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Ornament – an information carrier and a coding element for a unique and complex algorithm that modulates the state, space, intention, and path.

Embroidery technique – a conscious coding ritual, where the intention is modeled by both the external forms and the internal structures of the ornament symbols.

An embroidered structure – geometrical and sonic – is a set of energies, generating and conducting a harmonious path and destiny, where both holding the same harmony principles of the sacred process of the cryptography of the heart.

The sound ornament dances in time and space. The patterns with the rhythmic repetition of geometric tones embroider your symbolism, enhancing the expressiveness of the feeling and catching up after the spirit.

Feel the high frequencies, while perceiving the low pulsations. It is the contrast between slow and fast energies, where balance is the key. It is the basic impeccability of the curves in the harmonious flow, it is the conscious ritual of awareness with pure thoughts to create the unique.

Trace inner power into other dimensions. Encrypt intent with the ornament and weave your bright oscillation into the fabric of Existence. Explode as the calm light and jump into the Immeasurable.

Dense, roiling drone show from Joe DeNardo, who's best known as Growing but, adopts the Ornament moniker to signify something altered from his usual practice. It starts out with a folksy sort of dissonance and soon starts to curdle and keen in fascinating formations. "Protest Music" is the first release by Ornament.

FUN FARE is the experimental pop laboratory of Friedrich Günther, Julia Boehme, Joseph Heinze and Jakob Zander, which hails from Leipzig. In combining and distilling their respective influences they are constantly withdrawing from all possible expectations and presumptions. Krautrock meditations are interrupted by synth-pop intermezzi and bathed in waves of post-punk without laying false or random trails. It's more like an experiment under controlled conditions or an elaborate construction that is spontaneous and playful. In the autumn of 2015, Fun Fare recorded their debut album - Wrong Gong , which was released in February 2016 via Hartnack Records and played shows with Candelilla, Soft Grid, Friends Of Gas and Priests. Recently they released a split tape with Berlin post-punk band Plattenbau via Flennen and at the Trans Century Update Festival in UT Connewitz in Leipzig shared the stage with John Maus, Alex Cameron and Thurston Moore Group among others. Their second album Trifles & Events Are Your Concern' promises to deliver on the promise of their early releases and is a strong addition to the catalogue of Späti Palace.

Figure Jams is back with a another fresh and exciting pairing of artists. This time the record is a collection of pure analogue goodness, sparkling ripe with synthesizer magic. The A-side comes courtesy of duo-of-the-moment TWR72, who happen to distill perfection through simplicity in their stripped-back productions. While ‚Polished' is a pulsating bit of beatless yet captivating clean-cut loops, their other contribution shows their talent at crafting something lean, dry and punchy, which is still undeniably driving and hypnotic. Picking up on the synth-heavy theme of this release is St. Petersburg's finest Aleksey Niktin aka Nocow. Inspired by the endless baltic winters, the producer packs his tracks with emtions that feel cold but not icy, engulfing the listener in winching waves of melancholic Electronica.

Black Truffle is thrilled to announce a second volume of unheard concert performances from legendary Pakistani kyhal singer Salamat Ali Khan, recorded at Berlin’s Neue Nationalgalerie as part of the MetaMusik festival in 1974. Like the first volume, the immaculate recording by Michael Hönig (of krautrock legends Agitation Free) captures Khan performing a single extended raag in the company of Shaukat Hussein Khan on tabla and Hussein Bux Khan on harmonium. In addition to his stunningly inventive and moving vocal performance, Khan is heard accompanying himself on a specially tuned alpine zither (in place of the traditional swarmandal, an Indian style of zither). The lack of an underlying tanpura drone gives the music its characteristic floating quality, with the three instruments and voice masterfully dancing around one another as they sketch the outlines of this grand, 40-minute Raag Chandrakauns.

If anything, this epic performance of the late-night Raag Chandrakauns is even more seductively spacious and psychedelic than the music heard on the first volume. Obeying the traditional shape of Hindustani classical vocal music performance, a gradual rise in both pitch and rhythmic activity, the music hovers for twenty minutes in a reflective calm, the pulse only gently stated by the tabla while harmonium ornamentation and zither strums float by. In this meditative space, Khan gradually orients us to the contours of the raag, beginning with long notes at the bottom of his register. His improvisation at once builds with a stunningly firm sense of internal logic and seems liberated to explore every melodic and ornamental byway that comes up along the way. By the time we turn to the record’s second side, the music has grown into something far more frenetic, with virtuoso tabla passages at times occupying centre stage between Khan’s increasingly rhythmic melodic variations. Concluding with a sequence of unison tabla and voice passages of breathtaking complexity, the performance is met with rapturous applause. Arriving in a blue-toned variant of the first volume’s sleeve, with acclaimed musicologist Peter Pannke’s liner notes in the original German, Metamusik Festival Berlin ’74 Volume II is not to be missed. Essential listening not just for Hidustanti classic aficionados, but for anyone who needs reminding of the magic of collective music making in the moment.

Father Hervé and son Louis return as FRONTMASCHINE with “Rühren”, their most accomplished and refined work to date. United by a shared passion for the rawest and most uncompromising forms of EBM, the duo continues to explore the essence of body music while pushing their sound to a new level of maturity.

On “Rühren”, cold, almost chilling polyphonic synthesizer melodies intertwine with their classic relentless drum programming that sits somewhere between the militant precision of DAF and the mechanical drive of the “Commando days” of Front 242. Every track is built around pure functionality: no unnecessary ornamentation, no concessions—just stripped-down, commanding rhythms designed to move bodies.

This is an exceptionally DJ-friendly record. Each cut is crafted for maximum impact on the dancefloor, making “Rühren” an essential tool and a true secret weapon for any DJ devoted to uncompromising body music. Martial, hypnotic and brutally effective, FRONTMASCHINE once again prove that the most direct approach is often the most powerful.

You know the pattern: someone calls their album "Balearic," and you immediately expect chill-out terraces, pan-flute samples, and the umpteenth return of the Café del Mar sunset. Devi G. refuses this reflex almost maliciously. The title is a trick—an invitation to disappointment for those hoping for postcard exoticism. What is actually being negotiated here is erosion, but that of the body itself: the abrasion one inflicts upon oneself in the excess of the night, when partying turns into wear and tear, and a rush becomes a graze that only becomes visible in the morning. No backdrop, then, but a wound one has voluntarily acquired.

Instead of the usual Ibiza xylophones, Devi G. digs into the rift between idyll and wear. The result reads like a séance—less José Padilla, more as if Kevin Martin had re-recorded a Manuel Göttsching record on a dying four-track deck. The target area lies somewhere between the waterlogged ambient sketches of Huerco S. and the faded dub-afterglow of Actress, but Devi G. remains consistently on his own, grainier frequency.

Balearic Abrasions (title track) opens without haste, demanding almost without impatience: no motif, no rhythmic handhold, just a slowly tilting balance between warm texture and rough surface. The grain never feels forced—it is not a lo-fi costume, but an integral part of the statics themselves. Where other ambient producers strive for perfection, Devi G. consciously seeks the breaking point. Rhythm remains a tool, never an ambition. Those expecting quick resolution will be disappointed; those willing to listen will receive a depth effect that is rarely this vivid.

Exit Through Thee Gift Shop tips into harder territory: dub-techno reduction meets industrial edge, carried by a stoic kick drum that knows no mercy. Metallic textures slice through the sub-bass, while repetitive chords hypnotize like a defective loop. Central to this is a rare Terence McKenna recording, which functions less as spoken-word ornamentation and more as a disruptive spirit between memory and media archaeology. The title—Banksy reference included—turns this into a biting punchline: radical electronic abstraction positioned against the hyper-commercialized art world.

