Search:pitch drift

The first vinyl release for Ibiza's new born Pomodoro Records consists on a 5 tracker EP by Pitch drift. Dark and elegant defines this dancefloor oriented record that contains sharp percussions and hypnotic melodies. Each track for a different club situation.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

2024 repress

In February 2021, Jan Jelinek's seminal album "Loop-Finding-Jazz-Records" turned 20. The anniversary repress, a double LP with two bonus tracks (B-sides from the Tendency EP, 2000), is a little late to the party.
What the press said about Loop-Finding-Jazz-Records:
“Don’t be misled by the title, though for there isn’t a finger-snapping rhythm c bebop lead anywhere on the album. Instead, Jelinek chooses to explore the visual effect moiré - two shifting patterns creating an implied third dimension - in the audio realm.” (Alternative Press)
“The title acts as explanation for the studio technique that provided the basis for this album, snippets of other people’s arrangements deconstructed through a sampler into loops and then splashed onto an audio canvas.” (ATM)
“Jelinek’s sound evolved out of his dislike for (and inability to play) keyboards.” (RPM)
“Jelinek has abstracted his sources beyond recognition, looping his millisecond samples into flickering patterns of sonic moiré laid atop a dub Techno framework. (...) Jelinek might as well have sampled a horn player’s hissing intake of breath – it would have been ‘jazz’ enough for his purposes.“ (The Wire)
“It’s a perfect inversion of conventional music, a sonic negative. Everything that would typically be foreground is moved back or pushed off the screen altogether, and the flecks of sonic debris that would normally be covered by other sounds are left to carry the melody and rhythm.” (Pitchfork)
“All you need to know is that these onomatopoeic non-specific songs (...) are warm, paradisical creations”. (NME)
“Listen carefully and you’ll hear textures slowly unfolding and mutating. Presuming you’ve not fallen asleep of course.” (iDJ)
“At times, it’s all a bit dripping tap Japanese water torture; so sedentary it drowns in its own motionlessness” (DJ)
“Loop Finding Jazz Records' is a genuine modern classic whose re-release is anything but a cynical mortgage repayment exercise. Consider this a second chance, then pretend you had it all along.” (Boomkat)
PS:
“I’ve been fortunate enough to see Jan Jelinek live once, at Tonic NYC (...). Wearing a black and white striped shirt, he looked like a nihilistic Charlie Brown.” (beachsloth)

A collection of transfixing, storm-like compositions, "Drifts" draws you into its heightened sense of quiet, reveling in iridescent, tranquilized vapors - one part ambient Classical, one part Club-adjacent ambience.

Pitched, reduced, sampled and re-sampled, the album's glowing, elliptical abstractions - using piano, harp, strings & modular synthesizer - explore the emotional terrain between aftermath and renewal, blending the unstructured immediacy of improvisation with the elegant sculpture of composition.

"Drifts" represents for its maker a newfound interest in shadow and mystery, each track a shifting terrain, a collection of clues, a scene set in a larger story, the effect cumulative.

Featuring collaborations with Patrick Belaga, Marilu Donovan (LEYA), and Takuma Watanabe, the album's cinematic suite of impressionistic, ambient works invites the listener into a vast, mapless space of dreamlike non-linearity where interior and exterior landscapes bristle with intimacy and electricity.

Default Mode by Raleigh & Takenaga continues the newly established X series – Harmony’s platform for new voices and limitless exploration. Hailing from Prague, the duo embodies the next wave of adventurous sound design and musical talent from the imprint’s home town.

Incentive Program opens the EP’s A side with a drifting, trance-tinged flow wrapped in sweeping pitch movements and fractured vocals. The track sets a shadowy, almost sinister atmosphere, pulling all witnesses into its slow-burn gravity. It’s a steady build, tipping the floor over the edge. Stiff Envelope pulls you into its depths as it continues to build tension with resonating synth hits that quiver over a powerful trance foundation. With a few moments of silence that let its unsettling atmosphere settle across the stereo field before swinging back in at full force, this one is tailor-made for big systems.

B side’s Ground Floor carries on with metallic swells and shimmers that ring underneath the surface as the tension built on the A side bursts, settling into a grounding four-on-the-floor moment and leaving just enough time to breathe before Raleigh stirs up a concoction of devious vocals, snappy percussion, and a seductive bassline that lifts the mood tastefully. Takenaga wraps up the record with Head Count, a razor-sharp blend of crisp percussive cuts and stuttered crumbles that are seeking the perfect pitch all the way, climbing up and down. Heads are counted on a lively groove that radiates playful momentum and commands the dance floor to get in formation, keeping a tight rhythmic focus. Infused with the pulse of UK club culture, this track delivers a fresh and forward-thinking sound perfect for adventurous turntables.

Since launching her own club night, “Motivation,” back in 2018, B.AI has played a key role in bringing the underground’s club sounds to her home country, China. While introducing some of the scene's most exciting artists to her local audiences, she emerged as one to look out for as well: first as a DJ and quickly thereafter as a producer. Her original takes – a sensitive, highly personal approach to melody and a knack for playing with expectations – crystallized in a slew of A+ releases and a couple of international tours. This trajectory, shaped by taking matters into her own hands and self-empowerment, now sees a logical next step, with the inception of a label that will also operate under the “Motivation” banner and features her own “Hope” EP as its first release.

Sparkling mallets, with synth-pop quality catchiness, open the title track. Rather than further evolving, their two-bar arrangement gets looped over and again, serving as the foundation for a slick FM bass rhythm and a variety of hooks. Although these incline to the bright, the overall vibe is melancholic. In vintage B.AI style, the aptly titled “Hope” is more ambiguous than its patches suggest. Similarly, the vocal this type of palette would call for ultimately comes in the form of aloof, covert musings. A bit buried in the mix, they are most efficient – just like the tension that keeps brooding underneath the surface.

“Murderbot Diaries 1991” turbocharges four-to-the-floor synthetic drums with an arpeggiated rolling bass. The blue note melody on top feels sequenced via a pocket calculator, and the dissonant, electroclash-reminiscent stabs that follow might sound even more angular. The tune is frantic, sinister – and perhaps above all tongue in cheek. It reaches fever pitch with the arrival of a tubular bell theme between the two breaks.

“Once”’s slomo cutoff modulation on the 16th note mid-bass instantly creates a sultry atmosphere that meshes greatly with the pastel cool of the gently delayed DX7 leads. The energy drifts between effortless control and uncertain outcome. These contrasts are amplified as the drums alternate amidst moderation and beat-repeat rendered havoc.

On “Only We Know,” a progressive sine lead lays out the central motif. Yet as briskly as it appears, it makes way for detuned, gliding square waves taking on the same theme. This outlines the track’s structure: as slightly morphed repetitions keep getting introduced almost haphazardly, a dreamlike, mesmerizing ambience unfolds. Techy drum rhythms and a 101-type bass make sure everything stays fuelled. Within the ingenious tapestry of melodies and new twists, it never loses touch with the dance floor. It illustrates B.AI’s club savvy neatly and is therefore a perfect closer for this EP.

UK techno legend Mark Broom releases ‘100% Juice’ LP on Rekids.

Following the acclaimed ‘Funfzig LP’ on Rekids in 2021 as well as his ‘Mutated Battle Breaks’ series on the techno focussed Rekids Special Projects, Mark Broom returns to Radio Slave’s imprint for his latest full length, ‘100% Juice’, dropping this April.

Title track ‘100% Juice’ leads the charge, barreling forward with phased hats and trippy bleeps, before ‘Slush’ carries the rest of the A-side with dense synths and stereo trickery. ‘Rainbow’ bridge sees muted chords drifting in and out of focus alongside rattling drum programming before ‘Reverse’ mutates dub techno inspired elements with swathes of spacious FX and pitch-perfect processing.

Opening the second disc is the aptly titled ‘Wonky Workout’, which sees hard-hitting kicks meeting freaked out leads, followed by the fast-paced ‘I Want’, which brings crunchy, shuffling percussion and effected vocal samples together to devastating effect. The final side of vinyl is the one-two punch of ‘Boxed In’ and ‘Wiggle Me This’, with the former bringing sharp keys, rumbling low end and glistening pads, while the latter closes out the LP with warped acid lines and crisp drums.
Releasing on labels such as Rekids, M-Plant, and Blueprint, the wildly prolific Broom has consistently beenat the forefront of the techno scene for decades with his gritty, groove-based output while, away from the dancefloor, his The Fear Ratio project with James Ruskin continues to win critical acclaim.

