It’s not just since James Bond and the introduction of World Overshoot Day that we’ve known: The world isn’t enough. We need an Extrawelt! Arne Schaffhausen and Wayan Raabe have been tinkering with this celestial body for over two decades, and it seems to be slowly nearing completion. You certainly can’t accuse Extrawelt of lacking ideas. They are, so to speak, the legitimate descendants of the legendary planet designer Slartibartfast from Douglas Adams’ “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”. No doubt, the downright insanely creative bossa nova-techno bastard “Honey Hunter” will be mentioned in the same breath as Slartibartfast’s award-winning Norwegian coastlines by future civilizations. The other three tracks aren’t half bad either. Take our word for it.
Nicht erst seit James Bond und der Einführung des world overshoot days wissen wir: Die Welt ist nicht genug. Wir brauchen eine Extrawelt! Die Herren Arne Schaffhausen und Wayan Raabe werkeln seit über zwei Jahrzehnten an diesem Himmelskörper und er scheint so langsam bezugsfertig zu sein. Man kann Extrawelt nun wahrlich keine Ideenarmut vorwerfen. Sie sind quasi die legitimen Nachkommen des legendären Planetendesigners Slartibartfast aus Douglas Adam’s “Per Anhalter durch die Galaxis”. Der geradezu irrwitzig kreative Bossanovatechno-Bastard “Honey Hunter” wird von künftigen Zivilisationen in einem Atemzug mit Slartibartfast’s preisgekönten norwegischen Küstenlinien genannt werden. Auch die anderen drei Tracks sind nicht von schlechten Eltern. Glaubt’s und werdet selig.
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DJ Support: Moodyman, Groove Armada, Folamour, Horsemeat Disco, DJ Deep, Art Of Tones, Sophie Lloyd, Terry Farley, Stuart Patterson and Seamus Haji
Al Kent needs no introduction when it comes to being one the most prolific kings of disco in the UK. He reimagines hidden treasure and takes inspiration from the glory days of 70’s dancefloor nuggets to create modern day classics. Come Back Home (Again) is probably his most popular track to date and here he re-works it with his Disco Love Orchestra updating this disco gem for a new generation. A Philly style musical sound-bed with hooks galore topped by one of the most rousing, soulful male vocals you’ll hear in a long time.
Pressed on a tasty 7 inch with dinked hole limited stock so act fast!
Familiar. Usually reserved for things we think we know. A face, a place, a feeling, a record perhaps. Until, of course, they aren’t quite the same anymore. Or maybe you aren’t.
Jennifer’s debut album lives somewhere around there.
It’s a record about time, which is already a fairly ambitious subject considering nobody seems to have figured that one out yet. More specifically, it’s about what
time does to a person. The old versions, the new versions, and all the ones in between that you only notice when something suddenly brings them back. Someone you
haven’t seen in years. A room you used to know. A certain way the light falls. That sort of thing.
There’s a bit of a doppelgänger situation going on, too. Finding something completely new and somehow recognising it. Meeting yourself again without immediately realising who you’re talking to.
Which can be nice. Or strange. Usually both. The songs on Familiar sit comfortably with that contradiction. Looking backwards without wanting to go back. Missing things without necessarily wanting them
returned. Realising that people who once occupied most of your waking hours can become people whose address you don’t know. Meanwhile, some tiny, seemingly irrelevant detail from fifteen years ago remains perfectly intact.
Memory has its own filing system. Not a particularly sensible one.
Jennifer wrote a series of poems alongside the album. In them, familiarity appears in melting snow, rough coastlines, a kitchen already warm in the morning, somebody’s hands fitting into yours. Elsewhere she wonders about someone she
once knew everything about and now knows nothing about. They could live around the corner. They could live on another continent. They could, technically, be dead. Probably not. But that’s time for you.
Maybe Familiar is less about remembering who you were than realising you never entirely stopped being them. Things get added. Things disappear. Things come back looking slightly different.
And somehow, you recognise them.
There is a hush most of us only knew as children, the warm drift between familiar household sounds and being carried to bed, a place that belongs to you and to some self you have not met yet. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, lives in that dream space and then keeps walking, slipping out of time and waking somewhere new, barely familiar enough to feel like home yet wholly your own. She came up in a Jamaican household on the edge of the Florida Everglades, an existence built of extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and a student of sound, built his own speakers and kept three sound systems going across as many rooms. His low end would rise through her bedroom floor like some wayward cat while she lay above it with folk records, finding harmonies that were new and hers alone. Two musics in one room. Lushness as past and premonition. She found folk on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel, while everyone around her called it sleepy music. She did not mind being the only one. The solitude let her fall for harmony first, before words, before anything else, and harmony is still the thing she reaches for. Generationally speaking, the music was already in the air. Her grandfather, Colin Smith, is a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar and built his own rumba boxes, worked to keep Jamaica’s oldest acoustic folk form alive. Mento is the root of all of it: ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything after. He is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own.
Made slowly and by hand with her longtime partner Evan Wright, Follow the Light lays the harmony of folk over the rhythm of dub, with Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washed guitars of Cocteau Twins haunting its outer edges. Voice and guitar seeking each other out first, then everything else stacked across long days in the studio they keep at home, restraint kept on purpose. The lead single “Without You” is the whole method surfacing, split open and sparkling like a geode in a creek bed. Angelic heroics, and nothing less.