Morning Depth pushes the claustrophobia further, somewhere between post-industrial and deep-sea dub. The track refuses any peak-time logic, preferring to disintegrate into itself, subcutaneously, methodically. At the end, a casual, almost banal vocal sample (“i defiantly prefer chocolate”) breaks into the cool machinery—a small, profane fissure that makes the coldness of the rest of the piece all the more apparent.

Desiré Algorithmic is the album's most calculated moment: a stoic, repetitive bassline as a foundation, topped with fragile melody fragments that flash like glitches in faulty code. The title reads like a promise from nightlife—a figure that suggests much and delivers nothing, because behind the façade there is simply nothing, only simulation. The track carries exactly this principle: promise without substance, desire without body, just rendering. Only in the final third does a melancholic saxophone break into the sterile structure—organic, imperfect, and for that very reason more credible than everything before it. It is the moment in which the real briefly flashes through the surface of the dummy before it closes again.

All-inclusive Residue concludes the album as sedimentation rather than dramaturgy: dub-techno remnants, industrial patina, salty ambient surfaces that settle rather than compose. The refusal of consumption as a sonic principle—brittle, stubborn, with a gravity that lingers long after.

Verdict: Balearic Abrasions is not easy listening with a sea view, but an exercise in patience and friction. The restraint with which Devi G. avoids climaxes will frustrate some—for everyone else, that is exactly where the record's strength lies. No sunset. Rather, what remains on the rocks afterward.

When Khalab and Baba Sissoko first recorded together in 2015, they produced something definitive: a record where electronics and griot tradition achieved genuine synthesis rather than polite cohabitation.

Not layered genres maintaining separate identities, but two forms evolving into something singular. "Tata" took Track of the Year at the 2016 Gilles Peterson Worldwide Awards, found champions in Laurent Garnier, Ben UFO, Matthew Dear, Bonobo, and many others — but more significantly, it established a working method built to last.

Eleven years on, they return with Foli Bah on Hyperjazz Records. Theirs is a relationship built on trust. Khalab constructs structures that don't develop linearly but spiral inward — loops that reveal something new with each rotation, tightening until the listener stops resisting and surrenders. Sonic architectures that don't expand outward but deepen over time, layering toward saturation. Baba Sissoko inhabits these structures with instruments from Malian tradition, not as ornamentation but as load-bearing elements: the tradition becomes structure, not decoration. Electronics and griot practice stop negotiating terms and start speaking the same language.

There are records that do not so much belong to an era as they pass through it, leaving traces rather than statements, circulating in the margins where function outweighs discourse. World Cup, written at the end of the 1990s by Kiko, emerged in precisely that way — as a techno track whose presence was felt less through promotion than through repetition, carried from booth to booth, absorbed into the working vocabulary of DJs who recognized in it something immediate and self-evident. Its architecture is minimal yet insistent, driven by tension and release, a form of clarity that resists ornament and instead privileges duration, pressure, and movement.

When it resurfaced in 2006, it did not return as a revision but as a continuation, reaffirming its role within the ecology of the dancefloor. The same internal logic remained intact, allowing it to re-enter circulation without friction, as though it had simply been waiting to be picked up again. In both instances, the track operates less as a fixed object than as a tool — something to be used, extended, and recontextualized in real time.

Bringing together these two versions alongside Tainted Life, the release traces a subtle but telling trajectory. If World Cupdefines a certain techno functionalism, Tainted Life reveals another dimension: a proto-Italo sensibility that gestures toward what would later coalesce as electroclash, not through stylistic declaration but through texture, tone, and attitude. Long absent from digital circulation and largely confined to obscurity, it appears here not as a rediscovery, but as a piece whose relevance has simply remained latent.

Nothing has been added, nothing has been altered beyond what was necessary to restore presence. The recordings are allowed to exist in their own continuity, detached from the temporal markers that might otherwise confine them.

The artwork, conceived by H5, extends this approach into the visual field. Its restraint is not aesthetic minimalism for its own sake, but a form of structural clarity, where composition and absence articulate a space in which the record can be encountered without interference, as if resurfacing from a parallel timeline that never fully closed.

Still compelled by the space they first opened, Gūsū returns with a second release, “Inhabiting Me”. What began as a shared approach, sprouted from intuition, has grown denser and more defined, holding on to that same fragility and openness. The duo continues to befriend with contrast, friction and proximity, shaping a language that inhabits their uncommon ground.

Vintage drum machines, tape delays and bass guitar widen the sonic ground, adding pulse, grain and instability, while the guzheng holds its place in full clarity. Each sound source becomes each other’s ornament, forming to gesture the next currents.

What emerges is less a fixed composition than a shifting form: precise in detail, impossible to contain. Listeners who have experienced Gūsū’s live performances will recognise this rare quality: a music of great sensitivity that expands with quiet force, drawing them inward rather than confronting them directly. The sound fades, re-enters, and leaves behind the trace of a lighthearted heaviness, echoing back in fragments, reappearing in memory with altered weight and colour.

Time bends inward and tones return altered. Between repetition and resonance, a tensile form begins to emerge. Neither nostalgic nor futuristic, neither static nor loose. Gūsū does not merge its materials into one smooth surface; it lets them stand close enough to sharpen one another.

Gūsū is a transcultural music project born from the confluence of two distinct artistic voices: Xueyan Chen and Nicolas Balmer. Together, they create a complex dialogue of sound that bridges the ancient and the modern, exploring the liminal spaces between tradition and experimentation. Gūsū’s inception was serendipitous, sparked by a shared stage in late 2022. What began as spontaneous improvisations has since evolved into a profound collaboration. The duo has performed under various monikers, finding their ultimate identity in the name Gūsū, a nod to both heritage and transformation.

2026 Repress

Due to high demand, MEU has revisited two of Mr. K’s classics, previously only available as 12-inch extended mixes, and asked the master editor to pare them down to 7-inch size.

A true top-five peak record at the Garage, Thelma Houston’s “I’m Here Again” was “a highlight whenever Larry played it,” Danny Krivit recalls, “and he played it a lot!” Danny’s edit is a homage to Larry and Frankie Knuckles – in particular a similar private edit that Frankie did back in the day and shared with Krivit. “It was on reel to reel and I didn’t copy it correctly and lost it,” Danny remembers. “Reels were problematic! When I tried to get it again from him, unfortunately he had lost it too.” The song (likely an attempt by Motown to capitalize on the previous year’s monster hit “Don’t Leave Me This Way”) is, in its original form, a virtual retake of Thelma Houston’s breakout single, from the subdued, schmaltzy intro to the “oooh BABY!” leading to the chorus. What sets “I’m Here Again” apart though, is the incredible second half of the song. Naturally, it is here that Mr. K’s edit focuses. Over a vicious groove reminiscent of the Originals’ “Down To Love Town” breakdown (Michael Sutton wrote and produced both “Love Town” and “I’m Here Again”) Houston delivers soul-stirring ad libs as the band crackles with electricity behind her, the piano chasing a descending string riff so eagerly. Pure dancefloor peak energy! And the very first time having all these parts on a 7"!