Mana is producer and composer Daniele Mana from Torino in Italy. His debut EP for Hyperdub, 'Creature', is also the first under his own surname. It's one of his most vivid, personal and confident releases to date. Since 2010, he has been releasing under the moniker Vaghe Stelle, with EPs and two full length albums on labels such as Gang of Ducks, Aisha Devi's Danse Noire, Astro:Dynamics and most recently, Nicolas Jaar's Other People records. He is also a member of One Circle with Lorenzo Senni and soundtracks composer Francesco Fantini. On 'Creature', over eight tracks, he ingests Shostakovitch, Drexciya, Darkthrone, Frank Ocean and Paul Lansky, and refashions them into an almost operatic record - a rich, melodrama of dark tension and excitable in-your-face synth melodies. In using his own name for the first time, he says he is confronting the unfiltered, brutal truth' of his self, compressing tension and anxiety' into a claustrophobic sense of emotional vacuum.' From the skulking clockwork of 'Crystaline,' the rich drifting ambience of 'Sei Nove', to the panicky, rushy rave stabs meets horror theme of 'Running Man', it's lucid, dynamic synth music which uses drums sparingly, but occasionally swirls into little sublime vortices of arpeggiated hyperrhythm. The melodies are bright and pitch bent, swollen by euphoric voltage surges and stuttering, soaring strings in 'Rabbia', plucking wide-screen, heart strings on 'Uno e Solo' and lulling down into the delicate, shimmering prisms of 'Wetlife' and 'Consolations'. While in its own lane, 'Creature' feels totally at home on Hyperdub.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes.

The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process.

Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever.

The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before.


‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms.

Repress

Anthony Naples returns with his second full length album, "Take Me With You", arriving first as a 'Mixed Version' cassette inspired and commissioned by the Good Morning Tapes series, followed by Digital, Vinyl and even Long Sleeve T-Shirt formats.

Originally conceived as a D.J. mixtape dedicated to friends and the time spent with them in the morning hours after the parties over (or beginning) - it quickly morphed into a soft focused meditation on all things warm and intangible.

'Take Me With You' fires off in all styles - the opening triptych of the extra-cosmic 'Alto', post-rave pianos of 'Goodness' and slow-dance-inducing 'Drifter' bring the attention inward — taking cues from a host of personal favorites including: 'Space' LP by Space, The Theater Of Eternal Music, Panda Bear's 'Person Pitch' , Atlas Sound's 'Let The Blind Lead...', Arthur Russell's 'World Of Echo', Suzanne Ciani's 'Buchla Concerts: 1975', The Microphones 'The Glow Pt. II' & 'Mount Eerie', A mixtape of Krautrock from DJ Ivan Berko and most definitely Holger Czukay, 'Take Me With You' is a fresh turn for Naples as he ascends into a blend of his most personal work to date — touching on trip-hop, psychedelic pop, ambient house, and much more along the way.

Make no mistake - 'Take Me With You''s message is undoubtedly about escapism, given away by its happy-abductee cover art done by the legend Biscuit— but first and foremost it reflects on that lingering feeling one gets when walking away from the ones they love.

Waiting is the essence of travel. Patience is its own reward.

Two people. A Telecaster guitar with a few effect pedals. A drum machine. An audio interface is connected to a laptop. The ingredients are simple yet effective.

But any suggestion of four-track cassette machines and vintage bedsit productions is quickly dispelled by digital dubbiness and refined arrangements. A tail of reversed echos. The crystalline flourish of octave-pitched delays. Riddled hi-hats tickle and taunt. A bass drum asserts its space.

Winkler's guitar patterns have a fragmented, almost haphazard connotation. Searching in a shimmer of reverb. Until the beat, the framework, sets in to reveal structure. Intentionality. Reihse's programmed rhythms go just to the point of a groove, holding the moment of tension, knowingly delaying the gratification. Beats that have scratchy patina anda subtly playful edge; their crispness stands in contrast to the contemplative drift of the guitar. Is it a trance? Or a dance? Yes.

There are some apparent references here: a good portion of Les Disques du Crépuscule, some kraut-esque electronica, even a smidgen of Morricone / Spaghetti Western, blending into a kind of Musique Noir – yet these serve as a set of orientational coordinates, rather than quotations.

This is so far the most assured release by Periode, perhaps eschewing some of the naiveté that was wilfully cultivated in earlier output – there is no cheeky cover version this time. And no singing either. The nine pieces have the quality of a series, a variation on a mood, or a subset of moods. What emerges is an inviting swagger in the face of bleakness. There is a profound melancholy, but it is not the darker kind, and does not exclude humour.

First impressions may suggest that this is purely nocturnal music. Yet it equally evokes the harsh sunlight and baking summer heat. Or a rainy day. And transportation: the music suggests the motion of travel, even if that travel only happens within the mind. And waiting. Waiting while doing nothing much. Because that's all you can do. (Alexander Paulick)

Cloud Holding is NYC-based Bryce Hackford's fifth album, and first for Futura Resistenza. Seven sound sculptures are coaxed out of recorded improvisations by a group of musicians--Ka Baird, Shelley Burgon, Alice Cohen, Michael Hurder, Dominika Mazurova, Camilla Padgitt-Coles--and worked into formless figures that express an always drifting present. Guided by the Suzuki Nobara--a kind of electric koto with many traditional instrument sounds and unique pitch adjustment controls--and the lyric-less utterances of the human voice, Cloud Holding traces delicate outlines in a collaborative sound world that shines with mysterious, searching affinity.

XL Recordings is proud to mark the 10th anniversary of Archy Marshall’s (aka King Krule) A New Place 2 Drown with the release of a newly remastered instrumental edition.
Originally released on 10 December 2015, A New Place 2 Drown remains a singular entry in the Archy Marshall catalogue. Known to many for his work as King Krule, Marshall released A New Place 2 Drown under his own name, highlighting a different facet of his creative identity. An atmospheric blend of submerged beats, woozy textures, and diaristic storytelling, the project earned widespread acclaim upon release, including Pitchfork’s Best New Music.
Developed in parallel with a visual world shaped with his brother and longtime collaborator Jack Marshall, the quietly influential project stands as a multidisciplinary love letter to their home of South London, originally released alongside a Will Robson-Scott–directed short film and a book of artworks, photography, and poetry by the Marshall brothers.
The 2025 instrumental edition offers a newly illuminated perspective on the record’s sonic core, drawing fresh attention to the production craft that underpins the project. By stripping the songs back to their foundations, the release highlights the intricate textures, rhythmic detail, and atmospheric depth that have helped A New Place 2 Drown grow into a cult favourite over the past decade.
“A New Place 2 Drown evokes a septic world filled with flickering halogen bulbs, sticky synth keys, and corroded outputs. Marshall has made tremendous strides as a producer, gorgeously reproducing the gloom and loneliness of early '90s hip-hop and finding a way to integrate it into his own style.” - PITCHFORK

For our next physical release, FERMA welcomes back home one of the individuals running the project, Romphea. As a co-founder, he has long shaped the label’s uncompromising DIY ethos—placing experimentation, raw energy, and community at the heart of its vision. After releasing in a series of acclaimed platforms, the forward-thinking DJ and producer from Vyronas, Athens returns to vinyl with a genre-defying release. Building on the experimental pulse and reshaping the edge between electro, breaks and techno, Romphea continues that trajectory, weaving together tense polyrhythms, warped melodic fragments, and cavernous spaces.

This release features four, plus three digital bonus original tracks, aiming to provide a clear sound identity for the artist. The A-side opens with “Calls from Salem”, a dystopian slow burner that sets the tone with broken-beat percussion and dissonant synth stabs. “Steel Chair” surges forward with unrelenting force, propelled by serrated arpeggios and a barrage of fragmented vocals that rise and fall within the space, crafted for peak-time eruption.

Flipping to the B-side, “Paid Dividends” reaches full intensity, layering hammering kicks and percussion, while the low end rumbles with tectonic weight, amplifying the energy to fever pitch. Closing the record on a more contemplative note, “We Are The Universe” slows the pace, easing the tension and drifting into deeper territory. Echoing chords drift into space, layered with fragile percussive details and low, throbbing pulses. It’s a meditation on collapse and renewal, offering a moment of breath after the storm.

Straight from the source, defying the norms, devoted to the art. Do not sleep.