At the heart is family. Her grandmother Aggie, the light behind “Memory,” guiding still. And underneath, the quieter truth the record keeps: none of us are only one person, but a continuum of selves, the ones who shaped us and the ones we have yet to meet. Future you is an ancestor your current self gets to greet. Press play and the same invitation is yours: A few minutes out of time, a place that turns familiar the longer you stay until you surface somewhere new and find it was yours all along
There is a hush most of us only knew as children, the warm drift between familiar household sounds and being carried to bed, a place that belongs to you and to some self you have not met yet. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, lives in that dream space and then keeps walking, slipping out of time and waking somewhere new, barely familiar enough to feel like home yet wholly your own. She came up in a Jamaican household on the edge of the Florida Everglades, an existence built of extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and a student of sound, built his own speakers and kept three sound systems going across as many rooms. His low end would rise through her bedroom floor like some wayward cat while she lay above it with folk records, finding harmonies that were new and hers alone. Two musics in one room. Lushness as past and premonition. She found folk on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel, while everyone around her called it sleepy music. She did not mind being the only one. The solitude let her fall for harmony first, before words, before anything else, and harmony is still the thing she reaches for. Generationally speaking, the music was already in the air. Her grandfather, Colin Smith, is a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar and built his own rumba boxes, worked to keep Jamaica’s oldest acoustic folk form alive. Mento is the root of all of it: ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything after. He is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own.
Made slowly and by hand with her longtime partner Evan Wright, Follow the Light lays the harmony of folk over the rhythm of dub, with Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washed guitars of Cocteau Twins haunting its outer edges. Voice and guitar seeking each other out first, then everything else stacked across long days in the studio they keep at home, restraint kept on purpose. The lead single “Without You” is the whole method surfacing, split open and sparkling like a geode in a creek bed. Angelic heroics, and nothing less.
At the heart is family. Her grandmother Aggie, the light behind “Memory,” guiding still. And underneath, the quieter truth the record keeps: none of us are only one person, but a continuum of selves, the ones who shaped us and the ones we have yet to meet. Future you is an ancestor your current self gets to greet. Press play and the same invitation is yours: A few minutes out of time, a place that turns familiar the longer you stay until you surface somewhere new and find it was yours all along
A glorious night of no particular significance, Totally, the new album by Baba Stiltz. Recorded in Helsinki in studio with a drummer and overdubs committed in 5 days. Ballroom- sink songs of loss, grief, long drives on the I-5, centralized acquisitions, and corrective conditioning towards the prolonged effects of computerized lifestyles.
Every song looks you straight in the eyes, crooked and veering towards a light fixture off the side of the mirror. Ambivalence and assertions track us, down some gauzy networked afternoon. Relatively, perfectly, three dimensional. Proportions as they appear to us from outer intuition. Sometimes meaning is evoked through pure nothingness. Concealed and nothing known. We have no need for any paradise informed by anything beyond what is directly in front of us.
Stone repetition thwarts the possibility of control and surrenders itself to understanding. Who are we, and what are we trying to understand? To understand being universally greater than being understood. There are soap operas everywhere for those with eyes to see. You don’t have to look as hard as we currently look. The dramatic is everywhere, we breathe it unintentionally, then we come to hate it. Haptic, embodied facts of a tedious life lodged in the jowls of history. Everything under the
sky being the best bedlam has to offer. Your family, your relationships, your memory. As you eat a burger you are reminded of every sharp protrusion and corner under the florescent lights, the same lights you see when you’re born, and although unconfirmed, when you die.
Some of these songs were written years ago, some recently. The bookshelf and television set come into full view. Women/men come and go. Stars and poseurs collapse under their alienated contradictions, the search for truth yields to continued gradients of probability (collapse). Spatial order maintains itself through perceptional feeling. Silence, singing along to Roger Miller, people entering and leaving, figures hovering over you in your dreams and waking hours. Cool and fun, Totally
It's hard to explain an album when one listen is enough. All the more so with MaMaMa: there's no room to stay passive. Listening to his new album, EST, means immersing yourself in an atmosphere that's softly psychedelic, comforting and organic all at once. A dreamy, electronic pop that proves this Strasbourg-at-heart, Paris-by-adoption musician, arranger, singer, songwriter and producer never stops reinventing himself. After changing his name — formerly Petit Prince — and delivering two critically acclaimed albums ("MaMaMa-gnificent." / "Hooks you carry in your head for a long time" / "sumptuous arrangements"), Elliott Diener now offers an even more sincere record. Real songs in French, after two albums where production sometimes took up all the space: "when you make heavily produced music, once you strip away the layers of sound, there's no fruit left underneath. On EST, I don't need makeup for the songs to work," he admits.
That's what this new album is about: the song and the French language first, then the pleasure of sound. An album less concerned with talking about its own making, more inhabited, more embodied, within a contemporary folklore. With this new album, don't expect to be bored: EST is his best record yet.
No pretense
Entirely conceived in his studio in Pantin — a room of his own, at last — imagined as a space free of any daydream, open to every sonic landscape, MaMaMa offers a record that's both hazy and downy soft. Often composed very early in the morning, it has become nostalgic without being dark, melancholic without being sad, with a few lineages showing through: Flavien Berger, Moodoïd, Feu! Chatterton for the taste for words and unease, Mount Kimbie for the approach to sound and rhythm. Unsurprising, given that EST was finalized with the British duo's producer. Live, MaMaMa is preparing a show in the style of Nicolas Jaar or UTO. Hypnotic and immersive.