For our flip, Danny has reached deep into the earliest foundations of his voluminous collection, and come out with a psychedelic pop classic rearranged for today’s sound systems and setlists. Recorded in the Beatles’ Abbey Road studio at the height of the Summer Of Love, the Zombies’ “Time Of The Season” is firmly linked in pop culture to the late ‘60s and the Vietnam era, breaking big in the summer of 1969. Krivit’s edit highlights the parade of lush sonic textures that ornament the hip composition, from the iconic, exquisitely echoed bass-clap-exhale riff that opens the song to the cascading Hammond organ solos of Rod Argent. “It’s a song from my childhood that really struck a chord,” Danny says. “Over the years I often played a rough edit which always seemed to go over great. The song seemed to get better and better, and age like fine wine.” We agree!

These two songs have both appeared on previous (separate) MEU 12-inches, but are presented here in custom new edits for the 7-inch format.

Maman Küsters return to Oráculo Records with “Oniromancia Completa”, a third vinyl release carved from tension and precision. The duo—Gaël Loison and Cyril Pansal— refine their language into something sharper, harder to define: a rigid hybrid of EBM and electro where structure becomes intensity. Furious step-sequenced arpeggios cut through dense low-end pressure, while knife-edged drums lock the body into a mechanical trance. On “Dos Mundos”, Pedro Peñas (UPR) enters the system with vocals that fracture the surface, adding a human pulse to an otherwise relentless machine. Built for dark rooms and uncompromising floors, Oniromancia Completa is not just played —it is deployed. There is no ornament here—only function, force, and control. A decisive strike for both electro and EBM purists.

Sound Synthesis. Four tracks. Analogue systems. Acid motion over faded structures. Electro pressure. Broken sequences. Direct impact. Internal drift. Signals extend beyond function -- suspended, displaced. Rhythmic force / latent space. No narrative. No ornament. Transmission.

glow-in-the-dark clear vinyl

In 1998, Carsten Nicolai, also known as Alva Noto, visited a sound installation created by Robert Lippok for a group exhibition in Weimar, Germany. Soon after, he invited Lippok to release music on his label raster-noton. »Open Close Open« was released in 2001 and marked the beginning of Lippok's solo career. Before, Lippok had already played in Ornament und Verbrechen (with his brother Ronald Lippok) and To Rococo Rot (with Ronald Lippok and Stefan Schneider).

The title of the EP is a linguistic reference to the instructions found on everyday objects. In fact, the sound of birds or a closing door can be heard. Besides field recordings, cultural fragments were used – including the sample of the famous Adagietto from Gustav Mahler's Symphony. No. 5. – and integrated into three loop-based pieces, that have been praised by Fact Magazine as »a masterclass in collage, looping and tactile processing.«

The source material for »Open Close Open« initially served as a soundtrack for a video by Takehito Koganezawa, a visual artist from Japan. For this remastered vinyl reissue, Lippok revisited the original sound material and produced a new track called »Licht.«

The first chapter of a new series exploring identity, temporality and the many dialects of contemporary techno. Four tracks, four distinct approaches, yet bound by a shared pursuit of tension, texture and transcendence.

Chronicles Diary introduces its identity with WAYF VOL1, the first entry in a series asking when, not where, this music belongs. The answer comes in four club pieces that favour impact over ornament, tracing tension, texture and a sense of forward movement.

Boyd Schidt & Uvall's "Bullet Train" is tensile 4/4, serrated hats and a tunnelling bassline pulling the room into a tight zone. Commissar Lag's "Battle Rites" ups the pressure, all offline bass and percussive rhythm. MMSS pares things back on "Aion_01," a looping, hypnotic figure that blurs time without dropping energy. Time Traveller (UK) closes with "Stud," glitched and driving, a roughcast groove that breathes between the hits. Four perspectives, one intent: functional, underground Techno that works.

Syncretic marks the debut full-length from Australian duo Bhairavi Raman, a Western and Carnatic violinist, and Nanthesh Sivarajah, a mridangam player and versatile percussionist. Both artists share a Tamil heritage, a current that hums across the album. Raman, from South India, and Sivarajah, from Sri Lanka, draw lines that connect Western practice and Carnatic tradition. This hybrid is central to Raman’s approach as a violinist, an instrument itself caught between East and West since the late 18th century. Her playing folds history, lineage and experimentation into music that acknowledges inheritance while gently rewiring its circuitry.

Expanding on traditional music can be a precarious practice, but Syncretic never feels heavy-handed. Raman and Sivarajah exercise measured restraint, letting the Carnatic framework breathe even as it is refracted through contemporary tools. Delays, looping, subtle layering and synthesized harmonies tilt tradition into a new light without disguising it.

Even within a contemporary framework, Raman’s rigorous Carnatic training under gurus Sri S. Varadarajan (India), Sri Murali Kumar (Australia) and Sri Gopinath Iyer (Australia) is unmistakable. She captures the spiritual and emotional essence of each raga: on Seven, the playful raga Bahudari becomes both centrepiece and conduit, while on the traditional piece Thunbam Nergayil, drawn from a Tamil poem, we hear a deeply personal iteration, a weeping euphony of mixed emotions hitting all at once. Tradition here is absorbed, expanded and reframed.

Sivarajah’s command of the mridangam, honed by his gurus Sri Jambunathan (Sri Lanka), Sri Balasri Rasiah (Australia) and Sri T. R. Sundaresan (India), is central to his original composition Guardian. He sustains tradition while extending it through layering and sound-spatialisation. The mridangam here functions as both a structural and ornamental force, mapping continuity between inherited form and contemporary sonic architecture.

Syncretic resonates as a space where Tamil heritage, diasporic memory and contemporary practice coalesce. Culture, like sound, circulates, transforms and persists. Tradition is not an archive but living material, a soundworld that lingers in the ears and the imagination.

»Reise der Schatten« (»Journey of Shadows«) is the soundtrack to the eponymous debut feature-length animation film by Swiss artist Yves Netzhammer. Composed by Anthony Pateras and released as a stand- alone album through Hallow Ground, the 29 pieces are based on »weird folk melodies ornamented with electro-acoustics to give the film a more fantastical, fairy-tale feeling,« as the composer puts it. His extensive international recording sessions with a slew of guest musicians results in a record imbued with a sense of mystical surrealism, otherworldly and haunting.

»Reise der Schatten« tells the abstracted story of a genderless being coming to terms with its identity and place in a world full of conflicts and systems of control. »The film was made with old animation software that only works on Mac OS 9. So already, we are in a very hermetic, unique space,« says Pateras. Having tried (and failed) to compose something »typically experimental,« he went for long walks in the Australian bushlands and came home with something else: the idea to create a soundtrack that would create »a kind of distance, or perceptual shift, but also a narrative drive and emotional context which is not always clear.«

While recording the album, the tētēma co-founder did not use digitally generated sound, instead workingwith live instrumentation whose sound palette was enriched by the use of feedback, tape delay, analogue synthesizers, and samples from vinyl records. Wanting to work primarily with acoustic instruments suchas the clarinet made Pateras embark on a complicated journey of his own. The initial recording sessions took place in Basel on metallophones that were designed by Domenico Melchiorre’s Lunason company and laid the foundation for everything that came after.

Pateras recorded with musicians such as guitarist Alexander Garsden, viola player Erkki Veltheim, clarinetist Aviva Endean, multi-instrumentalist Justin Marshall and Lizzy Welsh on the viola d’amore among other instruments. He recorded percussion and recorders with Rohan Rebeiro and Natasha Anderson in his hometown of Castlemaine, double bass with Benjamin Ward in Sydney, bass and flutes with Jon Heilbron and Rebecca Lane in Berlin, and electronics in Zürich with Netzhammer. »Reise der Schatten« was thus a literal journey, made with a »big, international electro-acoustic ensemble.«

As a stand-alone album, »Reise der Schatten« opens up a space of its own. Its stylistic diversity makes it atmospherically and emotionally multi-faceted. As its composer notes, »music for screen can be very virtuosic, sophisticated, and variegated!« His own work is a testament to that claim.

