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On the outskirts of Bratislava, in the pulsating shadows of a refinery's burning chimneys, on the plot of a family house, there stood a small shack. Initially, it housed trials in domestic mushroom growing. Later, after a makeshift acoustic touch-up - lining the walls with old cardboard egg cartons - it became a shelter for music. Sensitive, evocative, nostalgic, lo-fi music by a man named Cadillac Face.

Today we would probably use the term 'safe space', but back then it was (in Cadillac's words) kutica, a cubbyhole. He hid there from a world that ached. Here, Cadillac secretly smoked, sang, and composed. And tried not to go crazy from anxiety. He wrote music unlike anything during his time.

Here, he struggled. With sound (unable to adjust it to his liking), with instruments (which he couldn't bring himself to play), with the world (with which, understandably, he was at odds).

Cadillac Face was a man who didn't belong here.

He wrote and sang in English (in a post-socialist and early-capitalist Slovakia, when command of English was no matter of course); he also wrote in Slovak (blogs and diaries, which, due to a stream-of-consciousness and surrealist style, were as incomprehensible as they were immersive and intimate); gave advice to teenagers (to their quasi-banal questions on talking forums about relationships, life and adolescence, where they were often met with ridicule and mockery); he composed electronic and noise music (at a time when no one had a clue what the abbreviation DAW meant).

This Cadillac's compilation album is not aiming to compete with/replicate Noizy Days - a compilation of Cadillac's contributions to the project Noize Konspiracy. Underground compilations circulated through a local proto-social network. Borderline music without rules - open but often inaccessible. There, Cadillac contributed mostly with experimental-electronic compositions. Noizy Days was compiled by Ďuro Ďurček, one of the initiators of Noize Konspiracy. Both Ďuro and Cadillac have been dead for years.

Songs For The Trees is a selection from Cadillac's songwriting. The most intimate of his intimate recordings. Cadillac at his most fragile, brittle, and quiet. The most romantic, the most tormented, the most painful and direct of his songs I know.

Cadillac became an anthropomorphic grotesque tree. Neither broadleaf nor conifer. Or perhaps it's a candle slowly incinerating – bored, sad, playing the guitar. A tragicomedy. Sometimes it kindles what it doesn't mean to, and it can't put itself out. Or can it?

Following 2021’s Cape Cod Cottage — Eder’s concept album under the guise of Edward Blankman, a retired dentist who wrote elegant jazz in the1970s — on Therapy, Eder drops the alter ego and the drumset (almost entirely) and explores more reverberant sounds with his ensemble of woodwinds. The result is a distinctive take on new-age ambient music subtly interwoven with Eder’s affinity for 20th century classical and jazz. The quest for Therapy came during a period of deep spiritual curiosity. Eder was avidly watching testimonies of near death experience survivors (NDEs), pouring over books of Theosophical artwork and philosophy, and processing experiences of grief, uncertainty and spirituality. Eder wanted to explore the threshold between the spiritual and physical dimensions, and create music that could evoke its shape and texture — a theme further illustrated in the original album artwork and single covers by Adam Rabinowitz. Eder felt he must be on to something when, on a whim, he looked up the tempo of a piece he was calling “137 Riddle.” Turned out to be “the most important number in the world” in theoretical physics, as well as a provocative number in Jewish mysticism. Maintaining his track record of recording the best musicians Eder can find, Therapy features special guests Nailah Hunter (harp), Henry Solomon (saxophone), and Ethan Haman on The Newberry Memorial Organ at Yale University.

The space between every love is filled with vigilance in preparation for future threat. This threat is not so much pain as failure and, above all, fatigue. Even the beginnings, when love seems at its most accessible, are disturbing. In spite of this we advance into the turmoil because we are inebriated with love.

Dominik Suchy's third album admits all this as a quality of love. Disembodied and denied to be gloom or bliss, love is revealed to be a raw process at full length. This makes for emotionally hypercharged music that is more inevitable than tense. The record unfolds, for all its ruptures and weight, as familiar. It is a music of pathos, because it benefits from the emotional knowledge that already resides in you.

The universality of this angle allows for compositions that are less than opulent. A focus on the mass of sound // verticality leads to a bareness that sets "Every Love..." apart from Suchy's previous works. At times sonically overwhelming and rhythmically ambiguous, it should be approached as free jazz rather than post-club.

