadow and softness, asking questions it doesn't answer. It doesn’t end with closure. It ends with truth.

GATEFOLD DOUBLE VINYL WITH SPOT UV FRONT COVER

Following the skewed-unself-help-brilliance of ‘Sus Dog’ (which marked his first full foray into songs, abetted by Thom Yorke), and its companion piece ‘Cave Dog’, Chris Clark returns to the dancefloor’s simple, but no less affecting pleasures, with ‘Steep Stims’.
“I found it hard to pull away from listening to this record, hard to stop making it, I had to remove myself from the Stims and stop enjoying it at some point. The album feels like nature to me. I love it when electronic music feels more naturalistic than acoustic music, more potent, that’s the devil’s trick, the promise of electronic music.” comments Chris.
“I used an old synth - the Virus on all of the tracks. I used it at Mess in Melbourne - run by my friend Robin Fox - I loved it so much I had to buy one when I got back to the UK, it took a while to find. They’re a bit clunky to program but make some of my most favourite sounds.”
‘Steep Stims’ marks a back-to-basics approach, invoking the early years of gung-ho creativity enforced by limitations in technology at the time. “Most of the tracks on this album capture the spirit of making music on old samplers, which don’t have much memory time”, explains Clark. “It reminds me of making ‘Clarence Park’, my first album, where I would have to finish tunes in the session, as they would be saved on floppy disks and I couldn’t easily go between tracks. This new record is just a few synths and a few choice sounds; the writing is the important thing.”
Made quickly, ‘Steep Stims’ reflects the immediate rave energy of his live show, but that’s not to say it’s basic floor fodder, as it’s rife with personality, synth magic, and knack for melody. Although swift and impressionistically captured rather than laboured over, it’s still formidably deft, with plenty of oddball weirdness lurking beneath the dancefloor.
Soft, orange, scorched, brutal, the opening track ‘Gift and Wound’ captures the classic dance music dread / awe / euphoria combo perfectly, before ‘Infinite Roller’ merges sparkly-minimalism with snarling bass and soft sines, which turn more dense and metallic as it progresses.
The melancholic smoke belch of ‘No Pills U’ gives strong classic vibrations, which is belied by its creation, made in just 20 minutes. “I love working quickly sometimes”, comments Clark. “Inspiration hits, rough and ready. It’s off the cuff but also screams ‘don’t gild the lily with nonsense, keep it simple keep it clean’”. Segueing into its elder brother, the piece becomes bigger and beatier on ‘Janus Modal’, where it permutates for over 7 minutes of fluttering, beatific club majesty.
At ‘18EDO Bailiff’ you inexplicably find yourself at a clearing, things have suddenly got much quieter. You enter a decrepit and eerie old house, and as you move through its unsettling interior, you arrive at ‘Globecore Flats’. A real piano tuned to 18 notes per octave gives the pair of tracks a haunted, olde worlde feel, which promptly gets eaten by a huge tech step tearout monster, birthing a strange but exotic beast.
The white hot ‘Blowtorch Thimble’ is all hooktasm-rave-hyper-amen-energy, whilst acidic flute leaps around like Ian Anderson on pingers throughout the catchily simple jump-up lurch of ‘Civilians’.
“‘In Patient’s Day Out’ is like some sort of Morricone-does-kraut-rock-with-drum-machines, but that’s probably just in my head” says Clark. “I made several versions of this then went with the early mix but cranked through some choice outboard because it just had something.”
Drumless, yet still full of exhilarating-big-trance-drama, ‘Who Booed The Goose’ flashes by in stroboscopic fast forward, then ‘5 Millionth Cave Painting’ gives a palate cleanser, letting “the virus with its delicious broken, luxurious reverb have a moment”, before ‘Negation Loop’ swoops down in all its glory, with Clark’s tweaked vocals leading deconstructed trance breakdowns, tape edits and brutal noisebursts.
An antidote to the bombast of its predecessor is ‘Micro Lyf’, which closes the set on a poignant note, of sorts. Muted staccato gives way to field recordings “that gradually put it in this outside space; alien in a meadow somewhere nameless. It feels like a sinkhole. The record kinda swallows itself up and then is gone”, ends Chris.

His fourth album, City Music works as a counterpart to Morby’s acclaimed 2016 release Singing Saw, an autobiographical set that reflected the solitude and landscape in which it was recorded. Saw was imagined as “an old bookshelf with a young Bob and Joni staring back at me, blank and timeless. They live here, in this left side of my brain, smoking cigarettes and playing acoustic guitars while lying on an unmade bed.” And now follows City Music, the yang to its yin, the heads to its tails. It is a collection crafted using the other side of its creator’s brain, the jumping off point perhaps best once again encapsulated by an image. “Here, Lou Reed and Patti Smith stare out at the listener,” explains Morby. “Stretched out on a living room floor they are somewhere in mid-70s Manhattan, also smoking cigarettes.” It finds Morby exploring similar themes of solitude, but this time framed by a window of an uptown apartment that looks down upon an international urban landscape “exposed like a giant bleeding wound.”

