Cerca:then comes silence

Ever wonder what triumph over adversity sounds like? The answer lies in 'Trickery', the new album from gothic post-punk legends Then Comes Silence. A reflection of the band's experiences touring and meeting people all over the world, Trickery celebrates friendship, unity, and the feeling of belonging to a group, a tribe, all wrapped in Then Comes Silence's patented post-punk-wall-of-sound.

Trickery by Then Comes Silence, released 10 May 2024.

This version of Trickery comes as a 1xLP.

The electronic pioneer and founding father of synthpop, Gary Numan, celebrates his 40th anniversary as recording artist. During these 40 years, Numan's impact made itself felt; his dark, paranoid vision, theatrically icy alien persona, and clinical, robotic sound were echoed strongly in the work of many goth rock, wave and industrial artists

Wave Tension Records invited 7 contemporary dark wave, gothic and dreampop artists to honour their inspirator with an exclusive tribute. The album opens with Agent Side Grinder's nostalgic analogue rendition of 'I'm an Agent', followed by Ash Code's fresh sounding fast paced post-punk/dark wave version of 'Down In The Park'. Shad Shadows turn 'Metal' into a whispering heated darkwave track. On the last track of side A, Box & The Twins create warm and dreamy soundscapes in their version of 'Complex'. SUIR opens side B with a hypnotic psychedelic slowed down art-punk version of 'Cars'. Synths Versus Me turns Numan's monster hit 'Are Friends Electric' into a fresh synthpop & EBM take with Art of Noise-esque vocals. The album's closing track is a gothic rock rendition of 'My Name Is Ruin' by Swedish rockers Then Comes Silence, which encourages you to sing along

Six years after Nazamba’s first offering, he delivers his final gift: A Message From Zion.

The journey begins with George ’Nazamba’ and Rico ‘O.B.F’, two kindred spirits connected by sound. Countless cross-ocean visits between Kingston and the French Alps, from enjoying hot beers on the beach to reasonings in snowy mountains. Moments that forged a pure brotherhood.

Out of this friendship grew his first album, the self-titled Nazamba in 2019. Now comes his second, a collaboration between Thompson Sound and Dubquake Records. Together, they unite two generations of reggae powerhouses. Produced by Rico O.B.F, the record reimagines classic Thompson Sound gems. Nazamba’s musical storytelling is accompanied by the Roots Radics, with guest appearances from Linval Thompson & Barrington Levy.

Then came silence. In 2022, Nazamba passed on to Zion. The album project was unfinished, yet full of life. What remains is raw, unpolished and painfully beautiful.

A Message From Zion, a celebration of Nazamba’s universe. His voice, wisdom, poetry, heart and spirit. Forward we ah go. Ah true.

‘Threads’ was my 1st album as Om Unit and this 10-year re-mastered anniversary edition comes around at what feels like a similar time for me of experimentation and finding new ways to connect sounds. Something of a full circle of sorts but then again I am marking time with this re-issue at a time where I can look back and feel very proud of the work still sounding so convincing. Now even better thanks to Subvert Central’s Robert Macchiochi!

Reflecting on the past 10 years since this record came out, I can say it’s been an incredibly fruitful journey, with the most striking element of it all being the opportunity to travel and meet so many people from so many different backgrounds with different world views and stories. I found that ‘Threads’ for many was their first insight into my music, and for some people was something of a milestone in their journey of exploring music itself with tracks like ‘The silence’ and ‘Governor’s Bay’ having been mentioned over the years as amongst favourites alongside some of the work released on Cosmic Bridge and Civil

I want to take a moment to give my Love and gratitude to all the featured vocalists. Thanks to Simon Jinadu for his angelic voice on ‘The Silence’, to Charlie Dark MBE for his reflective words on ‘The Road’ and to Alex ‘Bogues’ Rendall aka MC Jabu (of Jabu) for his intense delivery on ‘Patients’ as well as Jneiro Jarel for his self-reflective narration on “just sayin’” All 4 are still outliers in their own field and upstanding creative forces to boot. I feel blessed to have been able to capture them on this project.

Threads was made in a bedroom of 2a Station Rise in Tulse Hill, a flat I shared with journalist and writer Laurent Fintoni, in a space that had such a great sound to it that I’ll always miss that room. I hope that you feel the warmth that I felt then whilst making it. It’s been an adventure since and whilst I’ve moved on from a lot of the tropes intrinsic to the album, it will always remain a body of work that is dear to my heart.


Enjoy!
<3

ZentaSkai unveils stunning, high-concept house album on Mask Records.


ZentaSkai undertook a period of research into the underlying structure and organisation of the human brain before writing ‘The Architecture Of The Mind’. The Berlin-based artist then took what had been learned and kept it in mind when writing the music that marks Mask's first album release. It comes with extensive background notes on each track, and an operational manual of sorts - notes from the artists as to the effects each piece will have on those who hear them.
"The message conveyed by this album is that life itself is filled with music, but our egos often prevent us from being in harmony with this symphony. Inner chaos and silence can be challenging to bear, leading us to seek solace in external noise. We have constructed a barrier between our inner and outer worlds, causing us to lose touch with the rhythm of harmony. However, by embracing the illusion of separation and dancing to good music, we can rediscover harmony with ourselves and our environment. To fully experience the essence of the album, it should be played loudly on a proper sound system or high-quality headphones. By immersing themselves in the music, individuals can engage with its transformative power and potentially find a deeper connection with their own minds and surroundings." - ZentaSkai.

The gorgeous 'Mind Mapping' opens up with deep and dubby drums and lush harmonies that soothe you to your core, '030' then has more raw, heavy drums with many layers of glowing synths, glassy melodies and organic found sounds. 'Fügung' keeps the deep and introspective moods coming before the crisp tech of 'Flow Dreaming' ups the ante with more drive and layers of vocal whispers, hi-hats and smeared dub chords.


Elsewhere the likes of 'Quiet Reflection' lean into the groove with swirling pads and one-word vocal sounds drifting through the air over propulsive drum loops, and 'Boiling Range' suspends you in deft synth loops amongst the stars over a prickly house beat.
The superb synth craft and well-designed grooves continue through the dusty deep house of 'Karl-Marx-Allee' and minimal dub of 'Dynamic System' before the elegant melodic techno of 'Apeiron' and dreamy synthscapes of 'Parallel 30' close the album in a reflective fashion.


This is a deeply evocative album with a fully realised concept that is as thought-provoking as it is immersive.

In 2023, k.d.b lived in a crumbling farmhouse on the edge of the River Maas. Each morning, he’d wake at 6:00 and walk along the river’s bank with his dogfriend Miemel, pausing at sunrise for a cup of coffee.

It’s 6:34, and a thick rug of mist rolls out across the river. It’s so dense that k.d.b can’t see the water beneath it. Then comes the sun: a single ray cutting through the mist like a tube of light, landing on Miemel’s face. In her mouth is a CD she’s picked up, and on the CD is the title Instrumental Romance.

'What is Instrumental Romance?' thinks k.d.b. 'Romantic instrumentals? Or a romance used instrumentally? As in, a romance used to get something—like love?'

Miemel drops the CD and turns her attention to a stray purple grape on the path. Grapes are poisonous to dogs, and as she bends toward it, k.d.b. shouts, “NO!” At that precise moment, a large fish rises from the mist. It launches into the air, mouth wide open, and hangs there above the clouds. His shout, having traveled across the river, bounces back towards k.d.b with a “NO,” and in perfect synchrony, it appears the fish is also shouting at Miemel. The timing is so perfect, they can’t be sure it isn’t.

