Cerca:you walk through walls

There's a moment during every great dance floor experience when the music takes over and everyone becomes part of something bigger. "SHOUT!", the latest release from 2SoulFusion Presents Ascension, captures that feeling in its purest form. Featuring the powerhouse voices and ad-libs of Dames Brown and Dawn Tallman, along with an all-star ensemble of master vocalists including Josh Milan, Rahsaan Patterson, Lisa Fischer, Cindy Mizelle, Audrey Wheeler, Ramona Dunlap, and Lea Lorien, this joyful anthem is an invitation to let go, lift your spirit, and celebrate through music.

Produced, written, arranged, and mixed by 2SoulFusion—Louie Vega and Josh Milan—"SHOUT!" draws inspiration from the communal spirit of gospel while embracing the energy and freedom of house music. Driven by simple yet powerful affirmations—"Shout," "Sing," "Move," "Love," "Get Up On Your Feet," "Listen Up," and "Let This Music Take You Higher"—the song transforms into an experience where every voice becomes part of the celebration. It's a journey of anthemic hooks, soaring harmonies, infectious grooves, and unforgettable melodies designed to ignite dance floors, uplift hearts, and remind us that music has the power to unite people through rhythm, joy, and love.

The inspiration for "SHOUT!" was born from a creative exchange between Louie Vega and Charaf Tajer, founder and creative director of the internationally acclaimed fashion house Casablanca. Introduced by longtime friend Joseph Capriati, Charaf shared a bold vision—to bring together the worlds of fashion, gospel, and house music for one unforgettable Casablanca runway presentation in Paris.

Louie Vega recalls: “Charaf was introduced to me by my friend Joseph Capriati, who said Charaf was looking to meet me about an idea he had. His vision was to marry fashion, gospel, and house music within Casablanca's collection. At first, he wanted me to DJ and play gospel house music. I said, 'Instead of playing existing music, why don't I create an original song with a gospel house flavor?' I immediately got together with my 2SoulFusion partner Josh Milan, and together we came up with 'SHOUT!'”

That vision came to life during Casablanca's spectacular Paris presentation inside a breathtaking cathedral, where Louie Vega premiered the original twelve-minute and nine-second composition live. As the music echoed through the cathedral, Dames Brown joined the London House Gospel Choir in a soul-stirring performance while the models walked the aisle on Casablanca's carpet made of their signature green color and a dashing vibrating giant mirror echoing the runway visually. Renowned DJs Luciano and Chloé Caillet were among those who walked the runway, while friends of Charaf Tajer and special guests—including Jaden Thompson, Folamour, Dimitri From Paris, Kapela, and many others—were in attendance, making it an unforgettable gathering where music, spirituality, fashion, and culture merged into one extraordinary experience.

Inspired by that magical evening in Paris, Louie Vega and Josh Milan returned to the studio to expand the original composition into the powerful recording heard today. Built around rich live musicianship, Josh Milan's keyboards, organ, piano and synth bass provide the foundation alongside Axel Tosca's expressive grand piano recorded live, Sherrod Barnes' soulful guitar, and Gene Perez's unmistakable bass groove. Together they create an infectious, organic driving sound that allows the vocals to soar while delivering the unmistakable musical depth and musicianship that define 2SoulFusion.

Leading the celebration are Dames Brown and Dawn Tallman, whose commanding performances are elevated by an extraordinary choir of world-class vocalists. Dames Brown's spirited sermon and ad-libs, and Dawn Tallman’s powerful ad-lib vamping out together with the soaring harmonies of Lisa Fischer, Cindy Mizelle, Audrey Wheeler, Rahsaan Patterson, Ramona Dunlap, Lea Lorien, and Josh Milan, recreate the feeling of a joyful gospel congregation—not confined to four walls, but alive on dance floors around the world. Every chorus encourages listeners to get up, listen up, feel it, sing, move, love, and become part of the experience. Recorded between Honeycomb Studios in Pennsylvania, The Hub Ibiza and Manhattan Center Studios, New York City, and mixed at The Hub Ibiza, "SHOUT!" reflects the continuing vision of the Ascension project, where spirituality, musicianship, community, fashion, and dance music become one.

Tucked in the heart of Koreatown, Los Angeles, lies The Libra Hotel—the titular architecture of Nick Malkin's new album and site of his musical and psychogeographic exploration. Unlike most musical "site-specific" studies, Malkin remains wholly ambivalent to the documentarian approach, instead sharpening an auteur-like focus on the site as a conceptual and highly expressive backdrop. The Libra is musically explored as a space that houses a noir fragmentation of identity—the exhausted trope of a complicated protagonist walking through rain-soaked street corners and fumy neon lights—where an inner monologue is rendered in both miniature and at a cosmic scale. Casting aside stifling tropes around field recording, ambient, and improvised music, Malkin's work finds its own unique fidelity and emotional core through the assembly and reassembly of memory. Nearly every sound on the album—from frayed saxophones, lambent pianos, and dissected jazz drum kits—are multiplied, shattered, and reconstituted into shapes that adorn The Libra in a motion-blurred fog. The narrative of the Hotel suddenly appears as if out of the mist, with intersecting characters interacting within its walls by happenstance. Adminst the languid set pieces, wraith-like sonic grains gravitate around wide subbass beams that give structural form to The Libra, a narrative tension like when a scene is shot from hundreds of different perspectives: an image both luminous and veiled.

Much like Frank Sinatra's own spatial residency immortalized on "Live at The Sands," "At The Libra Hotel" showcases an exuberant view of entertainment, hospitality, and a form of masculinity, one that can quickly detourn into darkness. Knowing this, Malkin extracts a melancholic core out of The Libra locale. The flickering shadows of American decadence are shown in their ephemeral honesty, lines that trace how even in everyday life virtue is tested, sanity is tested, even reality is tested within the confines of desire, within the night. The album is draped in fleeting textures, carefully arranged with a trance-like microtonality, the faint inflections and articulations of a jazz band cascading into dissipated stillness. Voicemails about changed locations and covert eavesdropping on guests' whispered conversations provide an atmosphere of missed connection and voyeurism—a purloined letter of desire receding into a vanishing point. Like the music itself, The Hotel, a chapel perilous at the intersection of desolation row, the center of it all, yet simultaneously at the edge of town, becomes a structure between libidinous virtuality and actuality—our inevitable half-light.

