Cerca:yes set

The Ibex Band, with Giovanni Rico and Selam Woldemariam at the creative helm, provided the musical backbone for legends like Aster Aweke, Girma Beyene, Tilahun Gessesse, Mulatu Astatke, and Mahmoud Ahmed, including the iconic album Ere Mela Mela, shaping modern Ethiopian music as we know it today. This 1976 album (Ge’ez Year 1968) played a pivotal role in that legacy and has now resurfaced to set the record straight.

There’s a tendency to talk about the seventies as a golden age of Ethiopian music. There are good reasons for that, and just as good reasons against it. However, the notion of a golden past privileges the role of Western explorers and suggests that the pinnacle of Ethiopia’s musical culture is something only a foreigner can appreciate and unearth. It downplays the complexities of Ethiopia’s culture and history, creating an artificial divide between then and now. And it underestimates the constantly evolving sound that has followed.

The legendary musical outfit The Ibex Band, later metamorphosed into The Roha Band, has played a central role in defining the sound of many of the greatest stars on the music scene of Ethiopia from the mid-seventies onwards–but their golden output has never really waned. The story of the origins of the band that provided the musical backbone for greats such as Aster Aweke, Girma Beyene, Tilahun Gessesse, backing the solo career of group member Mahmoud Ahmed as well as backing Mulatu Astatke and many others has yet to be properly told.

Two misconceptions plague the image of Ethiopian music, one is that the music is pure because it is, by some notion, unexploited, the other is that it is all traditional. To begin with, a combination of political changes between the late sixties and the mid-nineties created an environment where only the most dedicated and skilled musicians struggled on and pursued a musical career against fierce odds. The whole Ibex Band, with Giovanni Rico and Selam “Selamino” Seyoum Woldermarian at the creative helm, are arguably the origo of the vibrant scene in the mid-seventies, and the said pair are foremost responsible for not only navigating the band through troubled times, but also modernizing the 6/8 chickchicka rhythm to a contemporary form. Giovanni laid the rhythmic foundation with heavy looped basslines that reinvented traditional melodies as dance music, and with Selamino’s innovative guitar work they influenced scores of musicians from Abegaz Kibrework Shiota to Henock Temesgen. Even Giovanni’s Fender bass and Selamino’s Gibson guitar inspired younger musicians in their choice of instruments. Not only in choice of instruments but also in sound–even as the digital revolution hit Ethiopian music, a lot of popular music still took its cue from the masters from Ibex and Roha.

Ibex emerged out of the ashes of the sixties group the Soul Echos band, adding Giovanni and Selamino to their ranks and taking their cues from a slew of influences, such as Motown and The Beatles, fused with traditional music. A tighter-knit unit than most bands at the time – Ibex has remained six to seven members throughout their whole career, compared to many bands that were as large as fifteen or sixteen men strong when Ibex set out. Their playing has been viciously focused, economical yet heavy. Just a year before the recording sessions of the album in your hands, Giovanni and Selamino made a contribution to the popular musical lexicon of Ethiopia that was simply defining the popular sound: their arrangement and recording of bandmate Mahmoud Ahmed’s solo effort and real commercial breakthrough tune and eponymous album, Ere Mela Mela, from 1975.

Selamino has never limited himself to being an adroit lead guitarist, but has always been a scholar of history, and as such he has probably contributed as much to modern Ethiopian music with his guitar playing and compositions as with a deepened understanding of modern or contemporary – Zemenawi – Ethiopian music. Selamino’s contributions serve as a metaphor for those of the whole band, at one and the same time creating and defining a new, danceable and updated sound anchored in Giovanni’s bass, whilst also elevating the broader scene through their support for others on the scene and on top of that, increasing the understanding of the music.

There is an understandable desire to romanticize the musical heyday Ibex and Roha were at the forefront of, because so much of the output is sorrowfully hard to come by. Ibex creativity was nothing short of ridiculously fierce compared to many of their Western contemporaries. Based on their sheer recorded output alone they could have usurped the title “hardest working in show business” from James Brown, recording more than 250 albums or 2500 songs in the seventies and eighties. Some only surface as cassettes today, others were never given full LP release, and some are simply impossible to find today. In the light of that, it’s nothing short of a miracle that the recording Stereo Instrumental Music from 1976 (Ge’ez Year 1968) has resurfaced. Unearthed in perfect condition on a chrome cassette, this is musical history comes alive–to set the future straight. Stereo Instrumental Music was recorded in collaboration with Karl-Gustav Lundgren, a Swedish national working for the Radio Voice of the Gospel. It took two sessions at the Ras Hotel ballroom in Addis Ababa. The Ibex Band was the first band in Ethiopia to employ a four-track recorder for their recording (the first available in the country, lent by Karl-Gustav). Later the same week, Giovanni and Selamino realized that, lengthwise, the recorded material fell short of what they wished for, so they recorded four more tracks in one more session on a single-track recorder. The Ras Hotel and Ghion Hotel, where the Ibex Band held musical residencies were to Ethiopia in general and Addis Ababa in particular what Motown was to the USA and Detroit a few years earlier – a hotbed of musical creativity and showmanship.

The most astonishing thing about Ethiopian music of the last half century is how tradition and modernity are intertwined. Because of this feature, it’s kind of hard to tell when there ever was or when we are in a “golden age”. So much of music from the past has been criminally neglected, but because of the hardships in the past, it would be an oversimplification to say that said past was a golden age. Probably, the golden age is what we are approaching, because for the first time both the past and future are accessible, and the monumental contributions from before can lay a firm foundation for a thriving music scene today. The Ibex Band stands firmly in the past, present and the future. That, if anything, is golden.