The most liberating thing is that EST is an album without pretense. With it, we move through perseverance (in Aussi loin qu'il tiendra debout), the small arrangements we make to avoid facing reality (Tout sauf la vérité), and the fragility of bonds we thought were solid (Si bien ensemble). We also touch on lasting conflicts with the people we love (Anywhere You Are, There You Are), misunderstanding (Elle me parle une langue), and the erosion of friendships (S'envoler). EST draws an intimate and redemptive map of human relationships, in a body of work that's both lucid and sensitive — like when he also addresses social masks such as filial love (in Beau garçon, dedicated to his son) or relationships that have become impossible.
"It's really the album that sounds most like me, in terms of sonic landscape," Elliott points out. A record that rises above the noise of an imperfect, shifting world — like us — joyful in its words, liberating in its production. A true gem.
On Dummy’s new album, do you love the color of the sky?, the Los Angeles-based 5-piece deliver a breathtaking piece of work that introduces new textures and rhythms to their already varied and refined catalog. For the band’s third album, and first for new label home Polyvinyl, the group split time between self-recording at their home studio as well as Studio 22, linking up with frequent collaborator and engineer Joo-Joo Ashworth (Corridor, Automatic, Spiral XP). The band focused on intentionality and experimentation, exploring downtempo dance beats and electronic music while pushing the guitar as far as they could, using new self-sampling and processing techniques. Percussionist Alex Ewell’s overall sound design and production skills can be heard across the album, with layered drum sounds and rhythmic tremolo techniques shining throughout. Tracks like “Full Spectrum Dominance” and “Alluvial Fan” showcase the band’s tasteful pop sensibilities, while closing track “Heaven’s What You Make Of
It” features perhaps the strongest vocal delivery yet from vocalist/keyboardist
Emma Maatman. Additionally, the dynamic exchange between guitarists Joe Trainor and Nathan O’Dell is absolutely gorgeous, adding a new layer of immersion and directness that is unlike anything the band has done before. The result is Dummy’s most ethereal and sincere record to date, with more feminine and delicate undertones that sit beautifully alongside the gritty and noisy textures the band has become known for. Dummy has been praised in numerous outlets such as Paste, Stereogum, Aquarium Drunkard and Pitchfork, who described their second album, Free Energy, as “the
sound of a band turning all its potential energy into music that’s dazzlingly kinetic and powerful." The band has toured the US, UK, and EU extensively, with festival appearances at Austin Psych Fest, Treefort Music Festival, and others. In addition to larger outlets and festivals, the band’s strong ties to community and DIY ethos are ever-present, oftentimes preferring to play and connect with different local artists on tour, uplifting those around them while shining a light on the history of independent music.
On Dummy’s new album, do you love the color of the sky?, the Los Angeles-based 5-piece deliver a breathtaking piece of work that introduces new textures and rhythms to their already varied and refined catalog. For the band’s third album, and first for new label home Polyvinyl, the group split time between self-recording at their home studio as well as Studio 22, linking up with frequent collaborator and engineer Joo-Joo Ashworth (Corridor, Automatic, Spiral XP). The band focused on intentionality and experimentation, exploring downtempo dance beats and electronic music while pushing the guitar as far as they could, using new self-sampling and processing techniques. Percussionist Alex Ewell’s overall sound design and production skills can be heard across the album, with layered drum sounds and rhythmic tremolo techniques shining throughout. Tracks like “Full Spectrum Dominance” and “Alluvial Fan” showcase the band’s tasteful pop sensibilities, while closing track “Heaven’s What You Make Of
It” features perhaps the strongest vocal delivery yet from vocalist/keyboardist
Emma Maatman. Additionally, the dynamic exchange between guitarists Joe Trainor and Nathan O’Dell is absolutely gorgeous, adding a new layer of immersion and directness that is unlike anything the band has done before. The result is Dummy’s most ethereal and sincere record to date, with more feminine and delicate undertones that sit beautifully alongside the gritty and noisy textures the band has become known for. Dummy has been praised in numerous outlets such as Paste, Stereogum, Aquarium Drunkard and Pitchfork, who described their second album, Free Energy, as “the
sound of a band turning all its potential energy into music that’s dazzlingly kinetic and powerful." The band has toured the US, UK, and EU extensively, with festival appearances at Austin Psych Fest, Treefort Music Festival, and others. In addition to larger outlets and festivals, the band’s strong ties to community and DIY ethos are ever-present, oftentimes preferring to play and connect with different local artists on tour, uplifting those around them while shining a light on the history of independent music.
Yesca is back on Shall Not Fade with ‘Paint on Walls’ 12” EP.
2024’s Yesca EP on SNF - “Mood Loops” - set a high bar, so when we say this record is something special you should take note. Of course if you already know Yesca’s music or have had the pleasure of a Yesca DJ set then you will have already this queued up.
Sweet Spot: Ben Sims, Deetron, Oliver Ho, Vince Watson, Grain (Artwork’s Techno alias). Planet-E, Primate Recordings, Paul Mac & Stimulus Recordings found the sweet spot.
According to the OED the first use of the phrase “Sweet Spot” was in 1976 in reference to tennis rackets and golf swings. It’s where everything hits just right. And that’s what this EP does, hits just right. What strikes me is how descriptive the phrase ‘Sweet Spot’ is. Given enough swings and some luck we all know what it feels like to hit the sweet spot in some regard. Finding the sweet spot regularly though takes time and skill. But being able to hit the sweet spot by design every time, well that’s something different. That’s what makes the greats great.
For us at SNF there’s a consensus that in the lineage of electronic music there have been many moments where artists & labels converged on a sweet spot. One such sweet spot for us is in Techno
around 2003 when at the tail end of Hardgroove tempos began to slow and a groovier more refined tech house infused goodness appeared in the racks from a group of killer techno labels & artists (some mentioned above) that moment before the fuller emergence of the 2nd wave of Tech House in the mid 00’s.