Ultimately, the pensive atmosphere of "At The Libra Hotel," powerfully asserts a plea for the kinds of intimacy only possible in transient spaces. Here, memory cascades into a force that feels like something supernatural, perhaps even religious, yet always subject to the infidelity of our imagination. Here, the album opens into its primary psychodrama, the transient nature of subjectivity itself and how this becomes fractured in the tumult between our commitments and desires. Within this nocturnal space, to quote Louise Bourgeois, "you pile up associations the way you pile up bricks. Memory itself is a form of architecture."

“I like to work with a variety of instruments and set ups,” says Mark Van Hoen, sometimes known as Locust or Autocreation but here working under his own name on the excellent Plan For A Miracle, his first physical release of solo music since 2018’s Invisible Threads. ”Sometimes it’s literally in my studio, with all the hardware electronics available. Sometimes the laptop, using software instruments. Some of the tracks on this record were recorded in the desert (Joshua Tree) using a 4-track tape machine and small modular synthesiser set up. Each track was recorded in different location using different instruments, which accounts for the distinction between each piece. It’s also about my own reaction to my environment, and what’s going on in my life at the time.”

The Croydon-born Van Hoen started musical life in the early 1990s, signing for R&S records in 1993 but developing his own, myriad and distinctive style across a range of releases on Touch, Editions Mego and other labels, using a battery of instruments, including analogue synthesizers and taking a number of different approaches to recording, rather than ploughing a single sonic furrow. He has worked on a number of collaborations, including with Nick Holton and Neil Halstead of Slowdive, under the moniker of Black Hearted Brother - their Stars Are Our Home was released in 2013. “I have known Neil Halstead since 1992,” says Van Hoen. “He shared a house with me for a couple of years, and the music I was making and listening to along with clubs I was attending had an influence particularly on Pygmalion, the final Slowdive album on Creation.”

Each track on Plan For A Miracle does indeed sound like a world unto itself, a mini-environment, a weather condition, an ecosystem created for the moment. It’s a collection of tracks recorded over the past few years, released on Bandcamp - despite his apparent absence, Van Hoen works constantly. Opener “Climates”, in its exquisite limpidity, feels like a homage to Brian Eno, one of his most formative influences in his teen years, commencing with Music For Films, which he bought in 1979. “This Is For Them”, feels like a ghostlike throwback to early drum & bass or electronica, reminiscent of his own, earliest outings. “There have been a number of requests from labels to make some more music like my very early releases on R&S,” says Van Hoen. “This is part of ‘letting go’ and realising that there’s nothing less creative about going back to those styles again.”

“Pencil Of Spheres” is something else again, a magnificent, imaginary glass structure, shimmering, refracting, without visible means of suspension, a thing of impossible beauty. “Electric Lights” evokes an abandoned fairground, its lights still pulsating, its music lingering. “The Underpass”, meanwhile, insofar as it reminds of anything at all, is faintly reminiscent of Cluster or Neu’s! West German ambience, the urban mundane rendered magical, the sodium lights, the whitewashed walls. The reverberant, faintly oriental chimes of “Insight” transport us yet again, burgeoning and intensifying.

The landscapes, the skyscapes rendered on Plan For A Miracle feel unpopulated as a rule - but when he does introduce vocal elements, Van Hoen has a history of doing so to spectacular effect - think of “Real Love” from 1998’s Playing With Time, the seductive intonation of its title recurring throughout like a series of massive holograms, echoing, stuttering, breaking up, surging. Here, there are just the faintest of vocals, barely distinct, disquieting. “There’s been a bit of a game changer in recent times,” explains Van Hoen. “AI software that enables you to extract vocals and instrument parts from virtually any recording. That means sampling individual parts from existing sources is no longer limited to the original mix exposing certain parts soloed. The vocal parts I use are from multiple sources and often pitch shifted altered rhythmically and melodically.“ There’s further vocal chatter on “I Really Do”, proceeding at a faster pace as if giving chase, or being pursued - distant, enigmatic. “The Music”, meanwhile, its beat tolling, lost in its own fog of static, features a curious intonation, like the ghost of a lost Walker Brother.

Sadly, the album’s title is in reference to a personal tragedy on Van Hoen’s part - the loss of his wife. Titles such as “I Won’t Give Up”, which faintly reminds of another Eno masterpiece, Another Green World, in its nautical hurly-bury, or the pastoral strains of “Mrs Who”, heavily clouded with sadness, seem to allude to this. “In fact the record was recorded entirely before she passed away,” says Van Hoen, “most of it before she even became very ill. The title was given to the album when it started to look like she wasn’t going to make it beyond a few months. It was something Osho said - “plan for a miracle” - so it was a statement of hope. Unfortunately it was not to be.” Although the album is non-thematic, non-specific in its atmospheres, sound paintings, elegant structures it most certainly stands as a magnificent monument to Osho’s memory.

-David Stubbs.

Repress!

In the mid-1970s, a force of nature swept across the continental United States, cutting across all strata of race and class, rooting in our minds, our homes, our culture. It wasn’t The Exorcist, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, or even bell-bottoms, but instead a book called The Secret Life of Plants. The work of occultist/former OSS agent Peter Tompkins and former CIA agent/dowsing enthusiast Christopher Bird, the books shot up the bestseller charts and spread like kudzu across the landscape, becoming a phenomenon. Seemingly overnight, the indoor plant business was in full bloom and photosynthetic eukaryotes of every genus were hanging off walls, lording over bookshelves, and basking on sunny window ledges. The science behind Secret Life was specious: plants can hear our prayers, they’re lie detectors, they’re telepathic, able to predict natural disasters and receive signals from distant galaxies. But that didn’t stop millions from buying and nurturing their new plants.



Perhaps the craziest claim of the book was that plants also dug music. And whether you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you from Mother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattress from Sears), you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especially for them. Subtitled “warm earth music for plants…and the people that love them,” it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientific tunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog. Plants date back from the dawn of time, but apparently they loved the Moog, never mind that the synthesizer had been on the market for just a few years. Most of all, the plants loved the ditties made by composer Mort Garson.