Los Angeles-based producer and composer Hayes Bradley returns with his most ambitious work yet, Audience, out now via StrataSonic Records. A departure from his years composing for film and fashion, the 14-track album marks a return to his dancefloor roots by melding breakbeats, trip-hop, and ambient textures into something both nostalgic and forward-thinking.

After two beatless, melodic LPs on Secular Sabbath, Bradley arrives at Los Angeles’ StrataSonic—an independent label celebrated for prioritizing artistic freedom—with Audience, a record defined by moody, churning breaks and rich soundscapes. Across the album, he merges the emotional depth of his scoring work with the kinetic energy of underground dance music, crafting a deeply-layed and adventurous project that exists beyond trends while highlighting his versatility as both producer and performer.

The album features collaborations with Luna on the ethereal “Dear Treasure” (accompanied by a music video with collaborator and partner Luna Blaise) Amtrac on “Be Right With You,” and Oxis on “Wishes,” alongside a range of instrumental cuts that highlight Bradley’s approach to rhythm and sound design.

At its core, Audience is an exploration of embracing personal and musical chaos. Bradley channels moments of anxiety, uncertainty, and raw emotion into tracks that are unpredictable and immersive. The album reflects his philosophy of leaning into disorder—turning moments of anxiety, unpredictability, and chaos into kinetic music that moves both body and mind.

Leviathan Whispers is an album of longings, laments, deliriums and drones, savage and sublime. Within are breaths, hums and bone songs for shadows and fl ames to dance to. Tim Hill is an inspirational fi gure within the UK arts, jazz, noise and improv world. A shapeshifting maverick exploring Britain's diverse musical traditions, from rough music to industrial folk, free jazz to dub, post-punk to avant-rock, incorporating ambient electronics, hymns and noise. Having worked with pioneering arts company Welfare State International, Tim’s performed inside Stonehenge, on the back of trucks at Notting Hill Carnival, leading giants through the streets of London, Dublin and Galway, at Olympic Torch events, celebratory feasts and leading humanist funerals. Tim is also festival director for The Sound of the Streets, a charity promoting outdoor music and musical director of the Wye Valley River Festival where he helps street bands across the country including The Big Noise in Taunton and Horns of Plenty in Oxford.

Leviathan Whispers is a spectral, contemplative selection of Tim's recorded work, including material created for art installations, outdoor projects, solo performances and personal meditations. Inspired by landscape and the eternal pull of Blake's Albion, baritone, alto and soprano saxophones are mixed with tape loops, old synths, recycled live recordings, woodwinds and reeds. Other sounds are processed by Colin Potter (Nurse With Wound) and drone artist Jonathan Coleclough. The album artwork and accompanying videos feature sound sculptures by Michael Fairfax (Royal Society of Sculptors) alongside unsettling visuals by fi lm-maker and junk-alchemist David Young. "an amazing player - there's a weight to his music with a wonderfully dark edge" Corey Mwamba / BBC Radio 3 Fans of Colin Stetson, John Surman, Anna Von Hausswolff , William Basinski and La Monte Young will fi nd much to savour on this new 12" LP. LAUNCH PARTY: we're holding a special launch event with a live performance and talk by Tim Hill on Saturday, 15th November inside a beautiful Victorian chapel beneath Royal Berks Hospital, Reading.

