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Phonica AM proudly introduces the latest release from upcoming Irish-born producer and DJ, Rhythms Of Prescott. For fans of Pepe Bradock and Derrick Carter, this record is a must-have.

The A-side kicks off with 'Beat Heat', a driving filter house monster underpinned by dubbed-out percussion, playful vocal interjections, and infectious disco stabs. Following up is 'RGRT', which delves into a deeper vibe with slick jazz samples and a pulsating filtered bass line. The B-side brings 'The Instigator', a tension-filled mind melter perfect for early morning trippiness, featuring Rhythms Of Prescott's masterful sample manipulation and unique wonkiness.

This release showcases Rhythms Of Prescott's raw approach and jackin' sample manipulation to rock any dancefloor.

Die Schachtel Records is proud to present Ifigenia/Oreste, a new vinyl LP by celebrated Italian composer Paolo Spaccamonti. This album marks the seventh installment in the label's renowned Decay Music series, which has become synonymous with deeply emotive, abstract, and electronic/ambient music, which has so fare featured works of such names as Stefano Pilia, Giovanni di Domenico, Sandro Mussida, Vértice, Damavand and Claudio Rocchetti. Aim of the series is composing a fascinating scenario of the most interesting names of experimental musicians – mainly of Italian origins - working at the intersection of sound and music, abstract and visual, storytelling and abstract composition.

Paolo Spaccamonti has long been a significant figure in the contemporary music scene, known for his ability to bridge the worlds of instrumental, electronic, and experimental music. His most recent release, Nel Torbido (2023), is a testament to his ever-evolving artistry. With Nel Torbido, Spaccamonti delivered a haunting and immersive sonic experience that oscillates between tension and release, bringing together moody soundscapes, unsettling textures, and his signature understated guitar work. His exploration of silence, noise, and melodic tension has earned him recognition as one of the most unique voices in modern composition.

Composed by Spaccamonti, Ifigenia/Oreste is the original score for the theatrical production IFIGENIA / ORESTE, directed by Valerio Binasco and produced by Teatro Stabile di Torino. The music, both haunting and subtle, mirrors the play's minimalist and intense staging, immersing listeners in an evocative soundscape that blends ambient textures with guitar-driven melodies. The music was recorded and processed by Filippo Conti, with additional production and mixing by Stefano Pilia. The vinyl’s design has been crafted by Bruno Stucchi of Dinamomilano, making this release a fusion of sound, visual, staging and cultural reference.

In reflecting on his collaboration with director Valerio Binasco, Spaccamonti said: "From the first meeting with Valerio, it was clear that we aimed to create a production stripped of any unnecessary stylistic embellishments. Ifigenia and Oreste had to be severe, devoid of visual distractions, simple yet extreme in its own way. I sought to follow the same path with the music. The foundation is always the guitar, but I wanted to avoid overloading it, either harmonically or sonically. Sometimes, I treated it like a fragmented background noise; other times, I ventured into more aggressive, melancholic, or even melodic terrains, but always in a very human way. The text demanded an atmosphere that lived in the alternation of silence and rarefaction, like in the films of Bresson and Lanthimos. Short scenes interrupted by moments of darkness. In a marked rhythm, a suspense constantly suggesting the advance toward death, announced from the very first scene. Hence, the emphasis I wanted to place on silence through the music, even within individual tracks. Long, granular tails, like the (few) lights on stage."

Repress 2025

Huey Mnemonic (Detroit) and D. Strange (Chicago) are not only interested in the future, but they offer a stark reminder of an ever desolate present.

Their split EP State of Emergency (via Mnemonic’s Subsonic Ebonics label) sonically structures a bleak narrative across 4 electro-laden tracks from the midwest-based producers.

The escapade begins with “Black Manta Corps”, Huey’s classically styled 808 programming accompanying modulated analog synth play up front, while a stirring crescendo of soundtrack-esque chords provides cover from the rear. “Red Alert” offers the juxtaposition of funk-tinged bounce to a searing siren lead. Midway we’re offered a brief moment of repose with Huey demonstrating a masterful computer-funk bridge before the sirens’ sobering tone returns.