Few characters in early electronic music can be both fearless pioneers and cheesy trend-chasers, but Garson embraced both extremes, and has been unheralded as a result. When one writer rhetorically asked: “How was Garson’s music so ubiquitous while the man remained so under the radar?” the answer was simple. Well before Brian Eno did it, Garson was making discreet music, both the man and his music as inconspicuous as a Chlorophytumcomosum. Julliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote lounge hits, scored plush arrangements for Doris Day, and garlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” He could render the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel alike into easy listening and also dreamed up his own ditties. “An idear” as Garson himself would drawl it out. “I live with it, I walk it, I sing it.”



But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: “When my dad found the synthesizer, he realized he didn’t want to do pop music anymore.” Garson encountered Robert Moog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society’s West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device. With the Moog, those idears could be transformed. “He constantly had a song he was humming,” Darmet says. “At the table he was constantly tapping.” Which is to say that Mort pulled his melodies out of thin air, just like any household plant would.



The Plantae kingdom grew to its height by 1976, from DC Comics’ mossy superhero Swamp Thing to Stevie Wonder’s own herbal meditation, Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. Nefarious manifestations of human-plant interaction also abounded, be it the grotesque pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers or the pothead paranoia of the US Government spraying Mexican marijuana fields with the herbicide paraquat (which led to the rise in homegrown pot by the 1980s). And then there’s the warm, leafy embrace of Plantasia itself.



“My mom had a lot of plants,” Darmet says. “She didn’t believe in organized religion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatever created us was incredible.” And she also knew when her husband had a good song, shouting from another room when she heard him humming a good idear. Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.



Garson may have given the album away to new plant and bed owners, but a decade later a new generation could hear his music in another surreptitious way. Millions of kids bought The Legend of Zelda for their Nintendo Entertainment System back in 1986 and one distinct 8-bit tune bears more than a passing resemblance to album highlight “Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos.” Garson was never properly credited for it, but he nevertheless subliminally slipped into a new generations’ head, helping kids and plants alike grow.



Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the green thumb that made everything flower around him. “My dad would be totally pleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had no popularity at the time,” Darmet says of Plantasia’snew renaissance. “He would be fascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating this part of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then.” Garson seems to be everywhere again, even if he’s not really noticed, just like a houseplant.

New Generation Carnival Riddims from St. Lucia and Dominica A hurricane of turbo-charged, body-buzzing tracks collide on Road Fever, a compilation of razor-produced, road-tested instrumental riddims from St. Lucia, Dominica & Guadeloupe that showcases the producers forging the future of Caribbean music in 2025. Road Fever draws together instrumental Dennery Segment and Bouyon riddims originally made for vocalists, presented for the first time as stand alone pieces of music. Distilling carnival riddims down to the bare bones, producers push minimal 150+bpms, FL-percussion packs, DJ/vox samples & synth riffs, bridging trap, drill, dancehall, sped-up Haitian konpa & Angolan kuduro. Ricocheting at the intersection of TikTok culture, best heard blasted through walls of speakers travelled by stage-sized carnival trucks or via bluetooth car speakers, St.Lucia"s "Dennery Segment" sound, (as iconic producer, G6 described in an interview), "sparks your inside; a sound you can"t hear and not move". Amsterdam-based, Curaçao-raised compiler Rozaly echoes G6: "Once you hear it, you can"t unhear or unfeel it. This is a musical movement with an entire history with so many relevant reasons why it still exists, and why it exists the way it exists right now". Rozaly concludes, "there is nothing more simple, let the artists speak."

Exploring late-night, after-hours meditations on sound; ‘Everything Above The Sky (Astral Travelling with Luke Una)’ is a new compilation by the titular DJ, promoter and enigmatic cultural curator. Off the back of the E Soul Cultura phenomena, this compilation comes at a timely point in Luke’s rich career as he soars the heights of playing all over the world. Avoiding any chance of his sound being pigeonholed, Luke has put together a tracklist of songs and music that have a transcendental feel, after coming off the grid, going back to source, outside the city walls .

Music has long been believed to aid out of body experiences and many of us have searched long and hard for a combination of those elusive ingredients that might alleviate some of the monotony of everyday life, our daily routines and obligations, and those things that seem to block us from the spirit of the universe. In this collection, Luke selects music with all the right ingredients in just the right quantities, allowing the listener to engage in an esoteric journey of enlightenment through sound. Being a prolific collector of music, Luke initially delivered enough tracks to compile several compilations, making the licensing process the biggest effort to date for the label. The music moves softly and slowly, never becoming too intrusive, exemplifying the wonderful elevating properties of simple songs played from the heart.

Luke’s Everything Above The Sky manifesto reads, “Astral Travelling in the meadowlands with acid folk, spiritual jazz, around midnight hocus pocus, cosmic psychedelic soul, magical spellbound whirling swirling love songs, Brazilian ballads of light into machine soul gospel utopia dreaming, Balearic bossa, Outer Space ancient African drum, the breath of trees, escaping the big bad modern world, gathering round winter fires, walking amongst the bracken in Padley Gorge in late summer twilight, overlooking the Hope Valley, escaping ego, detaching and finally letting go amongst the stars with the slowly floating people. It’s beautiful beyond. Everything above the Sky”.

Beginning his career as an original Sheffield house young blood in the mid 1980s, Luke’s move to Manchester and partnership with Justin Crawford saw the birth of Electric Chair, a cornerstone cult night in the UK underground club scene. Then came Electric Elephant, a Croatian festival paying homage to their wild eclecticism from Balearic to Brazilian to É Soul, house, disco and techno. Luke’s much loved, long-running Homoelectric night and more recently Homobloc sell out festival for 10,000 souls has been at the forefront of Manchester’s LGBTQ+ cultural landscape. Luke’s Friday evening show on Worldwide FM captured imaginations and became a cult four-hour must-listen monthly journey for fans all over the world. Today, Luke remains, as ever, at the forefront of a changing milieu, pairing the momentous legacy of Manchester’s 80s and 90s scene with the delivery of what today’s club communities need to get down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exploring late-night, after-hours meditations on sound; ‘Everything Above The Sky (Astral Travelling with Luke Una)’ is a new compilation by the titular DJ, promoter and enigmatic cultural curator. Off the back of the E Soul Cultura phenomena, this compilation comes at a timely point in Luke’s rich career as he soars the heights of playing all over the world. Avoiding any chance of his sound being pigeonholed, Luke has put together a tracklist of songs and music that have a transcendental feel, after coming off the grid, going back to source, outside the city walls .