The detailed history of Stereo Instrumental Music is in many ways unique. To begin with, it couldn’t have been recorded earlier (there were no four-track recorders available) and it really couldn’t have been recorded afterwards either, at least not in the years directly following, because of the toll the musical scene took from the unfavorable political climate that followed when the nascent Derg regime and rival groups tried to assert themselves, the musical equipment lent from The Voice of Gospel Radio simply disappeared from Ethiopia when the radio station folded in 1977. Karl-Gustav Lundgren,
the Swedish foreign national who assisted during the recording, worked with the Ethiopian Evangelical Church Mekane Yesus at the time, recalls how they only had about fifteen minutes to get the microphones in place for the recording as to not alert neither the management at Ras Hotel nor the authorities and most importantly, to complete the recording before the curfew came into effect at midnight. In leaping to the opportunity to use previously unavailable equipment to push their sound forward and improvising to meet the logistical challenges, the Ibex Band displayed the very avant-gardism and adaptability that explains their longevity as a band through the years. The recording of Stereo Instrumental Music is from a given time in history, but it sounds as beyond time.
Much of the energy that burst out of the scene that Stereo Instrumental Music came out of dissipated or got sidetracked during the societal changes Ethiopia went through in the 1970s and 80s. Whilst leaders might have professed to be revolutionary, the work ethic of the Ibex Band can truly be described as that. They never called it quits, but adapted, toured extensively abroad in Africa, Europe, and the Middle East, and found ways to work even in the face of the curfew that curtailed a lot of musical life. They even played major arenas in the nineteen eighties, despite said curfew and restrictions. The whole extent of their legacy has never been told, but their music speaks louder than words, so therefore… tune in to the Ibex Band’s Stereo Instrumental Music.

Can you squeeze Hip Hop, Latin Soul, Funk & Cumbia into a 7" single? YES YOU CAN!

Two years after the last release on his Juice on Wax label, countless collaborations and remixes for other artists, editing maestro Voodoocuts is back with two brand new tracks.

On the A-side, a boom bap anthem over an irresistible Latin soul groove will take you back in time, while on the flip, a spicy cumbia will set any dancefloor on fire.

This landmark compilation has introduced generations of fans to the incredible history of the most storied band in music. For its 50th anniversary, the collection has been expanded with 12 additional tracks, including for the first time some of George Harrison’s earliest songs and some classic Beatles versions of R&B and rock ‘n’ roll hits that were so influential on the band.

The 3LP collection now contains 38 tracks, 30 of which have new mixes for 2023. The set’s 12 newly added tracks are collected on its 3rd LP. An insert contains new sleeve notes by journalist and author John Harris. For current fans and future generations alike, the new 1962 – 1966 collection is a joyous celebration of The Beatles’ timeless musical legacy.

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.”

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.”

Cross Record's new album, Crush Me, is steeped in the pressures and wonders of existence—a profound statement, especially coming from artist and death doula Emily Cross. A two-and-a-half-year gestation period offered challenges, disappointments, and joys reflected in the cramped space of the album, which explores how we handle the weights we carry. Emily Cross had held hundreds of Living Funerals and was as many episodes deep into her podcast, What I’m Looking At. She was five years into serving clients as a death doula and fresh off a tour with Loma, her band with Jonathan Meiburg (Shearwater) and Dan Duszynski, when she began work on her fourth album. After moving from Austin, TX to Dorset, UK, she established the Steady Waves Center for Contemplation (named after a track from her second record, Wabi-Sabi ), where she hosted Living Funerals, met clients, scheduled mindful tea sessions, and showcased experimental music nights. All the while, she was scribbling down song ideas. Cross’s Tascam four-track demos finally reached readiness, and she sent them to an interested major independent label. She was encouraged to push her imagination to the limits of what a record could be. So, unlike her usual process of recording as inexpensively as possible, she prepared a two-week recording session in Germany with a group of skilled musicians from around the world. True to her previous work, Cross left plenty of room in her demos for experimentation, collaboration, chance, improvisation, and complete obliteration, then resurrection when necessary. Comfort and traditional structure were eschewed in favor of unaccountable magic, prayers whispered into The Void. Cross is comfortable with the chaotic and unpredictable, a perspective demanded by her work and writing style. The Berlin Airbnb was packed with people, instruments and luggage. During a ride down in a tiny elevator to the studio, Cross realized how central the sense of being crushed was to the album. “I thought of it later and it dawned on me that ‘Crush Me’ perfectly embodied the record,” says Cross. Yes, the weight of a body laying limply atop yours, or the tight squeeze of a hug, can be pleasant. Go too far, and you’re in the hands of a cruel, adolescent god. Upon leaving Germany, the record was unfinished, and without a roadmap. As passages were recorded as isolated parts, Cross and musician Marcin Sulewski collaborated, facing a haphazard brick pile, waiting to be assembled. Work dipped in and out of view like a buoy bobbing in a violent sea over many months. During that time, the aforementioned interested label went radio silent, suddenly not seeming so sure of a thing. Collaborators disappeared, continuing the themes of abandonment, surrender, and disarray that followed the project. Cross physically felt her entire body go numb: In a twist of fate, the record was rescued by long-time friend and supporter Ben Goldberg at Ba Da Bing Records who was eager to help realize the project. Cross worked for months on the album, all the while nursing a pregnancy and continuing her full-time funeral work. The last minute participation of Seth Manchester of Machines with Magnets, who mixed and mastered, was an essential liferaft. He gave true final form to the abstracted songs. Crush Me has the effect of a spell being cast, with songs balancing heaviness and levity. Vocals, guitars, and keyboards float above, as drums and upright bass (often bowed) lurch beneath. On “Rolling Backwards” percussion wanders about while feedback squeals and persists in the distance. “Dorset Area Of Natural Beauty” starts with a thick, unhinged church organ progression punctuated by the disquieting sounds of laughter reaching the point of hysteria. “God Fax” is a slow-moving panic attack, with shallow breaths in and out framing a guttural cacophony like a wooden freighter encountering increasingly turbulent waters and vocals struck emotionless by autotune. The album ends with “Twisted Up Fence,” a reflection on life from outside the wall--wistful, warm, and comforting. Cross, likely with a smile on her face, sings: “You say it’s an endless abyss” “And I say the abyss is the best”

