quête:x tension

2025 Repress

Mint Green Vinyl. Graham Jonson is drawn to the comforts of melody and noise. How the two conspire in tension, tonally and atonally, stirring up memory and mood. This quality animates the technicolor world of quickly, quickly, the psych-pop project that emanates from Kenton Sound, his basement studio in Portland, Oregon. "Everywhere your eye lands, there's another curio to marvel over," noted Pitchfork's Philip Sherburne when he visited Jonson's recording space for a Rising feature just after the release of his "strikingly original" 2021 debut LP, The Long and Short of It. Since then, Jonson formed a live band, released his Easy Listening EP in 2023, and navigated the up-and-downs of a young musician, the sustainability of tours and relationships. While shaped by personal bouts and fallouts, his highly-anticipated full-length follow-up finds Jonson making music that's universal, open-ended, and rewarding, like great songwriters can do. He set out to make a folk album but couldn't help coloring it in with noise; a confluence of lush instrumentation and unexpected sounds. Ambitious yet intimate, hi-fi yet homespun, the idiosyncratic songs on I Heard That Noise curve around the contours of everyday life with warmth, wit, and dissonance.

A collaboration between US label Astral Spirits and Sweden’s Thanatosis Produktion, It could / If I marks the debut album from Stockholm-based duo Johan Jutterström (saxophone) and Alex Zethson (piano). Together, they reinterpret jazz standards and explore an eclectic mix of compositions by Leonard Cohen, Pet Shop Boys, John Lurie, and 19th-century composer Alexander Fesca.

Jutterström and Zethson’s musical partnership dates back to their teenage years, when they bonded over a love for jazz and the struggle to find their own voice within it. Their duo work has always been about navigating that tension—trying to capture jazz, failing, and finding another way forward. This album continues that pursuit, emphasizing not just what is played, but how it is played.

The record’s title reflects their approach: a process of reaching for something just out of grasp. Songs are deconstructed, rearranged, and treated like palimpsests—scrubbed clean and rewritten while allowing traces of the original to shine through. The result is a dynamic and deeply personal exploration of sound, filled with both reverence and reinvention.

Both musicians have extensive backgrounds in jazz, improvisation, and experimental music. Zethson, a prolific pianist and composer, has worked with ensembles like Fire! Orchestra and Trondheim Jazz Orchestra, and plays keyboards in ensembles such as Vilhelm Bromander Unfolding Orchestra, Goran Kajfes Tropiques, Vathres, and Angles (current with the jazzopera The Death of Kalypso). Jutterström, a saxophonist with an artistic PhD, has performed internationally and runs the ensemble STHLM svaga, a band who have performed commissioned pieces by jazz legends such as Ron Carter, Archie Shepp and Roscoe Mitchell.

With It could / If I, the duo crafts an intricate, ever-shifting dialogue—an ongoing attempt to "stick jazz music," as they put it, constantly approaching, never quite arriving, and finding beauty in the pursuit.

Lion, The Lion is Definition's summary of a phase of life. It roars with an unmistakable sense of strength, woven into every resonating beat and drifting melody.
Through shimmering synth textures, driving basslines, and subtle vocal traces, it carries you across a spectrum of emotional states—from feverish, pulsing energy to meditative introspection. Each track feels like a small yet significant battle won, a testament to resilience in the face of challenges. Percussion elements build tension, then dissolve into moments of calm, highlighting the dynamic interplay of fragility and power. Beneath its surface lies a constant wave of determination, anchoring the album’s softer elements in a foundation of raw strength.
Twisting tempos and sudden shifts in atmosphere propel you forward, ensuring that no section remains complacent or still. There is both grit and grace here, fused together in a complete experience that summons courage from the very first note. As the journey unfolds, a quiet resolve emerges, a promise of hope amid challenging times. Ultimately, the record stands as a moving ode to perseverance, asserting that true might resides not in grand gestures, but in the steady, unwavering pulse that keeps us going.

Dekmantel UFO Series continues its resurgent form with a new album of bruising, industrial wave and techno from Broken English Club. UK techno mainstay Oliver Ho debuted his dark and brooding alias more than 10 years ago with a release on Jealous God under the guidance of the late, great Juan Mendez (Silent Servant) — Songs Of Love And Decay is explicitly dedicated to Mendez, whose influence runs deep in this seductively sinister corner of underground, independent electronic music.