Music has long been believed to aid out of body experiences and many of us have searched long and hard for a combination of those elusive ingredients that might alleviate some of the monotony of everyday life, our daily routines and obligations, and those things that seem to block us from the spirit of the universe. In this collection, Luke selects music with all the right ingredients in just the right quantities, allowing the listener to engage in an esoteric journey of enlightenment through sound. Being a prolific collector of music, Luke initially delivered enough tracks to compile several compilations, making the licensing process the biggest effort to date for the label. The music moves softly and slowly, never becoming too intrusive, exemplifying the wonderful elevating properties of simple songs played from the heart.

Luke’s Everything Above The Sky manifesto reads, “Astral Travelling in the meadowlands with acid folk, spiritual jazz, around midnight hocus pocus, cosmic psychedelic soul, magical spellbound whirling swirling love songs, Brazilian ballads of light into machine soul gospel utopia dreaming, Balearic bossa, Outer Space ancient African drum, the breath of trees, escaping the big bad modern world, gathering round winter fires, walking amongst the bracken in Padley Gorge in late summer twilight, overlooking the Hope Valley, escaping ego, detaching and finally letting go amongst the stars with the slowly floating people. It’s beautiful beyond. Everything above the Sky”.

Beginning his career as an original Sheffield house young blood in the mid 1980s, Luke’s move to Manchester and partnership with Justin Crawford saw the birth of Electric Chair, a cornerstone cult night in the UK underground club scene. Then came Electric Elephant, a Croatian festival paying homage to their wild eclecticism from Balearic to Brazilian to É Soul, house, disco and techno. Luke’s much loved, long-running Homoelectric night and more recently Homobloc sell out festival for 10,000 souls has been at the forefront of Manchester’s LGBTQ+ cultural landscape. Luke’s Friday evening show on Worldwide FM captured imaginations and became a cult four-hour must-listen monthly journey for fans all over the world. Today, Luke remains, as ever, at the forefront of a changing milieu, pairing the momentous legacy of Manchester’s 80s and 90s scene with the delivery of what today’s club communities need to get down.

THE 1968 ALBUM ON WHICH JOHNNY CASH BECAME A LEGEND: AT FOLSOM PRISON AMONG THE MOST IMPORTANT AND POTENT STATEMENTS OF THE 20TH CENTURY


Johnny Cash already knew his way around Folsom Prison when he and his band stepped inside the institution’s forbidding walls on the morning of January 13, 1968 to record At Folsom Prison. He’d played there two years prior. But this time was different.

Cash took the stage that day for two shows amid a darkening sociopolitical atmosphere and a raging war in Vietnam, as well as the knowledge his career and health hung on by a thread. The Arkansas native shared many of the long odds and abject failures of the inmates for which he performed. The songs he chose, and the conviction with which he delivered them, say as much. The point at which Cash transformed from a country star into a legendary artist, and a bold statement about the American prison state and its commitment to rehabilitation, the triple-platinum At Folsom Prison remains one the most important, potent, and fabled records of the 20th century.

You can hear it echo off the walls of the room; pulse through the itchiness of the Tennessee Three’s acoustic-based boom-chick rhythms; crackle in the announcements conveyed over the intercom; ring in the comedy of the off-cuff remarks and pair of novelty tunes; sense it in palpable energy that wells up within Cash and his audience. And you can experience it like never before via Cash’s knockout singing. The bedrock foundation of all his music, the singer’s baritone resonates with profound degrees of depth, pliability, and passion that underscore how much this appearance meant to him — and the extent he was living the narratives.

Indeed, every song on At Folsom Prison serves a purpose and speaks to the conditions — mental, emotional, physical, geographical, legal, social — the inmates confronted on a daily basis. Beginning with the explicit messages of the opening “Folsom Prison Blues,” Cash makes it clear he understands and shares many of their plights. Not for nothing did the myth of Cash having done hard time persist for decades once this record hit the streets. That’s how real it is, and how dedicated Cash remains to conveying every note with the same truth he invests in the impromptu comments he makes between and amid songs.

Listen to the sorrow, regret, pity, and loneliness of Merle Travis’ “Dark as the Dungeon,” Cash pulling syllables til they threaten to break and inhabiting the mood of bleak phrases such as “pleasures are few” and “the sun never shines.” Witness the isolation, dejection, and sadness punctuating the walking-blues “I Still Miss Someone,” matched in gravity by a solemn reading of “The Long Black Veil” — a traditional dirge that involves murder, cheating, and deception. Cash cuts even deeper on a heartbreaking solo rendition of “Send a Picture of Mother” and plainspoken version of Harlan Howard’s “The Wall,” detailing a suicide disguised as jailbreak through cliched-jaw deliveries that softly curse the impossible situation.

In chronicling temptations, mistakes, mortality, punishment, and life “inside” — for better or worse, the stories of the disenfranchised, forgotten, written-off, and unrepentant — At Folsom Prison also has a blast playing the outlaw role. Cash captures wild-eyed craziness and out-of-control mayhem on a revved-up take of “Cocaine Blues,” taking extra satisfaction in its dastardly tales by way of voice that shifts into character for the sheriff and judge. The gallows humor and racing drama of “25 Minutes to Go”; quicksilver accents and resigned acceptance of “I Got Stripes”; train-whistle blare and twangy locomotion of “Folsom Prison Blues” — all fight the law only to see the law win.

Cash remains deeply committed at every moment, and inseparably connected with the tortured souls removed from the goings-on of the outside world. No wonder all but two songs here stem from the day’s first performance that saw Cash, Luther Perkins, Marshall Grant, and company give everything. As does the Man in Black’s soon-to-be-wife, June Carter. The couple’s fiery duet on “Jackson” scorches; their combination of surrender and fortitude “Give My Love to Rose” puts us in the dying protagonist’s shoes.

And with the closing “Greystone Chapel,” famously penned by convict Glen Sherley, who watched it all happen under the watchful eye of guards, Cash separates the corporeal from the spiritual, relaying lessons about salvation and survival. Heady themes to which he’d return for the remainder of his illustrious career.