"Astral Americana hymns hovering somewhere between the dirt and the stars" Pitchfork

"Mood music for moments of solitude, best experienced without distraction" The Times

"Overwhelmingly effective and ravishingly beautiful" The Wire

American Dust is an ode to the beauty of the American Southwest, where vast desert landscapes hold stories both stark and tender. Eve Adams’ characteristic folk noir weaves a vivid tapestry of love, sacrifice and quiet revelation, conjuring images of dust storms, stray dogs and far off trains.

The high desert of California is a vast and confounding place. Equally inspiring as it is punishing, it’s a landscape that carries magic in its deep dark nights, holding stories both tender and stark in the coarse layer of dust that settles upon everything. It’s long been a source of inspiration for musicians, writers, and painters, each of them adding to the same current, carried forward over time, through hope and hardship and the passing years.

Somewhere out there in that broad and boundless landscape, Eve Adams has been living her own desert life, quietly writing the follow-up to 2021’s Metal Bird LP. Where that album sang of liminal space, the dream-like turbulence of Hollywood’s golden age, American Dust is far more rooted in traditional storytelling; a eulogy for the American Dream channeled through that sweeping part of the country that holds such power and mystery. Slipping into different and varied costumes throughout its ten songs, it finds Eve not just observing the people around her but stepping into their shoes and peeling back the layers of their quiet lives.

Adams writes from within. A few years ago she moved out there, to “the middle of nowhere”, finding a slowness that didn’t exist in the city, and she knows only too well about the mystical nature of the land and those who live within it. Weaving together themes of grit and romance, American Dust holds its focus on the bittersweet poetry of lives lived in solitude, most notably the women who sustain life at the center of it all. “There’s something very radical about domestic life,” Adams says of this thread. “So many women live their entire lives behind closed doors, completely in the shadows. Within those lives is such sacrifice, devotion, and love. I wanted to honor that: the poetry in the mundane, the longing in the repetition. The way love survives boredom and dust and time.”

Eve is joined on American Dust by Canadian musician Bryce Cloghesy, aka Military Genius of Crack Cloud, who plays throughout and also helped produce the album. Musically bold and vivid, it’s an ambitious and detailed stride forward from what’s come before, the scope of the LP’s narrative reflected in the radiant sweep of the playing. On top of gentle piano and guitar, gorgeous strings drift through the album, lending the songs a woozy sense of romanticism; a collaboration with Gamaliel Traynor (Cello) and Caroline’s Oliver Hamilton (Violin).

For all the drama that’s coiled around these songs, it’s the recurring notion of love and hope fighting against everything that holds true throughout American Dust. Musically it’s lush and vibrant, intimate and cinematic side by side, and always bursting with warmth. But it’s what it holds in its weary bones that elevates it to something truly special, something more than just a collection of songs penned in the heart of the desert. The characters it speaks of, and from, feel shadowed but wholly real, like they’re bursting to share their stories that have remained hidden for years and years and they allow Eve Adams to grow as a songwriter right in front of our eyes.

“The same swirling dust that clung to the covered wagons of my ancestors as they crossed the Great American Desert is the same dust my great-great-grandmother swept off her porch during the Dust Bowl of 1936 in Oklahoma, is the same dust that blows in through the cracks in my windows here in the desert, carrying stories from a time long gone,” Eve says, reflecting on the personal narrative that runs through her new album.

“It’s not just dust—it’s American Dust, the kind that settles into the bones of a family and never leaves. I think about that dust as a symbol of the passage of time. I hope this album will be part of that same current, carrying forward for the next generations of my family to find. I’ve been lucky enough to have journals and poetry from my ancestors that documents their lives during times of pure hope and pure hardship. I’d like to think of this album as a contribution to that family history.”

Our fourth album finally gets the vinyl pressing it so richly deserves.

Originally released in 2007, Rude Mechanicals found us firing on all cylinders. The nine years since our debut had been spent touring our cutting-edge audio-visual show round the world, playing everywhere from Tokyo to Tauranga, Portland to Paris, Leeds to Las Vegas, finding fans and absorbing new sounds along the way.

We successfully combined and refined the stand-out elements of our previous releases to create an album that is alternately danceable and meditative: a genre busting excursion in sound, heaving with warm basslines and complex rhythms, topped up by haunting melodies and immersive soundscapes.

From the evocative opening South of the Line to the stepping 1000 Mile Drift, the dub is strong, as one would expect, and so is the influence of drum’n’bass on the bottom-heavy Bird Soul and the atmospheric Please Leave Quietly; trance on the pulsating Sonic Colonic (Live at Minikami) and slinky Transient Transmission (fig.2); ambient on the burbling Harmonia and softly snarling Fragile Ladders. The title track, meanwhile, finds us addressing climate change and greed, with lyrics by Auckland MC KP.

To create the double-vinyl release, Angus McNaughton re-mastered the original audio files, while Hamish Macaulay polished the source artwork by Tom Quarelle and created a brand new collage for the centrefold using pictures taken at the time.

Rude Mechanicals will be released on 11th April 2025, except in Aotearoa New Zealand, where it will be released on 12th April 2025 as part of Record Store Day.

ver the years, Andreas O. Hirsch has shaped a distinctive sound, exploring the possibilities of the electro-acoustic instruments he const- ructs. The Carbophone as well as the Electrified Palm Leaf are plucked instruments akin to the African Kalimba or Mbira. In combination with effects and loops, Hirsch creates an experimen- tal space, influenced by early electronics, Asian and African music as well as the possibilities of editing and collage. The majority of the pieces on The Salamander Treaty were made using the Carbophone Jr., a small traveling version of his original Carbophone which was the basis of the previously released Early Carbophonics. Shaped by the joy of discovery, the eight tracks traverse peculiar worlds of sound, carried by a warm downbeat and analogue vibe. Alongside the Car- bophone Jr., other instruments come into play: a vibrato-soaked guitar leads through the slowly evolving ‘Rise’, marked by a recurring Shepard tone and sounds made by striking the bars of an antique wall clock. In the straightforward yet sub-aquatic ‘Te- atime Unlimited’, a pitch-shifted Morse key wanders erratically in the background. Tape-delayed har- monicas serve as a flying carpet for ‘Drifting Newts’, and rubber bands make their melodic-rhythmical appearance through ‘Back Door Minimal’.

The Salamander Treaty refers to War with the Newts, a prophetic and black-humoured science fiction novel by Karel Čapek from 1936, which tells the story of the rise of the salamanders, who become in- creasingly intelligent and eventually begin to compete with mankind. The album is a pacifist response to this dark scenario: Hirsch’s salamanders prefer to hang out under the stars (‘Drifting Newts’), drink tea (‘Tea Time Unlimited’) and — as illustrated on the back cover — write conspiratorial-pacifist demands instead of calling for war (e.g., ‘Teaoism International’, ‘White Lilies’, ‘For Congress’). In image and word, the album invites looking at the term ‘treaty’, which phonetically contains the words ‘tree’ and ‘tea’, as a friendly reminder that the drafting of every treaty and agreement on this planet should be accompanied by a peaceful spirit.

Music, mix and artwork by Andreas Oskar Hirsch. Mastered by Volker Hennes. Pressed on BioVinyl by Optimal, who state that their manufacturing process reduces CO2 emissions by approximately 90% for the PVC component. 12“ LP, coloured sleeve, download code included,

LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!.

Barker's debutalbum Utility (on Berghain's Ostgut Ton label) was something of a sensation in the world of electronic music when it was released. Utility made numerous Best of 2019 year's end lists, including Pitchfork (8,2 review), The Quietus, DJ Mag, Resident Advisor (Recommends) and others. It also earned title of Mixmag's Album of The Year 2019. Now its finally time for the follow-up Stochastic Drift on Smalltown Supersound. And where Barker on Utility was "using ambient materials to remake techno" as Pitchfork's Philip Sherburne wrote, he takes this approach even further here creating - as the title suggests - a dreamy stochastic drift and beautiful freeform float.

Barker's debutalbum Utility (on Berghain's Ostgut Ton label) was something of a sensation in the world of electronic music when it was released. Utility made numerous Best of 2019 year's end lists, including Pitchfork (8,2 review), The Quietus, DJ Mag, Resident Advisor (Recommends) and others. It also earned title of Mixmag's Album of The Year 2019. Now its finally time for the follow-up Stochastic Drift on Smalltown Supersound. And where Barker on Utility was "using ambient materials to remake techno" as Pitchfork's Philip Sherburne wrote, he takes this approach even further here creating - as the title suggests - a dreamy stochastic drift and beautiful freeform float.