The fish falls back down, entering its watery world with an eerie, splashless silence, leaving k.d.b and Miemel standing open-mouthed on the bank. Before they can register the perfection of this duet, another fish (or maybe the same one again) rises from the mist in the exact same spot and launches into the air. Without thinking, k.d.b shouts again. The word “ROMANCE” comes out. This time, however, he is slightly too late, and the word is too long, so “ROMANCE” lingers on after the fish has already fallen back down.

'What even is romance?' thinks k.d.b. 'The construction of mystery or excitement with dead red flowers and timing?'

A foghorn sounds behind him, and k.d.b turns 180 degrees to see a boat moving freight, right to left, along the River Maas. 'That’s strange', he thinks. 'If the river is there, then what’s that behind me, below the mist?'

Staring at the boat and its shipping containers as they float out of sight, k.d.b imagines a man. The man is standing at the bottom of a small valley, holding a fish. 'Who is this man, and what does he want?'

- Jacob Dwyer

Shell Company & Older Brother tap into the Mancunian continuum to deliver heavy sounds for heavy times on 'Shards', their debut release on Numbers.

Born from voice notes sent between Manchester, London and Lisbon, the release took shape remotely before being recorded inside Manchester’s The White Hotel, then refined in the sonic labs of Numbers and La Chunky in Glasgow.

Set across one night, 'Shards' is the fragments of the never ending process of breakdown and placing pieces back together. Along four tracks, the voices of Shell Company (Rosabella Allen) and Older Brother begin far apart, then argue, reflect and collide, trying to find the ground they stand on, with the music laid by brothers Rob and Chris Banks. The two voices work both together and against each other, rendering images that could only exist in limbo: running taps, cans on the floor, and crumbling walls.

Shell Company & Older Brother say of the release —

“Shards is a scream that sings softly. A record that shifts between confusion and sense, hopelessness and hope. Despite moments of intense and perfect connection, the shards rarely fit. Shards is a record not about giving up, but giving in. A recording of the victory that comes from surrendering to float, all because 'it will all make sense one day'. Shards is about love that begins and ends with broken pieces."

If every significant artist has an underrated gem in its catalog, then Mirage is that album for Fleetwood Mac. An obvious return to relative simplicity after the dramatic tension of Rumours and experimental ambitions of Tusk, the 1982 album finds the band re-grouping after a brief hiatus and again climbing to the top of the charts. Extremely well-crafted, well-produced, and well-performed, the double-platinum effort distills the group’s hallmark strengths into a filler-free set that never runs short of addictive pop hooks or daft accents.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, and housed in a Stoughton jacket, Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 45RPM 2LP set presents Mirage in reference sound for the first time. The efforts co-producers/engineers Ken Caillat and Richard Dashut went to capture the splintered albeit formidable band can be heard with stunning accuracy, range, depth, and detail.

Though Rumours understandably gets a permanent spot in the audiophile hall of fame, the smooth, clear, and dynamic sonics on Mirage confirm that the record that stood as Fleetwood Mac’s last effort for five years deserves a place in the same vaunted arena. The presence and imaging of Mick Fleetwood’s percussion alone on this reissue might have you wondering how this slice of soft-rock bliss has gone under-noticed for decades. Other prized aural aspects — separation, definition, impact, tonal balance — are also here in spades.

Like much surrounding Fleetwood Mac in the 1980s, arriving at Mirage was not easy. Caillat searched for studios located outside of Los Angeles on a mission to change up the vibe of the band’s prior recording sessions. Everyone settled on Le Chateau in France, where relations between some members remained icy — and cooperation with the producers strained. Battles with exhaustion, bitterness, and addiction further informed the proceedings at the 18th century complex in the French countryside, where even communal meals were allegedly eaten in silence.

Inevitably, the feelings that co-producer Lindsey Buckingham, Stevie Nicks, Christine McVie, and company harbored — as well as the situations in which they found themselves — drifted into the songwriting. In its rapid ascent to rock-star royalty status, Fleetwood Mac drifted apart, embarked on solo pursuits, and found it was lonely at the top. Emptiness, the illusion of dreams, the longing for love, the want to escape to bygone times of innocence and happiness: Such themes inform a majority of the narratives. Even if the lyrics regularly take a back seat to easygoing arrangements that allow Mirage to come on like a refreshing breeze on a sunny summer afternoon.

Home to three Top 25 singles in the U.S. and having occupied the pole position of the Top 200 album charts for five weeks, Mirage rightfully resonated with the mainstream and attracted listeners on both sides of the pond. And how, via a smart blend of sugary melodies, warm harmonies, interlaced notes, nimble rhythms, taut structures, and passionate vocals. Not to mention the presence of what arguably remains Nicks’ signature song, the biographical “Gypsy,” a meditation on the loss of her close friend Robin Anderson that teems with majesty, mystery, and mysticism — and which gets an assist from Buckingham’s shaded tack piano and richly strummed guitar chords.

Its ranking as an all-time classic aside, that No. 12 hit has plenty of company when it comes to brilliant pop turns on Mirage. On the subject of Nicks, the raspy singer gets a little bit country on “That’s Alright.” Its clip-clopping pace and two-stepping progression complement subtle vocal swells that emerge during the final verse of a tune that is ostensibly about leaving but still conveys forgiveness and grace. And what would a Fleetwood Mac record be without Nicks drawing on the tools of the supernatural — cards, dreams, wolves, and the like — on the twirling “Straight Back.”

Despite the potency of Nicks’ primary contributions, Mirage seemingly unfolds as a tight competition between Buckingham and McVie — and one that ultimately ends in a draw. Buckingham’s salvos include the contagious “Can’t Go Back,” a yearning to time-travel back to the past that’s complete with hall-of-mirrors backing vocals; “Oh Diane,” out-of- left-field ear candy sweetened with hiccupped vocals and salt-and-pepper-shaken grooves; the chiming “Eyes of the World”; and “Empire State,” a delightfully fluttering track whose high-range vocals, lap harp notes, and ringing xylophones hint at the galaxies of sound that would erupt on Tango in the Night.

Then there’s McVie. As elegant, understated, and coolheaded as she’s ever been on record, she pours her heart out on cuts that revolve around her inevitable split with Beach Boy Dennis Wilson. In the process, she punctuates Mirage with a characteristic not always associated with catchy pop music: emotional weight, and the sense of dreaded acceptance in the face of dreams deferred.

“I wish you were here/Holding me tight,” McVie sings over a delicate melody on the album-closing piano ballad “Wish You Were Here.” Though they hoped otherwise, for the members Fleetwood Mac, distance and separation were always close at hand. Believing otherwise, inviting nostalgia, and pretending everything was fine only amounts to a mirage.

Loyle Carner will release his highly anticipated sophomore record, 'Not Waving, But Drowning' on 19 April via AMF Records.

'Not Waving, But Drowning' follows Loyle's BRIT (Best Male, Best Newcomer) and Mercury Prize nominated, top 20 debut 'Yesterday's Gone'. The bedrock of honest and raw sentimentality that you heard on 'Yesterday's Gone' left an inextinguishable mark on music in general and UK Hip Hop in particular, standing out as an ageless, bulletproof debut.

'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's new album, gives yet more evidence - as if it were needed - of his razor-sharp flow and his unique storytelling ability. Yes, he can rap, but he allies that with the sensitivity of a poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, 'a woman from the skies', and he's moving out.

It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator.

Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Yotam Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. 'Ottolenghi' the first single from the album was featured on the BBC Radio 1 B-list, BBC 6 Music A-list and has already been streamed over 5 million times.