The Body & Dis Fig are a natural pair. Each has pioneered instantly recognizable worlds of sound all their own that defy any traditional categorizations or boundaries. The Body, Lee Buford and Chip King, continually challenge any conventional conception of metal, collaborating with myriad artists and from the folk-leanings of their work with BIG|BRAVE to their groundbreaking work with the Assembly of Light Choir to the intensity of their collaborations with OAA or Thou. Dis Fig, aka Felicia Chen, pushes electronic music into dark extremes, from warped DJ sets to avant production, from being a member of Tianzhuo Chen’s performance-art series TRANCE to being the vocalist with The Bug. The Body and Dis Fig find kinship in reimagining what it means to make “heavy music”. Their debut Orchards of a Futile Heaven is the perfect synthesis of two forces, twisting melodicism and intoxicating rhythms, layering a dense miasma of distortion with intense beats and a soaring voice clawing its way towards absolution.

Orchards of a Futile Heaven’s walls of sputtering texture and tectonic booms are soaked in the reverence and melancholy of sacred spaces brought to life by palpable intensity by Chen’s voice. Crafted during a time of personal fragility, the album’s devastating force lies beyond any of the expected noise and abrasive textures typically associated with both The Body & Dis Fig. Suffused with a raw vulnerability and a longing for catharsis, Chen’s voice searches for escape in the midst of oppressive atmospheres as if determined to find relief from guilt. “Eternal Hours” patiently unfurls waves of surprising sounds, whispered undulations that are punctuated by sudden crashes, all beneath Chen’s haunting harmonies. “Dissent, Shame” evokes grief and shame with a minimalist drone dirge that gradually builds to an enchanting choral passage. King’s guitar on “Holy Lance” matches the uncanny drone of Chen’s accordion in an all-consuming blast, Chen’s voice transforming the moment from anguish to defiance and empowerment. The album’s arc finishes with “Coils of Kaa” acting as a kind of propulsive exorcism, breaking through a suffocating air before the funeral procession of “Back to the Water” lays the album to rest.

While sampling has long been essential to each, The Body & Dis Fig deftly meld their differing approaches to sampling and creating extreme sounds until the boundaries are entirely blurred. The two found kinship in their desire to find new avenues to make heavy music that looked beyond tropes of metal and electronic music by merging the two. “I always wanted the heavier stuff but I also didn’t really like heavier guitar music,” says Buford. “None of it really felt quite heavy enough to me. A human can’t be as heavy as a machine.” Chen counters, “I love the balance. You could never connect to just a machine as well as you could a human. Which is why the combination is so potent for me. I don’t want to hide. I think nothing connects you more empathetically than another human's voice.”

Orchards of a Futile Heaven affirms The Body & Dis Fig as skilled sound sculptors who have an exceptional ability to make deeply affecting music, bracing as it is touching, harrowing as it is awe-inspiring. Together, the two have harnessed their expansive artistry to make music that is profoundly emotional, and staggering in its beauty.

Auf Album Nr. 4 wendet die britische Electronic Music Komponistin, Produzentin und Musikerin, die auch mit Ihren Filmscores für einiges Aufsehen sorgen konnte, ihren Blick nach innen, setzt sich mit Trauma und Trauer auseinander und konfrontiert ihre Ängste. Für Fans von u.a. Fever Ray.

Elizabeth Bernholz (geb. Walling), geboren 1981 in Canterbury, England, besser bekannt unter ihrem Künstlernamen Gazelle Twin, ist eine Electronic Music Komponistin, Produzentin und Musikerin, die derzeit in Leicestershire, England, lebt.

Auf ihren bisherigen drei Studioalben hat Gazelle Twin nach außen geblickt: auf Städte, auf einen gequälten Körper, auf die sich windenden Eingeweide des ländlichen Großbritanniens. Auf ihrem ersten Album für das neue Label Invada Records wendet sie ihren Blick jedoch nach innen. Black Dog ist ein Album über die Konfrontation mit der Angst und die Erwartung, dass die Dinge, die in der Dunkelheit lauerten, als man ein Kind war, verschwinden werden, wenn man erwachsen wird.

Black Dog erzählt eine Geschichte, die sich wie ein Film entrollt. Es geht darum, wie unsere Kindheit unser Erwachsensein geprägt hat: wie sich jedes Gefühl von Trauma und Trauer für immer in die Erinnerung eines Menschen einbrennt, egal wie sehr wir versuchen, ihm zu entkommen. Black Dog deutet an, wie diese Gefühle in besonderer Intensität zurückkehren, wenn man Eltern wird, wenn man sich selbst dabei beobachtet, wie man Dinge weitergibt, von denen man sich wünscht, sie nicht gehabt zu haben, nicht zu wollen.

In gewisser Weise läutert sich Bernholz auf diesem Album selbst. Im Gegensatz zu ihren maskierten Charakteren bei früheren Veröffentlichungen ist ihr Gesicht erkennbar, und sie erklärt, dass sie sich „dieses Mal nicht so weit entfernt hat" von ihrer Persona. Sie stellt sich als Medium für die Stimmen in ihrem Inneren vor, anstatt sie mit anderen Ideen zu verdrängen. Dabei wirkt sie groß und innig, ihre Stimme wechselt von feinfühliger Zärtlichkeit zu doomiger Kraft.

Dies ist ein Album, bei dem alte Geschichten geplündert, verdaut und wieder hochgewürgt werden müssen, um neue zu schreiben, bei dem wir uns selbst völlig in Frage stellen müssen. Black Dog blickt zurück und blickt hinein. Wir verschaffen uns Zugang, während wir zuhören. Unser Innerstes nach außen gekehrt.

Repress!

In the mid-1970s, a force of nature swept across the continental United States, cutting across all strata of race and class, rooting in our minds, our homes, our culture. It wasn’t The Exorcist, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, or even bell-bottoms, but instead a book called The Secret Life of Plants. The work of occultist/former OSS agent Peter Tompkins and former CIA agent/dowsing enthusiast Christopher Bird, the books shot up the bestseller charts and spread like kudzu across the landscape, becoming a phenomenon. Seemingly overnight, the indoor plant business was in full bloom and photosynthetic eukaryotes of every genus were hanging off walls, lording over bookshelves, and basking on sunny window ledges. The science behind Secret Life was specious: plants can hear our prayers, they’re lie detectors, they’re telepathic, able to predict natural disasters and receive signals from distant galaxies. But that didn’t stop millions from buying and nurturing their new plants.