That sound, while often emulated, never quite hit the same for us at least – until Yesca came along. His music has everything that we love about that sweet spot. Raw driving groove, rolling basslines and hip shaking percussion. What’s different on ‘Paint on Walls’ is that Yesca stepped on - he had already found the sweet spot on 2024’s Mood Loop EP - now his sound (or swing) is natural. Repeatable, refined and seemingly effortless. To revisit the tennis and golf analogy, this is the start of a Grand Slam run from an artist ready to etch their name in dance music history. Tiger..... Serena......Yesca.
Run the Tracks:
‘How I Do It (They Wonder)’ - A masterclass in less is more, and a serious DJ tool. Full of groove - slow it down and it will light the touchpaper in a house set - speed it up and you’ve got techno weaponry. Forget gatekeeping, this will make you feel like you just found a 2004 techno white label from the likes of Grain or Ben Sims.
‘I Desire’ - House music that I reckon Deetron would be proud of... Blissed out machine funk, whispered vocals, slick jazzy chords and dubbed out techno stabs are all grounded by Yesca’s impeccable, loopy drum programming. The best tunes always end too soon.
‘Domination’ - The ever rising bass, err, dominates this track and this track will dominate on many a dancefloor, but Yesca's knack for dubbed out swinging synth lines has to get a shout out here too. He turns what would be melodic elements into what feels like part of the percussion. Double Threat. Hands Up and Heads Down business.
‘Paint on Walls’ - It would be a tough call to say Yesca’s saved the best til last with the EP’s eponymous track given what’s come before, but Paint On Walls works all the highlights from the rest of the EP into a latin techno/house infused anthem. Skittering percussion, a hint of Detroit goodness and a deep deep rolling bassline and THAT vocal. In every way hopeful yet resistant, and that is what techno is all about.
Fused around saxophonist Ornella Noulet and a shared devotion to the spiritual jazz of John Coltrane, OLA TUNJI is a Brussels-based quartet whose music channels the intensity and openness of the 1960s “New Thing” movement.
Deeply inspired by John and Alice Coltrane, Pharoah Sanders, and Albert Ayler, the group embraces improvisation as a political and spiritual act. On stage, their performances often take on a trance-like intensity, carrying musicians and audience alike toward a sense of shared elevation. The music becomes a reminder that it can still be a medium for love, sister and brotherhood, and collective uplift.
Debut album ‘TRUST’ was born from a long artistic and spiritual journey, with music playing a central role as a space for inner exploration. Trust, a key concept for the group, lies at the foundation of this journey. The album’s title embodies an approach rooted in self-awareness, connection, and the sharing of love.
‘TRUST’ presents itself as a cohesive body of work, moving through moments of intensity, calm, spirituality and joy, each track contributes to a shared intention: to remind us that personal transformation is the starting point for a more authentic relationship with ourselves, with others and with the world around us.
Compositions such as ‘DEVOTION,’ WE CHOOSE LOVE’ and ‘SPEAK UP! (YOUR VOICE IS YOUR STRENGTH)’ reveal the album’s guiding thread: self-knowledge, resilience and the awakening of consciousness. Each track invites the listener to reconnect with their inner voice, cultivating a deeper sense of awareness and view of the world through a lens of reflection and humanity. Modal and physical, the album is built on long-form playing and moves between a deeply meditative and ecstatic sound.
Fontaines D.C. announce their fifth studio album, Dopamine Chamber, released on 16th October via XL Recordings. Produced by James Ford, it is the follow-up to 2024’s UK platinum-certified Romance – and the sound of a band moving decisively away from the guitar language of their early records into something colder, stranger and more synthetic. It arrives today alongside lead single “Marianne” and its accompanying video, directed by Dave Meyers.
Dopamine Chamber arrives like a constellation behind undulating sighs of smog: potent balladry, anthemic melodies glinting through the murk. In a world tipping towards collapse, it asks how pleasure mutates amid peril—and what our pursuit of it reveals about us. Across the album, Fontaines D.C. – Grian Chatten, Carlos O’Connell, Conor Curley, Conor Deegan and Tom Coll – move between gratification and dread until the two meld together, reflecting the overwhelm of artificial intelligence, environmental collapse and political violence all riding the same algorithms as memes, jokes and celebrity culture. “The album itself is a dopamine chamber,” says Chatten. “You step inside and we test these different mind- or mood-altering pieces of music on you.”
Where Romance held its tension in balance, this record tips it. “I think Romance was maybe 60 per cent human and 40 per cent corrupted by automation, and a loss of feeling,” says Chatten, who spent time among the faded grandeur of Venice, Vienna and Sicily in search of lyrical inspiration. “This one feels more like 60 per cent corrupted — the mask is wearing the face a little more.” He resisted any pull towards easy optimism: “I felt it would be more powerful to leave the hope out and reflect the ugliness honestly. This one needed to feel more like a catastrophic warning.”
“Our albums have always questioned a sense of place,” says bassist Conor Deegan. “First Dublin, then being away from Dublin, and then trying to find the romance elsewhere. On this record, the question became: where do you escape to?” Into the self, perhaps – or hedonism, fantasy, cosmetic perfection, eternal youth or the endless refresh of a screen.