Loyle refers to real life for everything, the title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving, But Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend Rebel Kleff after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead.

Loyle also has his own personal black consciousness movement. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). With no real emotional ties to his biological father, but a deep connection with a deceased step-father, where does a young child turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain on 'Looking Back'.

An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Kwes, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place.
Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or a society that lets so many down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. Loyle's 2019 Spring tour - which includes London's Roundhouse - sold out within 20 minutes of being on sale.

Not Waving, But Drowning



A rapper that raps about family is hard to find. The boys in the 'hood' tend not to be that interested in how much a 'brother' loves his mother, or how much he misses his dad, or even how much he misses his best friend. The boys in the 'hood' tend to be obsessed with the size of their cars, girls, bank accounts, and other personal 'possessions'. Loyle Carner's Mercury and BRIT Prize nominated debut 'Yesterday's Gone' (Released 2017), made it clear that he wasn't that kind of rapper. In fact, every time I talk to him about his work we talk about the world, and we tended to confuse ourselves by calling his work rap, poems, or songs, sometimes in the same sentence. They are in truth all of these things.



Here's some poetry.



Honestly I need them.

I hate them but I grieve them

I think I've finally found the reason

Trust

Like the fire needs the air.

I won't burn unless you're there.





'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's forthcoming new album, gives us yet more evidence, (if it were needed), that he still has what rappers call, flow, but he hasn't lost any of his story telling qualities. Yes, the boy can rap, but a rapper with the sensitivity of a true poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, (a woman from the skies), and he's moving out. He really loves the woman from the skies, but he still loves his mum, and so he reassures her that there is no competition, and tells her that 'She's not behind me or behind you, but beside we and beside two', his words. Or to put it another way, moving out without moving out. My words.



It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator. He says finding his own voice was something he always found easy. Although young, (in terms of a musical career), he has confidence in his own words and his own voice, and has never been tempted to sound like he's been hanging out in the USA, or rolling in 'Grime' on the mean streets of East London. And so when it comes to the creative process he doesn't simply find a beat to jump on and ride. Beats are important, but they are tenderly layered with samples, keyboards, or live drums, all imaginatively assembled for the laying on of words. Some tracks start with the idea, some with poetry, and some with a verse from a singer or some other melodic inspiration, but there is no formula.



Here's some poetry.



Don't hold any memories of us

Rather hold you everyday until the memories are dust

Yo we only caught the train

Cos you know I hate the bus





A prolific reader, who has dyslexia is hard to find. Add ADHD (Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) to that and life should become even more difficult. To deal with your difficulties you devise coping strategies, which can differ from person to person. Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. Loyle describes himself as 'weird' because he is happy to read a cookbook as if he was reading a novel or a book of poetry. He has opened a cookery school for young adults not just because he loves food and wants to make more of it, but because it is one of the few things that can focus the ADHD mind. And when it comes to his other love, football, his approach is the same. Focus. He wanted to be a striker he says, up front scoring goals, but found his best position was in midfield because he was able to focus, check options, and see passes ahead of time, providing passes for other players just when they needed them. He says, 'You don't grow out of ADHD, you grow into it.' Loyle is also working with Levi's® on their music project where he is mentoring young musicians over a six month period, culminating at Liverpool Sound City festival.



More poetry.



When the going is tough

I wait till it falls on deaf ears

Hearsay

Without the boundaries of love



He also said, 'Ask most people and they will say that they love their mothers, but most are not going to rap about her'. On his first album Loyle's mum Jean wrote about the 'scribble of a boy' that growing up would take things apart to see how they worked. On this album she speaks with pride about a man who has found his place in the world.



Yes, poetry.



I'm still looking for the answers

Trying to find the right questions

Still waiting for my fathers

But can't break them in to sections



This poetry is serious. Loyle has his own personal black consciousness movement. He told me that he always felt safe at home, and being the darkest one in the family never meant a thing, but then when he had to face the outside world he felt hostility. It shook him up. Now he had to start asking questions, but what were the questions. This is serious. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the verse above taken from the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). So to whom would a young black (or mixed race) kid turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain when he says, 'My great grandfather could of owned my other one.' We are a people descended from enslaved people on one hand, and enslavers on the other, something we are still struggling to come to terms with, and this can be apparent in one family. A big book could have told you that, but here we get it in one line on the track, Looking Back.





Loyle refers to real life for everything. The album is peppered with captured moments that he records on his phone. These moments can range from conversations with taxi drivers, to capturing the moment when England scores a goal in the world cup. The title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving but Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead. Yes people, this is real.



An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit, this is an album for those who have, (I'm sorry, I'm going to say it), emotional intelligence. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place. Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or the society that has let him down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. His first album worked, and this second album is a continuation of that work. Not creating a form, but being formless, as someone like Bruce Lee once said.

And here's some poetry from mum.



We talked long in to the darkest hours

Until we saw the burnished sky

And our eyes stung

As our words blurred and became thoughts

As we were silenced by the dawn

We clung to each other like sailors in a storm

It's like waking up. Disorientated at first, feedback, crushed stones, voices, that's how it starts and you feel protected by this music in a strange way and encouraged to gain insight. As soon as you have begun to really like a chunk of sound and develop an interest in it, it is multiplied or destroyed in some way and someone calls out "Ich". Ich. LSD is hopscotch compared to that. Later, steel rails are dissected. It is ringing in the ears. Everything trembles. It is obvious that you are being looked after, that someone really cares. You are never left alone, whether you like it or not. And then inevitably comes the moment of silence, after being sent through old telephone cables and the nightmares of your ancestors. Pretty much the exact opposite of a podcast. Nevertheless, hits are not left out. Seth is predominantly seen as a harmful god – but by far not only.

Nia Archives is the star at the forefront of the latest era of jungle. Since her emergence in 2020, her collagist soundscapes have helped bring the sound to a new generation of clubgoers (though fair warning: don’t call her a “revivalist” – she’s the first to point out that the scene never went away). So when it comes to talk of the 24-year-old producer, DJ, singer and songwriter’s much-anticipated debut album, the odds are you’re thinking of a full-length record of weightless jungle tracks with basslines so intense they’ll leave your ears ringing.

But the reality of the Bradford-born, Leeds-raised artist’s first ever album – while very much replete with that exquisite jungle sound she does so well – is also doing something a little different. On the thrilling and freeing Silence Is Loud, Nia Archives is looking to make music for beyond the rave. As she explains: “I think music can be experienced in different ways, and there’s different kinds of music for different scenarios. Say you’re at a festival listening to music with thousands of other people, that can feel really uniting. But then you might listen to an album on your own in the bus, or in a taxi; and this project is definitely more a record to sit and listen to than a collection of club tracks.” Nia is intent that Silence Is Loud is taken in as a full body of work of something “more song-focussed, putting interesting sounds on jungle.” It means that this is a record which finds gloomy Britpop, warm Motown, soaring indie, a love for Kings of Leon’s Aha Shake Heartbreak, skittering IDM, Madchester, classic rock, old skool hardcore and more, woven and fused into her ragga and junglist tapestry, all layered with feeling, imbued with her songwriterly lyricism about loneliness, relationships, family, navigating her 20s, and the intense potential power of silence.