An enthralling weave of cathartic, introspective spirituality and thrumming, industrial darkness; The Wounded Healer is the first full-length from PREYRS, the new incarnation of Irish singer-songwriter Amy Montgomery and her band as one formidable entity. From the fourpiece's new janiform name; a twisting, conflicting play on the tenderness and innocence of prayer and the deadly dance of prey and predator to the band's fiercely independent journey, PREYRS is a project already steeped in story. After breathtaking album opener `Humble Eyes', lead single `Wave of Wisdom' immediately lays this concept bare as Amy's incandescent delivery of uncertainty, "lesson learned / don't know how / but here I am again / stronger than before", soars over a defiantly discordant clash of alt-folk slide guitar and Mormecha's pummeling industrial percussion. Elsewhere, the high-octane `Zeros, Ones & Lies' wrestles with the spiritual toll of being fed constant footage of atrocity and catastrophe by a media that accepts no responsibility for their part in the global race to the bottom. As such, the track bursts into furious life with urgent, double-time drums met by guitars distorted to the brink of destruction before the song all but caves in on itself as Amy quietly asks of us "Can you feel it? / like a river / it flows so silently / it flows so violently". By contrast, `Bring Ur Bruises' radiates resplendent, self-empowering positivity. Centred once again on the concept of the wounded healer, `Bring Ur Bruises' implores the listener to welcome their trauma in, to own it and wear it as a paradoxical means of ultimately letting it go as triumphant, reverb-soaked guitars soar ever higher. If it wasn't already clear, PREYRS are no strangers to doing things differently and, across every iteration, the band have always taken a DIY approach to every aspect of their existence. From covering themselves in paint and rolling over every single early album cover to, until recently, booking all of their own shows and festivals as diverse as Glastonbury, Green Man (UK), Blizzarrrd Rock (GER) and Bloodstock (UK), last year the band found themselves touring the UK as Amy Montgomery in support of musical heroes and British post-punk legends New Model Army. In November 2025 they will be joining New Model Army again on tour across Europe, but this time as PREYRS performing tracks from The Wounded Healer, the same four people but an entirely different beast. FOR FANS OF Nine Inch Nails, Chelsea Wolfe, Sonic Youth, Julie Christmas, Alanis Morissette, My Bloody Valentine, Siouxsie and The Banshees, Melvins

An enthralling weave of cathartic, introspective spirituality and thrumming, industrial darkness; The Wounded Healer is the first full-length from PREYRS, the new incarnation of Irish singer-songwriter Amy Montgomery and her band as one formidable entity. From the fourpiece's new janiform name; a twisting, conflicting play on the tenderness and innocence of prayer and the deadly dance of prey and predator to the band's fiercely independent journey, PREYRS is a project already steeped in story. After breathtaking album opener `Humble Eyes', lead single `Wave of Wisdom' immediately lays this concept bare as Amy's incandescent delivery of uncertainty, "lesson learned / don't know how / but here I am again / stronger than before", soars over a defiantly discordant clash of alt-folk slide guitar and Mormecha's pummeling industrial percussion. Elsewhere, the high-octane `Zeros, Ones & Lies' wrestles with the spiritual toll of being fed constant footage of atrocity and catastrophe by a media that accepts no responsibility for their part in the global race to the bottom. As such, the track bursts into furious life with urgent, double-time drums met by guitars distorted to the brink of destruction before the song all but caves in on itself as Amy quietly asks of us "Can you feel it? / like a river / it flows so silently / it flows so violently". By contrast, `Bring Ur Bruises' radiates resplendent, self-empowering positivity. Centred once again on the concept of the wounded healer, `Bring Ur Bruises' implores the listener to welcome their trauma in, to own it and wear it as a paradoxical means of ultimately letting it go as triumphant, reverb-soaked guitars soar ever higher. If it wasn't already clear, PREYRS are no strangers to doing things differently and, across every iteration, the band have always taken a DIY approach to every aspect of their existence. From covering themselves in paint and rolling over every single early album cover to, until recently, booking all of their own shows and festivals as diverse as Glastonbury, Green Man (UK), Blizzarrrd Rock (GER) and Bloodstock (UK), last year the band found themselves touring the UK as Amy Montgomery in support of musical heroes and British post-punk legends New Model Army. In November 2025 they will be joining New Model Army again on tour across Europe, but this time as PREYRS performing tracks from The Wounded Healer, the same four people but an entirely different beast. FOR FANS OF Nine Inch Nails, Chelsea Wolfe, Sonic Youth, Julie Christmas, Alanis Morissette, My Bloody Valentine, Siouxsie and The Banshees, Melvins

Room Noises is the debut album by the American indie rock/pop band Eisley. The album spawned three singles: "Memories",

"Telescope Eyes", and "I Wasn't Prepared". It was placed at number 9 among Paste magazine's top albums of 2005.

The dreamy sound on this album is pretty unique and the album contains a healthy dose of fragile songs.
Room Noises is available as a limited edition of 750 individually numbered copies on crystal clear & black marbled vinyl and includes an insert.