D. Strange continues the journey lacing haunting synth interplay that steadily stacks the tension alongside stimulating melodies, chest-pounding bass, and scattered triplets on “Exoframe”. While “Drapetomania” closes things out with zipping percussion, a mutated bass line, and atmospheric droning pads panning like a shadow creeping closer and closer…

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."

Lili Holland-Fricke and Sean Rogan’s debut album “dear alien” is a constellation of radiant improvised impulses, imagined in lucent fragments of cello, guitar and voice. Spacious, tender and glistening with rich electronic distortion, the record melds a spectrum of processed and natural sound as the artists invite listeners into their dreamlike world of synergetic introspections.

Cultivated through a shared spirit of resourcefulness and play, “dear alien” emerges as an organic meeting place in the compositional output of British-German experimental cellist Lili Holland-Fricke and Manchester-born guitarist and producer Sean Rogan. Having studied their respective instruments at the Royal Northern College of Music, both artists have flourished in eclectic solo and collaborative projects, creating intricate and intimate spheres of sound with a deep appreciation for songwriting and improvisation.

Holland-Fricke’s transition from the classical world to writing her own material, and later vastly expanding her palette with electronics, first converged with Rogan’s distinctive flair for production in 2022 on her EP “birdsong for breakfast” and single ‘draw on the walls’. Now, the duo present an album envisioned through true ‘50/50’ collaboration during the summer of 2023, written across two intensive weeks of improvising and experimenting at Rogan’s Greenwich home studio. A convergence of the artists’ sounds and influences, the music was fostered by the idea of making an album with ‘no plan’ and their shared recent discovery of Arthur Russell, to whom the final track is dedicated.

“dear alien” assembles eight compositions that emerged naturally as the duo created sketches with cello and pedals, guitar, tape loops and poetic vocal musings, forming songs that explore themes of waiting, circling back around, and glitchy communication. Moments of drifting through pillowy layers of sound contrast with saturated visions of electronic modification, where the record’s glowing instrumental contours are pushed to the extremes.

The plaintive shades of ‘half blue’ and meandering deliberations of ‘slow thing’ are teased by the friction of static signals and a sense of ever-mutating sonic mass – a sensibility most acutely realised in ‘dawning’, where cello-vocoder eruptions grow in magnitude, the absence of sound between them burdened with something sinister and unspoken. As the artists expand on this piece, ‘It’s the sound equivalent of squeezing your eyes shut to shield against the brightness of something you don’t want to see, only to find that each time you open them again the world is not softening but getting more relentlessly overwhelming, to the point of being totally blinding.’

Three tracks with lyrics – ‘at first’, ‘dear alien’ and ‘seem asleep’ – refract the album’s wistful and melancholic colours into poetic imagery and metaphors, ushering in reflections on relationship tensions and someone close feeling unknown, with hints towards wider unsettled feelings about climate change. In the spirit of lyrical improv, ‘seem asleep’ compiles lone lines from Holland-Fricke’s journals into a cut-and-paste collage around hopeful patience or futile lingering – either way conjuring a softness that welcomes the hazy ambience of ‘for a. r.’, the final composition which soundscapes the summer days spent making the album. As the artists describe of this track, ‘The music kind of leads somewhere, but then kind of leads nowhere, and just meanders around where it is, content to just be walking in a circle back to where it started.’

BigʼN was, is and always shall be a legacy noise rock band from Chicago (est. 1990) comprised of vocalist William Akins, guitarist Todd Johnson, bassist Fred Popolo, and drummer Brian Wnukowski. After releasing a stellar debut album (1994), followed by their sophomore and signature effort Discipline Through Sound on Skingraft Records (1996) and a split single with Shellac, the band became inactive for some years. In 2018, BigʼN recorded and released a new EP, Knife of Sin, via Computer Students™. In 2022, they released DTS 25, an expansion of their pioneering second album. Both were recorded by the late, great Steve Albini. BigʼN is back once again with a ruthless new album, End Comes Too Soon — their first in 28 years — released via Computer Student. It's all still here as present and disciplined as ever — Brianʼs powerful, reliably precise drumming with melodic phrasing that shapes the songs, Fredʼs metallic superstructure of a bass that builds the defined framework of the music, Toddʼs clangorous guitar that has more harmonic content than a lot of his noisier peers, and William Akinsʼ yarling vocals, the most recognizably human thing about the band, that convey layers of tension and intent, all the emotional content of a hellbound therapy session. Tragically, on May 7, 2024, Steve Albini suddenly passed away of a heart attack. Naturally, BigʼN were shocked and devastated. End Comes Too Soonʼs title comes from a lyric, and is unrelated to Albini; still, the album became a roundabout love letter to the man, his studio, and his legacy. Like its predecessors, the album is structured by snippets of musical interludes or Transmissions — and there are six here, under the common code "XMSN."