The vast sonic palette on Silence Is Loud comes down to Nia’s broad array of influences through her life. With her Jamaican heritage, Nia remembers hearing jungle as a child via her nana, as well as at Bradford Carnival, where she was drawn to the soundsystem culture, dancing carefree on the floats in the parade. The first album she ever bought was Rihanna’s debut, Music of the Sun, and she also went to Pentecostal church back then, and was obsessed with gospel. Aged 16, she moved to Manchester, where she didn’t really know anybody: and so, her solution to meeting people was going out. “Partying was a huge part of my life,” she says, “They used to do little freestyle cyphers at the house parties and I would join in – that’s kind of how I got into singing.” She had found music boring at school, but in meeting all these new people she became interested in making her own music as a hobby. “I was making boom-bap kind of stuff which I didn’t really like in the end,” she laughs, “My lyrics are quite deep, so on a hip-hop beat it all sounds really depressing. I wanted people to dance to my music.” And so she began experimenting with faster tempos alongside that melancholy songwriting, teaching herself how to make beats on Logic: “It’s all been a lot of trial and error, really.”

Nia went to study music in London, and was also interested in visual art, making collages and VHS: “Before the music, I was trying to make a visual archive of my life and the people around me,” she explains, “And then my music was like my diary, and a sonic archive, as well.” Hence, she paired the word “archives” with her middle name, Nia. To this day, in her spare time she’s working on pulling together a documentary on the global nature of the jungle scene.

Back on those first two EPs, Headz Gone West (2021) and Forbidden Feelingz (2022), she honed that junglist sound, painting it with new flecks of colour and vibrance. It was only after she started releasing work that she realised pursuing music could be a viable life path for her. The decision has been paying off ever since. Nia Archives placed third in the prestigious BBC Sound Poll for 2023, alongside garnering a nomination for the Brit Awards’ Rising Star prize, plus wins at the DJ Mag, NME, the MOBOs and Artist and Manager Awards. She has also toured the world – be it North America, Europe or Asia – and even opened a show in London as part of a little something called Beyoncé’s Renaissance World Tour. She’s renowned as a party-starter in her own right, too, with takeovers at Glastonbury, Warehouse Project and her own Bad Gyalz day event. She’s done official remixes for the likes of Jorja Smith, had a huge summer hit with her Yeah Yeah Yeahs rework ‘Off Wiv Ya Headz’, and worked with brands like Corteiz, Nike, Flannels, Burberry, FIFA and Apple. In just three years, it’s fair to say that Nia Archives has become a need-to-know name in dance music.

But Nia is not interested in being one fixed thing. Building on the terrain from her third EP, Sunrise Bang Ur Head Against Tha Wall, the universe of Silence Is Loud is not totally unfamiliar territory; but it’s still emblematic of a bolder scope than we’ve heard from the artist before. Working with Ethan P. Flynn (the songwriter and producer known for his work with FKA twigs and David Byrne), the resulting record is an impressive feat of deftly-sculpted textures; sometimes big and euphoric, like the wobbly, lusty bass of ‘Forbidden Feelingz’, or elsewhere notably gentle and quiet – see: the gorgeous, surprisingly drumless ‘Silence Is Loud (Reprise)’, a heartfelt number that sits somewhere in the school of Adele. “I really sharpened my songwriting skill on this project,” Nia says, “I was really intentional about what I was writing about, and I really loved co-producing with Ethan. His process is so different to anyone I’ve worked with before, and he’s got a kind of DIY set-up like me.” Flynn’s flat overlooks the Barbican, adding that unquantifiable futurist urban quality that the area holds to the music. The pair enjoyed the collaborative process so much that the album was done within three and a half months.

Perhaps this is why Silence Is Loud maintains an exuberant immediacy while still being sleek and spacious, interspersed with flourishes of metallic beats, lush melody and topped with her sugary but powerful vocal, floating over it all. There is an intimacy to the record, perhaps in part due to Nia writing most of her lyrics while sitting in bed in her flat in Bow (once a bedroom producer, always a bedroom producer). You can hear it on the refrain for lead single ‘Crowded Roomz’, which finds rippling guitar lines cutting taut through the beats as Nia refrains: “I feel so lonely crowded rooms.” The song is an examination of life on tour, constantly surrounded by people, but not necessarily those she can be herself around; more than that, the track is exemplary in the category of sad bangers.

Silence Is Loud often finds itself in that push and pull between melancholy and euphoria. There’s a celebration of her unconditional love for her younger brother (the title track), a rumination of an evening with an Irish boy she met by Temple Bar (‘Cards On The Table), or a letter to herself on the light and airy ‘Unfinished Business’, even coming to terms with a lover having a past they haven’t quite processed yet (“nobody comes with a clean slate”). The latter was recorded the week after a music festival, and accordingly captures Nia’s vocal in its not quite healed, husky state.

Nia’s work is always a snapshot of where she’s at when she’s making it. This might not be the debut album you were expecting, but that’s what makes Silence Is Loud so special. Nia Archives has learned the rules of her sound, and is unafraid to break them, pushing jungle and herself into new, unchartered territories that, in turn, go some way to map the history of the greats of British dance music. More than that, it plants her firmly in that lineage.

In the beginning was a half-truth, the truth was of war and the half-truth was post-war. Fancying the pretensions of its cultural superiority, a continent chose to hide the truth behind ridiculous jargon and the soothing distance of offshored ?????????. Europe wished itself beyond war because it thought the privilege of peace a birthright, just as it refused to understand that post-war was a euphemism for interbellum. Then the truth has set us free.

The delusion was discarded and war was revealed as an inconceivable horror. Almost immediately it turned familiar and virtually comfortable. Novelty songs of drones gutting tanks became a laughing matter and the burning tanks, their crew inside, entertainment. Consequently, a plurality of people started to collectively dream of new stages of the righteous kind of carnage. This happened within weeks.

Our imagination has swollen to the point of loss of consciousness, compounded by the narrative form long in the sways of atrophy. All of this raises the question of to what degree were the years of peace culturally squandered. The art of the previous age prided itself on self-awareness, today we fail to even notice that we no longer recognize ourselves. But we have arrived where we started and our issues were not too complex for expression.

Since no art form generates action, the most appropriate art for a culture on the edge of extinction is one that simulates pain. In these times we shouldn't produce any other music, none but this, intended to prevent our silence from being misinterpreted.

Alara Music is releasing the new album of OXY, the new stunning electronic project by Ivan Pavlov (COH) and Sasha Galianov (Shortparis).

OXY is a transient project combining talents of Ivan Pavlov, major electronic artist better known as CoH who has collaborated with Coil, and Sasha Galianov, the main force behind the electronic sound of the avant-garde performance collective Shortparis. The two once met at a festival where they performed a semi-improvised live set. The first performance sparked mutual interest in continuing joint experimentation, which, after a series of concerts, eventually led to this studio recording.

The name of the album is constructed of the two titles presented each on one side of the LP. The first side, AETHER, delivers a powerfully charged contemplative exploration, in which the two seem to carefully study the sound of each other's instruments. The search for balance between the analogue and the digital reveals a murky terrain of focused sonic pressure interwoven with potent silence filled with echoes. Towards the end, AETHER, amorphous in the beginning, gains structure and rhythm, as if preparing the listener to its more agitated sequel, GUST.

Side two, starting with trademark minimalistic patterns of CoH quickly picks up in intensity and wanders into the domains of digital heavy-metal, in which Sasha's menacing guitar riffs are meticulously disjointed in favour of power focus. Then GUST takes the listener through a minor apocalypse, past a few relieving joyful moments of temporal enlightenment, and towards a strange peace found in a disorienting, synth-framed collage of acoustic guitar sounds.