Wounds is the band's long-awaited fifth album - their first in six years, their most eclectic and ambitious work to date. As heavy as it is haunting, the record masterfully blends doom, post-punk, and driving krautrock in a dynamic, hypnotic maelstrom - pushing London's most exciting cult band into intoxicating new territory. "Wounds is a series of songs about the different ways people live with and process 'the wounds' of their lives," explains vocalist Maya. "A strange celebration of that formative pain we have all experienced in some way. The loss and joy of survival - the celebration of finding others like us, the gift of knowing life comes after fire." Wounds was recorded by Mike Bew, on location at Foel Studio. The band could be found working deep into the witching hours, experimenting with new sounds and filling the valleys with cantankerous wails of sound, bursting from amps borrowed from My Bloody Valentine. "The Welsh countryside has a mystical quality to it," says guitarist Adam. "We recorded in a deep, dark valley; misty days and shooting stars at night. You could wander through nearby woods and stone circles during breaks. Foel Studios is woven into this setting with a transcendence of its own - its storied history includes sessions by Electric Wizard, Hawkwind and The Fall." Synths on the album are arranged by Berlin-based Bow Church, an influential figure in the dark electronic scene and a longtime collaborator of the band. His work weaves icy and atmospheric textures into the album's tracks. While meticulously crafted, Wounds captures the visceral energy of Cold in Berlin's renowned live shows. The album's arrangements and raucous sound remain true to the unrelenting intensity and atmosphere of their stage performances - every track retains the sweat, urgency, and immediacy of a band performing in the moment.

Sanguis is the alias of Berlin-based producer Ludwig Wandinger, a fixture in the city's experimental scene.
On his debut album Wounding dark ambient textures and solo piano improvisations let the listener's attention slip in and out of focus creating a liminal state of dreaming, feeling and drifting through inner worlds and thoughts.
Wandinger tries to capture fleeting moments - all tracks are unedited first takes, some recorded only with his phone in various places, from a friend's flat in Neukölln to his family home in rural Bavaria. Background noises become a part of the music and create a tangible sense of place, urging the listener to keep an ear out for one's own surroundings.
Though firmly rooted in the ambient genre, the album is not just about finding comfort. It's an acknowledgement of the ambiguity of our world where menace and beauty coexist, a dichotomy most apparent in nature itself - a constant source of inspiration for Wandinger.
Wounding is about walking alone on damp foliage at night and being handed a blanket by a loved one at the earliest daylight.

Ein inspiriertes Treffen musikalischer Köpfe erzeugt eine mehrdimensionale Noir-Welt auf diesem luftig-intimen, wunderschönen Kooperationsalbum. Zugleich der Höhepunkt seiner Disciples-Trilogie, treibt Ruth Mascelli (Special Interest) zusammen mit Mary Hanson Scott die paranoiden Torch-Songs des Vorgängers "Non-Stop Healing Frequency" in noch liminalere und abgehobenere Gefilde. Die Songseite ist stärker denn je, während die FX-beschallten Rohrblatt-Klänge von Mary Hanson Scott nicht nur Ruths verführerisches Gesäusel perfekt untermalen, sondern auch ein wolkig-ambientes Klangbett für die Instrumentals bilden, die die Sequenzen zusammenhalten und zu einer wahrhaft emotional mitreißenden Reise formen. Mit Gastauftritten von Jae Matthews (Boy Harsher) und Maria Elena (Special Interest). Im Coverdesign von Brett LaBauve von der Queer-Dance-Party-Institution Gimme A Reason, New Orleans. Zu den Höhepunkten zählt die episch-sehnsuchtsvolle Power-Ballade "Haunted Hearts", das hinreißende Zeitlupen-Cover des Hi-NRG-Pop(per)-Knallers "Self Control" und die zerhackten Rhythmen von "A Lover's Theory Of Value" zwischen abgestumpftem Trip-Hop und Julee Cruise, während "Vaseline Lens" an die elegischen Klagelieder über den Niedergang auf Seite 2 des Debütalbums "A Night At The Baths" erinnert.

Recital releases The Holy Restaurant, the new full-length album by Derek Baron, and their first solo LP since Curtain (Recital, 2020).

The album is built from years of miniature transcriptions of improvisations, functioning in many ways as a sister to Curtain. Half-thoughts and mistakes are revisited, gilded, and illuminated. The floorboards of the album are laid with piano, organ, string pads, while serrated accruements (distortions, flourishes, and recording interferences) step and drop overhead. The resulting conflux, as Baron notes in the accompanying booklet “becomes the point and the problem to explore.”

The second track “Oven Girls” opens with us galloping on a horse in some video-game meadow on a bed of MIDI strings. Abruptly, a helicopter soars over us and we transition to a latticed guitar and woodwind exploration. The album rolls on in this fashion, juxtaposing musical half-sentences within a museum of sounds rag-picked from history and daily life. Emotional interviews with Midwestern friars who build and sell caskets are set against gothic piano and guitar duets. On “Music in the Casket,” A disorienting and hilariously epic guitar solo erupts. The penultimate titular piece, “The Holy Restaurant,” sets a text written by Baron’s grandfather. A small chorus voices his words, echoing the humanistic storytelling of “Blue” Gene Tyranny’s A Letter From Home. Under sunlit piano progressions, a fleet of smokey trumpets emerges.