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Phét is a Tibetan syllable that means to cut through. Through concepts & obscurations. Through anything in the mind that stands as an obstacle to our direct engagement of the present. Such tempting distractions! Phét says: RIGHT NOW. As Phét does: RIGHT NOW.

That Jarrett Gilgore named his project after this mantra—Phét Phét Phét—underscores his interest in music as a form of awakening. Music as presence, manifestation, & channeling, more than as ornamentation or description of experience. This is no vessel for preconceived notions, but a record of musicians opening themselves to discovery & encounter through play. Through each other’s company. Phét Phét Phét says: Say farewell to what you’ve known. Say hello to everything you feel now, & to all the things that feel through you.

Although one could imagine that by 1993 any Italo Disco nuances would have been vanquished from sophisticated Italian production setups of the time, it is hard to ignore its presence in this particular work of Italian DJ and producer Gianpiero Pacetti. Much more so than in the work of his contemporaries at the time who would have shifted into full on early progressive trance in pursuit of novelty. Resulting in a refreshingly playful exploration of melodic themes, an aesthetic only to be heard again more than 10 years later with Dutch works like Alden Tyrell. With exception of Alvorada which distinguished itself as completely detached from any of the previously mentioned influences, diving deep into percussive samba elements adjoined by alluring arpeggios and other subtle melodic ornaments characteristic of early progressive trancey movements of the time. Includes new remix of “Alvorada” by Berlin's E-Talking. Remastered with new artwork.

Legacy Chicago craftsman Mark Nelson’s latest offering as Pan. American is less a distillation or divergence than it is a return to his musical and spiritual beginnings. Spare, subdued, and largely acoustic, A Son unfurls like late summer dusk on the edge of town, expansive but intimate.

Motivated by notions of “moving backward” and tracing roots – as well as a couple years of hammered dulcimer lessons – the album’s nine songs were written and recorded in his home in Evanston, Illinois, and honed during a recent solo tour in Europe. The emphasis on uncluttered arrangements and the centrality of the guitar and vocals reveal these songs as the most direct and emotional statement of his career.

Nelson cites everything from June Tabor, The Carter Family, Suicide and Jimmy Reed as oblique inspirations, though his truest muse was creative self-inquiry: “What does music do, Where does music start? How simple can it be? How honest can it be?”

After decades of mining post-rock pathways and latticework electronics in Labradford and early Pan. American, A Son strips away ornament and distraction in favor of a direct gaze into the heart of what is.

Trá Pháidín are a mutable collective of musicians who are geographically, culturally and mentally torn between Conamara Theas, Cathair Chorcaí, Ciarraí, Uíbh Fhailí, Sligeach and Port Láirge, active in one form or another since 2019. The music they make, which to date has mostly been self-released, is of an ambitious breadth, embracing traditional Irish absurdity, jazz, folk and krautrock influences, whilst remaining tantalisingly beyond any one specific understanding of either the world around them or even themselves. More defined however, is their overall conceptual approach, focusing upon original Gaelic music and what lies beyond simply “conas atá tú?”.

Cloch ‘s Claí (trans. Stone & Wall), their first record to be released by World of Echo, develops their established interests into more adventurous waters (and walls!) than ever. Based on the historical significance embedded into dry-stone walls, the album presents a satirical view of Éire’s relationship with her native tongue and the Gaeltacht (regions where Gaeilge - Irish Gaelic - remains the primary language). Constructed of ten tracks, each representative of a stone in a metaphorical stone-wall, Cloch ‘s Claí draws from styles of improvisation in Irish traditional music, exploring avenues of ornamentation and accompaniment in the tradition. As such, the arrangement changes in every performance, a new stone-wall articulated each time - the recording on this album represents just one such arrangement in one such performance. Inspired by Myles na gCopaleen’s An Béal Bocht, the wall comes to embody a variety of themes scattered across the landscape and psyche of na Gaeltachtaí - tokenism, housing, gentry politics, ribbon developments and so on. The result is a music expressive of regional styles in traditional music, krautrock, free jazz, post-rock, minimalism and drone presented in a way that feels instinctively fluid and reflective of a hushed existentialism from the west of Ireland.

On Cloch ‘s Claí, Trá Pháidín are: Conal Ó hAinmhuighe, Ultan Ó Labhradha, Peadar-Tom Mercier, Micheál Fitzgerald, Pól Ó Lionáird, Ruairí De Búrca. Cloch ‘s Claí will be released digitally and as a limited edition LP on 25th September via World of Echo. This record was created through the support of the DEIS Recording Grant & Ealaín na Gaeltachta.

Richmond's IRON REAGAN returns with their original lineup for the thrashing new EP, DEMONETIZATION. 6 blistering tracks clocking in at just 10 minutes, DEMONETIZATION shows the band (Tony Foresta, Ryan Parrish, Dr. Guitar, Phil Hall, and Adam Guilliams) crushing through the Punk, Hardcore, Fastcore, Thrash Metal, and more that have made IRON REAGAN a mainstay since their original 2012 demo. IRON REAGAN's most Punk lineup returns to deliver breakneck music at breakneck speeds. "Very excited to release new music with the original Iron Reagan lineup," says Foresta. "This is the first time we've released something with Paul since 2014 (Exhumed Split). This is some of our strongest/heaviest material we've done to date. Looking forward to getting back on the road with these guys and seeing everybody." Reactivated and ready to roll, IRON REAGAN promises that DEMONETIZATION is just a taste of things to come! Short: Richmond's IRON REAGAN returns with their original lineup for the thrashing new EP, DEMONETIZATION. FFO: D.R.I., Power Trip, Iron Age, The Accused, Nuclear Assault, Anthrax

A boundary-pushing musician and multi-media artist from Brooklyn, New York, Frances Chang disrupts accepted reality through her unique and enchanting compositions. Chang’s songs are an exercise in communication, probing the tension between idiosyncratic personal experience and the drive to understand, and be understood, through a collective language.
For “I can feel the waves,” Chang’s new single and debut on RVNG Intl., a piano-centric melody is ornamented with primitive electronics and poetic vocals. The track boldly demonstrates Chang’s strength for unconventional yet contagious songwriting, and pioneers a genre the artist refers to as “slacker prog”: roomy and playful, offbeat and occasionally jarring, brimming with spiritual and emotional resonance.
The b-side, “Marry,” is a rollicking yet laid-back composition, with undaunted wobbly kicks bubbling under pianistic textures until a dialogue, acted out between Chang and Sylvia Gorelick, takes the foreground in the final moments of the track. As the instrumental carries its freewheeling pulse forward, the conversation, inspired by films like Kenneth Lonergan’s Margaret and Catherine Breillat’s Fat Girl!, along with Broken Social Scene’s “Anthems for a Seventeen-Year Old Girl,” turns toward the relationship between internal subjectivity and the external necessity of “staying small.”
Where is Frances headed from here? A piano is at the center, synths and strings swelling around its shoulders. A little less tension, a lot more production. Some shadows will be encountered, some forgotten skeletons unearthed. Music excavated from the subtler, deeper layers of cerebral and shared experiences. Music that is truly its own.