Within the overarching aesthetic of the Broken English Club sound, Ho finds the freedom to deliver a full spectrum album as diverse as it is consistent. You can sense the shadow of his roots in 90s tribal techno punching through on 'Crawling' and 'Death Cult', while 'England Heretic' leans on thick swathes of analogue synthesis indebted to Giallo soundtracks and the ever-compelling lure of 80s synthwave. In its grinding layers of distortion and dubbed out vocals 'Vessel Of Skin' speaks more to the post-punk influences which have set Broken English Club apart since the outset. This isn't a purely retro-fetishist expedition, though — 'Pacific Island Kill' and 'Lost Gods' exude stark modernism in their sharply-angled sequences and dramatic sound design, moving beyond the functional demands of 4/4 dance music to reach to more cinematic zones.

These are but some of the approaches Ho burrows into as he shapes out the depth and breadth of his muse on Songs Of Love And Decay. It's marked by the undeniable impact of his production, perfected over a decades-deep career at the bleeding edge of machine music. At times the album celebrates the addictive thrust of the dancefloor, while elsewhere it relishes the tension of suspended animation. Throughout, the gritty veneer binds together this accomplished, uncompromising body of work as both a fierce artistic statement and a loving tribute to Mendez — an artist who equally embodied the darker side of the dance.

Across eight tracks, Tilliander and Kajfes masterfully balance slow, lumbering machine pulses, delicate synth textures, and impeccable trumpet lines. Tilliander's use of both analog and digital synths carve out the structure of these sonic sculptures, while Kajfes's elegant trumpet playing pushes against them, infusing the dreamy soundscapes with both acoustic tension and melodic detail. Individually, Andreas Tilliander and Goran Kajfes have long been recognized as leading names in Swedish electronic music and jazz, respectively. Both have consistently pushed and transcended the boundaries of their genres. Tilliander has explored everything from techno, drones, and dub to clicks'n'cuts under monikers like TM404 and Mokira. Kajfes has been a relentless innovator in jazz, playing a central role in bands such as Oddjob, Subtropic Arkestra, Tropiques, Nacka Forum, and Fire! Orchestra. Now, they join forces, forging a new path for both ambient and jazz music.

Moving Pressure 03 lands as Rene Wise's third release on his imprint. With a refined approach to rhythm and restraint, the artist once again distills techno to its purest form: hypnotic, percussive, and propulsive. Across four tracks and in line with the label's essence, MP03 thrives on movement-low-end mastery meets tightly coiled grooves, while textural elements shift and evolve with subtle precision.
A1 'Relax' sets the foundation with a mighty sub-base, rolling forward with effortless force. Chopped-up claps ricochet through the mix, while a funky, disembodied vocal repeats a single command: "relax". Then comes 'Chomp Chomp', a denser offering in Wise's sensorial arsenal. Layered with gritty textures, his signature percussion builds a soundscape that is both tactile and weightless, evoking a kinetic dream state where groove and space are in constant conversation. On the flip, 'Cave' plunges into murkier terrain. Swathed in fog and sinister atmospherics, it unfolds through an eerie blend of sci-fi surrealism and grounded physicality. Bleeps hover like distant signals, their sharpness softened by a cavernous, smothering embrace. It's a study in tension-hypnotic and unsettling in equal measure. Closing the release is 'Deep Under', a track that embodies its name with subterranean mystique. The soundscape is rich with detail, an ecosystem of sonic fragments shifting beneath the surface. It's immersive yet elusive, like catching glimpses of something just out of reach-a mirage that flickers between the tangible and the ethereal.
This is minimalism with intent, built for deep immersion. Less, here, is infinitely more.