AETHER GUST is a record that requires listener's full attention, offering in return a captivating journey though peculiar landscapes at the intersection of the worlds of two adventurous music explorers, exchanging their sonic beliefs and passions. An intense journey through a landscape of contrasts, between the warmth of analogue sounds and the aridity of demanding electro, both minimalist and abundant. This journey, these intersections, but also this permanent encounter between analogue and digital, are magnified by the physical version of AETHER GUST: it comes as a bundle of both Vinyl + CD versions of the album, all in a 12" vinyl sleeve then nestled in a thick crafted carboard black embossed sheath.

It's the pair you've all been waiting for! FINALLY!

Alan Tew's Drama Suite Part II. What can we really say? Honestly? We guess the first thing that strikes you is how clean the drums are. Almost impossibly slick but dripping so, so heavy with the neck-snapping funk you'd expect from perhaps the most sought-after library funk set of them all! The cheapest on Discogs is, currently, £1300+. Now's your chance to remedy that. If you know, you know. And we think you know...

"The Rub" is a cool, low-slung heavy-funk roller with relaxed brass and alto flute phrases. Up next, "Money Runner" is another edgy funk glider, its easy-tempo moving in harmony with slinky rhythmic riffs and featuring a seemingly ad-libbed electric piano solo. Strutting along after, "White Elephant Walk" is another laconic, deeply stoned walking theme with electric piano and alto flutes. There follows a couple of brief "walking" links before the brilliantly tense "Master Plan" slowly builds. Expectancy grows to the main theme around a minute in and then a melodic theme builds slightly to the 3 minute mark before floating down gradually and elegantly to its climax. It's utterly fantastic. The smoky, after-hours "Night Watch" is a slow, cool gem featuring alto flutes and synths.

Now we're talking, "The Fence (a)" is just sensational and worth buying this album all on its own. It's likely the reason you're here, anyway. Another impossibly funky, slow and easy tempo with a bass riff to die for, dramatic guitar with gorgeous electric piano and alto flute phrases. It was sampled for "Action Satisfaction" by J5, way way back. "The Fence (b)" is a slower, more deliberate version of the previous heater, but it's no less essential. Indeed, it's absolutely jaw-drooping. Closing out this remarkable side, "Surveillance" is another horizontal masterpiece of relaxed yet dramatic jazz-funk. Vibes ad-lib in centre section and give you an idea of how Roy Ayers making library funk in the mid-late 70s might've sounded. Sensational.

Flip over for "Total Silence", a near-beatless and understated scene-setter featuring neat interplay of guitar and synthesizer themes over bass and hi-hats. The slow "Eyes" follows, a brief gem with subdued electric piano solo and a light climax. The fantastic "Drama Backcloth (1a)" is up next, a repetitive piano and bass refrain with guitar figures over the top. Its creeping crime-funk vibe was pilfered for "Outta Town Shit" by Ghostface Killah in 2006. "Drama Backcloth (1b)" is a short, subdued version without the guitar figure. "Drama Backcloth (2)" features an expectant, background marimba figure over light rhythm whilst the cool "Drama Backcloth (3)" centres around a relaxed riff and the angular "Drama Backcloth (4)" presents eerie progressions with piano interjections. It's decidedly non-rhythmic!

We're then onto 14 (!) different half-minute "Scenechanges", all jazzy and funky, some cool and dramatic, some slow and rhythmic. All ace and groove-fuelled. The aptly-titled "Final Statement" closes proceedings, a slow, pensive theme on guitar joined by cool brass and a solo trumpet to its climax.

As with all of our KPM re-issues, the audio for Drama Suite Part II comes from the original analogue tapes and has been remastered for vinyl by Be With regular Simon Francis. And as usual, the sleeve reproduction duties were handed over to Richard Robinson, the current custodian of KPM’s brand identity. We're not quite sure what else to say about this landmark record, other than, GET IT!

Catorce reflexiones sobre el fin (Fourteen Reflections on the End) originated from an installation exhibited at the Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Oaxaca, Mexico, in 2019. Fourteen magnetic bodies of tape that dialogued with the fourteen pieces of electroacoustic music now contained in this album composed from the sound anthology of Angélica Castelló. Thus, Catorce reflexiones sobre el fin is a complex piece consisting of multiple parts that, although articulated with each other, hold a life of their own.

Like every body, these have a unique history made up of mixed fragments spun by Angélica, ranging from field recordings, references, and self-references to previous pieces, experiences, and voice recordings made specifically for these compositions re-recorded in various formats, from lo to high fidelity, analog and digital, composed, decomposed and recomposed (Castelló, A., 2019). Likewise, as any body, they also reflect on their end, whether absolute or temporal, of the many ways of being finite and of saying goodbye.

During the Catorce reflexiones sobre el fin, Castelló takes you on a journey that is difficult to locate. An ethereal space between shattered glass, stridulation of cicadas, war drums, murmurs in French, Italian maledictions, and soft recitations in Spanish. From uproar to solace, all wrapped in a soft abstraction that only allows access to the subtle whisper of these expressions. A gesture between invitation and sharing because who does not recognize oneself in this emotional storm?

First, the approach of the winds, the first breeze that caresses the body. Then the bewilderment announced by the scent of uncertainty condensed in the air’s humidity. The prelude to the storm, to something that will shake you from head to toe, something from which there will be no return.

To the acceleration of the winds comes the percussions, the tremor of the storm with its lightning. la Ira (1). A vibration running through the whole body, unstoppable. This reverberating sound, resulting from its re-percussion with our body acoustics, owes its tones and echoes to the cavities and organs of different masses. From what is hollow and what is full; what is void and what is matter. There is no turning back. It is a dive into the void; to fight and resist because there is no other way to go. It is a matter of survival.

Ma fin est mon commencement Et mon commencement ma fin (2)

After this, the cicada resumes at the crack of dawn, a gentle breeze, and solitude, that temporarily musical silence of embraces (3) with hints of harpsichord and bells.

The breaking of the waves in Sicily is accompanied by the antenna that picks up radio transmissions that already invite other tastes. The Mediterranean and its currents mingle and divide tense routes of escape, exchange, and struggle between Blutorangen, tides, and birdsongs.

An immersion into deep waters.

And in the end, we all commit sins! Queste maledette! (4)

Lorena Moreno Vera, 2023

Colin McCann didn't pick up a guitar for nearly ten years. The Northern-California-based songwriter, previously performing under Long Dog Bird, had been creating music with longtime friend and collaborator Brian Gossman for much of their adult lives with early-00s Baltimore-based band Wilderness. So what would cause such a stagnant period? And how could McCann find his way back to the joy that music had once so easily conjured? The answer was to go back to the very beginning, where the kinetic forces that urged McCann to make music in the first place could emerge once again. But first, he had to make space in his internal world; a kind of silence where he could hear the exhale of his past, and the blossoming of a new song. That blossoming would soon become the first songs for McCann's latest project Vulture Feather. The band's debut album Liminal Fields exists on an intangible plane: a crack in the concrete, a gauze between worlds. For as long as McCann can recall, he's been using music as a vehicle to try and connect with an underlying, indescribable nature that only the sonic world seems to be able to reach. "There's a feeling of ecstasy that comes when one merges with music," he says. "It's what calls us all back again and again to listen, to sing, and to play." McCann had been striving to reach this outlying environment throughout his career, often stretching in ways that eventually came to negatively impact his life, and his health. The wake up call came when McCann suffered a near-death experience, eerily predicted by a friend through a dream she had had almost a year earlier. Newly awoken to the beauty of being alive, McCann strove to slow down, to listen to the inherent nature in all living things, and to rediscover our mutual connectivity. He stopped playing and listening to music, and instead soaked himself in the cacophony of silence. Then without any epiphany or grand catalyst, something urged McCann to pick up a guitar again. Ideas flowed more naturally than ever, and he soon realized that the liminal space he had been searching for was there all along--he only had to listen. McCann tentatively reached out to Gossman to collaborate and the friends found themselves once again jamming together, in an off-grid quonset hut where they now practice. "It was like no time had passed," McCann says. "That feeling of ecstatic joy, of forgetting your own name, came flooding back." They were soon joined by another old friend, Eric Fiscus, who completed Vulture Feather on drums.