Ornaments continues its long-standing journey with Carlos Nilmmns, presenting a new mini-LP that effortlessly fuses sophisticated late-night club grooves with raw emotional depth. Across six expertly crafted tracks, Nilmmns delivers a rich sonic spectrum: from smoke-filled jazzy cuts and deep, hypnotic vibes to uplifting, funky piano house designed for the dancefloor. The emotional centerpiece of the record belongs to two breathtakingly deep, vocal-led songs featuring the beautiful, timeless voices of Genoveva, Keter Darker, and the legendary Karl The Voice — a poignant, soulful tribute that grounds the entire release

For our 30th anniversary, we reissue three absolute minimal techno statements by Robert Hood. These tracks define the birth of minimal techno — reduced to rhythm, pressure and repetition. No ornament. No compromise. Just structure, tension and movement. Originally released on Logistic Records, they remain as powerful and modern today as they were in the early 90s. Functional. Spiritual. Underground.

2026 Repress

Ornaments proudly welcomes Lesterr with the "2 Jahre Dazwischen" EP — a beautifully crafted journey through two distinct sonic perspectives. The A-side offers a deep and heartfelt dancefloor journey with subtle piano infusions, complemented by a mesmerizing, deep grooving remix from none
other than Isolée. On the B-side, the mood shifts inward with four immersive cuts drifting from ambient landscapes to laid-back downbeats — perfect for your listening pleasure.

In 1979, the Soviet label Melodiya released a record that immediately stood apart from most Soviet jazz of its time and perhaps for that very reason never became widely known. Oriental Suite by Oleg Gotskosik Quintet is a rare example of jazz, Eastern musical tradition, and compositional thinking coming together not as an exotic stylization but as a fully formed artistic statement.

This is not “Oriental colour” used as decoration, nor folklore treated as an ornament. Oriental Suite grows from within another musical tradition, with its monody, modal logic, slow unfolding of form, and focus on inner states rather than outward effect. The music is calm and concentrated. It does not try to impress, but gradually draws the listener into its own space.
Oleg Gotskozik was born in Tashkent in 1951, a city where Eastern music was part of everyday life rather than something distant or exotic. That may explain why his engagement with traditional material sounds so natural. He does not quote or stylize; he thinks in the same musical categories. By temperament, he was closer to a composer than to a jazz musician in the conventional sense. For him, jazz was not a style but a way of working with form and improvisation.There is no standard “theme and solos” logic in Oriental Suite. Improvisation is woven into the fabric of the music itself and unfolds in the same way as in oral traditions, gradually, with rising tension and a clear sense of arrival. Individual sections refer to traditional Uzbek genres such as lullabies, lyrical songs, and funeral laments, but these are not genre sketches. They are states of being. The music unfolds slowly, avoiding familiar harmonic drama and relying instead on modal scales and subtle internal movement.

A special role is played by trumpeter Yuri Parfyonov. His approach, with delayed vibrato, micro-glissandi, and melismatic phrasing, sounded unexpected at the end of the 1970s and still feels remarkably fresh today. This is not expressive jazz virtuosity but a focused, almost meditative voice, where improvisation becomes a form of inner speech.
It is also important to note that the original recording was not without technical flaws. Like many Soviet jazz releases of the time, Oriental Suite was captured under far from ideal conditions, and the master contained audible imperfections that were never part of the music itself. For this edition, the restoration was approached with great care and respect, working through the recording moment by moment to remove unwanted artifacts while preserving the character and atmosphere of the original. The aim was simple: to make sure nothing stands in the way of fully experiencing the music.

In the early 1980s, Oleg Gotskozik left the Soviet Union, and after that his name virtually disappeared from Soviet music journalism and literature. There were no official bans or public statements. He was simply no longer mentioned. Oriental Suite continued to exist on its own, without an author and without context. The record never entered the canon, received no continuation, and was never officially reissued. It seemed to fall out of time.
The original vinyl pressing was released in a run of around 32,000 copies, but most of them remained within the republic and never reached wide circulation. Today, original copies are hard to find and have long become objects of interest for collectors. There have been no official reissues, only attempts that never went beyond test pressings.
Today, Oriental Suite sounds surprisingly contemporary. It is music that can be described as deep ethno-jazz and even, in a certain sense, spiritual jazz. There is no exoticism here, no decorative borrowing, only a complete immersion in another musical way of thinking. It does not require explanations and does not need to be justified by its time.
This is not a forgotten curiosity revived for collectors’ sake. It is music that simply waited for the moment when it could be heard without ideological filters or genre expectations. Now it is returning quietly, without noise or hype, but with the clear sense that this is not an artifact of an era, but a living and genuinely rare artistic statement.

Toronto’s Ducks Ltd. (formerly Ducks Unlimited), the bright jangle-pop duo of Tom McGreevy (lead vocal, guitar, bass, keyboards) and Evan Lewis (guitar, bass, drum programming), accomplish the impossible. The pair craft songs that play to very specific inspirations without drowning underneath them—immediately evidenced on their critically acclaimed EP, Get Bleak, and sharpened on Modern Fiction, their debut LP. “The Servants, The Clean, The Chills, The Bats, Television Personalities, Felt,” Evan rattles off. “Look Blue Go Purple is one I reference a lot with our production.” Echoes of ‘80s indiepop abound, but they never overwhelm. This is not a nostalgic record, after all, nor is it a derivative one. Instead, across 10 cheery-sounding songs, Ducks Ltd. explore contemporary society in decline, examining large scale human disaster through personal turmoil (hence the title, taken from a university course called Gnosticism and Nihilism in Modern Fiction, influenced by Graham Greene novels. Bookish indie fans, look no further.)

Writing the album was intimate. Tom drafted the nucleus of a song on an unplugged electric guitar and brought it over to Evan’s apartment, where the pair sat in his bedroom, placing percussive beats from a drum machine under nascent melodies, passing a bass back and forth, adding organs and bridges where necessary. “It’s computer music trying extremely hard not to sound like computer music,” Tom jokes. Fearful that limited and expensive studio time would kneecap the project creatively, eroding their charming naivete, the pair re-recorded the album in a storage space owned by Evan’s boss. Ornamentation through collaboration followed: there’s Aaron Goldstein on Pedal Steel in the Go-Betweens’ “Cattle and Cane”-channeling interlude “Patience Wearing Thin,” Eliza Niemi on cello (“18 Cigarettes,” a song loosely inspired by a 1997 Oasis performance of “Don’t Go Away”), and backing harmonies from Carpark labelmates The Beths (on an ode to friendship at a distance, “How Lonely Are You?,” “Always There,” and on the sped-up Syd Barrett stylings of “Under The Rolling Moon.”) While in his native Australia due to covid-19, Evan worked closely with producer James Cecil (The Goon Sax, Architecture in Helsinki) on Modern Fiction’s finishing touches—at one point, in the mountains of the Macedon Ranges in Victoria, recorded a string quartet (featured on “Fit to Burst,” “Always There,” “Sullen Leering Hope,” “Twere Ever Thus,” “Grand Final Day.”)

It’s danceable, depressive fun, with some relief: in “Always There” and “Sullen Leering Hope,” Modern Fiction’s faithful heart. “There’s a tendency in my writing, because of my world view, to be very bleak.” Tom explains. “A quality I don’t always see in myself and really appreciate in others is the courage to go on.” And yet, the record manages resiliency—enough for pop fans to fall in love with.