Vaxis Act III: The Father of Make Believe', das neue und zehnte Studioalbum der New Yorker Band, setzt die Geschichte des The Amory Wars / Vaxis-Universums fort. Es folgt auf das 2022 erschienene Album 'Vaxis Act II: A Window of the Waking Mind', das von der Kritik sehr positiv aufgenommen wurde und mit 'Shoulders' die erste Top-10-Radiosingle der Band in ihrer Karriere einbrachte.

'The Father of Make Believe' fügt sich druckvoll in das klangliche Oeuvre der Band ein: Heulende Gitarren, ein Schlagzeug, das wie ein Feuerwerk über uns kracht, begleitet von der schmerzenden, kraftvollen Stimme von Sanchez, die uns durch ruhige wie schwungvolle Momente führt.

Neuland betritt Sanchez über die Art und Weise, wie er sich der Rolle der Hauptfigur annimmt. Schon oft hat er seine Geschichten in epische Lieder gekleidet: Reflexionen über einen süchtigen Vater, Erinnerungen an seinen geliebten Großvater, Ängste, ein Kind in einer grausamen Welt großzuziehen, Ängste, die Liebe seines Lebens zu verlieren. Dieses Mal schreibt er direkter über sein Leben und vor allem über seine Karriere. Claudio Sanchez ist 'The Father Of Make Believe', der auf die Welt herabblickt, die er erschaffen hat.

- Ltd. Col. 2LP: (gepresst auf Coke Bottle Green Transparent Vinyl im Trifold Gatefold-Cover mit zwei Taschen und bedruckten Innenhüllen)

Vaxis Act III: The Father of Make Believe', das neue und zehnte Studioalbum der New Yorker Band, setzt die Geschichte des The Amory Wars / Vaxis-Universums fort. Es folgt auf das 2022 erschienene Album 'Vaxis Act II: A Window of the Waking Mind', das von der Kritik sehr positiv aufgenommen wurde und mit 'Shoulders' die erste Top-10-Radiosingle der Band in ihrer Karriere einbrachte.

'The Father of Make Believe' fügt sich druckvoll in das klangliche Oeuvre der Band ein: Heulende Gitarren, ein Schlagzeug, das wie ein Feuerwerk über uns kracht, begleitet von der schmerzenden, kraftvollen Stimme von Sanchez, die uns durch ruhige wie schwungvolle Momente führt.

Neuland betritt Sanchez über die Art und Weise, wie er sich der Rolle der Hauptfigur annimmt. Schon oft hat er seine Geschichten in epische Lieder gekleidet: Reflexionen über einen süchtigen Vater, Erinnerungen an seinen geliebten Großvater, Ängste, ein Kind in einer grausamen Welt großzuziehen, Ängste, die Liebe seines Lebens zu verlieren. Dieses Mal schreibt er direkter über sein Leben und vor allem über seine Karriere. Claudio Sanchez ist 'The Father Of Make Believe', der auf die Welt herabblickt, die er erschaffen hat.

- Ltd. Col. 2LP: (gepresst auf Coke Bottle Green Transparent Vinyl im Trifold Gatefold-Cover mit zwei Taschen und bedruckten Innenhüllen)

Once again, Decca Records have been shining a light into the recesses of their vast archive to bring you 'The Decca Years 1963', a newly compiled collection of hits and rarities from the pioneers of British Pop music, available as a 45-song 2CD set, or a 22-song 'highlights' LP. Alongside big hits and familiar favourites from Brian Poole And The Tremeloes, Billie Davis, Kathy Kirby, Jet Harris and Tony Meehan, The Tornados, and Tommy Steele, we are excited to bring you some tracks that are being made available again for the first time in more than 60 years, and a few that have never been on CD before. Both formats come in eye-catching, retro style packaging that references Decca releases from the early '60s, and feature informative track-by-track sleeve notes.