DRAIN – the Santa Cruz, CA based hardcore band, whose energetic live shows have propelled them to peak underground popularity (during a global pandemic) and they are ready to break wide open in 2023.

Living Proof is the band’s Epitaph Records debut and follow up to their 2020 breakout release, California Cursed.
The new album is a testament to the hard work and heartfelt ethos that’s at the center of DRAIN’s good-time psyche. There are a couple surprises on the album. Rapper Shakewell appears on the track, “Intermission”.
There’s also a cover of “Good, Good Things,” a nearly four-decade old melodic punk carol by the Descendents: slam-pit forebearers to DRAIN if there ever were any. “It’s crazy because the song’s been out like forty years, but lyrically it’s a DRAIN song!” exclaims vocalist
Sam Ciaramitaro.
“It just hits on everything that I love, that I’m about.”
What Sammy’s about is plenty wholesome. “I hope with this record that when someone hears it, it gives them hope,” beams. “If we were able to get through the tough times, anyone can. I can’t wait to play these songs and hear a room full of people singing back to us. We’re what the title says, the Living Proof.”

Produced by longtime friend and multi-instrumentalist Taylor Young (God’s Hate, Suicide Silence), then mixed by John Markson (Drug Church, Koyo), this is hardcore for everybody.
“As the band gets bigger, I try and keep that feeling alive,” says the smiling singer. “Every night I set up the merch and run it until it’s time to play. I want to be the guy that everyone says hello to. I want to thank every single kid that comes out for being there.”

Sintering or frittage is the process of compacting and forming a solid mass of material by heat or pressure without melting it to the point of liquefaction. The material produced by sintering is called sinter. The word sinter comes from the Middle High German sinter, a cognate of English cinder.

Born in the mid-60s, German musician and sound designer Uwe Zahn came on the scene of electronic music with his debut full-length album for DIN, titled “Atol Scrap.” In the very same year of 2000, the influential City Centre Offices label has signed Arovane for his majestic “Tides,” which has withstood the test of time for over two decades now. Back then, electronic music was split between the dance floors and the bedroom listening, with the latter carrying the now-famous acronym for Intelligent Dance Music. And Zahn’s compositions were indeed just that – more than a gimmicky, knob-twisting, stuttering randomization of experimental rhythms and tone, Arovane’s music evoked real emotion which has assembled his followers from around the globe. But his arrival on the scene was more than a predictable trajectory. Zahn’s sound began to take shape in the late 80s when the cut-up hip-hop beats were layered with synthesizer pads and looped samples. This experimentation progressed into what the 90s coined as breakbeat and glitch.

As the 2000s rolled over, and the monumental imprints, such as Skam and Warp, honed their staple repertoire defining the future of electronic music, City Centre Offices had a staple of their own. Often referenced alongside Boards of Canada and Autechre, Arovane’s sound quickly gained a discerning audience, tuning into his melancholic melodies, advanced textures, and complex polyrhythms. The pinnacle of his production was released in 2004, when suddenly, on “Lilies,” Zahn signed off with the final track, which he has titled “Good Bye Forever.” And then there was silence. For nearly nine years, the scene and yours truly mourned the loss of Arovane, assuming that he’s given up. That is until, in 2013, Zahn came out with a brand new album, “Ve Palor,” on the surviving post-IDM imprint, n5MD.

While on hiatus, Uwe spent his time researching, reconnecting, and reflecting on all he’s built. The sound experiments went on, and so did the music scene, morphing, dissolving, re-shaping itself into a new form for new followers. During that time, Zahn spent some time with sound design, creating patches for Access Virus TI, as well as sample packs for various sound developers. After “Ve Palor,” Zahn began collaborating with various musicians from around the world, exploring, directing, and fusing their distinguished sound with his own. On his subsequent releases, he shared credits with ambient artists Porya Hatami, Hior Chronik, Darren McClure, and even yours truly. During our collaboration, Zahn often described the process of building a new vocabulary for our very own defined language, with which my piano spoke through sound.

With nearly two dozen studio releases under his belt, numerous EPs and singles, and just as many appearances on various compilations, Zahn continues to split his time between his fascination with sound design, sonic programming, and musical composition, which sees the light via his ongoing projects, releases, and contributions towards audio plug-ins, software synths, and sound sets for advanced hardware. It’s effortless to slot Zahn’s sound between the genres, scenes, and names, but very difficult to peel apart, define, and then express the essence using words. However, what is simple and essential for the ones who understand, is recognizing, admiring, and subsequently falling in love with all that is encompassing of Arovane. (by Mike Lazarev)

With her hypnotizing voice and vivid lyricism, Jackie Mendoza makes fantastical, intimate electro-pop propelled by ukulele-based dance grooves. Having grown up between her birthplace of Chula Vista, California and Tijuana, Mexico, the 29-year-old singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist bridges these two worlds with dynamic soundscapes that pull from Latin pop, electronic music, and indie pop. She creates a musical universe that exists beyond strict borders of genre and geography, giving her the space to traverse the vast expanse of her interiority. Mendoza first started performing in 2014 as the vocalist for Brooklyn dream pop bands Gingerlys and Lunarette. She then broke out as a solo artist with her 2016 pop hits "Islands" and "La Luz," which showcased her imagery-packed, yet deeply introspective lyrics. On LuvHz, her 2019 adventurous debut EP that was initially inspired by a painful breakup, she turned her personal experiences into songs that observe greater truths about the world around her. As a result, the project became a broader reflection on varying forms of love, in relationships with your partner, your culture, and the natural environment. Mendoza expands this approach on her debut album, Galaxia de Emociones (Galaxy of Emotions), which sees her exploring a great range of feelings, from depression, celebration, outrage, numbness, hopelessness, and thrilling love. She uses each emotion as a portal to convey the intricacies of her experience as a queer, first-generation Mexican American woman, who actively defies and criticizes machismo and the Christian culture she was surrounded by. Brought up in the suburban border town of Chula Vista, she recalls being told by her parents to not mix English with Spanish, but speaking "spanglish" quickly became inevitable. It wasn't until high school, that learning to play ukulele and singing in school musicals allowed her to authentically express herself. "This album is about finding the courage to not only face my emotions, but also sharing them by singing them out loud." Mendoza says. The project was co-written and co-produced by Mendoza and Rusty Santos (Animal Collective, Panda Bear), with a contribution from Grammy winning producer and accordionist Ulises Lozano. As Galaxia de Emociones cruises from shimmering indie pop to accordion-laced electronic norteño, Mendoza proves there is both power and tenderness in embracing the fullness of your being and not doubting your instincts that might have been discouraged by society. She says it all in the opening song, "Natural," which blooms with spacey synths and twinkling ukulele plucks. "There is no use in controlling what comes natural to you," she sings in Spanish in a spellbinding loop. With her new album, she hopes that listeners can connect with her words and look within to explore their own galaxy of emotions.