Fontaines D.C. have spent five albums refusing to repeat themselves – from Dogrel (2019) through A Hero’s Death (2020), the No. 1 Skinty Fia (2022) and the anarchic, kaleidoscopic Romance (2024). Dopamine Chamber is their most radical turn yet: cold synthesiser tones, marching drums, samples and triggers, several songs with no guitars at all, and the swooning strings of 1960s Italian pop pulled into something synthetic. For guitarist Conor Curley, the aim was to break from the band’s own reference points: “I was trying to find stuff that pointed into the future.” It was made with James Ford between London, the English countryside and Palermo, where Chatten recorded vocals in a makeshift booth built from mattresses and cushions.
“There’s a poignant sense of us being on the brink of some other kind of form of humanity, or non-humanity,” says Chatten. For their fifth album, Fontaines D.C. have built the chamber. What happens to the listener inside it will be the experiment.
Fontaines D.C. announce their fifth studio album, Dopamine Chamber, released on 16th October via XL Recordings. Produced by James Ford, it is the follow-up to 2024’s UK platinum-certified Romance – and the sound of a band moving decisively away from the guitar language of their early records into something colder, stranger and more synthetic. It arrives today alongside lead single “Marianne” and its accompanying video, directed by Dave Meyers.
Dopamine Chamber arrives like a constellation behind undulating sighs of smog: potent balladry, anthemic melodies glinting through the murk. In a world tipping towards collapse, it asks how pleasure mutates amid peril—and what our pursuit of it reveals about us. Across the album, Fontaines D.C. – Grian Chatten, Carlos O’Connell, Conor Curley, Conor Deegan and Tom Coll – move between gratification and dread until the two meld together, reflecting the overwhelm of artificial intelligence, environmental collapse and political violence all riding the same algorithms as memes, jokes and celebrity culture. “The album itself is a dopamine chamber,” says Chatten. “You step inside and we test these different mind- or mood-altering pieces of music on you.”
Where Romance held its tension in balance, this record tips it. “I think Romance was maybe 60 per cent human and 40 per cent corrupted by automation, and a loss of feeling,” says Chatten, who spent time among the faded grandeur of Venice, Vienna and Sicily in search of lyrical inspiration. “This one feels more like 60 per cent corrupted — the mask is wearing the face a little more.” He resisted any pull towards easy optimism: “I felt it would be more powerful to leave the hope out and reflect the ugliness honestly. This one needed to feel more like a catastrophic warning.”
“Our albums have always questioned a sense of place,” says bassist Conor Deegan. “First Dublin, then being away from Dublin, and then trying to find the romance elsewhere. On this record, the question became: where do you escape to?” Into the self, perhaps – or hedonism, fantasy, cosmetic perfection, eternal youth or the endless refresh of a screen.
Fontaines D.C. have spent five albums refusing to repeat themselves – from Dogrel (2019) through A Hero’s Death (2020), the No. 1 Skinty Fia (2022) and the anarchic, kaleidoscopic Romance (2024). Dopamine Chamber is their most radical turn yet: cold synthesiser tones, marching drums, samples and triggers, several songs with no guitars at all, and the swooning strings of 1960s Italian pop pulled into something synthetic. For guitarist Conor Curley, the aim was to break from the band’s own reference points: “I was trying to find stuff that pointed into the future.” It was made with James Ford between London, the English countryside and Palermo, where Chatten recorded vocals in a makeshift booth built from mattresses and cushions.
“There’s a poignant sense of us being on the brink of some other kind of form of humanity, or non-humanity,” says Chatten. For their fifth album, Fontaines D.C. have built the chamber. What happens to the listener inside it will be the experiment.
The fifteenth release of Barro comes with an exclusive: behind the Transylvanian mask of Orlok 101 lies Nöle himself, the boss of the label.
Remember that he used this vampiric AKA to kick off Barro—his The End Of The Beginning being the first release, published in late 2018. That same year, his techno-industrial sound—packed with references from the famous work of Bram Stoker and nightmare atmospheres—helped launch another label: Soil, the Valencia-based imprint, with a project that included a suitably fitting remix of The Horrorist. The following year, he released an EP with five original tracks, titled Runaway, while also “spreading blood” on Antikhrist Visions Vol I alongside his Industrias Mekanikas comrades.
His dark influence has been felt across Barro’s catalogue, whether through his own tracks or remixes—sinking his teeth into artists like The Hacker (under his real name, Amato) or Nebula Circuit. In 2025, Orlok made his debut on Aspecto Humano with a powerful EP, equally gritty and dark. In Barro, we’ve recently had Nöle—the most techno side of Imanol Pagola—with the EPs Electro Bloody Music and Demencial Chico Aceleradom, two great showcases of his ability to keep us dancing nonstop, following the popular Mendekua, released by Xtraperlo.
For Barro 15, the two sides of the producer and DJ come together on this EP, titled Sex With a Cop—four tracks released on vinyl and digitally, plus an alternate version of the final composition as a bonus track.
Nöle's knowledge of the dancefloor and Orlok 101's ability to create atmospheres that will give you goosebumps come together on this EP to create an explosive mix.
Sex With a Cop starts with Hilerri, a techno EBM track where Orlok provides repetitive, screeching sounds and a ghostly melody, while Nöle adds incisive synths and a catchy, addictive vocal sample that warns you of the danger of the material you’re listening to. Orlok then takes over with his industrial and metallic sonorities on the next track, Amets Fabrika, although Nöle’s influence still comes through with his powerful bass and addictive synth lines. A stifled scream and a production packed with a thousand details create an unsettling atmosphere that will surprise you on the dancefloor.
The flip side begins with No Voy A Quedar Con Nadie, a track closer to Nöle’s technooid world. Even with its unsettling opening, it doesn’t take long to turn into a danceable bomb, with that dark touch typical of the Navarro producer.