Songs of Silence is a beautiful turn-based strategy game of fantasy warfare. Leading one of the game's distinct factions, it is the player's task to conquer randomized maps through military might, subterfuge or arcane means. Intriguing hero stories grounded in a rich fantasy world create emotional bonds and give meaning to the player's actions. Roguelike meta-game progression, based on heroes' personal stories and unlocking new features and content via playing, ensuring long-time motivation and keeping the game excitingly fresh. The atmospheric soundtrack of the game is composed by Hitoshi Sakimoto, the famous artist behind all-time favourites such as Final Fantasy Tactics, Final Fantasy 12 and Valkyria Chronicles. Sakimoto describes his way into creating the soundtrack for Songs of Silence: "Regarding Songs of Silence, the stage design and the world-building are incredibly detailed and meticulously crafted. The settings are thoroughly developed and each region has its own unique culture. Given this highly refined world, I believe that my role was primarily to support and enhance the atmosphere with sound. At the same time, I wanted to ensure that the music conveys the uniqueness of this world. When people see it, I want them to feel its strong presence while also recognizing that it is a world unlike anything they have seen before. Expressing this uniqueness and reinforcing the impression it leaves is, in my view, the role of music and sound." But Sakimoto's music isn't just pushing the gamer's experience, it aims to add a little extra in a way that only his profession is able to: "It's a bit difficult to describe the specific 'feeling' I was aiming for, but I intend to create sounds and music that people have rarely heard before. Since the world itself is already well-defined, my approach was to add an extra layer - something that cannot be conveyed through visuals or text alone - through music."

Mazy Fly, the second full-length by the Bay Area artist SPELLLING, explores the tension between the thrill of exploring the unknown and the terror of imminent destruction. Chrystia Cabral spent the summer of 2018 in her Berkeley studio reflecting on the thresholds of human progress and longing for a new and better tomorrow. She was struck by the way the same technologies that have given humans the ability to achieve utopian dreams of discovery have also brought the world to the precipice of dystopic global devastation. Despite the darkness of this reality, Mazy Fly is defiantly optimistic. It is a celestial voyage into the unknown, piloted by Cabral. Mazy Fly musically traverses the spaces between languid, honey-soaked vocals and distant angelic whispers, from thumping 808 club beats to crunching tape loops, and from silky, smooth R&B to whirling organ sonatas. Cabral became enamored by the idea of flight as a harbinger of both progress and apocalypse, and that was expressed in the textures and compositional techniques she utilized. Swarms, flocks, flies, angels, spaceships, flying saucers - all are represented sonically by Cabral and her Juno-106 synthesizer.

Chontane returns with Set A Dot, the third release on his label, TANE. Offering a four-track statement of pure rhythmic intensity and intricate groove construction. Known for his precision-driven approach to techno, Chontane continues to refine his sound, fusing raw
percussive elements, hypnotic basslines, and evolving sonic textures into club-ready weapons that move both the mind and body..

From the outset, Magallanes asserts itself with rolling drum patterns and pulsating synths, locking listeners into its hypnotic rhythm. Hypnotic synth pulses weave through the track, building tension gradually until it breaks into a dense, rhythmic crescendo.

Next up, Turn the Tables lives up to its name, amplifying the energy with snapping hi-hats, deep bass momentum, and restrained synth modulations. A functional yet immersive trip through layered percussive textures.

The B-side offers a deeper, more atmospheric twist. Cycle Break channels a grooveheavy, tribal-infused flow, using intricate rhythmic interplay and distant, metallic textures to create a track that breathes and expands across the mix.

Rounding out the release, Set A Dot leans into pure forward motion, with skittering percussion, sharp synths, and a rolling low-end pulse, making it a go-to tool for seamless DJ layering and extended club sets.

With Set A Dot, Chontane refines his signature style, delivering tracks that are meticulously detailed and irresistibly powerful.
A journey through rhythm, texture, and raw energy.

"Petrol", one of Manu Kenton's most iconic tracks, makes its highly anticipated return in a limited edition that will appeal to both collectors and techno enthusiasts. This special version features not only the original track, but also exclusive remixes that reinterpret the piece from different angles, offering a diverse and exciting sonic palette.

Manu Kenton, staying true to his creative genius, revisits his own track by adding an energetic and catchy vocal, bringing a fresh new dynamic to the already electrifying atmosphere of the original.
The Gregor Size remix is a true powerhouse: dynamic, industrial, and powerful, it transforms "Petrol" into a heavy, punchy piece, with dark textures and irresistible rhythms that leave a lasting impression.
Greg Denbosa, on the other hand, delivers a progressive techno remix, with a dynamic and repetitive beat that builds tension, creating a hypnotic experience perfectly suited for the dancefloor.
Finally, Bestien offers a nervous, straight, and punchy version, ideal for the peak moments of a night. His explosive remix ramps up the intensity on the dancefloors, with raw energy and power that demands attention.