Every Love Is an Exercise in Depersonalisation on a Body Without Organs Yet to Be Formed does not submit to the weariness of love // Weltschmerzen does not submit to the weariness of the world.

“In places harrowing and emotionally charged, in other places quite inconspicuous, you feel that you are standing in front of something big, transcending everything, which you observe with sacred reverence. Maybe it's the eye of the storm or that love which is the origin of everything.”
Peter Dolnik, 34.sk —

“One of the most distinct electronic artists in our geographical area.'”
Roberta Tothova, Pravda.sk —

“Everything happens with deep apprehension, the atmosphere and its variations are executed on a masterly level””
Richard Kutej, Fullmoon Zine —

“An album full of incessant soundscapes, undulations and sound-design based portrayals of magnificence.”
Mikulas Hamerla, Alterecho.cz —

A live act renowned for their free improvised performances, BIOS have markedly changed their approach since the debut release Fluorescent Minerals five years ago. To serve as a reliable basis for improvisation, the duo began to play with prearranged themes. Far from being limiting, on Powers of Ten these foundations become structures that are as full of change as they are playful. A single track can seem like a medley moving through sections of drama // reverie // fun without dwelling too long on either so as not to be at the expense of the whole. Fractured yet coherent, these emotions are professed in utmost seriousness and also half in jest.

Powers of Ten also marks a change in sound >> a new prominence given to rhythm and melody. Both members of BIOS claim not to listen to dance music much, but incidentally what they achieve on their new record is a kind of evermoving anxious dub. Its energy endures even after the rhythms and motifs dissolve in distant soundscapes, so that those too seem genuinely kinetic.

If the listener decides to follow this movement, they will be led on a journey into the record, framed and imagined as a quest through parallel variations of one environment. Powers of Ten is a decidedly adventurous album >> a spatial and hypnotic work of music composed by graphic designer Jozef Tušan and visual artist Boris Sirka, and the eighth release by the label Weltschmerzen.

Ondrej Zajac doesn't practice. Neither does he play his guitar with as little as a hint of striking technical prowess. Despite this, he makes music with the confidence of a master instrumentalist who doesn't let their chops get in the way. This is because Ondrej Zajac understands that the point of playing an instrument is to transcend it.

Such principles have been the source of pride for the idioms of experimental and free music, but these suffer from the chronic peddling of artistic narcissism. Ondrej Zajac works in the confines of these genres, but impressively avoids all their pitfalls. His music is almost pure content, as straight as a line, and so immediate and so fucking honest it leaves you wondering.

I Will Be Forgotten offers plenty of opportunities for such wondering, regardless of whether the composition is sixteen minutes or sixty seconds long. The structure of the whole thing, the appreciation of all properties of sound without indulgence in any of them, the playfulness and composure beyond it all, not even the beautiful sonic grain of the guitar itself, none of this does dwarf the most remarkable accomplishment of this record // its utter artistic integrity.

Recorded live at Divadlo 29 in Pardubice and co-produced and mixed by Václav Šafka, I Will Be Forgotten is the second solo release by Ondrej Zajac (Banausoi, Data Koroptev) and the 19th release by the sincere label Weltschmerzen.

Exactly two years after their debut album, the project formerly known as Weltschmerzen returns as Pain Palace. The project's new moniker resolves potential confusion with the eponymous record label, but it is a change in name only // the music remains ambiguous in genre but emotionally resolute, an amalgam of approaches bound by an awareness of the remorseful nature of the world.

This is a continuity in creed rather than sound. Apart from the occasional drums // peculiarly captivating in tempo and rhythm // Pain Palace do little to invoke their first album. Despite the similar setting of an intensive week-long recording session in rural Slovakia, the trio arrives at a place that is distinct even from all their earlier projects. From a viewpoint where the world's indifference is recognised as a landscape, the tracks are presented as seven distinct perspectives that range from brutalist chaos to tenderness but always remain compassionate.

This is best revealed in On the Height of Despair // the album's nearly ten-minute-long climax that seemingly borders on collage only to become an engulfing suite of severe movements. The music of Pain Palace stands apart from what Tomáš Pristiak, Matus Mordavsky and Dominik Suchy create either solo or in their respective bands (Tante Elze, Tittingur), and it is the 13th release by the wistful label Weltschmerzen.