Primordial Mind forms the mysteries and intensity of inner life into eight mandalic instrumentals where Mas Aya and Khôra, artists who share 15 years of music making, orchestrate an inspired, prismatic palette of percussive and melodic sources. Each composition presented stages a vigorous meshwork of colours and textures, contrasting riveting polyrhythms with towering arrangements for flutes, synths, and processed acoustic instruments. Tendencies which the artists trace in their solo practices are amplified, blended, and refracted sublimely in unison, serving as energetic portals to the collective awareness.

Combining trans-ethnic scaling alongside a heady brew of rhythmic influences and advanced electronic processing, the recordings on this album operate with a tactility that vaults between free jazz, dub, raga, ambient, and ritual music. Assimilated powers of primal drum patterning and psychoactive, ceremonial melodies, invoke fourth world adjacencies with the work of Don Cherry, Jon Hassell, Popol Vuh et al. There is an alchemical, Buddhist/Taoist/Hindu inflection that guides the record’s narrative, formed through dialogue between the artists over lifelong shared interest in spiritual modalities generally and the tantric approaches of the global east in particular. The album title is derived from an unexcelled esoteric work known as the Kalachakra (Wheel of Time)Tantra and its associated commentary the Ornament of Stainless Light which detail forms of inner and outer transubstantiation within its complex cosmology and metaphysiology.

Mas Aya is the moniker of Brandon Miguel Valdivia, acclaimed Nicaraguan-Canadian composer, producer, and musician whose electronic and jazz inspired works creatively interlace Colombian, Cuban, and a wide array of traditional music. Khôra is the name of the occult entity that uses multi-instrumentalist, producer, and writer Matthew Ramolo to pronounce itself. Returning to Marionette following 2024's monumental Gestures of Perception, Primordial Mind reinforces the rigorous and magical approach to creation which defines Khôra’s two decades of sonic output. Brandon and Matthew met back in 2011 and the pair toured around eastern Europe with Toronto band Picastro in 2013, also performing as a duo with Brandon contributing drums to Khôra's opening sets. After a short spate composing and playing in the ensemble Bespoken together, they continued to discover shared inspiration in psych/art rock, jazz, experimental and electronic music, providing a fertile soil for friendship and collaboration resulting in their collaged, lo-fi album Tangled Roots in 2017. Mythic and talismanic, the duo's Marionette debut weaves a luminous tapestry of organic pulses, offering itself as a support for resonant meditation and a motor for lucid action and intuition.

Brandon Miguel Valdivia: Percussion, Flutes, Log Drum, Korg Lambda, Angklung, Tambor Alegre, Udu
Matthew Ramolo: Modular Synth, Archival Samples, Angklung, Guitar, Duduk, Bass, Percussion, Arrangements and Mix

Late Bush presents “Hoarses” on the label Vlek Records, an original repertoire in which he blends electronic music - power ambient, IDM, avant-pop - and early music, which share the same affective intensity, a taste for ornamentation and a form of sonic excess.

At the heart of this material, AI-cloned voices, both human and spectral, extend the idea that any baroque interpretation is a reconstruction of the unknown. They contrast with organic strings recorded with Echo Collective, in a temporal and radical hybridization, creating a fluid and unstable material, between memory and simulation.

One of the conceptual starting points is essential: we have no sonic trace of baroque music as it was played. Only scores remain, and sometimes contradictory indications, a sensitive archaeology, even an imaginary projection.

Everything that is played today is therefore, in fact, a reconstruction, an interpretation of a vanished material. According to this logic and to pursue this reflection, the cloned voices, transformed by AI, are not a rupture but propose a natural continuation of this chain of reinvention, of this relationship to the invisible, to the indefinite. They do not aim to replace a human voice, but rather to embody the fact that any baroque restitution is already a fiction.

The project does not seek to imitate the real, but to play with the thresholds of the plausible, of the spectral. The music then becomes a fluid material, manipulable, alterable, and the performers, musicians or machines, are its vehicles.

The strings, carried by the sensitive and expressive interpretation of Echo Collective, breathe into the project a vibrant authenticity. Their presence brings an organic and tactile dimension that contrasts with the fluid and intangible aspect of the voices and the electronics.

Dancing Waters is a musical fusion where the Mediterranean soul meets the deep-rooted mysticism of Cental Asia. Inspired by the surprising resonance between the work melodies of Balearic Islands and Pitiüses Islands and the haunting beauty of Persian and Byzantine melodies. QANAT weaves together the rich traditions of the Mediterranean, Mesopotamia, and Persia. The project blends old Balearic work songs with the modal textures of Middle Eastern and Central Asian music -including influences from Iran, Turkey, Tajikistan, and the ancient region of Khorasan. At the heart of the project is the remarkable melodic kinship between Balearic field songs-once sung during rural labor-and the ancient echoes of Byzantine chant. QANAT bridges these traditions, crafting new musical landscapes through original compositions, instrumental dialogues, and vocal ornamentations that celebrate the shared soul of these distant-yet-connected cultures.

Double Exposure ist das neue Album des britischen Multiinstrumentalisten James Hoare, bekannt aus Bands wie Veronica Falls, Ultimate Painting und Proper Ornaments. Unter seinem Solo-Pseudonym Penny Arcade präsentiert er ein Werk, das noch roher, spontaner und experimenteller klingt als sein Debüt Backwater Collage (2024). Die Songs entstanden größtenteils schnell und intuitiv - aufgenommen auf einer 16-Spur-Bandmaschine, mit alten Drumcomputern, schwebenden Orgeln und reduzierten Arrangements. Gitarre ist erstmals nicht das zentrale Element, auch wenn Stücke wie "Regrets" zeigen, wie eindringlich Hoares Gitarrenarbeit bleibt. Das Album bewegt sich zwischen psychedelischen Folk-Momenten, Lo-Fi-Experimenten, souligen Anklängen und analogen Klanglandschaften, die an die Offenheit von Syd Barrett oder die Tape-Ästhetik von White Fence erinnern. Songs wie "Worst Trip", "Rear View Mirror" oder das träumerisch-verrauchíte "We Used To Be Good Friends" wirken wie spontane Momentaufnahmen - unfertig im besten Sinne, atmosphärisch dicht und voller subtiler Melodien. Double Exposure ist ein Album der Stimmungen und Schichten: ein intuitiver, unprätentiöser Blick in Hoares kreative Innenwelt, geprägt von Umbrüchen, Ortswechseln und der Schönheit des Ungefilterten.

This release is an act of breaking out of conventional categories for Seismic records. Established boundaries of genres are completely dissolved into an unpredictable flow of sonic associations. It’s an unexpected collaboration, yet it makes perfect sense from the first kick. Two artists from seemingly opposite ends of the musical universe come together to create a project which fearlessly embarks on the synthesis of hypnotic trance-techno and utter sonic chaos. This project is anything but predictable.

The duality is noticeable from the very first moment. One side brings relentless movement forward in the project: a raw, hypnotic pulse based on rhythm and precision, locking the listener in the present moment and not letting go. Unpredictable textures and psychedelic ornaments are constantly weaving through the rhythmic framework.

A dedicated listener may recognize that the whole EP carries the legacy of David Lynch’s work. The sense of peculiar uneasiness and indecipherability, overridden by the desire to find out what comes next, are exactly what the artists manage to capture and what is so characteristic of Lynch himself. At one point, the EP even reveals a moment as if a red curtain parts in the depths of the track and the listener momentarily catches echoes from the town where owls are not what they seem. Hidden within is a playful nod to the iconic Twin Peaks soundtrack.