Joni Void, the artistic persona of Montréal-based French-British producer Jean Néant (he/them) returns to songcraft on their warmest and most welcoming record yet, where the acclaimed sampledelic sound collagist chills out with an emotionally resonant song cycle tinged by downtempo, lo-fi, avant-pop, and trip-hop. Guests include Haco, Ytamo, Sook-Yin Lee, Pink Navel and N NAO. Every Life Is A Light expands on Void's recent stylistic turn towards more languorous and mellow lo-fi production, foreshadowed by the drifting looseness and ambient bricolage of their preceding experimental sound-art record. This transitional sensibility now shapes more defined song structures and styles, with loops are given time and space to unspool, and rhythms shot through the softer-focus lens of trip-hop and dub. Every Life Is A Light swaps the twitchy insistence of Void's acclaimed early albums for a newfound lightness and suppleness, still imbued with all the restlessness, sonic detailing, and emotional resonance that made their name. The neurotic brokenmachine kinetics of earlier Void, summarized by Sasha Geffen as "drawing despair and wonder from within the vast unfeeling of digital communication" in an 8.0 Pitchfork review, may be chilling out, but Void is becoming an ever better conjurer of hauntological feeling. Every Life Is A Light summons this in a comparatively buoyant, benevolent, head-nodding journey more open to tenderness and modest joys. Perhaps it's the sound of Void at greater peace with themselves and the world, despite the bittersweet cost: even as it channels grief, memorializing comrades and companions recently deceased, this album wants light. Void's raw materials continue to draw heavily from samples (their own Walkman cassette fieldrecordings and songs by others) and from a wide community of musical guests. Vocalists Haco on "Time Zone" and Ytamo on "Cloud Level" help levitate what could be lost tracks from a mid-90s Too Pure Records compilation of skewed-lounge electronica. Canadian musician Sook-Yin Lee sings on lead single "Vertigo," a sinewy 80bpm tape-loop and bassline groove propelled by psychedelically-layered lyrics that eventually turn the song in on itself entirely, like Grace Jones' "Nightclubbing" covered by Animal Collective. One of Void's greatest hip-hop loves is the Ruby Yacht collective; charter member Pink Navel drops some brilliant verses on "Story Board." The album's two minimal tracks, an extended piano loop set to a slow beat and shimmering electronics on "Muffin-A Song For My Cat" and the languid sampled bass riff and breakbeat of "Event Flow," are perhaps most overtly `lofi chill.' Indeed the whole album could be said to sit adjacent to those viral (if not already AI-generated) genre trends, which maybe begs the question on a lot of our minds: can specificity and authenticity of musical materials still be heard, still meaningfully signify substance and difference, still matter? Perhaps a question that fades in comparison to the career break Void could catch by landing on generic streaming playlists. More likely, these tracks remain too off-kilter, too genuinely lo-fi and ineffable, and too disqualified by the status of its peasant rights-holders, to catch the algos. Context remains the poor cousin of content. Meanwhile Void marches on, as a tireless organizer of local music events, bouncing around and often living in DIY venue, depending on the latest apartment eviction. With an ubiquitous polaroid camera in tow, they also document each communal happening with a single shot (and often a blinding flash bulb): a memory and metaphor for lives illuminated preciously, singularly, `imperfectly' in the moment. Dozens of these polaroids adorn the album's back cover and inner sleeve art in grid-like montages, as a fitting analog for the careful construction, grainy intimate materiality, and ephemeral feeling of these songs. Every Life Is A Light is Joni Void's most coherent and congenial record while relinquishing none of their experimentalist acumen as a producer or emotional attunement as a composer. Instead these qualities flourish, on an album that lights a humble flame for the fragile promise of homespun creative collaboration as unalienated labour and therapeutic communion, making an enchantingly idiosyncratic contribution to downtempo sample music along the way. Thanks for listening.

f11 FLRNTN, Benjamin Duchenne - "Last Man Standing" (feat Sivan) (1:08)
f12 Nicholas Gunn & Harshil Kamdar - "Here I Am" (feat Alina Renae - Richard Durand remix) (1:08)
f13 DJ TH X TH3 ONE X Sue McLaren - "Everything To Me" (1:08)
f14 Matty Ralph - "Te Adoro" (1:08)
f15 Armin Van Buuren & Vini Vici - "Sarabande" (feat Anna Timofei) (1:08)
f16 Lilly Palmer - "Hare Ram" (1:08)
f17 David Forbes - "Techno Is My Only Drug" (1:08)
f18 Armin Van Buuren - "Blah Blah Blah" (Lilly Palmer remix) (1:08)
f19 Armin Van Buuren - "The Road To Your Destination" (A State Of Trance Year mix 2024 outro) (1:14)

Das neue Album Rarely Do I Dream wurzelt in Liebe und Kindheitserinnerungen und ist ein Triumph amerikanischer Gothic-Phantasie - wo sich die
Unschuld aus dem Märchenbuch in einer radioaktiven Welle aus jugendlichen Driftern, drogensüchtigen Strippenziehern und Folklore der alten Welt
auflöst.
Trevor Powers' einzigartige Stimme, die zwischen treibender Electronica und halluzinatorischen Rocksongs hin- und herpendelt, leuchtet stets wie ein
neonfarbenes Straßenschild, das nach Hause weist.
Trevor Powers kehrte 2023 mit der Veröffentlichung seines vierten Albums „Heaven Is a Junkyard“ zu Youth Lagoon zurück, das unter anderem von
Pitchfork als „Best New Music“ gelobt wurde. Mit "Rarely Do I Dream" erscheint im februar endlich der Nachfolger.

'We are thrilled to be able to bring you Yara Asmar's first two cassette releases in a deluxe remastered double vinyl gatefold package featuring all new art and design from Yara herself.

Both albums were originally released on Hive Mind Records in 2022 and 2023 and received critical acclaim around the world':

“Melancholic drifts sound through the overcast skies of synth waltzes and accordion laments, infusing ageless melodies with a sense of falling backward through time. History is stitched through gilded aural silhouettes and elegiac drones. Asmar’s music is visceral. While electronics beckon beyond the sunrise stretched through a metallic shimmer, synth waltzes and accordion laments sticks with us while we remain lost in the hazy doldrums, always crawling forward tethered to our past lives. Highest recommendation.”
Brad Rose, Foxy Digitalis

"...these tracks are a cushion against reality. Asmar creates music that unfurls in evanescent bliss, an invitation to a safe space both isolated and welcoming."
Daryl Worthington, The Quietus

"...a set that transmutes the instrument’s droning tones into a sweep of introspective, breath-catching moments of beauty"
Eric Torres, Pitchfork Best Jazz & Experimental Albums of 2023

"The combination and contrast of highly familiar and highly alien elements give Asmar's music a quality not quite like anything else I can name. The way she channels found voices into her surreal mix of sounds is particularly striking."
Byron Coley, The Wire

»Nuts of Ay«, the thirteenth album by the Berlin-based electronic pop duo Tarwater (Ronald Lippok and Bernd Jestram), is their first in a decade, since 2014’s »Adrift«. Beautifully poised and smartly dressed, it's an album that draws Tarwater’s various pasts into a high-definition present, while bringing the duo, yet again, into productive dialogue with all kinds of fellow travellers.

Tarwater’s music has always been marked by a hypnotic pop-ness, but that’s particularly evident on »Nuts of Ay«, where a song like »Hideous Kiss« weaves together jangling guitar, pastoral flute, and flittering electronics into a gem-like construction. While the lyrics of »Hideous Kiss« are written by the duo, »Nuts of Ay« also continues a longstanding Tarwater tradition of recasting the words of others in their own mould. This time, their remit is broad: poetry from Derek Jarman (»All Nuns«) and Millner Place (»Trapdoor Spider«); lyrics from Jean Kenbrovin (»I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles«), the late Shane MacGowan (»USA«) and, again, John Lennon (»Everybody Had a Hard Year«).

This cast of found and borrowed lyricists also finds collaborative echo in the guest musicians dotted throughout »Nuts of Ay«. Schneider TM turns up on the lovely, Felt-like »Spirit of Flux«, where guitars channel the tangled reveries of Vini Reilly and Maurice Deebank into lush pop. Carsten Nicolai joins, as Alva Noto, dappling »On Waves and Years« with intimate glitching textures; he also provides the album cover art. Elsewhere, Masha Qrella appears on »Down Comes the Goose«, and actor Lars Rudolph pitches in for »USA«.