Brothers Dana and Alden McWayne, along with a troupe of multi-instrumental artists, come together to create jazzy melodies with indie sounds inspired by their unconventional upbringing in Eugene, Oregon. Dana (saxophone) is an organic farm inspector while Alden (drums) is a recent grad of Berklee College of Music. Their debut full-length album, Quiet Music for Young People, is a lush album that melds vintage sounds with the aesthetic and experience of existing in Gen Z and the digital age. Quiet Music For Young People also reminisces of the brother's childhood, summer days spent working at an apple orchard and jamming at jazz clubs on rainy Oregon nights. The experimental smooth jazz-infused album closer "Dragonfly" has been gaining traction on streaming due to trends across Instagram and TikTok.

Teethe is a band from Texas. The members of Teethe met while attending the University of North Texas in Denton, TX, a small college town outside of Dallas with a fertile music scene. Before forming Teethe, its core members Boone Patrello, Grahm Robinson, Madeline Dowd, and Jordan Garrett all played in various other groups in Denton, releasing music under different pseudonyms. Patrello released solo music via his Dead Sullivan moniker, while Robinson released under MAH KEE OH. Patrello and Robinson linked up with Dowd to record an album for her project, Crisman, in 2019. They all eventually moved in together, leading the group to start recording more as a whole unit, and subsequently Teethe was born. Made over the course of 2020, Teethe's eponymous debut album is a collection of songs pieced together over time - a sonic collage of fragmented recordings and half finished tracks made whole in the midst of isolation. Initially self-released in November of 2020 with little fanfare, the album's warm, lo-fi aesthetic and slow, calming songs spread by word of mouth. Roughly one year later, at the top of 2022, the band returned with "Tag", a new single that caught the attention of slowcore fans and garnered shout outs from unlikely celebrities. Tours soon followed with Charlie Martin of Hovvdy, Momma, Milly, Waveform, and They Are Gutting A Body of Water. The band continued to record their own music, releasing another single, "Lucky," in the fall of 2022, and most recently partnered with Saddle Creek for their 7” series to release their newest single, "Moon," in October of 2023. Now spread between Dallas and Austin, the Texas band has recently signed with Winspear and will be re-issuing their self-titled debut LP this winter, along with a pressing of "Tag," "Lucky," and never before released b-side "Thanks" on 7” vinyl.

The cinematic opening track Inthenever starts off as a film >> somewhere on a desolate coast, where everything has already ceased. This is going to be an album with a story and depth, a fearless tour of the barren shores of our days // or is it possibly just a mirage conclusion of their razor-sharp sound brutalism? Tittingur's third album, Epiphany, is here, pounding with waves they had not done before.

It seems as though this dyad has disposed of all the genre confines that had locked them in, and have grasped the sound of new subject matters, for which the moniker of experimental techno is finally too narrow. With utter urgency and candid to their emblematic, thunderous sound, Dominik's and Matus's deafening mallets collide in beats which are now, more than ever, drenched in a mass of palpable gloom and anguish. As though we could touch the rising levels of the oceans, and smell the melting of the glaciers themselves.

In one way or another, the music of Tittingur has always been about nature, its fierce essence, and its stark contrast with the post-era that we have found ourselves living in. However, whereas before, it was the sound of old, weather-stained concrete, and the pounding of abandoned, overgrown buildings, now it is, unavoidably, their most direct and honest return to nature landscapes, and to human, age-old traditions, referenced in the Slovak folk motives, recordings and found sounds.

On Epiphany, Tittingur's sound becomes yet more abstract, in a sound world that is ambiguous but also unified, and works on its own. The duality of nature and technology, of inland human folklore and the trenches of deepest oceans, invite us to come closer and observe the volatile obliteration taking place. Can we even attempt to re-assess our position with nature, or is this whole experiment doomed to fail?

Unsurprisingly, in the echoes, all the ingredients of the classic Tittingur sound are still present, distilled into new forms >> the ever-present over-saturation, the exaggerated, maximalist approach and megalomania >> the sound of impending climate change, doom, and near-apocalyptic visions, the scent of borovička mixed with the wild North Sea, the agony of contemporary urban life, and the adventure of wilderness: ferocious synths, monumental beats, aggressive basslines and crumbling noise-scapes built of a found-sound, music concréte-like, collagist approach.