Visually, this vinyl stands out with its "Yolk" effect, a unique blend of white and white with luminous accents, creating a striking and modern design that will enhance any collection.

Français

"Petrol", l'un des morceaux les plus emblématiques de Manu Kenton, fait son grand retour dans une édition limitée qui séduira aussi bien les collectionneurs que les passionnés de techno. Cette version spéciale inclut non seulement la version originale du titre, mais aussi des remixes inédits qui réinterprètent le morceau sous des angles différents, offrant ainsi une palette sonore variée et excitante.

Manu Kenton, fidèle à son génie créatif, revisite son propre morceau en y ajoutant un vocal énergique et entraînant, donnant une nouvelle dynamique à l'atmosphère déjà électrisante de l'original.
Le remix de Gregor Size est un véritable tour de force : très dynamique, industriel et puissant, il transforme "Petrol" en une œuvre lourde et percutante, avec des textures sombres et des rythmes irrésistibles qui marquent les esprits.
Greg Denbosa, quant à lui, propose un remix techno progressif, avec un beat dynamique et répétitif qui crée une tension croissante, offrant une expérience hypnotique et parfaitement calibrée pour les sets dansants.
Enfin, Bestien livre une version nerveuse, droite et percutante, idéale pour les moments intenses d'une soirée. Son remix explosif fait monter l’intensité sur les dancefloors, avec une énergie brute et une puissance qui ne laisse personne indifférent.

Visuellement, ce vinyle se distingue par un effet "Yolk", un mélange unique de blanc et de rouge lumineux, créant un visuel frappant et moderne qui enrichira toute collection.

Z Records returns with a Hustle-tastic 12" to light up both your life and DJ sets. It's the boss himself Dave Lee who kicks off with his extended rework of a bonafide Brit Funk classic in the shape of Hi Tension's 'British Hustle'. Featuring David Josephs's signature vocals over the chugging Caribbean rhythm track, its a song that's never received an extended club mix from the tapes since its first release in 1978. His second cut is a Re-Wriggle of a Funky Worm volume pumping classic that becomes a fat-bottomed house jam with stomping brass, ear-worm vocal hooks and Latin inspired keys. "On the flip' (as they say) is Foreal People's 'Tango Hustle' - a driving clav heavy, jazz funk workout complete with chanting dance instructions over various solos. Add in an Acapella and some 'Hustle Beats' and you have a very muscular package.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Berlin based Greek artist Georgios Papamanoglou returns to his Deep Series imprint with the ‘Instan Bliss’ EP this March, accompanied by two remixes from Iron Curtis.

Georgios Papamanoglou has been been involved in the underground House and Techno scene since the turn of the millennium, making him mark through his multiple imprints Diaphan Music and Deep Series with releases from himself and other artists such as Nekes and Ekkohaus among others. After a few years hiatus 2023 saw Georgios return to relaunch his Deep Series label with the ‘Dark Path’ EP, featuring a remix from fellow Greek Techno stalwart, XDB. Here he returns with his new project ‘Instant Bliss’ made up of two originals and two remixes from the much loved Office Recordings and Hudd Traxx regular, Iron Curtis.

‘Millions Of Sounds’ opens the release and sees Georgios lay down a bubbling arpeggio lead line, shimmering analogue drums and intricately oscillating synth lines all dynamically evolving and unfolding throughout. Iron Curtis’ ‘Drama Mix’ of ‘Instant Bliss’ follows and sees the German artist employ hypnontic atmospherics, cinematics strings and a choppy bass sequence alongside stripped back drums.

Opening the b-side is Iron Curtis’ second remix the ‘Supersorry Mix’ of ‘Instant Bliss’, this time round laying focus on squelchy 303 licks, crisp breakbeats and an underlying textural tension. Papamanaglou’s original of ‘Instant Bliss’ then completes the package, a nine minune cinematic journey through enchanting strings, polyrhythms and robotic glithes.