As Jess Sylvester finished his Hardly Art debut as Marinero in the fall of 2020, he realized it was time for a change. Sylvester grew up in Marin County, on the doorstep of San Francisco. It was a nurturing community for a high-school punk with a pompadour and, later, for a sober songwriter with a proclivity for moody psychedelia. But he wanted to be challenged and inspired by a new setting and scenario around strangers who prompted him to approach his music in unexpected ways. So in September 2020, as the world continued to reel in lockdown, Sylvester headed several hours south to Los Angeles, a city that, despite the relative proximity, the film buff knew largely from classic and cult films situated there. When he arrived, he kept digging into that cinematic past-Robert Altman's The Long Goodbye, with John Williams' classic theme, or classic 90s movies about East LA, many featuring Edward James Olmos. They shaped his understanding of his new town just as it began to open. This is one pillar of the multivalent and endlessly lush La La La, Marinero's new album about sobriety, identity, and fantasy that is playfully named both for the city that helped shape it and the sophisticated pop it contains. Sylvester wrote about characters outside of himself, whether considering the heroine reckoning with her own version of keeping clean or the screenwriters whose work was deemed communist simply as a political convenience. He linked those songs with motivational anthems about self-acceptance and playful numbers about flirting through food, shaping a 12-song set rich with humor, empathy, and encouragement. Sure, La La La is a continuation of the slippery genre play Sylvester started with 2021's Hella Love, 2019's Trópico de Cáncer, or even before that. But it also feels like a fresh beginning for Marinero, as Sylvester realizes how boundless this project can be. He began to think about the music of his childhood, how his mother is from San Francisco with Mexican roots, and how he'd heard so much salsa growing up as an impetuous teenager. So he wrote "Taquero," a red-hot salsa tune that uses tacos and their trappings as a source of endless metaphors for come-ons. And then there was the Ray Barreto or Santana-inspired "Pocha Pachanga," with organ gliding and percussion pulsing beneath his yearning vocals, warped as if by desert winds. In Los Angeles, he found a wealth of players who spoke this music like language itself (including Chicano Batman's Eduardo Arenas), all ready to play with and push these familiar forms. Sylvester has also been sober for 21 years, since a cross-country sojourn to attend college in Boston ended in a chemical haze. Today, he sees friends facing the same decisions he made two decades ago, and he brings bits of that experience to bear in songs that feel like self-help anthems. Recorded with a musical hero (and labelmate) of his, Chris Cohen, "Sea Changes" feels like sunshine breaking through dark clouds, as Sylvester acknowledges the newfound confidence and clarity in a friend who has stepped away from destructive habits. In the past, Sylvester has been intractably linked to his identity as a Mexican-American, born to parents from Mexico and Irish- American descent who settled in San Francisco. That can be limiting, of course, tying him to notions of sound and style that aren't always correct. On La La La, he simultaneously steps into and out of those preconceptions, singing tracks above salsa in joyous Spanish or pondering the dynamics of the Hollywood Ten and blacklists above mysterious lap steel and teasing trumpet. His identity, then, should now be clear: He is a Californian, making music shaped by the diversity of encounters and experiences that are a central part of that state's fabric. Never before has he presented himself so fully and unabashedly on tape as with La La La, an album Sylvester built with new inspirations to deliver new charms.

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

Singer, songwriter and composer Melike Şahin is set to releases her new album AKKOR via Gülbaba Records in partnership with Day Dreamer

An empowering assertion of survival that propels traditional Anatolian pop and folk influences into the future, AKKOR rises like a phoenix from the flames to reintroduce the Turkish superstar diva to an international audience. An expression of Şahin’s personal growth, the album is an affirmation of her growing status as the voice of a generation, and hose lyrics have been adopted as a callto rights for the women’s movement in Turkey.

Recorded live in London with producer Martin Terefe (London Brew, Buika, Jamie Cullum), AKKOR features a selection of the most talented and forward-thinking musicians on the scene, including guitarists Dave Okumu and violinist Raven Bush, as well as terling Campell (David Bowie) on drums, Glen Scott (Eric Bibb) and Nikolaj mTorp Larsen on keyboards. Bringing an international feel to her mheart-rending performances, the record represents the most focussed and complete expression of Şahin’s sound to date. Melike Şahin has made a career of facing down criticism and censorship to make sumptuous and provocative music that captures the defiant tone of progressive creativity in contemporary Turkey. Having performed around the world with Turkish psych legends BaBa ZuLa, Şahin released her debut album Merhem in 2021, gathering billions of streams and building a reputation for unforgettable live performances in the process. Influenced by the style of Sade, cutting an elegant and beguiling figure on the stage. Where Şahin describes Merhem as about healing, she says AKKOR is about survival, both on an emotional level, coming to terms with difficult relationships, childhood trauma and the pressures of newfound fame, and on a social level, in continuing the champion the rights of the oppressed in the face of state and media violence. Powerful and vulnerable in equal measure, AKKOR demonstrates an orchestral grandeur and a dramatic flair drawn from Şahin’s love for traditional Anatolian pop and folk music, injected with the urgency of contemporary production. Bound together by Şahin’s inimitable voice AKKOR skips between Middle Eastern melancholy and classic disco hedonism, for an album that is as stylistically open, pluralistic and affirmative as the messages the music carries.

Although she does not describe herself as an activist, Şahin’s poignant lyrics have come to define the women’s movement in Turkey, with the words, “I deserve each and every inch of this smile,”adorning protest banners on International Women’s Day and celebratory posters at Pride.

“This is the moment that I told myself, Yes, I am an artist,” Şahin says. “I am bearing all of the other things because of this, because I am affecting people's lives, and I am giving some power.” AKKOR – which translates as candescent – finds Melike rising again and burning brighter than ever before.

Overall though, Şahin says AKKOR is her rebirth album – a statement of self-empowerment, through which she hopes tocontinue to raise up the voices of those around her. “You are seeinga woman who falls down, but who rises again and flies,” sheexplains. “Maybe she doesn't win, maybe she doesn't lose, but she's a survivor,” Şahin concludes. “She is a phoenix.”

Slam poetry, rap battles, singing, song writing and drumming. The hit album “Say Yes” by Iyeoka is now being released as a high quality vinyl version (180 g) in gatefold. The YouTube hit “Simply Falling” received over 216 Million clicks.