At moments, it seems the means have changed. Just until you realise that the sentences of this story are spoken in a new language. If you dive deep enough, and listen to the essence that the music of Tittingur articulates, it's surprisingly easy to understand >> although the notions and emotions are difficult to put into words. The profound narrative of Epiphany is that of an endless inner struggle of society, anxiety, crises, and ambiguously easy // difficult solutions in the post-modern global chaos. It is the calm before a storm. It is the storm. Is it the calm. It is all of it, in itself. credits

For the past five years, Projekt Ruiny has been rejuvenating abandoned and decaying industrial landmarks by using them for concerts, exhibitions and discussions. This refusal of disuse also defines the character of SILO by Kolektív Ruiny, which disposes of all aspects of such cultural urban exploration besides the two most monumental >> sound and time.

The trio of musicians // sound artists kept returning to sugar and brewery silos in Rimavská Sobota in southern Slovakia for over six months to listen to their sounds and reply with improvisations. The silos' ambience proves that these places in a state of decay are living environments that hear plenty themselves, both from outside and inside, and spread what they hear wholeheartedly.

Kolektív Runy builds on this acoustic generosity with a combination of empathy and boldness. The attitude is most apparent on the few tracks that are musically harsh, but still offer the same discernible respect towards their industrial venues as the most serene pieces on SILO. It is an homage to these places, teeming with attention and care, and the ninth release by the devout label Weltschmerzen.

dog-rose is an exploration of musical articulation and vocalization. Its themes can be felt gnawing at the surface of the world: people's clumsy everyday intimacies, the neverending pursuit of self-knowledge, God. Of foremost interest was the unreliability of memory as a tool through which we experience life, yielding an attempt to dismantle it into its minute elements.

"I arrived at a combination of diary entries in the form of field recordings, various, mostly acoustic, instruments through which I invoke different modes of memory // its associative functions, and my own voice, more an agent of introspection than any conventional vocal. The lyrics were originally written as pop-songs, but committed to the form of contemporary music they appear as field recordings made to be sung. They are field-songs."

"To me, musicmaking is a dialogue with sounds where I seek to understand their character and how to handle them. This is a performative process and admittedly also a projection – what I am actually discussing is myself. The recording took place at a remote cabin in the forests of Tribeč. Most of my work is created in isolation, regardless of the social distancing and lockdowns of the outside world."

Tomas Pristiak is a member of Tante Elze, Pain Palace (FKA Weltschmerzen), and dog-rose is his first solo album and the 11th release by contemplative label Weltschmerzen.

Farbige Vinylpressung für den Indiehandel mit Bonus 7" mit den digitalen Singles "Tag" und "Lucky" auf der A-Seite und dem bisher unveröffentlichten Song "Thanks" auf der B-Seite. Wiederveröffentlichung des selbstbetitelten Debütalbums der texanischen Band, Teethe, die zwischen Dallas und Austin lebt. Ihr gleichnamiges Debütalbum entstand im Laufe des Jahres 2020 und ist eine Sammlung von Songs, die im Laufe der Zeit zusammengefügt wurden - eine Klangcollage aus fragmentierten Aufnahmen und halbfertigen Tracks, die inmitten der Isolation zu einem Ganzen wurden. Das Album wurde im November 2020 zunächst ohne viel Aufsehen im Eigenverlag veröffentlicht und verbreitete sich mit seiner warmen Lo-Fi Ästhetik und den langsamen, beruhigenden Songs durch Mundpropaganda. Etwa ein Jahr später, Anfang 2022, meldete sich die Band mit dem Song "Tag" zurück, einer neuen Single, die die Aufmerksamkeit der Slowcore-Fans auf sich zog und von unwahrscheinlichen Berühmtheiten gelobt wurde. Bald folgten Tourneen mit Charlie Martin von Hovvdy, Momma, Milly, Waveform und They Are Gutting A Body Of Water. Die Band veröffentlichte eine weitere Single, "Lucky", im Herbst 2022, und kürzlich erst im Oktober 2023 die neueste Single "Moon" bei Saddle Creek im Rahmen derer 7-Inch-Serie.

Unbelievable Friendship is the second solo album by Filip Misek and the first one published under his own name. Unlike on his previous record from more than ten years ago, here Misek is more experimental and candid while still striving for songs that are an // ultimate // end in themselves. Though few of them can be sung, the songs often include vocals and voices courtesy of several guests // heavily processed as they might be. More importantly, Unbelievable Friendship sticks to the idea of a song, so that each of them works both on its own and as a part of a whole.

Two years after recording an EP on a guitar he didn't know how to play, Ujko releases a piano album without knowing how to play the piano. To add to that, Hudba k filmu is a soundtrack to a movie that doesn't exist.