BigʼN was, is and always shall be a legacy noise rock band from Chicago (est. 1990) comprised of vocalist William Akins, guitarist Todd Johnson, bassist Fred Popolo, and drummer Brian Wnukowski. After releasing a stellar debut album (1994), followed by their sophomore and signature effort Discipline Through Sound on Skingraft Records (1996) and a split single with Shellac, the band became inactive for some years. In 2018, BigʼN recorded and released a new EP, Knife of Sin, via Computer Students™. In 2022, they released DTS 25, an expansion of their pioneering second album. Both were recorded by the late, great Steve Albini. BigʼN is back once again with a ruthless new album, End Comes Too Soon — their first in 28 years — released via Computer Student. It's all still here as present and disciplined as ever — Brianʼs powerful, reliably precise drumming with melodic phrasing that shapes the songs, Fredʼs metallic superstructure of a bass that builds the defined framework of the music, Toddʼs clangorous guitar that has more harmonic content than a lot of his noisier peers, and William Akinsʼ yarling vocals, the most recognizably human thing about the band, that convey layers of tension and intent, all the emotional content of a hellbound therapy session. Tragically, on May 7, 2024, Steve Albini suddenly passed away of a heart attack. Naturally, BigʼN were shocked and devastated. End Comes Too Soonʼs title comes from a lyric, and is unrelated to Albini; still, the album became a roundabout love letter to the man, his studio, and his legacy. Like its predecessors, the album is structured by snippets of musical interludes or Transmissions — and there are six here, under the common code "XMSN."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" 'Via Negativa (in the doorway light)'. Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo’s enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering – these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age.

The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band’s fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music’s polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals."

From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don’t see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" 'Via Negativa (in the doorway light)'. Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo’s enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering – these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age.

The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band’s fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music’s polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals."

From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don’t see directly."

London based songwriter Louis Gardner offers his first mixtape, released via Goldsmiths University imprint NX Records. On For The Open Room, Gardner spirals artfully through outsider jazz, pop, folk and noise, landing sprawled in a territory all his own.

Tangled riffs and strange structures form the terrain for intimate, un-rugged vocals to float above. Starting life like brisk journal entries or misshapen doodles in digital fuzz, Gardner's stories bloom with stop-start tension, oscillating between tender and guttural, crude and complex.

For the open room captures a flow state of ideas, traces and associations - from the bubbling jazz congruence of "It's Hard", to plucked maximalist fragility on "Ten Zithers". Wrapping up with "Body Left in the Snow", Louis reveals mightily undulating piano chops - leaving us to wonder what else is withheld, and what might appear next.

Recommended for fans of Jandek, Mount Eerie, Arthur Russell.

Joni Mitchell Gets Jazzy, Counterbalances Love and Trust with Freedom and Confusion on Court and Spark


Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP
Plays with Definitive Detail and Clarity: Pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl Strictly Limited to 5,000 Numbered Copies
Box Set Features New Liner Notes
1/4" / 15 IPS / Dolby A analogue master to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe


Court and Spark, the most commercially successful album of Joni Mitchell's trailblazing career, arrived after a year in which she took some time to breathe and kept a low profile. The pause led to more breakthroughs for the singer-songwriter. Marking Mitchell's increasing drift toward jazz (and affinity for Miles Davis and John Coltrane), Court and Spark garnered four Grammy nominations, earned the Best Album of the Year vote in the prestigious Pazz & Jop poll, and ranks #110 on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing on MoFi SuperVinyl, strictly limited to 5,000 numbered copies, and featuring new liner notes, Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP box set presents the 1974 classic with definitive detail, tonality, and directness. Marking the first time the revered LP has received audiophile-quality treatment, it's one of six iconic 1970s Mitchell records Mobile Fidelity is reissuing on vinyl and SACD sets.