Bassist and composer Milo Fitzpatrick (Portico Quartet) launches new collaborative project with saxophonist Jordan Smart (Mammal Hands)

Vega Trails is a new project from double-bassist and composer Milo Fitzpatrick, a founder member of Portico Quartet, who has also performed with the likes of Nick Mulvey and Jono McCleary and features saxophonist Jordan Smart (Mammal Hands, Sunda Arc) in a richly powerful duo bringing together two powerfully charismatic musicians. The project which takes its name from Carl Sagan's science fiction novel 'Contact' (a book about signals of new life detected from the Vega system) andwas born out of a desire to bring the elements of bass and melody to the foreground in their rawest form and Fitzpatrick explains that he deliberatelychose the stripped back approach.

"There is so much in just one musician's sound; the emotional, the intellectual, the vulnerability and power of their character. But often these delicate nuances can be submerged in the quest for a group sound. In Vega Trails I wanted to grant the musicians space to breathe and be heard and for the listener to witness the intimacy and depth of a conversation between two voices, bass and melody. I was also interested in how the limitations would guide both the composition and performance and to push us both to places close to the limits of what we could play, and it is in this place where I believe the character of a musician blossoms and comes forward".

Tremors in the Static was composed during Lockdown as Fitzpatrick immersed himself in music that had space and sparseness such as Swedish fiddle music and Indian Classical music. Jan Johansson's legendary 'Jazz på Svenska' (jazz versions of Swedish folk songs) was another influence, as was a collection of ancient lullabies by Spanish soprano singer Montserrat Figueras. Through exploring the harmonic and textural possibilities on the bass, Fitzpatrick would cycle riffs and motifs whilst singing melodies, and he began to create the music debuted here. However, it was only after listening to Charlie Haden's album of duets, 'Closeness', that the project would come into focus as a duo, and Fitzpatrick immediately knew that the second musician had to be Jordan Smart.

"I saw Jordan play at two Gondwana Records events – in Berlin and Tokyo. Both times I was mesmerised by the intensity and conviction of his playing. His commitment to the cause of transcending himself and the listener made a lasting impression on me. When I began writing this record, I knew I needed a strong player who had equal conviction in their playing as me, but also someone who understood the importance of melody"

It was an inspired idea as Smart brought an openness and positivity which allowed the music to be both experimental and bold. Smart's ability to play tenor and soprano saxophone with equal command, as well as bass clarinet and Ney flute, allowed them to open up the pallet of sound and pull the melodies into varying emotional landscapes.The final piece of the puzzle was the performance space. Fitzpatrick knew that he wanted the two players to react off of a third element. The music was written for an ambient space which interacted with the notes: decaying and disintegrating them into silence. They found the perfect space in a church in Fitzpatrick's local neighbourhood of Stamford Hill.

"The recording space is the canvas on which the sound interacts and flows, it is the frame in which notes can live, breathe and die and is as important as the other elements. A resonant recording space, like a church, allows this stripped back sound to resonate, echo and linger, enough to create images and landscapes in which stories can play out".

This then is Vega Trails, a project that brings together two open-mined and communicative musicians for the first time, to tell beautiful winding stories together and to create something soulful and new.Something bigger than both of them and something that leaves us all richer for hearing it. Enjoy!

Sounds like supergroup. Rarely have outstanding figures of such a variety of musical styles collaborated on one album to pay homage to a nearly forgotten artist, one of the few black Beatnik poets, Bob Kaufman.

"All Those Streets I Must Find Cities For" by The Plastik Beatniks is an attempt to acoustically reanimate Bob Kaufman, to return the Beat to him in a transatlantic collaboration. It is a shimmering psychedelic, at times jazzy concept album, sometimes reminiscent of Krautrock or hip hop, about a Beat-era poet who was as great as he was forgotten. It takes spoken word to a new level, as a transatlantic showcase of musical avant-gardes and a joyful "sound archaeology" of modernity, in which the tracks of the "Plastik Beatniks" meet the best voices of America.

The 12 wildly different songs and audi collages, on the transatlantically-produced album, "All the Streets I Must Find Cities For," is based on lyrics by Beat author Bob Kaufman. They were originally part of the radio play "Thank God for Beatniks," for which author Andreas Ammer ("Ammer & Einheit"), Notwist‘s Markus Acher and Micha Acher and loop maker Leo Hopfinger ("LeRoy") formed "The Plastik Beatniks." On the eastern side of the Atlantic they composed music and crafted soundscapes. On the west side of the ocean, they asked three of the most renowned singers, activists and producers in the U.S. to recite or sing Bob Kaufman's poetry.

Punk-pop icon Patti Smith immediately signed on to read Kaufman's poem "Ginsberg (For Allen)". Free jazz vocalist Moor Mother passionately performed Bob Kaufman's "War Memoir". American jazz clarinetist, composer, singer and “International Anthem” labelmate Angel Bat Dawid, a legitimate successor to Sun Ra, polyphonically read and sang such poems as "The Sun is a Negroe" and "West Coast Sound 1956" and included some clarinet solos on top. Also on the album, Bob Kaufman himself recites his previously unknown poems "Hollywood Beat", "Would You Wear My Eyes", and the "Jail Poem" "All Those Streets I Must Find Cities For". Beat chronicler Raymond Foye, who still lives at the Chelsea Hotel in New York, contributed an interview he conducted with late beatnik Allen Ginsberg about Bob Kaufman. Completing the circle was hip-hop artist Adam "DoseOne" ("13&God"), who once gave Markus Acher a well-thumbed volume of Bob Kaufman, whom he admired. He contributed some raps. Thus 12 tracks emerged, as diverse as the artists, poets and musicians who contributed to it. More than an album. An epitaph. A work for the eternity of Beat.

Regarding Bob Kaufman - of course the FBI kept a file on him – first as a sailor, then a communist, and finally a Beat poet. As one of the mainstays of the movement, he edited the literary magazine "Beatitude" in San Francisco and defined "Beatnik" to Allen Ginsberg: half rhythm, half sputnik. Bob recited his poetry loudly on the streets (when he wasn't sunk into years of silence in protest of the Vietnam War) and in the bars and bagel shops of North Beach. Once, he almost landed a pop hit ("Green Green Rocky Road"), which then made Dylan's companion Dave van Ronk famous. That Kaufman is today less known than his friend Allen Ginsberg may be because he was a black Beat poet, and also a Jew. This was not compatible with fame in the US of the 1950s. Though Kaufman had the same publisher, City Lights, as Ginsberg, he was frequently arrested and jailed, and was treated with electric shocks until he developed serious mental heath issues. There he wrote his "Jail Poems". The seventh of these lent this album its name:

"Someone whom I am is no one / Something I have done is nothing Someplace I have been is nowhere / I am not me What of the answers / I must find questions for? All these strange streets I must find cities for, Thank god for beatniks."

Around the year, the sturdy red brick walls of an old Cable Factory stand there like a mountain, facing weathers of all kinds rising from the Gulf of Finland. It might be freezing winter winds whipping the whole shore line into submission, fog heavy as concrete, or the relentless sun of the summer months, softening the asphalt to a boiling point. Whatever the weather may be, the narrow courtyard of the old factory embraces those musicians, who are looking to get down. They gather from all directions, making their way towards a pair of doors that lead towards a flight of stairs, again through a few doors all the way to the last portal, where an open padlock and a loosely hangin crossbar signal that Cold Diamond & Mink are inside, locked in a groove.