Surprisingly, he saves the best for last: Harina de Huesos Humanos is one of the most interesting tracks created by Imanol Pagoda, and we can hear it in two versions, one as a bonus track. Thanks to complex production full of details and sounds that come and go, a punchy, hard as granite kick drum, and a carefully crafted industrial atmosphere, it all ends up being the perfect union between the two sonic worlds. A spectacular finale for the label’s fifteenth release.
For Louis Johnstone, making music has never been about waiting for the right equipment, the right environment or the right moment. Across more than a decade of work as both Wanda Group and A Large Sheet Of Muscle, the Huddersfield-based musician has built one of British experimental music's most singular bodies of work by embracing whatever happens to be within reach, allowing instinct, improvisation and circumstance to shape the outcome as much as conscious composition.
"'Chinese Benefits' was made over a year ago on an iPhone that had a broken microphone and was on its way out," he explains. "I have made many records after this with clearer sounds. Sharper ideas. That is never the point, though. You work with what you hold in your hands."
Recorded entirely on a failing iPhone 6 that stopped working shortly afterwards, 'Chinese Benefits' isn't a record about damaged technology. It is a record shaped by it. Rather than resisting the limitations of the device, Johnstone allows them to become part of the music itself, where distortion, interference and deteriorating fidelity are inseparable from the recording process.
Across twenty brief but disquieting pieces, corroded spoken word, environmental recordings, abrasive noise and fractured electronics continually emerge and dissolve. Voices drift in and out of range, reverberation stretches everyday sounds beyond recognition, and bursts of white noise interrupt moments of uneasy calm. There are echoes of radio transmissions, field recordings and musique concrète throughout, yet 'Chinese Benefits' never settles comfortably into any one tradition. Instead, it inhabits a space where accident and intention become almost impossible to separate.
That philosophy has long defined Johnstone's work. Through a vast catalogue of self-released recordings on his Umbro G imprint, alongside releases for labels including The Trilogy Tapes, he has consistently favoured immediacy over refinement, embracing imperfection not as an aesthetic but as a practical reality. His recordings are less concerned with perfection than with capturing the conditions in which they were made.
Looking back on 'Chinese Benefits', however, Johnstone's own assessment is characteristically understated.
"Listening back fully, it's quite a nice record actually. Fair enough, I make them and never really listen again TBH. Even better, it was the last Large Sheet Of Muscle record made on that phone with grit and damaged guts."
Like much of his work, 'Chinese Benefits' offers few fixed meanings. Its titles remain cryptic, its voices partially obscured and its structures deliberately unstable. What emerges instead is a deeply personal document of process over perfection, where the limitations of the tools become inseparable from the music they produce, and where the act of making something matters far more than the conditions in which it was made.
Murmuration’ is the low hum made by vast, beautifully choreographed flocks of starlings as they simultaneously flap their wings and take to the sky. Some people say that the frequency of this unique, rumbling, oscillating sound can cure diseases...
One of the most exciting live bands in the UK, British Birds combine the garage-punk energy of Billy Childish, the wry English sophistication of XTC and the witty pop inventiveness of The Lovely Eggs. Like a murmurating flock of starlings, they create a unique sound, and might even be able to cure diseases.
Based in Chorley, Lancashire, British Birds are a resolutely DIY band. Bobby records and mixes all the music; Emma creates all the artwork. Their first two albums were self-released, selling hundreds of copies at gigs and at a few chosen record stores. British Birds didn’t wait for permission to take flight. They just got on with it. Their songs are sophisticated, hard-hitting, and very skilful. It may be DIY, but it’s big and it’s ambitious.
Sessions for Marc Riley and Gideon Coe have followed, along with tours supporting The Bug Club, BC Camplight and Lovely Eggs.
‘Murmurate, Oscillate’ kicks off with Lie Down With Dogs, Stand Up With Fleas, a rousing expression of exasperation at our passivity in the face of lame authority. British Birds are acute observers of the English political scene, shrouding their observations in humour and surrealism. Polka Dot Eyes is another piece of sharp social observation: it portrays Lancashire lads – friends from school – who join the Army and return home physically and mentally damaged. The song is simultaneously disturbing, funny and catchy as hell. From the fog of disinformation and doubt that surrounds us all in 2020s Britian, British Birds embrace the darkness, but with wit and verve – no slogans, no easy answers – and with an energy that helps us escape the mundanity of a declining island. This might all sound a bit bleak, but it’s not: every single one of the songs on this album has a chorus as big as a house.
There are personal songs too: Scary Movies is a poignant description of Bobby and Emma’s grandfather, who delighted in showing them horror films when they were kids – giving them sneak previews of the darkness they’d come to embrace as adults; Just Like Them is a celebration of introversion: it might not be fun, but it’s better than being an idiot. (Paradoxically, any other introverts who hear this song will feel impelled to join in in the chorus.) Blame Game and Thunder Claps examine the darkness inherent in relationships: there is always an impending storm, if you recognise the low hum of the imminent thunder. Once again: the choruses of these songs confound the melancholy sentiment.
You’ll get the same impression if you see British Birds live: Bobby’s ferocious guitar and dark lyrics are counterpointed with Emma’s sometimes haunting, sometimes playful vocal responses and insistent rhythms. You’ll be swept away by the energy of a band who don’t know the meaning of limits. And as the songs get darker and darker the smile on your face gets wider and wider.
The core members of British Birds are siblings Bobby and Emma Townson, working from their HQ-cum-nest in Chorley. Drums are by Dominic Lawson (apart from Michael Aindley on ‘Just Like Them’). Bass is by James Robinson.