Running throughout the album is a series of “traces”: short melodic phrases painted over again and again with different real and MIDI instrumentation. The “luxurious asceticism of doubling” as Baron puts it. They explain, “Part of the allure for me is that the ‘original’ material is itself kind of thin, sketchy, meaningless, maybe calling attention to itself only by way of a felicitous mistake. Hearing, transcribing, and learning what was basically only ever played first on accident becomes the guiding concern.”

The album’s shifting, variegated forms and voices pass quickly; the record feels both comforting and elusive, suitable for any hour of the day.

The Holy Restaurant features guest players Ed Atkins, Lucy Liyou, Quentin Moore, Emily Martin, Dominic Frigo, Jacob Wick, and several of Baron’s family members. It is released in a limited edition vinyl pressing of 200 copies, accompanied by a booklet of effusive program notes by the composer, alongside an assemblage of photographs, scores, and artwork.

"Prudência / Praga", or "Prudence / Plague", is a double single with these two songs that I composed and which were originally recorded by two of my heroes: Maria Bethânia and Alaíde Costa. Curiously, they are two sambas: although I come from the rock and roll scene in Sao Paulo, I wound up writing a samba as if it were the 50s. At the time of my first heartbreak, at the age of 17, I had the record Jamelao canta Lupicínio with the Orquestra Tabajara on my iPod, and I identified with those dramatic sorrows, almost a hundred years old. In a way, I felt that Lupicínio Rodrigues was bloody and direct, like Tarantino, and Nelson Cavaquinho, heavy metal like Black Sabbath. So, I feel it's a compact 45 of sambas but it's also very Rock n Roll to me. Raw and coming from hell. "Prudência" is that internal battle between the passionate side and the controlling side in the head of the former romantic bohemian. I wrote it for Bethânia to record on her album Noturno. Her version turned into a moving bolero. When I saw her singing it live and the audience singing along with her, I couldn't believe it. I cried, hidden in the audience. She said that when she showed the record to her brother, Caetano Veloso, he thought that "Prudência" was some old classic that she had dug up to bring back to light. Nothing could be a greater compliment than this mistake on Caetano's part. "Praga" also has to do with MPB heroes of mine that I never imagined I'd see up close or have any relationship with or any connection with. I was asked to write these lyrics in partnership with the main man Erasmo Carlos for Alaíde Costa's album! Surreal. Like many people, I got acquainted with Alaíde listening to "Clube da Esquina," her singing with Milton Nascimento. And the idea was to do a poisonous cabaret song samba. The curse of a woman who has dumped a drunk. I love it when Alaíde sings "BIBIDA" in her recording of the song_a total legend. I wanted to produce a kind of horror samba recording, because if it wasn't rock and roll, it wouldn't be much fun for me. I went over to Bielzinho's, and we recorded this chorus that explodes with the percussion and the choir of my friends Tulipa, Maria Beraldo, and Luiza Lian. This take of "Prudência" came from the unpretentiousness of recording two live sessions of the song with Fred Joseph with the cameras of the 70s' program "Ensaio" (MPB Especial) by the great Fernando Faro. The video take ended up being so unexpected and raw that it unseated the studio version, and that's what you hear on the single. The idea behind the video is a sort of this temporal mindfuck; like found lost tapes of the MPB Especial from the early the 70s. Same microphones, same cameras, that zoom_time travel. Between Mil Coisas Invisíveis, the end of the cycle with O Terno, and starting the new album process, I decided to take advantage of the respite to release this rock and roll 45 of sambas, without thinking too much or over-producing the thing. "Prudence? Don't talk to me about prudence!" ;) Tim Bernardes, 2025

With this album, Heleen Van Haegenborgh returns to her roots as a pianist.
In recent years, she has primarily composed works on commission for a diverse range of ensembles, from recorders to foghorns.
On this solo album, her entire journey of musical encounters and compositions comes together subtly.
Van Haegenborgh doesn't think in terms of stories or boxes, but rather in colours, energy, and texture - without drifting into the abstract.
She remains true to her personal inside piano world, including the use of wires she has been experimenting with since 2008. These are given a place here as fully-fledged musical elements, communicating on different levels, in various contexts and forms.
The electronics sometimes become completely one with the piano, but often follow an entirely different path: at times calm, subtle and refined; at other times nervous and under the surface. Always within specific atmospheres and with precise timing.
Van Haegenborgh took charge of every detail from start to finish - electronics, composition, and performance.