It may have been ten years since the album's predecessor, but Lippok and Jestram have kept active with other projects. They’ve collaborated with Masha Qrella, Immersion, and Iggy Pop; worked on radio plays with Kai Grehn, some based on the writing of Nick Cave (»The Sick Bag Song«, featuring Tilda Swinton, Paula Beer and Alexander Fehling) and William S. Burroughs (»The Cat Inside«); and made music for several radio-tatorts (radio plays based on »Tatort«, a long-running German police TV series) by playwright Tom Peuckert.

Both voracious and committed in their creative energies, Jestram and Lippok report back from these experiments with »Nuts of Ay«, one of their most compelling, deeply lustrous, dreamlike albums yet. They say there was no concept for the album, which is surprising, perhaps, given its holistic mood, explaining it »grew together like a coral reef in the studio over a period of several years«. There’s something to be said for letting an album gather and mutate naturally, without an overarching framework in place, and »Nuts of Ay« certainly feels like an unforced collection of material that nonetheless inhabits a similar space, one where guitars twist like driftwood next to amorphous, aqueous electronics, Lippok’s droll yet completely convincing vocal delivery riding songs that pulse and plume with curious, unpredictable rhythms.

But you can also hear elements – submerged but still present – of other music that’s inspired the duo: they’ve drawn some connections for us with psychedelic folk, Bowie in Berlin, Burial, and the film music of Popol Vuh and Krzysztof Komeda. This music shares a strong sense of place – whether in the world, or the mind – and the twelve songs on »Nuts of Ay« have such similar presence; a shared mood, a shared world, a shared sense of the possibilities of what electronic pop music could, and should, be. A bold and brave pop experiment.

Artwork by Carsten Nicolai
Mastering by Bo Kondren, Calyx Berlin

»Trapdoor Spider«, »On Waves and Years« & »Breaking Day«: lyrics by Milner Place
»All Nuns«: lyrics by Derek Jarman
»USA«: lyrics by Shane MacGowan
»Down Comes the Goose«: lyrics from a traditional song
»Forever Blowing Bubbles«: lyrics by Jaan Kenbrovin
»Everybody Had a Hard Year«: lyrics by John Lennon

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They say you should never meet your heroes, but for Mike, meeting the legendary Adrian Sherwood has been a transformative experience, leading to creative collaborations that have benefited both of them.

Nearly 30 years after first being mesmerized by OnU Sound’s releases, a cheeky bit of radio ripping serendipitously led to Mike helping Pats Dokter, the label’s official archivist, with his work restoring master tapes, and eventually to him creating visual content for Adrian’s live shows.

A while after this collaboration began, Adrian offered to remix some of Mike’s music, either by his solo project @misledconvoy or our tunes, and it’s four cuts by us that grace this heavyweight platter.

From the dreamy dub of Transient Transmission to the rolling rhythms of A Doubtful Sound, our originals have been re-arranged and dubbed to $%># in Adrian’s signature style, with fluid melodies, pounding basslines and vocal samples awash in a wall of effects.

Trumpets by David “Ital Horns” Fullwood bookend the release, haunting in the first track and celebratory in the last, while Doug Wimbish (Tackhead) added an extra bassline to the heaving version of 1000 Mile Drift, which also features the voice of the iconic Lee “Scratch” Perry.

Reflecting on the collaboration, Mike says, “the whole experience has been slightly unreal, from working on Adrian’s videos to being in the OnU studio and watching him dub-mixing the tracks I’ve made, something I could never have imagined happening!”

Mike isn’t the only OnU fan, as a pivotal moment for Paddy was “watching Adrian mixing Tack>head at the Powerstation in 1995 and seeing the cause-and-effect of what he was doing and hearing the unbelievable sounds coming out of the speakers. It was the first time I’d ever seen somebody dub mix like that.”

The cover of Echoes of the Night is based upon an original artwork by Hamish Macaulay, while the vinyl has been pressed using a 100% recycled compound known as eco-mix, making each record totally unique as the colours subtly change across the pressing run.

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From its harmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the Good Stuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound and aesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack those ideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, those elements - punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just some touchstones - are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention. These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight of hand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples with anxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and some straight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," in which Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings against guitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The song is just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and the gleeful insanity of theatrical art rock. It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins - Jonah Falco and Mike Haliechuk - weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity to sounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds are adjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill of those universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns its lyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner's anthem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate. Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primary lyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc is roughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed from Harmony Avenue, an album of material that proved too strong to be contained within the narrative universe of Fucked Up's Dose Your Dreams, Jade Hairpins have gelled as a live act - with Tamsin M. Leach and Jack Goldstein centering them on stage - and planted their flag in the UK punk scene in which Falco has embedded himself. Working out new material live, Falco noticed that crowds were digging into his unfinished lyrics, and the album tightened around the anxieties of being in the spotlight, of being worthy of attention. At times, those songs are eager to please, like the album's title track in which a winking self-deprecation rubs up against the self-congratulatory bombast of Freddie Mercury, Falco simultaneously turning heads as a shooting star and a burning car. Elsewhere, as in "Better Here Than in Love," Jade Hairpins pitch themselves towards creating gorgeous soundscapes that exist nowhere else, channeling postpunk through the glimmering haze of '80s Japanese electronic music. Theatrical and personal, absurd and true-to-life, playful and serious, Get Me the Good Stuff is album of tremendous personal and artistic growth that signposts towards dozens of potential futures to come. It's not only worth the attention, it continuously rewards it.

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From its harmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the Good Stuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound and aesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack those ideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, those elements_punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just some touchstones_are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention. These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight of hand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples with anxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and some straight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," in which Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings against guitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The song is just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and the gleeful insanity of theatrical art rock. It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins_Jonah Falco and Mike Haliechuk_weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity to sounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds are adjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill of those universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns its lyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner's anthem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate. Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primary lyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc is roughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed from Harmony Avenue, an album of material that proved too strong to be contained within the narrative universe of Fucked Up's Dose Your Dreams, Jade Hairpins have gelled as a live act_with Tamsin M. Leach and Jack Goldstein centering them on stage_and planted their flag in the UK punk scene in which Falco has embedded himself. Working out new material live, Falco noticed that crowds were digging into his unfinished lyrics, and the album tightened around the anxieties of being in the spotlight, of being worthy of attention. At times, those songs are eager to please, like the album's title track in which a winking self-deprecation rubs up against the self-congratulatory bombast of Freddie Mercury, Falco simultaneously turning heads as a shooting star and a burning car. Elsewhere, as in "Better Here Than in Love," Jade Hairpins pitch themselves towards creating gorgeous soundscapes that exist nowhere else, channeling postpunk through the glimmering haze of '80s Japanese electronic music. Theatrical and personal, absurd and true-to-life, playful and serious, Get Me the Good Stuff is album of tremendous personal and artistic growth that signposts towards dozens of potential futures to come. It's not only worth the attention, it continuously rewards it.

Auf ihrem drittem Oceanator-Album stellt die Brooklyner Musikerin Elise Okusami ihr aussergewöhnliches Gespür für Pop unter Beweis und liefert 11 Songs voller melodischer Tiefe und lebendiger Energie. "Everything Is Love And Death" wurde vom Grammy-nominierten Engineer/Produzenten Will Yip (Title Fight, Turnstile, Bartees Strange) produziert und enthält einige der kühnsten Songs, die Okusami je geschrieben hat, wie z.B. das hymnische "Drift Away" mit Backingvocals von NNAMDÏ. Szenemedien wie Stereogum, Pitchfork oder SPIN loben Oceanator als "die Art von Stimme, die einen Raum zum Schweigen bringen kann".

Fera’s trajectory sticks out like a sore thumb, you need to invest time, carefully divided between body & mind, to truly take a deep dive into his audacious output. After the acclaimed ‘Stupidamutaforma’ and ‘Corpo Senza Carne’, Fera is back with ‘Psiche Liberata’, an oblique, imperfect and broken record, in other words, exactly the type of magical voyage you want to be on. The mind, finally liberated.