If Ujko previously played with the clumsiness and exposed intimacy of outsider music, on Hudba k filmu he instead focuses on the emotional and dramaturgical possibilities of a film score. The movie may be hypothetical, but this album still imposes a narrative of melancholy and hopelessness, even more penetrating in the guise of a supposedly background music. It's also mostly instrumental, adding to ambiguity and potential projection // Hudba k filmu sneaks up on the listener and encumbers them with the weight of their own world.

Ujko thereby manages to mediate his despair without being as presumptuously overbearing as most film composers. Even the lack of instrumental skill is barely noticeable, enough so that Hudba k filmu doesn't fall for its own concept, but is instead an accomplished and complete work of film music, lacking nothing.

A musical project with roots in the work of cult underground collective Noize Konspiracy, Ujko is an alias of Mišo Ormos. Hudba k filmu is his second release on the world-weary label Weltschmerzen.

In the beginning was a half-truth, the truth was of war and the half-truth was post-war. Fancying the pretensions of its cultural superiority, a continent chose to hide the truth behind ridiculous jargon and the soothing distance of offshored ?????????. Europe wished itself beyond war because it thought the privilege of peace a birthright, just as it refused to understand that post-war was a euphemism for interbellum. Then the truth has set us free.

The delusion was discarded and war was revealed as an inconceivable horror. Almost immediately it turned familiar and virtually comfortable. Novelty songs of drones gutting tanks became a laughing matter and the burning tanks, their crew inside, entertainment. Consequently, a plurality of people started to collectively dream of new stages of the righteous kind of carnage. This happened within weeks.

Our imagination has swollen to the point of loss of consciousness, compounded by the narrative form long in the sways of atrophy. All of this raises the question of to what degree were the years of peace culturally squandered. The art of the previous age prided itself on self-awareness, today we fail to even notice that we no longer recognize ourselves. But we have arrived where we started and our issues were not too complex for expression.

Since no art form generates action, the most appropriate art for a culture on the edge of extinction is one that simulates pain. In these times we shouldn't produce any other music, none but this, intended to prevent our silence from being misinterpreted.

Vegas Performance ist die treffende Erklärung des im Albumtitel manifestierten Schlagsatzes »Warum sie Stürme nach Menschen benennen«. Erhabener denn je fegt der Freund von Niemand wütend wie emotional über dramatisch-unheilvolle Produktionen, hinterlässt in seinem Rücken einzig Schutt und Asche. Einige Stücke auf »WSSNMB« erinnern in ihrer Brutalität, auch Dank ihres klassischen HipHop-Herzschlags, an den »Vincent«-Vega — andere muten futuristisch, geschmackvoll poppig, ja, beinahe gelöst und doch hittig an. Vega präsentiert sich schwächer und gleichzeitig — oder vielleicht genau deshalb — stärker denn je. »WSSNMB« dokumentiert die aufreibende Selbstsuche eines Mannes, der seit Jahren an der Spitze steht und zwischenzeitlich trotzdem gefährlich ins Taumeln geriet. Nach Jahren am Nullpunkt ist Vega zurück im Ring. Nicht für die Goldenen, die Eins oder den glänzenden Benz. Einzig und allein, um sich ein weiteres Denkmal zu setzen und zu beweisen, dass er gestärkt aus der Zeit der großen Krisen hervorgegangen ist.

Divino Nino's new album Foam feels like catching up with a lifelong friend. There's undeniable songwriting chemistry between guitarist Camilo Medina and bassist Javier Forero, who met as kids in Bogota, Colombia and years later reconnected by sheer happenstance after their families had both moved to Miami. Both studied at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago where they met guitarist Guillermo Rodriguez and eventually Drummer Pierce Codina. Now Chicagoans, their rhythmic, soulful - and at times bilingual - Latinx punk songs are a reflection of their continent-spanning bond and proof that Divino Nino couldn't have formed without unlikely but happy coincidences.The ten tracks on Foam feature wistfully romantic lyrics like the yearning plea on the title track ("I really wanna run away with you"), and sunny, honeyed arrangements. Songs like "Quiero" trade-off between English and Spanish with woozy guitars and harmonies anchoring the sweetness of the lyrics. The quartet's Latin American roots seep in throughout the LP's silky psychedelic flourishes but especially on single "Maria," which is sung entirely in Spanish. Inspired in equal parts by Argentine punk and the narratives of Mexican telenovelas, the personality-filled track is one of the most memorable on the record.