Benefitting from a virtually nonexistent noise floor, dead-quiet surfaces, and superior groove definition, this collectible edition reproduces without compromise the textures, details, and breathtaking craftsmanship that help make Court and Spark into what many fans believe is the Canadian native’s finest hour. Notes bloom and decay as they do amid an acoustic live environment. Soundstages extend far and deep, with black backgrounds and balanced tones adding to the uncanny realism.

The reference-grade presence and openness put in transparent view Mitchell’s incisive words and unique phrasing, as well as the contributions of her prized support musicians — including Tom Scott and the L.A. Express as well as guest turns by the likes of David Crosby, Graham Nash, Jose Feliciano, and Robbie Robertson. Mitchell, experimenting with the melodic parameters of guitar and piano, is rightly found at the center of it all. The jazz-rock rhythms of drummer John Guerin, slippery guitar lines of Larry Carlton, vibrant horns and reeds laid down by Scott — crucial to the songs’ shape-shifting arrangements — can now also be heard with fresh ears.

Visually and physically, the packaging of the Court and Spark UD1S set complements its distinguished status. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, both LPs come in foil-stamped jackets with faithful graphics that illuminate the splendor of the recording. This reissue is for listeners who desire to engage themselves in everything involved with the album, including Mitchell’s “The Mountain Loves the Sea” painting — a picture of waves embracing and receding away from a mountain, a metaphor for the record’s lyrical themes — on the cover art.

Pitching deceptively light compositions against underlying tensions, Court and Spark witnesses the singer-songwriter finding her footing with a group of top-shelf musicians who seemingly understand her visions as well as expanding her lyrical palette and venturing further into territory no artist had dared explore. Mitchell’s accessibly complex structures, beat-propelled rhythms, and spirited interplay with Scott & Co. both give the music a different identity than her prior efforts and point in the directions she soon headed.

Lyrically, Court and Spark matches the wit, integrity, originality, and intellect of anything in Mitchell’s oeuvre — no small feat. Offsetting positives with negatives, and considering circumstances from multiple angles, Mitchell explores issues connected to love and freedom, certainty and confusion, and trust and fear with unfettered boldness and introspective empathy. She teeters between surrender and retreat, and spends a majority of the record sussing out the complications and sacrifices involved with such actions.

Mitchell addresses the transactional nature of desire (the intimate title track, the upbeat “Raised on Robbery,” complete with rock ‘n’ roll pep from Robertson and zesty sax from Scott); anticipation and disappointment of romance (“Car on a Hill,” “”Down to You); fame and celebrity (“A Free Man in Paris,” “People’s Parties”); and sanity (the dark and stormy “Trouble Child,” a satirical cover of Annie Ross’ “Twisted”). Throughout, she sings with an emotionally penetrating beauty and devastating honesty that teaches about ourselves.

Or, as Mitchell relays on “People’s Parties”: “Laughing and crying/You know it’s the same release.”

New hard hitting 45 by infamous cinematic fantasy funk supergroup Pigalle Connection.

Produced by Paris' own keyboard wizard Guillaume Métenier and Mocambo's Björn Wagner, heavy clavinet and breakbeat drums lead the imaginary chase soundtrack "Flics Sur Le Péripherique" through massive horn attacks, mysterious string themes and ethereal synth lines, evoking plenty colourful scenes over a relentless beat. A slice of funk that is equally suited for the breakin' floor as it is for b-movie dreams.

The flip side "Transit" contrast the a-side's frantic action with an almost dubby downtempo crime jazz groove full of suspended tension and cold chilled anticpation.

Featuring Guillaume Métenier on clavinet, moog, piano & hammond B3; Björn Wagner on guitar, bass, percussion, hammered dulcimer & glockenspiel; the Mocambo horns section and John Reed on drums.

Red Laser continue their prolific purple patch, unpacking four more slabs of red lit Manctolo from a host of box jammers, old and new.

Frank Butters wastes no time at all, 'The Call Of The Wild' engaging photon tubes with a highly kinetic array of crystalline synth shards, thunderous bass and hyperactive sfx. Without geeking out too much, special mention has to go out to the synthesis on display here - Butters advancing up the levels of sonic shamanism as he conjures up never-before-heard patches of interstellar cosmic NRG...