British Birds will be embarking on a headline tour of the UK in early 2027.
ADULT. kooperiert nicht. Seit über 25 Jahren verkörpert die dystopische Detroit-Synth-Punk-Institution, gegründet von Nicola Kuperus und Adam Lee Miller, unbeirrbare Frustration, Misstrauen und Beklemmung. Man könnte erwarten, dass sich die Kanten mit der Zeit abschleifen, doch ADULT. hat kein Interesse am Komfort eines Vermächtnisses. Noch nie klang die Musik des Duos so unmittelbar, so dringlich und so unverhohlen wütend wie auf dem abschließenden, kompromisslosen Kissing Luck Goodbye.Mit aufgerüstetem Equipment und einer neuen Klangbibliothek gebaut, ist das Material erdrückend dynamisch, lauter - und zugleich klarer. Kuperus' dominante Darbietung rückt im Mix stärker in den Vordergrund und skizziert ein Arsenal aus lebhaften, ätzenden Rufen, Sprechchören und Gedankensplittern. Lachen - ob in den Texten oder als besessene Präsenz - fungiert als Leitmotiv und verweist auf die bedrohliche Absurdität der modernen Zeit.,THE CHAOS IS WHAT THEY WANT", singt sie in ,R U 4 $ALE" - zugleich eine Absichtserklärung: einer brennenden Welt aus Gier und Unordnung mit trotzigem, meisterhaft zusammengebautem Chaos zu begegnen. ,Du hast in dieser Höllenlandschaft, in der wir gerade leben, zwei Möglichkeiten: kämpfen oder depressiv sein", sagt Miller. ,Beides ist okay. Aber, na ja, die Entscheidung war einfach."ADULT. ist bekannt für hochriskante Katharsis auf der Bühne und griff kürzlich auf seinen Backkatalog an Bassgitarren-Songs aus den 2000ern zurück, wobei sie die vorausschauende Anxiety Always-Ära erneut nachzeichneten - teils aus Notwendigkeit angesichts der heutigen politischen und technologischen Angsttemperatur. Die Reaktion war sofort spürbar: ,Wir waren in Paris, und die Kids sind von der Bühne gesprungen. Und ich dachte nur: Das ist großartig. Das ist irgendwie die Energie, in die ich wieder zurückwill", sagt Kuperus.Diese Erkenntnis fiel mit einer Reihe von Rückschlägen zusammen - Kuperus' Anfällen von chronischem Schwindel, dem Verlust ihres engen Freundes und Kollaborateurs Douglas McCarthy von Nitzer Ebb, dem das Album gewidmet ist - alles unter dem drohenden Regime noch einmal erheblich verschärft. ,Wir dachten nur: Alles zerbricht. Wir zerbrechen. Wir sind kaputt." Dieses Gefühl hielt jedoch nicht an, denn letztlich waren sie viel zu sehr von Wut aufgeladen, um stillzuhalten. Die Stimmung vor Kissing Luck Goodbye waren vier Mittelfinger, die kerzengerade nach oben zeigten.Anstatt sich zurückzuziehen, konzentrierten sie sich auf den Prozess und überarbeiteten ihr Setup - inklusive der ersten neuen Mikrofone seit 20 Jahren. Hält man das Album an irgendeiner Stelle an, zählt man wahrscheinlich ein Dutzend Dinge, die gleichzeitig passieren, in seltsamer, schwindelerregender und dissonanter Harmonie. ,No One Is Coming" attackiert Untätigkeit angesichts des Faschismus - ,NO ONE IS COMING TO YOUR RESCUE". ,None of It's Fun" feuert mit atemloser Dringlichkeit, rasenden Glissandi und pointierten Zeilen wie: ,OH I AM TEARING MY GUTS OUT / LOOK AT ME_ DO YOU THINK THAT THIS IS AMUSING?"Eine geradlinige Basslinie und Kickdrum prallen im Abschlusstrack ,Destroyers" auf pulsierende Mantras, werden dann vollständig gesättigt und kakophonisch. Ihre jüngeren Ichs hätten den Song vielleicht sich selbst zerstören lassen, doch hier gelang es ihnen, die Lautstärke durch alle Extreme hindurch zu stabilisieren und Raum für ein eindringliches, abschließendes A-cappella zu schaffen: WE PAY THE PRICE FOR THOSE IN POWER EXPLOITING YOU EXPLOITING ME CONSUMING YOU CONSUMING ME SICK SICK SICK SICKENING IT IS US THAT ARE DEVOURED BY EVERYTHING I WILL EAT YOUR HATE
Across the past decade, KAS has established herself as a unique voice in experimental electronic music, a composer and synthesist whose work dissolves the boundaries between ambient electronica, contemporary classical, composition, and immersive sound design. Her new album “Ruin: It’s Not Just Music” arrives with a distinctive gravitational pull. The record moves with greater physical force, placing rhythm and impact at the centre of its architecture, revealing a more confrontational and embodied dimension of KAS’s musical language.
The first single “Ruin” arrives May 22nd, with the full album released October 2nd via SOMEONE SPECIAL the new label co-founded by KAS.
Where much of KAS’s earlier work explored harmonic environments, the forthcoming album is built around tension and release. Inspired by the sound of drum and bass, breakbeats fracture through dense fields of synthesis, percussive patterns and her signature melodic fragments – motions that feel closer to the kinetic language of club music than the meditative spaces often associated with her past catalogue. The result is a body of work that feels both recognisably hers and newly charged, music that moves through the body as insistently as it engages the mind.