Fera is Andrea De Franco, electronic composer from Southern Italy now residing in Bologna, also known for his work as visual artist/designer and member of the Undicesimacasa collective. His musical cosmos is profound and imaginative, intergalactic atmospheres that condense fragmented IDM, scintillating textures, distorted synthscapes, crunchy technoid rhythms and swirling abstractions that weave gently, sometimes moody and stark, more often celestial and awe-inspiring.

Mixed in Berlin by Steve Scanu ‘Psiche Liberata’ encapsulates Fera’s dense and intricate thought process in contrast with his simple and direct approach to writing and recording that finds its more natural output in his rapturous live sets where a mono signal runs through a few analog pedals transforming instantly into menacing alien grooves and fluid ecstasis.

Like ‘Psiche Liberata’s artwork, hand-drawn by Fera, every detailed miniature leads to a single cell of sound, tracks collide against each other in a psychotic kaleidoscope where every safe space is confronted with subsequent noise, alterations or interruptions. The black terror of ‘Celestial Anacusma’ is followed by the space-jazz banquet of ‘Milk Tears In The Hug Chamber’ doped up cyber Sun Ra extravaganza featuring Laura Agnusdei and Luigi Monteanni (Artetetra) on saxophones and flutes; ‘Silenzio Solare’ sprinkles Mille Plateaux era minimalism all over hallucinations, while ‘Diluvia’ crosses industrial acid with perpetual motion; title track ‘Psiche Liberata’ murmurs mechanically, a downtempo drifter for the wide-eyed 7AM comedown: ‘Simulacrima’ melts Boards Of Canada’s mellow pastoralism with dystopian meta-level dreamland and ‘Riposa’ showcases an overwhelming melancholy executed with elegance in a slo-mo world where the ineffable transcends notions of ambient and becomes a warm embrace.

Created on a Monotribe, MS20 & Volca Sample/fm, ‘Psiche Liberata’s velvet heaviness was achieved by re-amping many of the instruments through a Leslie Rotary Speaker and a reel-to-reel Telefunken. Fera’s sonic tapestry is in constant flux, underlying themes of love longing and affection run through the record but in a turbulent, volcanic, unleashed fashion, almost on the brink of utter noise or complete silence, reminding us that this is an artist like no other amidst the ever changing electronic scene. These are transmissions from the gutter, where the inevitable meets the unattainable and collapses.

"Fera’s tarnished materials are destined for ruin; “Stupida,” full of longing and regret, sounds like an elegy for a fallen world." Pitchfork

"A cut of dark magic that fits like a glove to overcast days, wild winds and lashing rains. Insistent, the treacle-thick bassline oozes out, soaking the space between the melancholic synth lines." Inverted Audio

"The songs on Stupidamutaforma feel hypnotizing...it establishes De Franco as a composer who uses space and time to create a set of rich, immersive works." Bandcamp 'Album Of The Day'

‘’The duo’s music has traces of 1980s dream pop and 1990s slowcore, particularly Low, another married-couple band. There’s more to the comparison than ink on a certificate. Marriage’s suffering and devotion breed a particular kind of intimacy. Windy & Carl often resemble an ambient version of Yo La Tengo, another group that centers on a long-wed duo and conveys a secret, profound sense of life beyond the music.’’ PITCHFORK 7.2
For the first time in almost twenty years, Windy & Carl’s second album for kranky, Consciousness, will be available on the vinyl format once again. The fourth album from Michigan’s premier space duo, again delivers their shimmering trademark wall of sound, beautiful vocalization, and delicate songcraft. Six sweet and easy new tracks recorded in their home studio in Dearborn, that drift and dream with layered guitars, keyboards, bass and a love-arsenal of delicious effects and distortion.
“There is an airy shaft of light that extends straight through these six extended pieces, offsetting the density of sound with a breezy loveliness that’s almost impossible to articulate, towering on a floating sea of mesmerising, sub-level sounds.” —Boomkat
“Genre descriptions such as ‘ambient guitar soundscape’, ‘wall of sound’ and ‘drone’ fail miserably to capture the astonishing, magical emotional beauty of their pieces.” —Cyclic Defrost

Originally released in 1983 on Hessian.

Bryn Jones’ work was justly known for its excess—of tracks created, of rhetoric, of volume levels, of repetition, of length—and the sometimes indiscriminate way he produced material as Muslimgauze carried over into his approach to the part of the business that involved getting people to actually hear his music. Known for the deluge of DATs he’d share with the labels he worked with, Jones also didn’t necessarily restrict himself to just one outlet.

Very early in his career, in the same year the first two Muslimgauze LPs came out (1983), Jones released an obscure 7” single with completely blank black sleeve art on a label called Hessian. »Hammer & Sickle« is to date the only release on Hessian (which may have just been Jones himself?). Those two LPs, Kabul and Opaques, are fascinating in the context of the full swath of Jones’ work. They’re much spacier, more drifting, and notably less interested in using the kind of Middle Eastern percussion and other instrumentation that’s such a distinct element on many Muslimgauze releases. »Hammer & Sickle« operates in a similar territory, but if anything a little further out from the main body of Jones’ work.

The side-long title track and the three b-sides here are all cut from the same cloth, spacious productions that mainly play rounded synth percussion against echoing, ›bag of wire‹-style dub hits. After the lengthy examination of »Hammer & Sickle« itself, the other three cuts experiment with altering pitch, duration, tempo, and other elements as if testing the ways Jones could vary the effects of the title track without ever ditching its component parts. His sound was already quickly evolving (even the next year’s Buddhist on Fire is closer to what fans likely picture when they think of the »Muslimgauze sound«), leaving »Hammer & Sickle« an intriguing and valuable portrait of one of Jones’ early side investigations.

idal Perspectives is an album by Giovanni Di Domenico, Pak Yan Lau, and John Also Bennett. Recorded across a single afternoon in Brussels, Belgium, the album’s four parts are a rippling alchemy of processed Rhodes piano, sizzling ceramics, and liquified bass flute, a rare meeting of three unique voices from the contemporary music landscape that manages to flow with the effortless inevitability of the oceanic tides.

Giovanni Di Domenico, an accomplished composer and prolific collaborator who has released albums with Jim O’Rourke, Eiko Ishibashi and Akira Sakata, among many others, initiated the collaboration with Bennett after the two met at a record fair in Saint-Gilles, Belgium and bonded over a shared inquisitiveness for unconventional sonic combinations. Along with Pak Yan Lau, a Belgian-born sound artist and improviser who has developed her own rich and unique sonic footprint, the trio entered the studio with little, if any, discussion beforehand, jumping right into playing without preconceived structures. The resulting recordings had a depth of sound and emotional resonance surprising even them, with finished pieces emerging from single live takes and minor edits.

Bennett, known for his solo work as well as his collaborations with Christina Vantzou as CV & JAB, gives us here a taste of his bass flute in free flowing form. Unconstricted by concept, joyfully and lazily bouncing off the melodic shimmers of Di Domenico’s Rhodes, Bennett uses his flute’s pitch information to trigger long tones that emerge like rays of light piercing through low hanging clouds - moments of clarity among a clicking world of sonic stimuli. Meanwhile, Lau’s crackling and sometimes dissonant contributions on prepared piano, live hydrophone, and custom ceramic sound objects balance out the triangle, adding a sense of microcosmic intrigue that allows the music to seamlessly ebb and flow between moments of comfort and foggy uncertainty.

The album’s title track and climax, the eighteen minute “Tidal Perspectives”, drifts in with some kind of clarity, Lau’s glinting tonal waves edging in just beyond the horizon lines drawn by Di Domenico’s Rhodes and Bennett’s bass flute. But like the tidal flows of the Atlantic that inspired its title, just as you begin to perceive what’s happening, the currents have already taken you out to sea. Tidal Perspectives will be released on June 14th, 2024, in a limited edition of 300 LPs by Editions Basilic.