Bob Swans' 'Bodyform4U' unites the robots with a universal message of togetherness. Its multiple layers of shuddering arpeggios and star-aligned synths working in unison to quell any fears and send us off into a space age utopia. One that'll work as well soundtracking the end of the session as it will as the dancefloor's filling up; its subtle anthemic qualities sure to rouse the spirits of even the most dehumanized cyborgs.

New signing Lone Saxon drops 'Hypersleep' which utilises rich piano chords and a hefty breakbeat, switching up the vibe but keeping things super uplifting. This one reminds us of that innocent period when you could get on the megabus for 50p and score three for a tenner on the dancefloor. An evocative vocal refrain adds a moment of thoughtful introspection in between the e-rushes and arm-raising for another moment of interactive harmony.

Finally, 'Webo' sees Franz Scala (with a little help from Il Bosco) return to source, delivering a bona fide slice of maximum balls out MANCTALO chug. With tension-wrought chord progressions, delicious layers of lead melodies and a soaring vocal, there's few that can resist the charms of this late night electro-disco hyper anthem.

All aboard the starship !

RL x

Clothilde’s new album sounds like a constant departure from almost everything. Up until now, her music pieces seemed uncontrolled, a total commitment to the machines. She was, somehow, in between us - listener, audience - and the idea of a machine producing sounds she doesn’t seem to control. Of course, none of this was entirely true, she was mostly in control, but the fantasy, the orchestration of it was beautiful. It was sci-fi-ish, Metropolis-magnificent.

In “Cross Sections” everything is purposely under control. We feel, without being told, that Clothilde is directing the narrative, inviting us to partake of this raw and austere electronic sound, forcing us to learn to enjoy it. This is new. Whereas before she would expect you to stay put and listen, eventually you would understand and give in. Or your body would. Now she is telling you to be there, she doesn’t want to be alone, she wants us to feel this subterranean urgency at all costs.

The real eureka moment comes with “Medullary Rays”, when we start cohabiting with the sounds, when they feel familiar. The darkness becomes real; it is palpable how she is stretching each sound and making them come to life at every moment. It is violent, brutal. Like every track, it's a relief when it ends, it's like coming out of a car crash alive. Much of the A side of is Clothilde pushing the boundaries of her sound. She is not testing but finding new ground and sharing it with us. She is exorcising, demolishing and building over and over again, she is crying and screaming, dozing off with the demential levels of bass, making us constantly listen to alarm bells. She is scaring the shit out of us.

The B side keeps the levels of anxiety high up, especially on the 13-minute “Ring”. Surrealistic drones come and go, every second sounds like the end of something, the accumulation of tension is torrential and it never, never stops. We hope there is a conclusion to this. But there is not. “Cross Sections” builds and feeds on this darkness but, in a way, it is self-contained. Never explodes, never releases itself from itself. It is a continuous process of catharsis that it is never over. It never aims to be. Like, you know, life itself.

We've all been there. It feels familiar. Now it has a sound, or sounds. It can be heard and it is outer dimensional. “Cross Sections” is a tremendous effort from an artist trying to survive something. You never know what is. You don’t need to know what it is. It is just there. Cliché but it has to be said: highest possible volume on this one.

MÚSICA PARA BOLICHE takes us to Argentina. Along the journey, we will discover that Maradona is not the only thing we have in common with our cousins across the ocean.

Let’s dive into the 1980s Buenos Aires scene, a time straddling dictatorship and disco music, in search of dusty gems forgot-ten even in their homeland.

The EP contains four tracks spanning Italo, electro, and proto-house, carefully selected by Jack Bulgaro, restored, and edited by DJs from Italy and Argentina.

2024 Repress

Zeta Reticula makes his Censor debut with Star’s Wobble EP. The A side starts with the EP title track with rushing leads, arps and a distinct energy that ZR is known for, all held together with electronic clangs and atmospheres adding tension to the mix.

Next is Planet’s surface which has a murkier and tougher sound, jumping between broken beats and 4/4 electro territory in sections that creates a twisting, turning wormhole straight to the galaxy from which it was made. Unaided Eye is the final track of the A with a deeper and more drum focused mix intertwined with tripped out pads and fx.

On the flip, Sync 24 & Alex Jann take care of the title track remix adding a rushing bass, claustrophobic edits, builds and impacts that the pair are known for respectively. Francois Dillinger brings the B-Side to a close with a sparse stripped back electro sound adding almost a down-tempo alternative to Zeta Reticula’s original.