Hüma Utku returns to Editions Mego with her new album. The title Dracones makes reference to the mediaeval latin term "Hic sunt dracones" (Here be dragons), marking the unexplored, dangerous places on world maps, expressing the fear of chaos, the unexpected and the unknown.

This new work by the Istanbul sound artist is a sonic journal of an expedition into uncharted territory, one which occupies self and domesticity. Inspired by Utku’s experience of matrescence, Dracones explores the themes of familial demonology, metamorphosis and homecoming as well as human relationship to the experience of love woven layers of euphoria, alienation and consumption.

Musically, Dracones traverses a wide array of sonic tools whereby industrial sounds are imbedded with certain psychological angles, this is an album where, all matter meshes into a sly snapshot of the human experience with a tension and release exposure occurring frequently with dark corners opening up to bright layers of electronic experimentation.

The haunting opening track ‘A World Between Worlds’ tackles pregnancy, of which Utku was experiencing when making this record. The emotional, physical, spiritual and mental experience of this journey is all documented here.. This track features the ‘Lyraei’, an electromagnetic string instrument and modern interpretation of the ancient lyre, that was built and played by Mihalis Shammas. ‘Comfort of The Shadows’ moves from within to without, what was once hidden is now exposed. Utku’s ability to conjure the visual in the sonic is at the forefront as howling electronics give a distinct impression of movement. ‘A Familial Curse’ presents a desire to break the cycle of generational trauma with a creeping sense of dread that rolls into an industrial rhythm prior to landing in a beautiful place represented with shimmering guitar tones. ‘Here be Dragons’ is a rich and dark evocation, a spooked surrender to the themes of the record whereby Utku’s wildly distorted voice beckons all manner of phantasmagoria over cello and recordings of her ultrasound. ‘Care in Consume’ engages in further sonic exploration as a means of conjuring ‘matriphagy’, with its unique psychic energy coursing through electronic veins. ‘A House within a House’ could also be read as a body within a body as the pulse of ultrasound audio rattle amongst a cage of thudding rhythms and swirling electronics, one also ending in optimism as an exquisite melody is born from the prior fire. The striking journey ends with the more soothing ‘Ayaz’a’, a track embracing love and all the hardships that a period of fundamental metamorphosis brings, this is a heartfelt dedication to her son and concludes an album draped in life, experience, joy and pain.

Dracones is a deeply visual journey through inner and outer worlds, a space where symbolic evocation is supreme and passive listening is not an option.

All tracks composed,performed and recorded by Hüma Utku
Buchla 100, vocals, cello, electric guitar performed by Hüma Utku
‘’A World Between Worlds’’ features the ‘Lyraei’ built, played and recorded by Mihalis Shammas
Buchla 100 recorded in EMS Stockholm 2022-2023

Mixed by Enyang Urbiks
Mastered by Heba Kadry, NYC
Cover Artwork by Marco Ciceri
Design by Tina Frank

If every significant artist has an underrated gem in its catalog, then Mirage is that album for Fleetwood Mac. An obvious return to relative simplicity after the dramatic tension of Rumours and experimental ambitions of Tusk, the 1982 album finds the band re-grouping after a brief hiatus and again climbing to the top of the charts. Extremely well-crafted, well-produced, and well-performed, the double-platinum effort distills the group’s hallmark strengths into a filler-free set that never runs short of addictive pop hooks or daft accents.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, and housed in a Stoughton jacket, Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 45RPM 2LP set presents Mirage in reference sound for the first time. The efforts co-producers/engineers Ken Caillat and Richard Dashut went to capture the splintered albeit formidable band can be heard with stunning accuracy, range, depth, and detail.

Though Rumours understandably gets a permanent spot in the audiophile hall of fame, the smooth, clear, and dynamic sonics on Mirage confirm that the record that stood as Fleetwood Mac’s last effort for five years deserves a place in the same vaunted arena. The presence and imaging of Mick Fleetwood’s percussion alone on this reissue might have you wondering how this slice of soft-rock bliss has gone under-noticed for decades. Other prized aural aspects — separation, definition, impact, tonal balance — are also here in spades.