For listeners who first encountered KAS through the glowing synthesis of “Ears” (2016) or the intricate experimental pop of “The Kid” (2017), this direction may feel initially surprising, yet the shift has been quietly unfolding across the past several years. KAS’s practice has steadily expanded beyond the expectations placed upon experimental electronic artists, moving between orchestral composition, audiovisual installations, film scoring, and large-scale commissions while retaining the unmistakable sonic signature that defines her work.
The 2022 albums “I Could Be Your Dog / I Could Be Your Moon” (2022) and “Let’s Turn It Into Sound” (2022) explored a deeply immersive approach to composition, expanded her reputation and instinct for constructing detailed sonic ecosystems while continuing to blur the lines between experimental electronics and contemporary pop structures. KAS’s most recent output has continued to widen that field including the rhythm oriented electronic album “Gush” (2025) and her return to more orchestral roots with “Thoughts on the Future” (2025). Together these releases underscored the breadth of her practice.
Her prolific collaborators and creative partners have ranged from Patti Smith and Suzanne Ciani to Danny Elfman, Tycho, Glass Beams, RY X, Caribou, Four Tet, Reggie Watts, and Max Richter, while her compositions have appeared in projects with Apple, Chanel, Meow Wolf, the BBC Orchestra, and major film and television productions.
On “Ruin: It’s Not Just Music”, that vocabulary becomes more kinetic than ever before. The record draws energy from jungle, drum and bass, and dance-floor focused electronic music while retaining the intricate synthesis and tonal curiosity that have defined KAS’s work from the beginning. The result is a record that feels equally at home within club culture, contemporary composition, and the experimental spaces that have long championed her artistry.
On May 27th KAS will present a major performance at London’s Barbican Centre alongside the London Contemporary Orchestra, marking the ten-year anniversary of her landmark album Ears. The evening will trace the arc of her creative evolution while also introducing material from the new album.
Teen of Denial: Joe’s Story is a freshly reimagined take on Car Seat Headrest’s beloved breakout, Teens of Denial, now celebrating its 10th anniversary.
On the original album, Toledo often used the name “Joe” as a pseudonym – a sly homage to Daniel Johnston. Revisiting Teens in the run-up to its 10th birthday, he felt called to give Joe a unique backstory and began tweaking the album to tell that tale. The group returned to the studio with Teens producer Steve Fisk to update accordingly – tweaking lyrics, revising arrangements, and recording new songs in the “Denial-style,” including ‘Optimistic Son” and the anthemic ‘Joe Drives Again’. The result retains Teens’ dark edge and youthful cynicism, but allows a bit of hard-won compassion into the mix.
From Will Toledo:
Sometime last year, it was suggested to me that we do something for the ten-year anniversary of ‘Teens of Denial,’ so I started looking back on the album to see what we might do. In spite of some of its songs being a regular part of my life for the past decade, it wasn’t a record I’d thought much about as a whole since it came out. Most of the songs I’d come up with over a two-year period at the end of my college days, when I was struggling a lot with cynicism and misplaced aggression. But by the time the songs were done, I was living in Washington, Car Seat Headrest was a full band with a record label, and in spite of the turmoil of the writing process, the final album was pretty enjoyable for everyone to work on.
This time, looking back at the songs, I started to feel like there was a story being told through the album, though I’d never imagined it as being a narrative work. On ‘Hi, How Are You?’ Daniel Johnston had used the name “Joe” in the titles of a few tracks –“No More Pushing Joe Around,” “Keep Punching Joe” – as a sort of joke, a stand-in for himself. I borrowed the idea, and the name, for titling songs on ‘Denial.’ This time, I started thinking - who is Joe? And how do the songs, in the way they’re sequenced on the album, reflect what he’s going through? As I started asking this question, a story emerged with startling wholeness and clarity, like finding the foundations of an ancient city while digging in my backyard. As I kept digging, certain songs from the original album fell by the wayside, as they seemed misplaced in this new context; others asked for new lyrics, to fully give birth to the story contained in the music.
The resulting work feels more like the album ‘Teens of Denial’ was meant to be. When you’re writing from a dark space, it’s hard to have perspective on where you’re at. This time, I could pull from memories of that darkness, and use the distance and additional perspective of ten years of life to shed a fuller light on the experience. Joe is a character going through some of what I experienced, and some of his own problems. Telling his story, and not just my own impressions of life at the end of the teen years, brought a new level of compassion and wholeness to the album. It gave us the opportunity to write new material in “Denial style”, embracing a snappy and simple(ish) rock aesthetic, and in an additional blessing, we were able to team up once with Steve Fisk, a joy and inspiration to get back into the studio with after ten years. We mixed the material at his house in Tacoma, and were constantly amazed at the lack of divide between past and present, as we’d punch in vocal overdubs ten years later into the same gear, hearing my voice now running alongside a 2015 Will. For someone coming across this album or this band for the first time, this is how they’d hear the record, not as a relic of the past but as a new piece. It was immensely rewarding to experience that on our side.
For anyone familiar with ‘Teens,’ comparisons with the original will be inevitable, but I do hope that as much as possible, people can come to this album on its own terms, approaching it as a teen, hearing the music and story for the first time. I believe music is an ongoing story, and albums don’t always do justice to its dynamic, ongoing nature. What gives it life is the new ears that hear it, and the new hearts that engage with it. I’m so grateful that this is a work that people have kept coming to, and I hope that this presentation does them honor with a fresh offering to the conversation. We’ve known that “it doesn’t have to be like this”; now we can wonder - “what it if were like this?”