Iyeoka (read: ee-yo-kah) is well versed in many expressive arts, but in essence she is a storyteller and poet. "My goal is very simple", says the US Nigerian American, "I want to move the world, one poem at a time". She does this enchantingly well with her album "Say Yes (R)evolved". In poems set to music Iyeoka Ivie Okoawo (her full name) reveals herself to be a strong, self-confident woman of the modern world. She tells tales of love and relationships in the 21st century and philosophizes about the daily struggle of life and being a woman in a post-feminist world digging deeply and personally into her African roots.

Musically Iyeoka handles expertly a wide variety of styles from electronic soul "Break Down Mode" to technofied R'n'B "Broken Hearts Anthem (Walk Away)", from energetic dance inducing grooves "The Yellow Brick Road Song", to a more jazzy "Happily Ever After", from melodic soft rock "Say Yes", to pop "Soundtrack to Life" and reggae "Testify". She certainly has presence and shines out with a silky smooth elegance reminiscent of Sade "This Time around", "Simply Falling". This woman has real all-round talent, and she knows how to use it!

*press Release From David Katz*

The Hardest Working Reggae Band In Southern England, Dubheart Is On A Mission To Spread Messages Of Peace, Love, Unity And Resistance Through A Heady Stew Of Contemporary Roots Reggae, Delivered On Live Instruments With A Hefty Dose Of Dub In The Mix. Cool Under Pressure, Their Latest Offering, Is The Band's Most Compelling Set To Date, A 'showcase'-style Album Where Every Vocal Track Is Followed By Its Dub Counterpart, And The Vital Contribution Of The Brassica Horns—from Rising London Ska Band Chainska Brassica—is Another Intriguing Element That Makes This Album Tougher Than The Rest.

Drawing On The Foundations Laid By Jamaican Stalwarts Such As Burning Spear, Dennis Brown And Culture, Dub Pioneers Like Scientist And Jah Shaka, Plus Newer Vanguards Such As Tarrus Riley, Grounation And Conscious Sounds, Dubheart Has Crafted A Distinctly Appealing Style That Is Very Much Their Own, Based On The Organic Presentation Of Their Musical Vision. Indeed, This Fully Self-contained Five-piece Is Firmly Engrained In The Neo-roots Movement Of The Present, With A Sound That Faces Ever Forwards.

The South Coast-based Band Was First Formed Back In 1999, And Slowly Built A Following Through Their Intense Live Performances, Which Always Harnessed A Live Dub Element. Their First Ep, the Solid Foundation Rhythm,' Issued On Their Own Karnatone Label In 2011 And Featuring Dub Mixes By Russ D Of The Disciples, Became A Regular Part Of Jah Shaka's Live Playlists. It Was Followed By The 7' 45, we Chant,' Featuring The Band's Charismatic Bristol-based Lead Singer, Tenja (who Originally Hails From France), The Track Becoming An Underground Anthem In Japan (via Rob Smith, Aka Rsd). Dubheart's First Album, Mental Slavery, Was Released In 2013, A Momentous Year That Also Saw The Band Win The European Reggae Contest Staged By Rototom Sunsplash, Leading To A European Tour With Festival Appearances At Summerjam (germany), Reggae Sun Ska (france), Overjam (slovenia), Sudoweste (portugal), United Islands (czech Republic) And The Sardinia Reggae Festival, As Well As Rototom In Spain. Then, In 2015, Karnatone Issued The Dub Companion To Mental Slavery, Mixed Down In A Heavy Dubwise Fashion By Drummer Gavin Sant, Otherwise Known As Fullness, The Band Was Then Invited To Participate In The Bbc Television Show, The Uk's Best Part-time Band, Leading To Their Ep Of Cover Tunes, 2016's full Time Pressure,' Again With Dub Versions From Fullness. part Of The Band's Appeal Lies In Its Tightness As A Recording And Performing Unit, When You See Them Live, You Understand That This Band Of Brothers Is On A Higher Mission, United In Their Wish To Use Music As A Means Of Upliftment. And That Sentiment Is Entirely Evident On Cool Under Pressure. The Melodic Bass Grooves Of Mark Shepherd Act As The Perfect Buffer To The Furious Rolls And Expressive Drum Patterns Of Fullness, David 'daddy U' Mountjoy Adds Scintillating Melodies On Keyboards, Including Some Delightful Wurlitzer Lines, And Richard Ramsey's Guitar Licks Tend Towards The Understated, Aside From The Occasional Solo Pyrotechnics, As Heard Here On rocky Road.' And On Songs Like can't Wait,' watcha Gonna Do' And The Title Track, The Brassica Horns Add Further Melodic Depth Through Fanfares Of Treble Brass Texture. with The Rhythms Laid Entirely Through Live Recording Sessions Cut At Fullness' Home Studio In Bournemouth (with Horn And Wurlitzer Overdubs Done Elsewhere), Cool Under Pressure Reveals Dubheart As A Band On The Rise, Heading For Unstoppable Heights.

The Dub Deconstructions On The Disc Allow The Listener To Hear The Exceptional Quality Of Their Playing, Emphasizing Each Member's Individual Talent, While The Lyrics Tackle Subjects We Can All Relate To, With watcha Gonna Do' Addressing Social Inequalities, can't Wait' Alluding To The Refugee Crisis, rocky Road' Imploring Everyone To Hold Strong In Trying Times, And rise Up' Calling For Direct Action Against The Unjust System That Rules Our Lands. Overall, The Outstanding Title Track cool Under Pressure' Really Sums Up The Band's Ethos: The System May Burden Us With The Stresses Of Censure And Control, But Our Obligation Is To Stay True To Ourselves And Resist. And The Music Can Help Us To Achieve This.