Cathartic avant-rock, literate DIY folk & experimental composition exploring displacement, love, climate change, belonging & the places we call home - RIYL Jim O’Rourke, Richard Youngs, This Heat, Richard Dawson, Flying Nun. ‘Real Home’ is the new album by the Manchester-born, London-based artist Kiran Leonard. His sixth album proper (not including innumerable tour-only CD-Rs and short-run cassettes), since his precocious debut in 2013, ‘Real Home’ finds Leonard invigorated by inspiration and experience, making passionate, literate, and mercurial music that explores displacement, love, memory, climate change, connections to home and more. Encompassing songs recorded after moving to South London, ‘Real Home’ reflects on ideas of belonging and domesticity through folkloric, stream-of-consciousness songwriting. Across nine tracks, Leonard traces lived impressions of the household and the city, expressing sentiments of dislocation, alienation and stasis, but contentment too. Infusing the avant-rock effervescence, terraced dynamics and visionary lyricism of his music with what he defines as a greater sense of openness, Leonard is as versatile, fervent and imaginative as ever on ‘Real Home’, yet his music is somehow more intimate, affecting, and acutely expressive. Shaped by dual considerations of simplicity and formalism, ‘Real Home’ is by turns beautiful, allusive, and ruminative, an album on which Leonard considers what his songs have resembled in the past and what they mean now. In recent years, Leonard has crafted eloquent chamber music inspired by the likes of James Joyce and Clarice Lispector (‘Derevaun Seraun’), responded to contemporary politics and communication breakdown in the digital age (‘Western Culture’), and compiled solo works and ensemble recordings for a longform ode to Jonas Mekas and to one of Leonard’s enduring themes; home (‘Trespass On Foot’). On ‘Real Home’, Leonard reiterates this abiding thematic focus yet ascends to new, different heights, in music of cathartic delicacy and dissonance where all the myriad dimensions of his work to date seem to crystallize. There are sinuous songs about struggle and defying the pace of city life through drift and diversion (‘Pass Between Houses’), stirring songs of intense feeling and crescendo, described as a form of speculative detective fiction (‘Theatre for Change’). There are touching solo piano ballads (the title track), symbolic contentions with carbon capture and climate change (‘Utopia of Bog’), modes of experimental minimalism (‘Void Attentive’), and other profuse feats of compositional range, embroidered with wild tendrils of narrative and lyrical depth. A record to pore over, and get lost in. Exemplifying the vast aesthetic scope of Leonard’s music, lead single ‘My Love, Let’s Take The Stage Tonight’ is inspired by country lodestar Hank Williams, Russian poetry and a late period love poem by William Carlos Williams. Yet for Leonard, the song signals a sense of accessible materiality, and is the product of a more linear approach to writing songs: “My imitation of the great Hank Williams, in spirit if not in substance…This is one of the best efforts on Real Home at a song-as-object. Looking at it now I realise I was trying to write a song that made itself known as a song to the listener, and I wonder whether that’s crucial if you want a song to transcend its context. And that this is either accomplished through a total openness – by being inviting, by laying the tricks of the song out plain to see, as Williams and his many ghostwriters did so well – or by adopting a knowing aloofness, positioning oneself against the listener but letting it be known that that’s what it’s doing. In this song I try both, but mostly the former: as in, I wanted to write a song where every line follows on from the next.” Imbuing the endlessly elaborate and inventive qualities of his music with a newfound streak of candid, clear-cut melodicism, Leonard has reached a special place in his artistry, on a record that feels familial, and expresses closeness. Assembled with affiliates including Lauren Auder, Otto Willberg, Jasper Llewellyn (caroline), Tom Hardwick-Allan (Shovel Dance Collective), Magda McLean (caroline, The Umlauts), Alex Mckenzie (caroline, Shovel Dance Collective), Isabelle Thorn (Dear Laika) & more, the recording process had a significant influence on the subject matter of ‘Real Home’, in sessions defined by close-knit camaraderie and artistic eccentricity: “The theme of the home obviously recurs throughout the record; the album was mostly recorded in domestic spaces with friends, and the name of the album is Real Home. I like the qualifier ‘real’, like you’re getting past the cloak of the word and towards the thing-itself…also nearly all the percussion in this record was recorded on items from my dad’s shed (jam jars, sandpaper, blocks of wood, etc). Real home record!” ‘Real Home’, like anything by Kiran Leonard, is a record of dazzling multiplicity. Yet it’s a companionable prospect with a central premise; a collection of songs where listeners old and new can find a home. An album led by a scene; of Leonard standing at the threshold, ready to welcome you inside. “Exceptional songs that linger” - The Guardian // “An autodidact of amazing talent & energy” – Pitchfork // “A ridiculous amount of talent…confrontational, celebratory, provocative or perverse – he manages all of these emotions & more” - The Quietus /

Jimpster dons his Franc Spangler cap and joins forces with up and coming London-based producer and DJ Hudson’s Choice for a four track EP entitled Myatts Field. Touching on trippy slo-mo electronic grooves, tropical moods and percussive house jams it brings a more experimental and left field sound to Delusions Of Grandeur which we’re sure you’re going to love!

Opening track AcidMan sets the tone of the EP with a bubbling 303 line taking centre stage while pitched down vocals add a hint of menace, heightening the psychedelic mood. Dubby FX and analogue synth lines drift in and out of focus and give a live jam feel to the arrangement reminding us of something that might grace the decks of A Love From Outer Space. Heavily Percussed continues offering up a crazy percussion tool loaded with wonky cross rhythms, glitchy found sounds and a hypnotic synth sequence for good measure.
Flip over for Myatts Field, another slower tempo mutant discoid house groove which takes us on a deep trip into the jungle. Echoing sax and hazy vocals transport us to another world where Weather Report experimented with rolling four on the floor grooves and spacious dub.

Closing out the EP Roots picks up the pace with another percussion-heavy slice of tropical sounds which doffs a cap to masters such as Gregory and Osunlade. Steel pan melodic lines intersperse with chiming synth sequences making for an unusual yet hooky club track which will lock the dancers into its incessant groove.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce The Mountains Pass, a major new work from Olivia Block. A key player in Chicago’s vibrant experimental music scene since the late 1990s, Block has developed an extensive body of work grounded in a personalised, at times emotive approach to the studio-based practices of the musique concrète tradition, while also encompassing improvisation, orchestral pieces, sound installations, and a sustained engagement with the piano. On The Mountains Pass, recorded by Greg Norman at Steve Albini’s Electrical Audio and meticulously edited and constructed over the course of three years, Block pushes into new terrain, introducing her singing voice and drums played by Jon Mueller into flowing assemblages that move seamlessly from ruminative organ tones and fragmented piano airs to explosions of sizzling synths and thundering percussion. Like many of Block’s past works, which include, for example, a sculptural installation using the sound of oyster beds, The Mountains Pass draws inspiration from nature and the animal world. Time spent in a particular mountain range in Northern New Mexico informs this suite of pieces, whose lyrics and titles refer particularly to animal life in the area. Beginning with bursts of white noise and delicate synthetic pops and squeaks, opener ‘Northward’ very soon reveals the special direction the album will take, as lyrical piano lines are joined by Block’s fragile voice, singing words written from the perspective of f2754, an endangered Mexican gray wolf who wandered more than five hundred miles from Arizona to New Mexico in 2022. The fragment of song quickly breaks off, leaving us with a ghostly electronic hum. ‘The Hermit’s Peak’ follows, one of two epic pieces at the album’s core. Beginning with chiming, almost harpsichord-like tones, it moves through episodes of spacious, ruminative piano, Jon Mueller’s sparkling cymbals, stuttering cut-up piano sounds, and a climax of keening organ and trumpet tones (performed by Thomas Madeja). Continuing the exploration of vintage keyboard and synth tones heard on Block’s Innocent Passage in the Territorial Sea (Room 40, 2021), the music sometimes suggests the great outer-limits works of 70s Italian prog figures like Franco Battiato or Arturo Stalteri in the languorous drift of synthesizer, organ, and piano tones and the meticulous yet organic flow of its construction. ‘Violet-Green’ opens the second side with another epic journey, its lyrical content concerning ‘a mysterious bird die-off and a forest fire’. Block’s crystalline voice and rich piano chords at times call up the restrained chamber songs of Janet Sherbourne, but fragmented and threaded through passages of woozy pitch-bent keyboards, hypnotic distant thuds, tinkling bells, and searing distorted synth tones. On ‘f2754’, the freedom of the roaming wolf surges through dense layers of rapid keyboard attacks and long organ tones over a propulsive drum performance straight out of Animal Magnetism-era Arnold Dreyblatt. This distinctive sound world is then reencountered in a darkened mirror image in the uneasy, metallic shimmer of the closing ‘Ungulates’, named in reference to a heard of elk roaming through the mountains. Like Battiato’s Clic or Gastr del Sol’s Upgrade & Afterlife, The Mountains Pass inhabits the underexplored terrain where the beauty of song coexists with a radical formal openness, illuminating the deep musicality and warmth that have been present in Block’s work all along.