Like much surrounding Fleetwood Mac in the 1980s, arriving at Mirage was not easy. Caillat searched for studios located outside of Los Angeles on a mission to change up the vibe of the band’s prior recording sessions. Everyone settled on Le Chateau in France, where relations between some members remained icy — and cooperation with the producers strained. Battles with exhaustion, bitterness, and addiction further informed the proceedings at the 18th century complex in the French countryside, where even communal meals were allegedly eaten in silence.

Inevitably, the feelings that co-producer Lindsey Buckingham, Stevie Nicks, Christine McVie, and company harbored — as well as the situations in which they found themselves — drifted into the songwriting. In its rapid ascent to rock-star royalty status, Fleetwood Mac drifted apart, embarked on solo pursuits, and found it was lonely at the top. Emptiness, the illusion of dreams, the longing for love, the want to escape to bygone times of innocence and happiness: Such themes inform a majority of the narratives. Even if the lyrics regularly take a back seat to easygoing arrangements that allow Mirage to come on like a refreshing breeze on a sunny summer afternoon.

Home to three Top 25 singles in the U.S. and having occupied the pole position of the Top 200 album charts for five weeks, Mirage rightfully resonated with the mainstream and attracted listeners on both sides of the pond. And how, via a smart blend of sugary melodies, warm harmonies, interlaced notes, nimble rhythms, taut structures, and passionate vocals. Not to mention the presence of what arguably remains Nicks’ signature song, the biographical “Gypsy,” a meditation on the loss of her close friend Robin Anderson that teems with majesty, mystery, and mysticism — and which gets an assist from Buckingham’s shaded tack piano and richly strummed guitar chords.

Its ranking as an all-time classic aside, that No. 12 hit has plenty of company when it comes to brilliant pop turns on Mirage. On the subject of Nicks, the raspy singer gets a little bit country on “That’s Alright.” Its clip-clopping pace and two-stepping progression complement subtle vocal swells that emerge during the final verse of a tune that is ostensibly about leaving but still conveys forgiveness and grace. And what would a Fleetwood Mac record be without Nicks drawing on the tools of the supernatural — cards, dreams, wolves, and the like — on the twirling “Straight Back.”

Despite the potency of Nicks’ primary contributions, Mirage seemingly unfolds as a tight competition between Buckingham and McVie — and one that ultimately ends in a draw. Buckingham’s salvos include the contagious “Can’t Go Back,” a yearning to time-travel back to the past that’s complete with hall-of-mirrors backing vocals; “Oh Diane,” out-of- left-field ear candy sweetened with hiccupped vocals and salt-and-pepper-shaken grooves; the chiming “Eyes of the World”; and “Empire State,” a delightfully fluttering track whose high-range vocals, lap harp notes, and ringing xylophones hint at the galaxies of sound that would erupt on Tango in the Night.

Then there’s McVie. As elegant, understated, and coolheaded as she’s ever been on record, she pours her heart out on cuts that revolve around her inevitable split with Beach Boy Dennis Wilson. In the process, she punctuates Mirage with a characteristic not always associated with catchy pop music: emotional weight, and the sense of dreaded acceptance in the face of dreams deferred.

“I wish you were here/Holding me tight,” McVie sings over a delicate melody on the album-closing piano ballad “Wish You Were Here.” Though they hoped otherwise, for the members Fleetwood Mac, distance and separation were always close at hand. Believing otherwise, inviting nostalgia, and pretending everything was fine only amounts to a mirage.

That’s the Price of Loving Me marks Dean Wareham’s (Galaxie 500, Luna, Dean & Britta, ) evocative return, rekindling his partnership with producer Kramer for the first time since Galaxie 500's This Is Our Music in 1990.

Recorded in six days in Los Angeles, the album is steeped in lush, haunting soundscapes, driven by Wareham's signature reverb-soaked guitars and melancholic, dreamlike vocals. Britta Phillips joins on bass and harmonies, while Gabe Noel’s cello adds depth and tension. “Two takes yield more treasure than twenty,” notes longtime friend Matt Fishbeck, as Kramer's insistence on spontaneity infuses the project with raw immediacy.