"I stood on top of the mountain and looked out over the landscape. It was so beautiful that my chest hurt. The light vibrated, time stood still, and the contours dissolved for a moment. Everything had changed; I felt it then. I took their little hands so as not to lose contact with the ground. Then we ran down the mountain, scraping our knees. Still, we didn't make it. You had already put away all the nautical charts, loosened the moorings and steered out among the skerries. Mum stood waving from the jetty. You were alone, you wanted it that way. It was to be just you in the boat this time. I called out to you. I think you heard me and felt less lonely. We couldn't carry each other anymore, no matter how hard we tried. We washed our wounds on the shore and scattered tears and rose petals in the bay. The children laughed and searched for treasures under water. We called to them that it was time to come up. They were cold, and we hugged them to warmth. One ran ahead, the other up on our shoulders. Up the mountain, our mountain."

In 2020 Anna Högberg put her widely celebrated band Anna Högberg Attack on hold, retraining as a nurse whilst continuing a solo practice and playing in other groups. With Ensamseglaren she makes a spectacular return with her own ensemble — this time a double sextet — performing an album length suite of new music written in dedication to her late father — the titular ‘ensamseglaren’ pictured on the LP cover as a young boy.

 (ensam in Swedish can mean both alone and lonely, seglaren = the sailor).

Shot through with renewed energy and a brutally affective emotional punch, Högberg’s formal experimentation opens up vibrant possibilities for the assembled musicians to let loose with some of their wildest and most ecstatic playing on record.

Högberg’s contention with grief leans into collective joy as method of mourning — the big band as extended family; where bonds are made through a shared experience of being together. Where everyone gets to be themselves without expectations of who they should be or what they can do. It’s a radical commitment to care — of her self and others — that animates and unifies this suite of music’s radical dynamics and variations in colour: from whisper-quiet textural intensity to harrowing distortion and double drum chaos; raucous and solemn song.

"Throughout history, humans have had different images of the transition between life and death. Imagine standing on the seashore on a summer evening and seeing a beautiful vessel being prepared for departure. The sails are hoisted. The evening breeze comes, the sails fill and the boat glides out onto the open sea. You follow it with your eyes as it heads towards the sunset. It gets smaller and smaller, until it finally disappears as a tiny dot on the horizon. Then you hear someone next to you say, ‘Now they have left us.’ Left us for what? The fact that they got smaller and smaller and finally disappeared is only how we see it. In reality, they are just as big and beautiful as when they were here, lying on the beach by our side. Just as you hear that voice say ‘Now they have left us’, there may be someone on another beach who sees them appear on the horizon, someone waiting to welcome them when they reaches their new port."

"Pop" is a tag that's been assigned to Minus The Bear throughout their career. It's been used to set a distinction between the unique brand of complex indie rock they introduced on their first EP and the more angular and aggravated sounds of their previous bands Botch, Kill Sadie, and Sharks Keep Moving. It's also a tag that was thrown around frequently in the wake of their streamlined fourth album, OMNI. And it's a descriptor that immediately comes to mind within the first few seconds of their classic second formal EP, They Make Beer Commercials Like This. Now celebrating its 10-year anniversary and first time in print since 2011, Beer Commercials is the evolutionary step between Minus The Bear's first two landmark albums, Highly Refined Pirates and Menos El Oso. Opening track "Fine + 2 Points" remains one of the band's strongest opening tracks in their discography,charging out of the gates with a syncopated stomp that comes across as a more agitated take on Kylie Minogue's "Can't Get You Outta My Head". If Minus The Bear were looking to make pop music without any of its major-scale bubblegum trappings, they nailed it here. The band follows it with "Let's Play Clowns" and "Dog Park" - nods to Highly Refined Pirates' formula of frenetic clean guitar work, bombastic choruses, and Jake Snider's lyrics of detached romantic nostalgia. These tracks may represent Minus The Bear's original trademark version of pop, but on songs like "I'm Totally Not Down With Rob's Alien" the band eschews it's restless energy for atmosphere and dynamics, creating a sound that's inspired more than a handful of contemporary melodic post-rock bands. By the time the band belts out "Pony Up!" the listener has watched the three-year sonic transition between Minus The Bear's first two full-lengths transpire within under half-an-hour, with the their earlier math rock predilections yielding to the tightly wound club-banging pedalboard trickery that defined their sophomore album. Even if Beer Commercials doesn't fit within your definition of pop music, the unorthodox energetic charm of this relatively low-profile release serves as an exciting reminder of why Minus The Bear became one of the most important and influential indie rock bands of the new century.

AniaraWL07 links up label mainstays Dorisburg, Efraim Kent, and Arkajo. Side A kicks off with Dorisburg & Efraim Kent's Wired to the Mainframe: a tightly wound, pulse-driven Tech House trip. Followed by X-Files Groove, which strips back the layers and tunnels into a darker, dub-laced transmission. Flip to Side B for Arkajo's two-part Consequence series. Consequence #1 locks you into rolling, UK-inspired rhythms, pushing forward with a warm yet propulsive energy. Consequence #2 turns the screws tighter, upping the BPM and unfolding into a tense, minimal workout where every hit and echo feel essential.