Perhaps the craziest claim of the book was that plants also dug music. And whether you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you from Mother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattress from Sears), you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especially for them. Subtitled “warm earth music for plants…and the people that love them,” it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientific tunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog. Plants date back from the dawn of time, but apparently they loved the Moog, never mind that the synthesizer had been on the market for just a few years. Most of all, the plants loved the ditties made by composer Mort Garson.

Few characters in early electronic music can be both fearless pioneers and cheesy trend-chasers, but Garson embraced both extremes, and has been unheralded as a result. When one writer rhetorically asked: “How was Garson’s music so ubiquitous while the man remained so under the radar?” the answer was simple. Well before Brian Eno did it, Garson was making discreet music, both the man and his music as inconspicuous as a Chlorophytumcomosum. Julliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote lounge hits, scored plush arrangements for Doris Day, and garlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” He could render the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel alike into easy listening and also dreamed up his own ditties. “An idear” as Garson himself would drawl it out. “I live with it, I walk it, I sing it.”

But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: “When my dad found the synthesizer, he realized he didn’t want to do pop music anymore.” Garson encountered Robert Moog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society’s West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device. With the Moog, those idears could be transformed. “He constantly had a song he was humming,” Darmet says. “At the table he was constantly tapping.” Which is to say that Mort pulled his melodies out of thin air, just like any household plant would.

The Plantae kingdom grew to its height by 1976, from DC Comics’ mossy superhero Swamp Thing to Stevie Wonder’s own herbal meditation, Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. Nefarious manifestations of human-plant interaction also abounded, be it the grotesque pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers or the pothead paranoia of the US Government spraying Mexican marijuana fields with the herbicide paraquat (which led to the rise in homegrown pot by the 1980s). And then there’s the warm, leafy embrace of Plantasia itself.

“My mom had a lot of plants,” Darmet says. “She didn’t believe in organized religion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatever created us was incredible.” And she also knew when her husband had a good song, shouting from another room when she heard him humming a good idear. Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.

Garson may have given the album away to new plant and bed owners, but a decade later a new generation could hear his music in another surreptitious way. Millions of kids bought The Legend of Zelda for their Nintendo Entertainment System back in 1986 and one distinct 8-bit tune bears more than a passing resemblance to album highlight “Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos.” Garson was never properly credited for it, but he nevertheless subliminally slipped into a new generations’ head, helping kids and plants alike grow.

Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the green thumb that made everything flower around him. “My dad would be totally pleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had no popularity at the time,” Darmet says of Plantasia’snew renaissance. “He would be fascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating this part of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then.” Garson seems to be everywhere again, even if he’s not really noticed, just like a houseplant.

In a realm where the threads of fate intertwined with the tapestry of existence, there existed a timeless construct we call “MENG”. This transcendental domain pushed a sanctuary where an unholy wisdom was safeguarded. Within its twenty-two walls, the experiences of countless sages and seekers resided, forming a reservoir of enlightenment, of vision and of identity.

Among the enigmatic texts that adorned the shelves of The Memory Palace, one stood out—the "Tubular Heaven," a chapter that held the essence of the universe's patterns and transformations. The book we speak of is the Book of Change - I Ching. Legend has it that the Memory Palace embodied the vibrations of those who sought its wisdom, guiding them to the Slow-Chain’s pages where hexagrams unveiled the secrets of existence.

Amidst this cosmic dance of knowledge, there lived a young wanderer whose name we do not say out loud. Driven by a deep yearning for understanding, this Warrior ventured into the city of Tanoy. With every step, he felt the resonance of centuries long gone, as if the walls whispered to him the essence of reality itself - “you may fall as long as you stand up again. Repeat this 1000 times and you will understand me. Only then can we control the sound.” As he reached for the illuminated Book of Change, a light was cast onto a newly fabricated realm of questions.

One hexagram, in particular, was essential. The cryptic symbolism was perplexing. Upon meditation, we slowly begin to realize that life is indeed a tapestry of imperfections, yet from these glitches we arise with profound growth and transformation.

As our curiosity spikes, we delve into the pages that follow, discovering an unexpected connection between I Ching and the world of Jeans, no denim. In ancient times, the craft of weaving denim mirrored the wisdom of these hexagrams. Just as threads interwove to create a durable fabric, I Ching reveals how life's experiences intertwine to form a meaningful existence. Denim, like life, is sturdy yet adaptable - a true testament to the harmonious balance between falling and standing.

As this journey comes to a gentle end, we must stress that hexagrams prove that other divination systems exist. It has become clear that the patterns hitherto observed are not confined to one culture, tradition, mind or body. Instead, they echo throughout history, manifesting in various divination systems across our globe. Hexagrams are a universal language, transcending boundaries and demonstrating the interconnectedness of humanity's pursuit of higher understanding.

We can now truly emerge from the Memory Palace, carrying the wisdom of everything above us. It’s time to Drag A Friend into this Made Up Reality. Or is it? We now understand that life's glitches are the catalysts for growth and that just as threads wove together to create denim, experiences wove together to create a meaningful existence.
As we walk beneath the open sky, we whisper into the wind, "Hexagrams are the echoes of universal truths, proving that the search for wisdom knows no bounds."

The chimes tingle in the deep subset of your imagination. As the pages of the Book of Change unfurl one last time, the shimmering tapestry of our shallow minds unravels.

We have revealed the kaleidoscopic corridors where perceptions dance in hallucinogenic symphony to the hymns of our rich minds.

"First solo record from Bethany after a 10+ year stint fronting Best Coast. Produced by Butch Walker (Taylor Swift, Jewel, Panic! At The Disco, Weezer, Andrew McMahon). Co-writes with Ruston Kelly, Madi Diaz, Suzy Shinn, Morgan Nagler (Bleached, The Breeders, Jenny Lewis), among others. Press support from: DIY, Dork, HERO, record Collector, Guardian, Upset, Line of Best Fit, NME, Fader, Clash, Stereoboard.
“Natural Disaster was born out of a bit of an identity crisis. I was feeling really stagnant both in my life and in my creativity - the world around me was seemingly falling apart - and I felt like I had two choices; give up entirely or challenge myself to push through and see what was on the other side. This record is the story of a personal journey, one that led me to finding a new side of myself that I didn’t even know was there. It is a snapshot of what it’s like to allow yourself to soften, to take down some of your walls, and really lean into the magic of life.”"