John Gosling (aka Mekon) the English big beat/industrial musician and electronica producer, is set to launch his new label Hua Hua (pronounced wah wah) with an 11-track compilation album this July. A quick scan at some of the featured artists showcases a line up of legends - eighties rap sensation Schooly D sitting alongside Primal Scream mainstay Bobby Gillespie and John’s recently departed punk hero Alan Vega - even Roxy Music’s saxophonist and founder member Andy Mackay makes an appearance. And while John’s electronic alter ego Mekon is always on hand to remix and arrange, he’s far from the only producer behind the proverbial wheel.
“It’s stuff I had lying around and now I am finding ways to get it out of my system,” he says. “It’s all been brought to the world with brilliant new artwork by Isabelle de Jour, who also features on various tracks.”
Gosling is well known as a member of both Psychic TV and Coil (for the album Transparent). Gosling founded the groups Zos Kia with John Balance and Bass-o-Matic with William Orbit before recording as Mekon. He has also remixed under the name Sugar J. And that’s before we get to the fact that he has soundtracked some of the most forward-thinking fashion shows in the world - crafting the soundscapes for Alexander McQueen shows since the show Dante in 1996. Firstly working hand in hand with the late great Lee “Alexander” McQueen, then with his successor Sarah Burton. In the mid-to-late-nineties he was a core member of the group Agent Provocateur along with Matthew Ashman (originally of Bow Wow Wow), Dan Peppe, Danny Saber (of Black Grape) and Cleo Torez. He has also worked with artists such as Roxanne Shanté ('Yes Yes Y'All'), Marc Almond ('Delirious'), and Afrika Bambaataa. His third album “Something Came Up” featured artwork by Alexander McQueen.
John is as passionate about Suicide and Alan Vega and what he describes as “the new stuff”. Besides, he says, “that’s how people listen to music now. I think kids – my kids anyway – listen right across the board. People don’t see genres anymore. So it’s my definition of good music.” It’s safe to say that this is very much Volume 1. “Yes, it doesn’t cover everything and Volume 2 will be completely different.”

"Vangelis (29/3/1943 –17/5/2022) was a Greek musician, composer, and producer of electronic, progressive, ambient, and classical orchestral music. He composed the Academy Award-winning score to Chariots of Fire (1981), as well as for the films Blade Runner (1982), Missing (1982), Antarctica (1983), The Bounty (1984), 1492: Conquest of Paradise (1992), and Alexander (2004), and the 1980 PBS documentary series Cosmos: A Personal Voyage by Carl Sagan. Vangelis started writing music when he was 4 and performed his first live concert at age 6. He started his career as a member of The Forminx. In the sixties, he was a founding member of Aphrodite's Child along with Demis Roussos and Lucas Sideras. He also enjoyed succes as part of Jon & Vangelis early in the eighties. The Best Of Vangelis from 1993 is an absolute classic. It contains Vangelis classics like “Alpha”, “To The Unknown Man”, “Pulstar (Audio)”, “Spiral” and “So Long Ago, So Clear” featuring Jon Anderson from Yes. Now for the first time available on vinyl as a Limited Edition 2LP set, on white coloured vinyl.
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Prairiewolf make easy listening music for an age of fracture. They almost do it in spite of themselves. No one can seriously question the head music bona fides of the members of this Colorado-based trio.

Guitarist Stefan Beck has already assembled a formidable discography of jewel-toned guitar zone-outs under his Golden Brown moniker. And keyboardist and guitarist Jeremy Erwin and bassist Tyler Wilcox have both made their reputations as chroniclers of the vast world of out-music. Erwin helms the indispensable Heat Warps blog, a performance-by-performance archive of Miles Davis’s labyrinthine electric period. And Wilcox has been covering the ragged edges of psychedelia and experimental rock at Aquarium Drunkard and other publications, not to mention his own virtual basement for heads, the great bootleg blog Doom and Gloom from the Tomb.

These guys come by it honestly. And yet, given their backgrounds, Prairiewolf’s self-titled debut last spring was remarkably free of face-melters, brown acid blowouts, and ascendant spiritual jazz odysseys. Instead, they dropped a record of beautiful, elegant, low-key cosmic groovers that sounded like the piped-in background music to a resort hotel on Jupiter. It was an unlikely psychedelia, brocaded with mid-twentieth century sonic threading from the hi-fi era: vintage synthesizers, smears of spaghetti western, luxe tropical details, the faint schmaltz of space age pop. Imagine something like a Harmonia residency in the airport lounge. And yet somehow it all worked brilliantly. Prairiewolf became last summer’s cool-down standard. After a year woodshedding around Colorado’s Front Range region, the Prairiewolf boys have fired up their trusty Korg SR-120 drum machine for another outstanding collection of suborbital exotica. The appropriately titled Deep Time operates in its own chronology, unspooling at its unhurried pace. All its incongruous period and stylistic references—the new age pulses, Hawaiian steel, shaggy hippie rambles, lysergic guitar spirals, and orchestral synthesizer flourishes—float atop the album’s own singular temporality. Deep Time makes its own time.