F8 . Liam Melly - Energy
F9 . Armin Van Buuren - Space Case
F10 . The Obsessed - Free Yourself
F11 . Ie Shuuk & B Stylezz - Konje
F12 . Armin Van Buuren - Lose This Feeling (Maddix remix)
F13 . Armin Van Buuren - Lose This Feeling (Dimension remix)
F14 . Armin Van Buuren - AI Vs Humanity (A State Of Trance Year mix 2023 outro)

From the Dolls-meets-the-devil opening title track to the desperate Sister Lovers-adjacent finale "The Findings," The Interrogator is thirteen vibrant, crackling, scary and hilarious songs which taken together represent nothing less than a thorough and thrilling moral inventory of our decadent and depraved times. Following up and doubling down on the themes of last year's lionized cult favorite For Executive Meeting, Elizabeth Nelson has authored an album as politically potent and pointedly hilarious as antecedents like The Mekons' Rock 'n' Roll and Neil Young's on On the Beach and wed it to the sound of ZZ Top's Eliminator. As writers like Rob Sheffield and Robert Christgau have known for years Elizbeth Nelson has been one of our very best songwriters for going on a decade. On the charged anthem "Bad Day for the Group Chat" she reassesses the current state of affairs: "I have bested all my peers." “Elizabeth Nelson showcases the simultaneously fraught and giddy frequency of our weird, wired world. The Paranoid Style may be the bearer of bad news, but at least the band bears it smashingly.” NPR // “You’ll forgive them for being critic’s darlings because they’re also the goddamn life of the party.” SPIN // Features performances by Peter Holsapple of The dB’s, Continental Drifters & REM through out. Elizabeth Nelson writes for the Oxford American, N.Y. Times, Pitchfork, The Ringer and more. She has over 15,000 followers on Twitter. A

Soliton maximizes the compact format by further illuminating lesser-traveled paths. Contemplation and exploration weave harmoniously through five mysterious tracks. Influenced by a wide range of styles and sounds, such as Japanese ambient, the muted dissonance of Pharoah Sanders, and the chilly dub of the Scape catalog, Soliton evokes visions of lonely night drives punctuated by bright moments of bliss. The Calque EP from January 2023 saw them pursuing the minimal electronic side of their work even further. The opening track, "Kottbusser Tor,” showcases a conspicuous absence of the processed guitars that characterize most of their work, and instead explores sequenced filters, tape delays and analog synth patterns for eight minutes. On "Ammosel", they dive directly into dubby soundscapes, with crackling electronics and deep basslines, while "Kiyosumi" and "Fade Into Air" pay a visit to more familiar ambient territory. A darker undercurrent pervades on this EP, but one that goes particularly well with the coldest of seasons and its frosty air. The duo, consisting of Jason Kolb (Michigan, US) and Jonas Munk (Denmark) started working together in 2006, sending each other tracks across the Atlantic, eventually resulting in a full-length release on Felte in 2012. What started out as a side project to their respective main projects (Auburn Lull and Manual) have slowly become the main activity for both artists, now with a total of four full-lengths under their belt. Their music has also evolved and matured over the years, reaching a level of perfection that’s only granted producers who've been in the game for decades. Billow Observatory have by now established themselves as purveyors of highly refined ambient music and the Soliton EP sees them elegantly blend new and old, electronic and organic, into a gently drifting, enveloping whole. “.. mind drenching sunrises, glittering constellations, and sailing clouds, richly furnishing the familiar sense of hovering over vast natural orders that you're also inside. – Pitchfork // “So the world it inhabits is essentially that one between states, simulating a quietly vibrant ecology of sub-aquatic bass rumbles, washed out expanses of mid-range swirl and keening top end whose elusive colours seem to fade and coruscate in the low light. Lovely

With Scream If You Don’t Exist, Richie Culver metamorphoses from outsider musician to underground fixture, feeling his way from the fringes towards a growing community of musicians that have gravitated towards his singular sound world. Building upon the stark catharsis of his previous dispatches, on his sophomore album the artist draws from grimdark drone, industrial noise, experimental hip-hop and UK rave to map out a space for himself, caught between genre and discipline. While on his debut, I Was Born By The Sea, Culver took a last glimpse back at his grey, salt-flecked past while struggling towards somewhere brighter, here, he documents the process of finding fresh waters, parsing through the complexity of inhabiting a more open and optimistic place while contending with the weight of his resolve, staring hard won self-acceptance in the face. The album’s title speaks to this creative and emotional work, serving both as the foundational paradox from which the artist’s new discordant sound emerges and as a call to action, a defiant cry in the face of existential angst.

Part of this process involves visiting familiar territory with renewed focus. Macabre opener ‘Hottest Day Of The Year’ signals an unpleasant memory with crow caw, queasy, gas leak ambience and dental drill whir as Culver recalls a life lived in nihilism: “Everything is just something that happened / Reductionism, muscles spasms, a mother’s first contraction.” Yet, on Scream If You Don’t Exist, Culver’s irresistible formula for ragged machine poetry is shot through with palpable urgency. No longer listless and despairing, he finds new intricacies for these compositions, tracing a stark interplay between crushing bass excavations and penetrating vocal clarity, a contrast picked out in the delicate threads of rhythmic pulse suggesting themselves in the blunt pressure and skittering creep of ‘Weakness’, on which Culver offers up vulnerability as a tentative solution to self-described emotional constipation: “Please do / Do take my kindness for weakness / For I am weak / And that is ok.” The amniotic soundscape of ‘YOLO (then u die)’ gives way to depth charge drone and unnerving machinic improvisations, like a noise show heard from deep in the Mariana trench, while on ‘Underground Flower’ the low-end fog lifts to reveal a brighter, colder scene. “Love me for who I could be / Not who I am,” he pleads, tending gently to his own tenacious bud.

Scream If You Don’t Exist gives us a glimpse of this flower in bloom. On the album’s cursed self-help tape title track stuttering loops of off-kilter keys and childlike repetition make light of the very real risk of disappearing all-together, a nervous breakdown rendered as a malfunctioning nursery rhyme. Paranoiac anthem ‘Say 4 Sure’ introduces bit-crushed boom-bap stomp, as though hammered out on a water-logged Game Boy, swarms of loose-wire noise sparking up against guttural grunts and ragged exhalations, while ‘On The Top’ enacts a seance for the hardcore spirit, with loops of rave piano and hiccuping vocal chops pirouetting through knackered samples, air raid sirens and the ghostly crash of breakbeat cymbals. As though in response to the solitary nature of much of his musical exploration, this time, the artist invites other voices into the world of Scream If You Don’t Exist. On ‘Swollen’, the unflinching, brimstone prophecy of Billy Woods sounds clear through an expanse of spirallic bass, preaching the same frayed gospel as Culver when he issues the quietly devastating contemporary diagnosis: “Computer broke but it still works for now / That’s the best you can say for most of us anyhow,” while another fearless correspondent from the fringes, Moor Mother, brings earthbound heft to the ambient drift and obliterating barrage of ‘Restaurants,’ teasing out meaning with elongated intonation and pitch-shifted intensity.

It’s during the album’s most meditative moments that we might recognise this space Culver has found for himself for what it really is. ‘OMG They’re Gone’ follows a chopped and slowed monologue from Culver’s wife, who works as a death doula, reflecting on her own experiences with grief and the reality of living within a culture both terrified and ignorant of the process. Floating over glistening ebb, etherised croons and luminous chimes, her words stand as a prescient reminder of the power of ephemerality. Just as Culver flourishes in imperfection, here we can find enormous strength in transcience. But it’s with ‘Just Jump In,’ which unfurls like a buoyant counterpart to the sparkling oil rigs of ‘I was born by the sea’, that Culver illuminates the hopeful waters we realise we’ve been making our steady way towards. “I know now / That you loved me,” he admits, a revelation a lifetime in the making. Through the rawest reflection Culver has found a way forward, driven by an optimism drawn from a resolve to be better, to love and be loved, an admission to weakness and the discovery of a new kind of strength. “Don’t test the water,” he reassures us and himself, “just jump in.”

Scream If You Don’t Exist will be released in November 2023 by Participant, on limited edition vinyl, and digital download . The release will be accompanied by a series of films directed by Mau Morgo, Josiane M.H Pozi, William Markarian-Martin, Simon Bus, and Bruxism.