Pleasure Pool are Finn O’Hare, Andrew Robertson and a rolling cast of Glasgow-based musicians, performers and artists. They sound like nothing else to have come out of Glasgow recently, exploring the territory between live performance and club culture through their collaborative ethos and party-starting attitude. Their debut EP, Night Scars, arrived in early March 2020 and now comes Love Without Illusion, Pleasure Pool’s debut album, released on Optimo Music.

Love Without Illusion adds layers of complexity and introspection to Night Scars’ squarely dance floor-focused brew, though the record still oozes danceable energy. Open Hours is like opening a door and finding a party already in full swing, an assortment of recurring Pleasure Pool motifs – echoing, dubbed-out vocals, gorgeous, impossibly airy synth melodies, louche percussion, cowbells, rising and falling flecks of trumpet – all introduced in short order. Lick The Bag, which prominently features vocalists Chloe Charlton and Raissa Pardini, has a controlled chaos befitting its morning-after-the-night-before name.

The rest of the album rides this glimmering, night-magic mood at varying frequencies, with the title track a gentle storm of grandiose walls of synth and pulsing vocal fragments. The slow and low flickering funk of album closer Zero Hours pulls all that has come before it together to end things in the woozy bliss of a walk back home in warm, gentle sunlight.

Love Without Illusion is a dazzlingly complete expression of Pleasure Pool’s intoxicating sound and vision. Dive on in and explore.

Library Music: Volume One is a sixteen track double LP collecting the North London drone pop band’s 7” singles, one-offs and compilation tracks spanning the first 14 years of the group’s existence. It includes synth pop, indie fuzz and moody motorik workouts, alongside pastoral folk sketches, dubby electronics and the occasional drone experiment. More immediate than their stretched out and slow-burning recent album tracks, the music here is taken from limited vinyl releases, album bonus tracks and music for compilations on labels as diverse as Bezirk Tapes, Second Language, Modern Aviation, and Concrete Tapes as well as the band’s current home, Where It’s At Is Where You Are. The compilation is a happily cohesive document of an inventive band that rarely stand still for long. The band says, “We wanted to gather all our early, scattered work before we move on to our next album, to remind ourselves (and others) of some of the poppier and less characteristic things we’ve done. We’ve always felt a lot more relaxed and freer making one off things for people – it’s a chance to try things that might otherwise be daunting on a full record”. Always a prolific group this is by no means an exhaustive collection, the title giving a clue to how much more they have left to share. “We have been introduced to loads of bands that we love initially through non-album compilations – Broadcast, The Chills, Stereolab, Piano Magic, Flying Saucer Attack amongst others – we wanted to add our own to that (admittedly slightly daunting) lineage.” The Leaf Library are formed around the core group of singer Kate Gibson, former Saloon and Singing Adams guitarist Matt Ashton, guitarist SJ Nelson, drummer Lewis Young and bass player Gareth Jones. They have released three studio albums (Daylight Versions, About Minerals and The World Is A Bell) as well a number of electronic and experimental albums and EPs, remix compilations and long form tracks. They have also released five Monument CDRs; an on-going series of experimental solo and side projects on their Objects Forever imprint. The band have collaborated with musicians as diverse as Alasdair MacLean of The Clientele, singer Ed Dowie, noise group Far Rainbow and string collective Iskra Strings, and have provided music for a number of exhibitions, films and performances. A collaborative album with Japanese artist Teruyuki Kurihara is due in late 2022 on the Mille Plateaux label. Tracklisting: 01 Agnes In The Square 02 Goodbye Four Walls 03 City In Reverse 04 Walking Backwards 05 Soundings 06 Diagram Loop 07 The Greater Good 08 Losing Places (ISAN Remix) 09 A Stone In Water 10 Architect Of The Moon 11 Tired Ghost 12 The Still Point 13 Wave Of Translation 14 Badminton House 15 Tranquility Bass 16 A Gap In The Trees

As this album represents a spiritual return to a foundational past, sonically this record is likewise about going back to our fundamentals and our roots; when Eon and I were two kids with guitars in a bedroom figuring out some songs. Our last album, Mass, featured so many parts. We recorded it in New Orleans at Preservation Hall with a thirteen-piece horn section, percussionists, strings, etc. For the most part, it’s tough to find any guitar on the record. So we decided to simplify and reconnect with what inspired us. We kept the ingredients limited, the palate simple. We went back to our beginnings and rediscovered the joy of just playing on an acoustic, and a bass through a small amp, with a vocal. We spent our days like we used to when we were younger. We hung out and talked about music. If it was sunny we went to the beach. We played some tennis. Then in the afternoon we might play through some ideas. If it sounded good in the front room of the house, we took it to the studio.

Hunt & Gather’s debut vinyl release comes by way of Pezzner’s cryptic moniker “The Native Language”. Written as a quasi-homeless man living off the rich in the San Juan Islands who writes music once per year to suffice his own delusions.

Walking the streets in these damp, anxious days that all run together lately, I was approached by a man who would blend right into the neighborhood, layered in flannel and sweatshirts for sleeping.

Rough, but for his shoes. (Never cheap out on anything that separates you from the ground.) “Pezzner,” he called out, from a safe distance. “What did the mangrove say to the marauding hordes.” My soul left my body for a moment and my voice responded on its own. “Petrichor.”

He caught my eye, nodded, left a padded envelope on the ground and vanished. The envelope had passed through many hands, slipped into the bed of a ferry-bound truck, passed from one fellow traveler to another, stashed under the counters of anarchist bookstores, left tucked between books at Little Free Libraries. The greenish stains suggested that at one point it had been swum across a lake. Another DAT, contents encoded here unabridged, and a letter from someone who called himself The Sentinel.

The Vessel lived out his days on Shaw Island, under a canopy of trees that gets smaller and smaller every season. His condition the same, any electricity lit his brain on fire, could only bring himself to compose one day a year, only at night, out of sight. Until he met The Angel, an eccentric with means, who built for him a device.

A Faraday Cage to block all electromagnetic emissions. Burlap walls, for atmosphere. A system of pulleys and levers, wood and rope, all running into a box that sat outside. An entirely mechanical control surface. No electrons in here. The Vessel lit fires, watched the shadows dance, closed his eyes and disappeared into the motion for hours at a time. The Sentinel came every morning to change the tapes. The Angel watched and pondered, his plans unknown.