From the moment Beck folds his slide guitar, origami-like, into a sound resembling the call of gulls on the tranquil album opener, “Peach Blossom Paradise,” there is a sense of departure from everyday life. The shimmering “Lighthouse” has a similar sunbaked nonchalance, like an afternoon passed day-drinking in a seaside bar. That they named their lush, kaleidoscopic downtempo track “The Meander” pretty much says it all. The ranging, propulsive “Saying Yes to Everything” seems like a nod in the direction of Rose City Band’s brand of wookie krautrock. And the motorik noir of “Demon Cicadas in the Night” also goes hard. Beck and Erwin’s intertwined guitar jam on the eerie album standout “The Cold Curve” evolves into something that sounds like primitive computer music. A genteel bassline from Wilcox on another album highlight, “Revisionist Mystery,” sets the stage for a loopy space jazz turn from guest clarinettist Matt Loewen of Rayonism. The title of post-rock cowboy tune “Another Tomorrow” might refer to the alternative future that so many critics heard in the music of Prairiewolf’s first album. Or it might simply refer to the persistence of time, however deep. Either way,

I’m thankful for the way Prairiewolf make each of their tunes a little oasis or sanctuary, each subsisting according to its own crystalline little logic for a few minutes. It is no simple task to filter out the omnipresent anger and anxiety of everyday life these days. But Prairiewolf are out here making it seem easy.

Brent S. Sirota

Who is Isabelle Lewis, anyway?

What kind of music does she make? Is she an opera singer? Does she write pop songs? Does she compose ethereal ambient soundscapes? Does she play chamber music on the violin? Is she producing dark, electronic beats?

Well… yes. But Isabelle Lewis is not so much a person as a project. Isabelle’s debut album, Greetings, credits a trio of composer–performers at its heart: producer Valgeir Sigurðsson, vocalist Benjamin Abel Meirhaeghe, and violinist Elisabeth Klinck. The sound of the elusive Isabelle Lewis is heard most clearly in the push and pull between them, the three-way tension that gives the album its musical and emotional drive.

Each of the three brings more to the collaboration than those epithets might imply. Elisabeth’s solo performance practice incorporates composition, improvisation, live electronics, and a close command of bowing and fingering techniques that make her fiddle sing, whisper or whistle as required. Benjamin is a self-taught countertenor - keening, crooning, and swelling to a voluptuous sensuality—but also an interdisciplinary stage director and performer. Well known for his work as a producer and studio collaborator, and as a composer of scores for film and stage, Valgeir’s solo discography interweaves meticulously crafted electronics, drones, noise, and other digital elements with acoustic instruments and vocals recorded with naked, unflinching clarity.

But the extravagant theatricality Benjamin brings to the aptly titled “Drama”—also featuring a heroic violin solo from Elisabeth—grapples against the thudding bass of the implacable digital backdrop. On “Mother, Shelter Me” Valgeir’s austere and detailed production throws the hushed violin and vocals into stark relief. The result is an exquisitely uncanny juxtaposition of past and present, human and mechanical, like a Rococo treasure viewed under cold fluorescent lights, or an 18th-century automaton slowly opening its clockwork eyes.

Even the lyrics seem somehow out of time. On “O Solitude,” Benjamin goes so far as to quote an entire song by the first great English opera composer, Henry Purcell, verbatim. No stranger to Purcell’s music, which has made its way into Benjamin’s theatrical productions as well, here Isabelle Lewis removes Purcell’s melodies and harmonies and sets the text, Katherine Phillips’s 17th century translation of a poem by Antoine Girard de Saint-Amant, to new music whose heightened, archaic character nevertheless seems haunted by Baroque ghosts.

Throughout the album, the outsized emotions and timeless archetypes of Benjamin’s lyrics feel like relics from some half-forgotten past—from the neatly rhymed couplets of “Fisherman,” a seemingly straightforward (but still somewhat askew) character study, to the abstraction of “Moonshell,” whose words seem like the fragments of some ancient, lost lament. It is just another of many ways in which Isabelle Lewis carefully distorts the listener’s notions of time. On a more micro level, time can stop for a moment of weightless, drifting ambience, and then plunge forward as the cloud of harmonies suddenly lock into tempo with the drop of the bass or the change of a chord. Or else that weightless moment is allowed to be, as in the aptly named prologue and epilogue to these Greetings (“Voicemail”/“…and farewell”), or in the interstitial tracks that bind the album together, connecting its dramatic peaks with expanses of meditative stasis.

The album as a whole is elegantly shaped, swelling from an intimate, interpersonal statement into something deeper and more spacious. The first half of the album leans slightly towards self-contained pop songcraft and ticking beats, while side B jumps off from “O Solitude” into the almost symphonic grandeur of songs like “Moonshell” or the instrumental “Not the water, air, or the dirt.”

But as it progresses, the contrasts only grow more sublime: antique and postmodern, human and machinelike. The ominous weight of the droning sub-bass and trombone (guest player Helgi Hrafn Jónsson) only makes the interplay between vocals and violins (guest player Daniel Pioro joining Elisabeth) seem more delicate and vulnerable. The ethereal string tremolos of “Moonshell” seem to pull against the heavy, shuddering electronics and layers of crooning vocals.

And that, in short, is where you will find Isabelle Lewis. Like an ancient stone archway, or a delicate house of cards, the architecture of Greetings is held together by the tension between opposing forces. Not just in Elisabeth’s playing, Benjamin’s singing, or Valgeir’s arrangements and production but in the conflict and contrast that generates the synergy between them.

Oh—Isabelle says hi, by the way. She’s looking forward to meeting you.