This is Censor’s 5th vinyl release following on from London Modular Alliance, Assembler Code and Alex Jann.

Mastered by Alden Tyrell
All tracks Uroš Umek
Remix P by Sync 24 & Alex Jann (Star’s Wobble Remix) // Francois Dillinger (Planet’s Surface Remix)

Jawad Nawfal and Mazen El Sayed, better known by their stage names of MUNMA and EL RASS, met for the first time in Beirut, during the summer of 2011. A common friend told Jawad wonders about an MC who rapped and slammed in the classical Arabic language, as opposed to the vernacular Lebanese dialect. The two musicians met in a small café in Beirut’s Hamra neighborhood, spoke of music, argued about politics, and decided to collaborate at once. They began working on tracks the following day. A month later, they had already produced a dozen sketches, instrumental beds and accapella vocal tracks. These demos eventually landed in the hands of Ziad Nawfal and Fadi Tabbal, who set out to bring to life the duo’s first recorded album. “Kachf el Mahjoub” (the title is from a Sufi master-work penned some 900 years ago) was eventually released as a limited edition of 500 CD’s, during a launch event at then-budding alternative venue Metro al Madina in Hamra, on the 22nd of February 2012. These CDs went out of print in record time, as can be expected, and the album’s mythical status became reinforced over time – El Rass & Munma collaborated sporadically during the next ten years, but never fully grasped the level of musical intensity and explosive tension attained on this first outing. It has been a longstanding dream of ours, here at Ruptured, to produce a vinyl version of this album, and we are thrilled to say this moment has finally come. Artist ALI RAFEI’s original artworks have been painstakingly reproduced, the music has been dutifully remastered for vinyl by CEDRIK FERMONT, and the records were pressed by our friends at Mother Tongue in Verona. We added bonus track "Fi Kala'at Tarablus" to this 10th anniversary reissue for good measure – recorded during the same sessions that yielded “Kachf el Mahjoub”, it appears on the digital version of the album. “Kachf el Mahjoub” is a landmark album in Lebanon’s alternative music scene, and the MENA region’s hiphop and indie scenes writ large. At the time of their collaboration, El Sayed was a prolific writer and musician, at ease with a variety of instruments, notorious for his masterful flow in the classical Arabic language, with lyrics tackling both social and political sensitive subjects; Nawfal has previously released an impressive number of albums and EPs, exploring downtempo electronica and ambient dubstep, for a number of Lebanese and international labels. The collision of the former’s brazen, slammed vocals and the latter’s harsh beats works wonders on “Kachf el Mahjoub”, Munma’s sound-world perfectly fitting El Rass’s agitated discourse, alternating between broken beats, elaborate percussion, and ambient layers of synths. At times reminiscent of mutant hiphop outfit Shabazz Palaces, at others of the collaboration between dubstep producer Kode9 and the late vocalist The SpaceApe, this album is an uncanny meeting of Arabic hip-hop and electronica, an exceptional event in the realm of contemporary Lebanese alternative music.

Limited Edition Picture Disc. Including Silver/Chrome Obi Sticker and Silver Postcard with album titles and info in English and Bengali. Housed in PVC sleeve.

ICCHĀ is an international collaboration project that originated in 2023 in Dhaka, Bangladesh. The work "Chant For Hope" was realized by Miet Warlop and created on site with local performers while Micha Volders composed the musical context. The performance acts as a monumental living sculpture, in which the physical process of casting hundreds of Bengali words in plaster becomes the driving force to create a playing field between performers, public space, and participation. Woven through this performative context are more complex relationships that explore the tension between humans and language. As the words become so visible and tangible, an image of their inner bearing and our dealings with them emerges.

The recordings of this performance have been adapted and enhanced to create an album that reflects the energy and expands upon the sound created in Dhaka. ICCHĀ is the Bengali wording of "desire," and reflects the eagerness and urgency felt within the process of this collaboration. In conjunction with the seven performers, a sonic adventure emerges that thrives on the energetic rendering of the Bangla language through transient patterns and snappy melodic figures. The album will be released on 24.05.24 as vinyl picture disc and digital, and will be available as a pre-order online and in local selected record shops.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"