It seems almost inevitable that at some stage Blue Matter and The Green Ray would be working together, and we’re delighted to say that this is now about to happen. When Blue Matter co-boss, Nick Saloman, was living in Walthamstow, he sat in with The Green Ray many times at the late-lamented Plough Inn on Wood Street (now a mini-supermarket). In more recent times Nick’s band, The Bevis Frond has played live with them on several occasions, and without wishing to disrespect any former members, the current Green Ray line-up sounds as good as they’ve ever sounded, if not, dare we say, even better than before. The Green Ray was originally assembled in the mid-90s by Ken Whaley & Richard Treece, two key members of Walthamstow legends, Help Yourself. During the last 30 years or so, they have released 7 albums and one 12” single.

Sadly, the line-up has changed quite frequently due to the passing of several of their number. Ken & Richard passed away some years ago, and more recently bassist Jeff Gibbs departed this world. However, now under the all-seeing eye of guitarist Simon Whaley, the current line-up is continuing to fly the East London freak flag high. Not long ago Simon asked us if Blue Matter would like to issue their latest offering, and we came back with a resounding “yes please”. ‘Orchard House’ is a superb album, full of great playing and great songs. There are shades of Mighty Baby and Help Yourself (at their trippiest), plus a West Coast atmosphere which put us in mind of Quicksilver and The Grateful Dead. It’s taken some time to happen, but at last Blue Matter & The Green Ray have come together to issue an unmissable album. So don’t miss it.

Salix is a bold new departure for modular synthesist Loula Yorke, seen here using an antique reed organ to explore the ancient roots of willow trees in magic, myth and medicine, as well as inviting another musician into her recording studio for the first time, clarinettist Charlotte Jolly.

The EP forms a sonic archive of a singular instrument: an antique free reed organ left behind by a previous encumbent of Asylum Studios, (the artists' co-operative in Suffolk where Yorke's Truxalis labelmate and life collaborator, Seiche, has a studio space). The organ is in poor condition and fascinatingly, painfully detuned. Yorke's recordings bring out its host of unusual quirks exacerbated by age and neglect: the powerful rhythmic creaking of the wooden treadles; the bone-shaking resonance emanating from its body at specific pitches; unexpected exclamations of harmonic collision from within the carcass redolent of a human voice; the piercing, shrieking whistles of broken reeds, and the powerful timbres unlocked via Yorke's experiments with various combinations of stops.

The three tracks that form Salix are inspired by a local weeping willow tree, a constant companion photographed over the course of a year. Boughs caught in a gyre. A maiden in mourning. Branches that gesture in the wrong direction. A tree turned upside down. A hand-woven willow basket, an old technology to gather and store. The journey of a lovelorn bard through the underworld, a bundle of willow under one arm for protection.

For the opening track, The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction, Yorke recorded herself playing a simple unaccompanied improvisation on the organ, the only ornamentation being the processed sounds of the keys being struck and returning to their positions.

For Bundle of Styx, a spell of protection is cast and then broken. Yorke invited virtuoso clarinettist Charlotte Jolly into the studio to test combining the breathy textures of both brass and natural reeds, the instruments uniting and obsuring each other in turn during this one-take improvisation. The organ's unpredictable sharpened tunings take centre stage here, with Jolly using them as a point of departure to conjure a set of peerless harmonic improvisations live in the moment. Throughout the improvisation, Yorke, a self-taught musician, unpracticed on the organ, supports and challenges, freely admitting that she's not always sure what effect her decisions to move up and down the keyboard or pull out certain stops will have. Jolly's genius lies in her ability to meet and build on every uncertain pitch thrown her way, saying of the experience, "I love that Loula isn't classically trained, I can't predict at all what she's about to do."

For the final track, With the Red Dawn, Yorke has come up with another unique combination of textures, this time bringing her own specialism in modular synthesis to the fore. A ten-minute reed organ drone characterised with ever-shifting bass swells and overtones is layered with tuned sines, often shudderingly wave-folded, that ebb and flow both in intensity and harmonic colour according to the duty cycles of eight interrelated LFOs. These recordings are collaged with Yorke's singing voice and a langorous, ascending sequence across two octaves on Jolly's clarinet, all arranged to form a cohesive whole far greater than the sum of its parts. Smatterings of untuned percussion and a fragment of a conversation between the duo left in the final mix cements Yorke's unprecious DIY aesthetic into the release.

At its heart, Salix is like watching the wind in the willows; hundreds of thousands of identical tiny leaves moving in confluence on its branches; at once one thing and many things; moment-to-moment our perception makes out different individuals parts within this expanse of texture, before sinking back into the whole.

Mathias Kaden announces the ‘Three Decades’ LP on Rekids, releasing 3rd April 2026, with single ‘Fyutr’ featuring Zoë Xenia and a remix from the legendary Dennis Ferrer available now. His third full-length, following 2009’s ‘Studio 10’ on Vakant and 2015’s ‘Energetic’ on Freunden Am Tanzen, ‘Three Decades’ spans nine tracks and celebrates Kaden’s 30-year career as one of Germany’s most enduring House and Techno figures.

The ‘Three Decades' album opens with a title intro, in which Mathias Kaden expresses gratitude to those closest to him before moving into his signature deep, emotive House sound. Tracks like ‘Keep Balance’ set the tone with sub-heavy bass and crisp, driving drums, occasionally punctuated by vocal snippets, while ‘I Got You’ features Cassy for a high-energy, soulful dancefloor moment. Reminiscent of Kaden’s work as Mathimidori, the dubbiness of ‘Getting Closer’ sets the stage for ‘Inner Signal’, which leans into wiggy electro territory, before the second record shifts gears with ‘Next Wave’ and ‘Shelter’, returning to pacey, piano-fuelled rave energy.

‘Viral’ follows with tough drums and excellent stab work, before the album closes on ‘Fyutr’, Kaden’s collaboration with Zoë Xenia, already supported by Honey Dijon, DJ Deep, Laurent Garnier, and more. Active since the mid-90s, Mathias Kaden quickly became one of the artists at the forefront of Germany’s flourishing rave scene. He began releasing music in the early 2000s, first collaborating with Marek Hemmann on a series of EPs for Freude Am Tanzen, before establishing himself as a solo artist with more than two dozen EPs on labels including Desolat, Watergate Records, Pets Recordings, Diynamic, Ovum, and Cocoon. Since first appearing on Rekids in 2019 with the ‘Control Your Mind’ EP, Kaden has released multiple projects on the label and remains a regular contributor to its catalogue.

Alongside his own productions, he has remixed artists such as DJ Koze, KiNK, Monika Kruse, Trentemøller, and Sven Väth, while under his Mathimidori alias, he has explored more spacious territory with releases on Mule Musiq, Ornaments, and Freund der Familie, including an additional album, ‘Akebono’, on Echocord.

The first resonant space Zosha Warpeha played in was the Emanuel Vigeland Museum in Oslo, Norway. Built as a mausoleum, its walls reach up into a gradual archway, creating an environment where sound expands and reverberates for twelve seconds before decaying into silence. Warpeha was greeted only by dim lights when she entered, and it wasn’t until she had spent several minutes listening that she was able to make out the frescoes that covered every inch of the room: graphic depictions of the cycle of life from conception through death. As the sound of her Hardanger d’amore encountered the walls and these slowly emerging scenes, they obscured its point of origin in both time and space, augmenting its own life cycle. The experience sat in the back of her mind over the next several years as she developed her own patient style of composition and performance, one that comes into full bloom on her new album I grow accustomed to the dark.