Even as the obstacles to meaningful connection mount into an Everest-ian hurdle, artists nevertheless find ways to bend the technologies of our days to foster visceral human connection, rather than bereft isolation. Comprised of a West Coast bassist (Kristian Dunn of El Ten Eleven) and an Appalachia-adjacent drummer (Damon Che of Don Caballero), Yesness forges a friendship mediated through the language of collaboration, all formed through emailed song sketches and text exchanges of Van Halen demos. The odd couple of Kristian Dunn (El Ten Eleven) and Damon Che (Don Caballero) was the result of some clever musical matchmaking by Karl Hofstetter, founder and curator of Joyful Noise Recordings. Karl introduced Dunn and Che via email in April 2023 after Dunn's prolific output outgrew the resources and abilities of his instrumental duo El Ten Eleven. Less than a year later, after countless text messages and song sketches were exchanged, and one fateful meeting at a recording studio was organized, their nascent project's debut record, See You at the Solipsist Convention, was complete. "We were ships in the night of the musical variety until Karl found a way to merge our paths," Che said of his introduction to Dunn. "There are very few comparisons in the aesthetic approach to how we created the music. We worked remotely for eight months before physically meeting for the first time at the recording studio." Neck-deep in their own ambitions, Che and Dunn swapped musical ideas and quirky song titles throughout the summer, working at a breakneck pace. Star Wars references were intertwined with walloping bass lines ('If You Say So'); non-sequiturs were punctuated by Che's signature frenetic percussive jabs ('Horror Snuggle'). Scaffolded around eight-string bass, knotty percussion, and intricate syncopation, See You at the Solipsist Convention is a carnival of delights for fans of the post-everything persuasion—uncategorizable yet reverent to the altar of instrumental rock. Tearing through the record's evocative instrumentals is a delightful bolt of strangeness, felt as much as heard in the spontaneous chemistry between Che and Dunn. "Occasional Grape?" dances like a waltz played with a sledgehammer—delicate moments shattered by bursts of aggression, while still embedding a rhythmic earworm deep into your heart. 'Nice Walrus,' a string-studded panorama featuring Kishi Bashi, volleys between nervy hyperactivity and heartfelt grandeur. The album's closing track, "Non-incredible Visitor," contrasts Che's meticulous precision with Dunn's imaginative instrumentation, bonding bass and percussion like nesting dolls. Just as the track seems to settle, it drives off an uncharted auditory cliff—abruptly, without ceremony, leaving the listener grasping for meaning in the murk. Beyond all measure, Yesness stands as a testament to the powerful dividends of friendship and collaboration. We are nothing without each other – our partners, our local record store clerks, our neighbors. Music, too, thrives on our entanglements. With twelve tracks, an upcoming tour, and an unexpected friendship stemming from one email, Yesness underscores the brilliant machinery of human connection.

A1 Northern Lights
Darkly, tense tones take center stage as Northern Lights kicks the LP off, introduced with an eerie synth before classic, striking old school breaks that aficionados will recall from the likes of John Bs Secrets drop, chopped expertly by our Spatial duo to create a quietly vengeful beat pattern with heavy kicks and a unique stuttering detail. Circling menacingly around the mix we are treated to swathes of choral detail, subtle vocal samples and shimmering ambience..

A2 Sunset on Mars
Showcasing the strengths of both producers through a delightfully rich atmosphere, Sunset on Mars opens with soothing echoed effects that ooze a welcoming sense of wonder. Delicate in composition yet still packing a punch, the breaks sit over a sumptuous deep sub bassline which carries our journey through simple key melodies, vivid mood-changing synths superbly to create a pure, wholesome atmospheric bliss.

B1 Totality
Dominant hats and cymbals surf the peaks of the mix early in Totality, detailed old school breakbeats quickly seizing our attention constructed with an effortless attention to detail. A stark, thick atmosphere is carved from a broad backdrop of sound blending vocals and synths, enveloping the listener with a dense, bleak soundscape that develops continually as the breaks roll on with memorable intent.

B2 Reincarnation
A deeply evocative, interstellar intro opens Reincarnation, generating images of lonely spacewalks with trademark Spatial aplomb. The vibe continues through a barrage of heavy analogue amens which crush the mix, edited with a chunky, commanding panache. The listener can picture pillars of isolation and thundering defiance dancing in duality as the elements weave their way fluidly throughout.

C1 Seraphim
Into an intense, epically atmospheric piece next as Seraphim channels the spirit of yesterday for a journey into the souls core via scene-trademark Hot Pants breaks, a moody 808 bassline and swirling atmospheric pads, melodies & synths. Layered with detailed FX demanding repeated listens to soak it all in, Seraphim is a special track which will take over your setlist and the journey home.

C2 Prism of Light
Sit back and relax to another slice of classic atmospheric bliss with Prism of Light, opening with a DJ-friendly hi hat intro before melodic synths generate an instantly unforgettable late-90s vibe. Hot Pants breaks drive us forward with a wondrously simple yet effective mix of 2 step and double kick edits, as blissful ambient washes and vocal hits are drizzled over the mix. Delightful.

D1 Harmonic Function A uniquely constructed beat pattern guaranteed to move you opens Harmonic Function, building up from rushing cymbals and hats intertwined with a fantastic crunchy, metallic half-time snare. Throw in a slew of mournful melodies and blanketed pad work around the mix and youre left with a superbly laid back yet danceable piece from ASC & Aural Imbalance, continually innovating in their music as ever on Spatial.

D2 Fade to Grey
Old school rhythms are on the agenda as our duo close out the album with a tense, meandering exploration through space, circling the planets through mellowed out beats before a layer of dense, analogue breaks are added to the mix as the atmosphere escalates. Exquisitely programmed vocals provide texture and feeling, while an understated bassline rumbling on below, completing a timeless collage of sound.

Words by Chris Hayes (Spatial / Red Mist)