Thematically, Wareham delves into the poetry of memory, set against a backdrop of wistful nostalgia and existential reflection. "Songs are in dialogue with other songs" Fishbeck writes. The lead single, “We’re Not Finished Yet,” is a playful, introspective meditation where Wareham drops his own name while relishing the tactile joy of the guitar. “You Were the Ones I Had to Betray” unfolds like a somber narrative, underpinned by Noel’s cello and crowned with a haunting bass harmonica by Kramer, encapsulating the emotional ambivalence of friendship and loyalty.

“That’s the Price of Loving Me” pulses with conga rhythms and Kramer’s vintage Moog, capturing Wareham’s musings on the life of a performer and the sacrifices it demands. Fishbeck describes “The Mystery Guest” as "an acrostic poem" and concludes by saying "We're not finished yet." 'Loving Me' also includes two covers, Mayo Thompson's 'Dear Betty Baby' and Nico's 'Reich der Träume.' The latter highlights his love for blending history and homage, sung entirely in German for a chillingly authentic touch.

Dean returns with his fourth solo album and his first album for Carpark Records. Inspired by the past yet resonant in its present-day relevance, the album’s sonic palette is reminiscent of Galaxie 500’s dream-pop roots, tempered with the matured introspection of Wareham’s later works. “Dean traffics in memory,” writes Fishbeck, reflecting on the record’s seamless blend of intimate recollections and catchy hooks. The result is a cohesive work encapsulating the duality of Wareham’s career: haunted by the past, yet steadfastly pushing forward. As Fishbeck poignantly puts it, “Imagination is nothing but the working over of what is remembered.”

OHYUNG aka Lia Ouyang Rusli describes their new album as “my trans self and my former self in conversation, from both perspectives.” The record represents their lengthy, complicated, but crucial journey between lives, strewn with both doubt and excitement. It is an ecstatic, pop-oriented shift in direction from an artist primarily known for noise, experimental hip-hop, and ambient music, but carried with sleek confidence, maturity, and a silvery, hallucinogenic shimmer that reveals Rusli’s experimental background. It is, writes Rusli, “sometimes written from a dark place and other times from a place of happiness.” Throughout, darkness and light rise and fall in layers of phased strings, trip-hop drum production, and earworming vocal lines.

Also a film score composer, Rusli’s songwriting craft is meticulous and nuanced. You Are Always On My Mind was, perhaps surprisingly, formed primarily from processed “generic string loops” found in online sample packs - a strange and wilfully jarring reminder that what seems to be is not always what is. Recontextualised, these string loops enshadow the simplicity of their origins and reveal a grace and purposefulness perhaps not even imagined by their authors, subtly drawing out euphoria and tension in equal balance.

Rusli also writes of the influence of rave culture central to their transition, and of the record’s production and theme. “It’s a declaration of love for raves and the dark hazy rooms that helped me to be free and true with myself— seeing other people who are so free and beautiful and thinking that one day that can be me— that’s me in the future.” But there is also a fear and unease present. Key moment “no good” explores “the worst version of myself as a trans person, feeding doubt to my pre-transition self” with its core lyric anyone can see / I’m no good for you, delivered over a relentless beat, swooning strings, and glistening synthesis.

Later, “i swear that i could die rn” renders a Spectreish Motown beat lamenting and lush with breathy synths and knife-edge melodies that eventually yield a hazy, gliding string section, created again from mutated, spliced, and transitioned royalty-free sample packs. The track is about “seeing my beautiful friends at raves and feeling at home appreciating the harsh noises of hardcore techno and acid. Feeling that I could die at this moment and be happy.”

We're delighted to welcome these two Australia based producers to the Samurai family with Onyx - a 4 track EP that delivers a blend of tight edits, chest heavy bass, and intricate sound design. Pugilist & Tamen combine nostalgia with forward-thinking production and Onyx traverses a rich landscape of jungle-rooted moods.
Onyx introduces a step forward in the duo's production, utilising sculpted distortion as an instrument. Seen on 3 of the 4 tunes, this approach adds a temperative tension as the tunes give the impression they have gone too far into the distortion no go zone but ultimately finding a balance that compliments and enhances the tunes overall sound pallette perfectly.
Raw and direct with rich layers and honed grooves that ultimately mark the tunes as memorable, Onyx is on a new level for Pugilist & Tamen.