The Rachel's band began when Jason Noble joined forces with Christian Frederickson. Within months of their meeting on a crowded trolley, they had formed a small ensemble to perform original compositions. In the next three years, madness ensued. Christian finished his degree at the Peabody Conserva-tory of Music, traveled to Switzerland to study, returned home, then wound up in NYC to attend the Julliard School. Jason didn't finish his degree, moved back to Louisville, began employment as an artist by day, dishwasher by night, and be-gan working with friends in a band that would become Rodan. This insane, all over the world life-style, led to a barrage of telephone, demo tape, notepaper, sheet music & mail communication. This, combined with sporadic two-week or two-day person-to-person collaborations in whatever city was central enough, became the bizarre process of the music. During this long gestation, Rachel Grimes became involved, first assisting Jason in his brute comprehension of written music, then joining as a pianist & confidant. Soon she was fully entrenched, providing the strange coincidence of possessing the name "Rachel," and an incredible backbone to the project. Several recordings had been finished, some in the studio, hundreds of 8-track cassettes, a few jambox cuts, but the time for a concentrated attempt at an LP seemed far away. Finally, Rachel, Christian, & Jason began assembling musicians who they respected; John, Mark and Barry from the Chicago supergroup The Coctails, Kevin Coul-tas from Rodan, Bob Weston, and several other string players from various walks of life. The result was a group of semi-vagrants, some reading from sheet music, some rambunctious noisemakers, working from an equally improvisational and tight-assed way. The real character comes from the musicians involved, participating in what can only be called a "labor of love." Handwriting, the band's debut album, was originally released by Quarterstick Records in 1995. Jacket custom screen-printed by Jeff Mueller at Dexterity Press.

Can a self-portrait be a collage? Can empathy be autobiographical? What's the point of living if we're not trying to understand all the horror and humor that surrounds everything? These are a few of the questions lurking under the bleachers of Wednesday's new album Bleeds, an intoxicating collection of narrative-heavy Southern rock that_like many of the most arresting passages from the North Carolina band's highlight reel so far_thoughtfully explores the vivid link between curiosity and confession. Bleeds is not only the best Wednesday record_it's also the most Wednesday record, a patchwork-style triumph of literary allusions and outlaw grit, of place-based poetry and hair-raising noise. Karly Hartzman_founder, frontwoman, and primary lyricist_credits Wednesday's tightened grasp on their own identity to time spent collaborating on previous albums, plus a tour schedule that's been both rewarding and relentless. "Bleeds is the spiritual successor to Rat Saw God, and I think the quintessential `Wednesday Creek Rock' album," Hartzman said, articulating satisfaction with the ways her band has sharpened its trademark sound, how they've refined the formula that makes them one of the most interesting rock bands of their generation. "This is what Wednesday songs are supposed to sound like," she said. "We've devoted a lot of our lives to figuring this out_and I feel like we did." Just like Rat Saw God, one of the defining rock & roll records of the 2020s so far, Bleeds came together at Drop of Sun in Asheville and was produced by Alex Farrar, who's been recording the band since Twin Plagues. Hartzman again brought demos to the studio, where she and her bandmates _X andy Chelmis (lap steel, pedal steel), Alan Miller (drums), Ethan Baechtold (bass, piano), and Jake "M.J." Lenderman (guitar) _ worked as a team to bulk-up the compositions with the exact right amounts of country truth-telling, indie-pop hooks, and noisy sludge. More than ever, the precise proportions were steered by the lyricism_not only its tone or subject matter, but also the actual sound of the words, as well as Hartzman's masterfully subjective approach to detail selection. Every image or scene is filtered through Hartzman's agile, writerly brain. The particulars deemed essential all contain revelations about Hartzman's specific obsessions and vulnerabilities, about the fragmented way she processes the world. Maybe sometimes the best way to locate truth or pain or dignity within your own life story, Bleeds suggests, is by crawling into someone else's.