The box sat sealed, bare except for another set of ideograms, scratched in day by day over time. Inside, the usual bedroom-producer shit. Outside, the ideograms told a story, passed from the Vessel to the Sentinel and drawn by the Angel, of a man who became another creature. Alert to the lowest frequencies, feeling music deep in the soil below their feet. Music that brings messages, from distant friends, warning of new creatures and the danger they brought. Skin alive to the world, so sensitive it can detect the landing of a single fly. A mind capable of keeping a map of the world inside. A mind that can look in a mirror and see a soul it knows well. A mind that can grieve.

After processing its contents, I filled the envelope with granola bars and walked it down to the market. The clerk gave me a knowing look as I placed it on the counter behind a stack of pork rinds from the previous century. As I walked out, a young man carrying a plastic bag and wearing impeccable shoes walked in.

'Bound to shake your walls and rattle your windows' Max Reinhardt, BBC RADIO 3 "The first bit of evidence that Elizabeth Bernholz's next album Pastoral - due out in September - could be her best to date". THE QUIETUS "Will likely be one of the year's very best records.' CLASH 'What species is this What century' Forged in a rural idyll in Middle-England, the new album Pastoral, by Gazelle Twin, exhumes England's rotten past, and shines a torch over its ever-darkening present. Told through a troupe of multi-gender voices, in vernaculars old and new; from the shrill echo of folksong to tabloid-tinged jaunts, the artist aka Elizabeth Bernholz, presents the notion that 'there is horror in every idyll, and danger lurking beyond the 'quaint' '. The village square - once host to centuries of public torture - becomes a floral framed postcard, dolled-up for the Summer Fête. A sunny, afternoon walk over the hills unsettles a cloud of angry flies feeding from unidentifiable remains. Bigoted vitriol gently murmurs amidst tearoom chatter, as the neatly framed pastoral picture dissolves into a solemn ennui. Four years in the making, amidst life-changing events, including a move far out of the city, Pastoral will be the first major release by the artist since her widely acclaimed LP UNFLESH (2014, Anti-Ghost Moon Ray) and is seamlessly on-theme, together with Bernholz's J.G. Ballard-inspired A/V show 'Kingdom Come' (soundtrack released November 2017, Anti-Ghost Moon Ray) - a fascism-infused hellscape, this time set in deepest Old England. As its sole creator, Gazelle Twin 'The Composer, Musician and Producer' has crafted an album overflowing with a frenzy of traditional and contemporary musical tropes; from early music instrumentation - the harpsichord and the humble recorder, fed through myriad electronics - to the compelling, ritualistic application of found sample-looping. Beyond Bernholz's signature choral-infusions, here reverberating like a warped Sunday Service, there are even shades of '90s house and the once-thriving rural rave scene, albeit recalled as a watery, second-hand memory. In its consummation it is an album that feels pan-century, even pan-species. Set against a verdant backdrop of hedgerows and steeples, Gazelle Twin 'The Artist and Performer', constructs an eccentric and commanding visual embodiment of all-of-the-above - a costume fit for a court Jester of the 21st Century. The colours of Neo-Nationalism. Coke cans, and DANGER. 'It' (not 'she') hints at folkloric traditions with a footy mascot twist. The 'Ye Olde' and 'The Everyman' of the English cliché. Brandishing a sneer and a hobby horse. A riddle and a recorder. A jeer and a square dance in red, Adidas Gazelle's, and a mad, fixed GRIN - first glimpsed in the single, 'Hobby Horse' (22 June, Anti-Ghost Moon Ray). A deranged, absurd reflection of deranged and absurd times.

'Bound to shake your walls and rattle your windows' Max Reinhardt, BBC RADIO 3 "The first bit of evidence that Elizabeth Bernholz's next album Pastoral - due out in September - could be her best to date". THE QUIETUS "Will likely be one of the year's very best records.' CLASH 'What species is this What century' Forged in a rural idyll in Middle-England, the new album Pastoral, by Gazelle Twin, exhumes England's rotten past, and shines a torch over its ever-darkening present. Told through a troupe of multi-gender voices, in vernaculars old and new; from the shrill echo of folksong to tabloid-tinged jaunts, the artist aka Elizabeth Bernholz, presents the notion that 'there is horror in every idyll, and danger lurking beyond the 'quaint' '. The village square - once host to centuries of public torture - becomes a floral framed postcard, dolled-up for the Summer Fête. A sunny, afternoon walk over the hills unsettles a cloud of angry flies feeding from unidentifiable remains. Bigoted vitriol gently murmurs amidst tearoom chatter, as the neatly framed pastoral picture dissolves into a solemn ennui. Four years in the making, amidst life-changing events, including a move far out of the city, Pastoral will be the first major release by the artist since her widely acclaimed LP UNFLESH (2014, Anti-Ghost Moon Ray) and is seamlessly on-theme, together with Bernholz's J.G. Ballard-inspired A/V show 'Kingdom Come' (soundtrack released November 2017, Anti-Ghost Moon Ray) - a fascism-infused hellscape, this time set in deepest Old England. As its sole creator, Gazelle Twin 'The Composer, Musician and Producer' has crafted an album overflowing with a frenzy of traditional and contemporary musical tropes; from early music instrumentation - the harpsichord and the humble recorder, fed through myriad electronics - to the compelling, ritualistic application of found sample-looping. Beyond Bernholz's signature choral-infusions, here reverberating like a warped Sunday Service, there are even shades of '90s house and the once-thriving rural rave scene, albeit recalled as a watery, second-hand memory. In its consummation it is an album that feels pan-century, even pan-species. Set against a verdant backdrop of hedgerows and steeples, Gazelle Twin 'The Artist and Performer', constructs an eccentric and commanding visual embodiment of all-of-the-above - a costume fit for a court Jester of the 21st Century. The colours of Neo-Nationalism. Coke cans, and DANGER. 'It' (not 'she') hints at folkloric traditions with a footy mascot twist. The 'Ye Olde' and 'The Everyman' of the English cliché. Brandishing a sneer and a hobby horse. A riddle and a recorder. A jeer and a square dance in red, Adidas Gazelle's, and a mad, fixed GRIN - first glimpsed in the single, 'Hobby Horse' (22 June, Anti-Ghost Moon Ray). A deranged, absurd reflection of deranged and absurd times.