When Warpeha was selected as an artist in residence at Brooklyn’s ISSUE Project Room in 2025, she saw it as an opportunity to more intentionally explore how her music might fill a room with ample natural reverb. I grow accustomed to the dark documents two single-take solo performances for Hardanger d’amore and voice at IPR, with both pieces composed in a unique tuning system developed to interact with the space itself. Listeners can trace resonance from the contact of the bow on gut strings into the body of the instrument, its five sympathetic strings offering another layer of refraction, before the sound is thrown about the cavity of the room. The echoes emerge like a photographic double exposure, or wisps of smoke that linger in the air, creating ghostly harmonic convergences that blur the line between what is there and not-there. Sound begins to act like light, a synesthetic alchemy that transforms drones into beams and ornamental trills into flickers.

Both side-long compositions, “filament” and “visual purple,” exemplify a duality that animates Warpeha’s music: an expressive, individualistic style that draws on extensive knowledge of her instrument’s history in folk traditions, and an austere, devotional quality maintained by focus and precision. Though very different in character and structure, both pieces evolve slowly through numerous repetitive phrases, passages of stillness, and bursts of intensity. “filament” opens with a cycle of delicate melodic fragments played and sung around a drone before blossoming into an outpouring of swooping arpeggios, harmonics flying from the strings like sparks off a bonfire. The disorienting pulsation of harmonic beating forms the core of “visual purple,” the close-tone dissonance building to a swarm of open strings ringing boldly throughout the space. After the knotty tones reach their climax, the piece collapses into studied quietude, hushed, but without any drop in intensity.

When Warpeha first visited the Vigeland Museum in 2019, she was in Oslo to deepen her relationship to the Hardanger fiddle through the study of Norwegian traditional music, which is primarily passed down aurally. The experience of learning songs by ear, not only internalizing the tune but also absorbing the techniques and tonalities by listening, was a crucial step in her development as a composer. The years since have seen her sharpen those skills as a prolific member of the New York avant-garde and improvised music communities. Warpeha’s music encourages listeners to join her in this journey, to listen closely with each repeated phrase and through each dramatic shift. Like the frescoes on Vigeland’s walls, with time and intention, the depth of I grow accustomed to the dark comes on like a revelation.

Taroug is the solo project by drummer and electronic music producer Tarek Zarroug with roots in the suburbs of the Tunisian desert and having grown up in Germany. Following the release of his 2020 EP, "Perpetual," as well as a number of notable remixes for artists such as Archive, Taroug has continued to refine his musical aesthetic.

Taroug's debut album Darts & Kites, set to be released on Denovali Records, draws inspiration from the Penrose tiling and explores themes of change and transformation. Fascinated from the pattern's unending possibilities, Taroug incorporated its infinite permutations not only into the album's nine tracks, but also in the cover art design. Darts & Kites showcases a blending of genres and styles, resulting in a sonic landscape, that is both hunting and beautiful. Experimental and abstract soundscapes are enriched by oriental influences, collected field recordings, pulsating dark beats and hypnotic vocals.

The album also features the contributions of other notable artists, including Beate Wolff's cello performance on Jewels I. Benedikt Koch's saxophone adds a sense of controlled chaos with delayed and swelling notes to the track Deguech, while Timo Schieber's piano provides a crucial element of the album's title track, Darts & Kites. Niklas Genschel lends his vocals to Queen of Carthage, which also features the saz playing of Abdallah Abozekry.

Created in collaboration with architect and designer Marie Brosius, the album artwork captures different ornaments reflecting the album's content. Darts & Kites is a mosaic of sound, blending together elements of unfamiliar and familiar.

Alex Rex, the project of acclaimed musician and former Trembling Bells bandleader Alex Neilson, is set to release his fourth and final studio album, The National Trust, on March 28th. Written in the wake of the sudden death of his younger brother, Alastair, the album is a poignant reflection on loss, love, and renewal, deeply rooted in the landscape of Carbeth—a cabin community in the Scottish countryside that Alastair called home. For Neilson, the cabin became both a physical and emotional project, a symbol of restoration and reconnection.

"For the first four years after Alastair died, his cabin lay empty and exposed to the remorseless Scottish weather. It came to look like a rotten tooth in a beautiful mouth. Cladding was dropping off its veneer, the ashen baubles of dead wasps nests clung to the rafters, all his possessions were just as he'd left them but eaten by mice, moths and time. Ashtrays still carried the crushed centimetres of his old tab ends. The cabins are so joyfully animated by their host's specific personality and this one looked like a haunted house. Guilt, unrealised hopes and encroaching nature yoked together in a wandering sadness. Combined with the fact that I didn't know the right way round to hold a hammer made the project of its restoration seem hopeless.”

Neilson, however, gradually began chipping away at the task, determined to transform the cabin into something he hoped would resemble “a National Trust site occupied by a psychopath,” with a little help from some friends, including Lavinia Blackwall and Marco Rea.

“They poured love into the cabin and helped restore Alastair's original vision. The project also helped restore my relationship with Lavinia which had fractured after Trembling Bells broke up in 2017. Alongside long-term Rex lieutenant Rory Haye, we applied the same intensity of dedication that we did in renovating the cabin, into creating The National Trust.”

As with Neilson’s previous albums, the recording process was intentionally unpolished, with songs presented in the studio with no rehearsals and captured in just a few takes. This raw, immediate approach amplifies the emotional weight of the album, which Neilson describes as being at a “personal apex of sour self-reflection, mock misanthropy, and self-exposure.” Longtime collaborators Lavinia Blackwall, Marco Rea, and Rory Haye return, alongside guest musicians like Jill O’Sullivan (Jill Lorean) and Trembling Bells guitarist Mike Hastings, to bring Neilson’s vision to life. The result is a deeply personal and multifaceted work, blending acid wit with haunting introspection.

The songs on The National Trust traverse a wide emotional and thematic range. The title track opens the album with a sharp and confessional edge, exploring love, loathing, and cultural critique with Neilson’s signature wit. “Boss Morris” pays tribute to the all-female Morris dancing troupe that reinvents British folk with vibrant energy, while “Two Kinds of Song” turns self-referential humour into an avalanche of remorse, culminating in the unforgettable chorus: “I’ve got two kinds of song. Which one will it be; one where I hate myself or one where you hate me?” Elsewhere, tracks like “Psychic Rome” draw from the decadence and hysteria of ancient Rome, while “The Coward in the Tower” breaks new ground as the only song Neilson has composed on an instrument before recording.

Throughout the album, Neilson’s lyricism is as vivid as ever, transforming personal tragedy into poignant and often darkly humorous art. Yet, there is a sense of finality to this work. "Songwriting has encouraged me to see the whole world as a resource. The things people say and throw away can be chiselled and polished and plopped into a lyric. It’s the same with building the cabin- scouring the edges of society for pallets, discarded wood, ornaments for the garden. But while song writing brings to life orphaned parts of my personality, the cabin is a synthesis of all my interests – nurturing my emotional health instead of exploiting it. With that in mind, I think this will be my last album as Alex Rex.”

With The National Trust, Neilson closes a significant chapter of his career, blending masterful musicianship with deeply personal storytelling. Known for his collaborations with artists such as Bonnie "Prince" Billy, Shirley Collins, and Current 93, as well as his decade-long tenure leading the psych-folk outfit Trembling Bells, Neilson has long been celebrated for his eclectic and uncompromising vision. This final album serves as a fitting culmination of his journey as Alex Rex, capturing the essence of his artistry while offering a profound exploration of loss, renewal, and the enduring power of love.