Search:the balek band

Some grooves don’t rush to the dancefloor — they crawl there, slow and heavy, like smoke wrapping around a bassline. With Fragments of Reality, The Balek Band sculpt an electronic funk that lives between shadow and light — an end-of-the-world fever dream, a Barjavel-style Ravage where chaos turns nihilistic.

No sequencer grid here — just four musicians sharing the same room, shaping air and tension together: drums locked tight with a slap bass, a guitar dripping with echo and heat, and a one-man orchestra behind his machines, weaving acid lines and synth arpeggios while mixing the band live — drenching it in delay, reverb, and saturation, like a dub producer in a Kingston studio, Lee Scratch Perry or King Tubby conjuring ghosts through smoke.

This isn’t fusion — it’s friction. A living ritual where the TB-303 hums, and machines don’t dominate but converse with the human pulse. Each track feels like a night that refuses to end — that humid in-between where trance slips into languor, and the body starts to think for itself.

The record recalls the cosmic jazz of Alain Mion or Eddy Louiss meeting the fiery energy of West African afrobeat musicians freshly arrived in a smoky Belleville basement in the mid-’80s. When The Balek Band summon ghosts, it’s only to reshape them — bending the past into something futuristic, alive, and strangely refreshing. Both disciplined and delirious, Fragments of Reality feels like a promise at dawn: dark funk for the late hours, slow acid for warm blood.

This EP isn’t nostalgic, though it remembers. It’s a transmission from a parallel past — a moment when jazz players met drum machines and decided never to stop playing. Each note sweats, each rhythm breathes. You can almost see the light cutting through the haze, faces half-awake, half-possessed.

The Balek Band aren’t recreating a moment — they’re keeping it alive.
Flesh and cables. Impulse and patience.
A band, not a loop.
A trip, not a format.

Iconic french punk band Ludwig Von 88 celebrates its 40 years birthday with a 4LP/CD box set including their recent albums "L'Hiver des Crêtes", 'L'Ete du No Future", "Le Printemps du Pogo" & "L'Automne de L'Anarchie".

Who managed the artistic feat of composing 56 cosmic hits in one year, recording them, engraving them with chisels on plastic discs that are not at all environmentally friendly, and packaging them in a magnificent box, with marvellous illustrations and sleeves of a taste that surpasses perfection? Who did?

Look no further than the Ludwigs, who could do it. And since they had no plans for 2023, apart from celebrating their fortieth birthday over a tasteless cake in a dingy old flat in a godforsaken suburb in the forbidden zone, they did it. And they're proud of it.

56 tracks. One album per season. The Mozart of pogo becomes the Vivaldi of stakhanovism!

Good rough punk, ska, swing, reggae, cumbia and even yodelling. What a gift to the universe before its final destruction.

Listen and enjoy. Sing along and get your groove on. After the Ludwigs, the music will have the flavour of a rosewater romance declaimed by Garou in Birkenstock and the colour of the cosmic void after his encounter with André Rieu's five poodles.

Wagram turn their attention to the hip-swivelling world of Afro-disco and Afro-Funk, putting together a sizzling set of pan African sounds covering a whole host of dance styles from all over the continent. Deeper diggers may recognise some of these gems from individual reissues over the last few years, but this is the only time you'll find them all in one place.