Can a self-portrait be a collage? Can empathy be autobiographical? What's the point of living if we're not trying to understand all the horror and humor that surrounds everything? These are a few of the questions lurking under the bleachers of Wednesday's new album Bleeds, an intoxicating collection of narrative-heavy Southern rock that_like many of the most arresting passages from the North Carolina band's highlight reel so far_thoughtfully explores the vivid link between curiosity and confession. Bleeds is not only the best Wednesday record_it's also the most Wednesday record, a patchwork-style triumph of literary allusions and outlaw grit, of place-based poetry and hair-raising noise. Karly Hartzman_founder, frontwoman, and primary lyricist_credits Wednesday's tightened grasp on their own identity to time spent collaborating on previous albums, plus a tour schedule that's been both rewarding and relentless. "Bleeds is the spiritual successor to Rat Saw God, and I think the quintessential `Wednesday Creek Rock' album," Hartzman said, articulating satisfaction with the ways her band has sharpened its trademark sound, how they've refined the formula that makes them one of the most interesting rock bands of their generation. "This is what Wednesday songs are supposed to sound like," she said. "We've devoted a lot of our lives to figuring this out_and I feel like we did." Just like Rat Saw God, one of the defining rock & roll records of the 2020s so far, Bleeds came together at Drop of Sun in Asheville and was produced by Alex Farrar, who's been recording the band since Twin Plagues. Hartzman again brought demos to the studio, where she and her bandmates _X andy Chelmis (lap steel, pedal steel), Alan Miller (drums), Ethan Baechtold (bass, piano), and Jake "M.J." Lenderman (guitar) _ worked as a team to bulk-up the compositions with the exact right amounts of country truth-telling, indie-pop hooks, and noisy sludge. More than ever, the precise proportions were steered by the lyricism_not only its tone or subject matter, but also the actual sound of the words, as well as Hartzman's masterfully subjective approach to detail selection. Every image or scene is filtered through Hartzman's agile, writerly brain. The particulars deemed essential all contain revelations about Hartzman's specific obsessions and vulnerabilities, about the fragmented way she processes the world. Maybe sometimes the best way to locate truth or pain or dignity within your own life story, Bleeds suggests, is by crawling into someone else's.

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

GENE TOWNSEL’ is an accomplished singer/performer and internationally recognised vocal coach from Los Angeles. He majored in music at Florida A&M University and currently runs his own studio The Source in Deerfield Beach, Florida. His debut album Time Wounds All Heels was released on Jeff Lawrence’s Dobre label in 1978 and has long been a highly prized and much sought after original LP by soul collectors worldwide. A little-known fact that is appreciated on the Northern Soul scene is Gene’s arrangement of the iconic 1973 dancefloor hit “Come On Train” by Don Thomas (also available from Charly Records).
Gene’s philanthropic life choices have intertwined with his music career. He founded the Gene Townsel’ Studio of Theatrical and Musical Arts, Singers Workshops and The Artists Against Drug Abuse Program in Los Angeles. In 1997 Broward County Florida declared a “Gene Townsel’ Appreciation Day” in his honor.

‘Best tunes for your answering machine’ is the debut album of oblique, introspective electronic music by the mysterious solo artist Tekamolo.

Fusing melancholic synth pop and absurdist trip hop, ‘best tunes for your answering machine’ is a special assemblage of pitch-modified vocals, retrofuturist samples and freeform electronics that coalesces into music both outlandish and bittersweet, playful and profound.

Produced by a renowned artist, opting to conceal their identity under the guise of a new pseudonym, Tekamolo presents a series of curious, incognito confessionals with ‘best tunes for your answering machine’. An album led by a voice like a sentient, heavy-hearted android, the nine tracks collected here contend with themes of inertia, solitude and longing, revealing an inspired, affecting stream of messages from an unknown caller.

Without preconceptions tied to provenance, this is music liberated from the burdens of biographical detail. Music that eschews ego and the cult of the self. An album that can be heard purely for the strange, poignant sounds unfurled throughout.

For Tekamolo, the album signifies an attempt to navigate aesthetic reductionism, as well as an absolute sense of seclusion:

“An audio diary of a lonely soul. Broken, wounded mantra-songs. Memories of things that never happened. Dreams that never had the chance to be dreamed. Disassembled songs. As if testing the limits of emptiness — how much void can a song endure while still remaining a song? How much can be stripped away, how bare can it be, and still, the groove lingers, the melody pierces the memory, sinking into the listener's mind.

These are the skeletons of songs, an attempt to assemble music from the bare minimum — words, sounds, fragments of memory.

The songs are filled with desperate calm. They are not sung to the world, nor to anyone tangible, but solely to oneself and to the unseen. In a way, they could be considered songs of the end of the world: you wake up, and there is not a single person left in the world. At least, no one you can see. You wander through empty streets and deserted shopping malls, humming softly to yourself, hoping that someone — anyone — might hear you.”

‘best tunes for your answering machine’ is a sui generis conception of warped 21st century blues from an enigmatic figure, a work filled with surreal, indelible songs of modern isolation. Lost contemporary hymns, now recovered. Voicemails worth hearing.

repressed !