Who could it be with them this time, perhaps the jazz prophet Jimi Tenor beaming out of his space ship, maybe it's the golden voiced knight of soul Tuomo "Pratt" Prättälä, the number one trumpet wielding dandy Jukka Eskola or the saxman Pope Puolitaival, who loses nothing in coolness compared to the former? The reel to reel is always there in the monitoring room, catching each analog layer of sound, even the silences and banter between takes. Seppo lays down the guitar and tries to catch the riff on organ instead, Jukka throws a rare tune on the turntable, hoping to guide their unit through that wobbly chorus, Sami waits there bass in hand, maybe already thinking about the next production.

After a whole lot of playing instruments, arranging and taking care of business, after the moon has travelled around the old industrial building for some rotations, Carlton Jumel Smith comes waltzing through those same doors. There's a handful of unnamed tracks waiting for him. He sits there listening and then starts writing, maybe echoes of soul classics from his own record collection in New York projecting inside his mind. Then the tape is rolling again. Starting with a short intro rap Carlton lets it out, singing on the edge of shouting "Woman you made me...". After the vocals are in the can, Carlton ascends out of the basement and heads out to entertain an audience somewhere. Some months later, after the mix is said and done, there's the question of the instrumentals. It seems they're pretty good as they are. And here they are.




d 04: Help Me (Save Me From Myself) Instrumental

The latest collection by Cascadian resident loscil aka Scott Morgan is a stunning meditation on light, shade, and decay, sourced from a single three-minute composition performed by a 22-piece string orchestra in Budapest.
The subsequent recording was lathe-cut on to a 7-inch, then “scratched and abused to add texture and color,” from which the entirety of Clara was sampled, shape-shifted, and sculpted. Despite their limited palette, the compositions summon a sense of the infinite, swelling and swimming through luminous depths. Certain tracks percolate over narcoleptic metronomes while others slowdive in shimmering shadowplay, sounding at times like some noir music of the spheres.
Although Morgan's compositional premise for Clara was quite defined, the resultant work is wonderfully opaque and spatial, equal parts lush and lurking, traced in fine-grained gradients and radiant silences. The album's title comes from the Latin for ‘bright': a fitting muse for this masterpiece of celestial electric currents and interstitial ether, where “shadows are amplified and bright spots dimmed.”

Five years after the release of ‘Pressure Loss’ the modern master of electronic minimalism Nicola Ratti returns to Where To Now? in collaboration with Japanese MC ‘MA’, for a suite of submerged, outsider Trip-Hop.

‘Shinkai’ meets at the crossroads of the gloomy sonic snapshot world of Tricky, the South London DIY avant pop bloom of Curl/Mica Levi, the outer fringes of Hip-Hop heralded by the Anticon crew, and the deep textured minimalism of Machinfabriek.

‘Shinkai’ heralds the first time Nicola Ratti has worked with a vocalist, and MA’s unique brand of ritualistic vocal methods and experimental approaches to intonation and inflexion only enhances Ratti’s otherworldly soundscapes. The depth of meaning behind MA’s lyrics further expands this sprawling sound world, revealing a twisted beauty, a deep insight into the melancholic world MA reflects upon within his abstract wordplay – on ‘Suiso’ MA laments above Ratti’s mourning electronics….

“A ship with the wind in the sails erased a path to the skies.

Gone forever,
In sandy finality,
A scene never to be repeated,
Never to be understood.

Never to hatch,
Dreams of never continuing beyond the crossroads
A painting dissipates as the allure runs dry
Without consulting the dusk, dawn never arrives.

Agonising over the silence brought on by a stumble,
Attacked from all angles until I find my ground once more.
What comes next does not matter - just as long as it comes.
A not-so-distant-future, born from certain uncertainty.

Let me face it with wavering reservations,
Bury me in it
My sins left unanswered
Cover the snow on which it falls.

An unthawing aquarium.
An unanswering aquarium.

Hiding, evolving, recollecting, transferring,
A precarious contradiction befalls.
Timeframes cut, edited and replaced with resentment
The ritual aesthetics of a secret ceremony.

The thoughts of once again,
Fills me with dread and rage.
Painted in blood.

Alas, it was fun...”

On the surface this is an unlikely (yet inspired) collaboration – MA has been a part of the Tokyo Hip-Hop underground for many years, over which time he has stylistically leapt into noisier, more experimental territories. We have Rabih Beaini to thank for shining a light on MA’s talents, with the 2019 LP ‘AMA’ being released on Morphine records, and Beaini opening new doors for experimentation and collaboration.

‘Shinkai’ was composed and recorded between January and April 2020. The pair had met a couple of times in Japan first and then in Europe, undertaking a live collaborative experiment combining sounds and words that had not been designed to be performed together, ‘Shinkai’ reflects the fluidity of this encounter and is in essence a consequence of it.

Ratti assigns the following poetic grounding to the intentions and thematic form of the album – “Shinkai means deep sea, a place most of us will never see except on the surface. The sea depths do not belong to us, they are not places for us, we do not know them and they disturb us, they are a material that we can look at without seeing. I have always thought that height, verticality in general, was not a familiar dimension except in relation to our physicality. The horizon reassures us, the depth disturbs us. The Italian language is written and read horizontally, from left to right, the Japanese language can be written vertically and read from right to left. Does the horizon still reassure us?”

GES: Anthology of American Pop Music

Six great pop standards remembered: five pop songs are dissected by sampler, stretched, compressed, and re-collaged. In this way, their identity is lost. What remains is a vague concreteness: flashes of déjà vu and remote echoes that evoke the original.
GES (Gesellschaft zur Emanzipation des Samples)
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Active members: Helmut Schmidt, Jan Jelinek
Founded: 2009
Headquarters: Federal Court of Justice, Karlsruhe, Germany
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GES Glossary

Acoustic Surveillance Series

A 7-inch vinyl record series curated by GES focussing on historical methods of acoustic surveillance. Each record introduces a surveillance system from the past. Starting with Uguisubari in 2017, the series will continue with the release of Orecchio di Dionisio in 2021. GES is open to further suggestions on this subject.

Bundesgerichtshof (German Federal Court of Justice), Karlsruhe

“The use of audio samples as artistic practice may justify the infringement of copyright and intellectual property rights.” (ruling of the German Federal Court of Justice pertaining to Metall auf Metall II, 2016). The court is also the official headquarters of GES.
Circulations

What happens to copyright claims when music from a passing car is captured in a street recording? Is it legal to use this recording freely or is it necessary to obtain licensing rights? Circulations re-enacts this recording situation: audio players are placed in public spaces, where they reproduce the desired sample material. The acoustically choreographed space is then recorded, creating a field recording in which everyday noises circulate together with seemingly incidental music.

Emancipation of Sampling

Fuelled by its criminalization, the act of sampling existing recordings forfeited some of its artistic prestige (see Sampling). GES wishes to rehabilitate and re-emancipate the practice of sampling as a form of art in its own right. Strategy: 1. Name samples and sources explicitly. 2. Choose samples that are as popular and as recognizable as possible (Beatles, Carpenters, etc.). 3. The editing and manipulation of the sample must not compromise its recognizability (negotiable). 4. Use as many samples as possible. 5. Always name more sample sources than were actually used in the composition.

Field Recording

A compositional practice widely used in sound art and ethnomusicology that involves the recording of natural acoustical phenomena. Two additional requirements are usually imposed: The recording process should take place outside a studio environment, i.e. outdoors. And the person recording does not generate any of the acoustic material him/herself. GES expands this definition by introducing the concept of choreographed public space (see Circulations).

Gambling

An acoustic event favoured by GES, already used in numerous sound collages (must take place in public). The most popular option is thimblerig, a cup and ball gambling game commonly played in the street. Compositional instruction by GES: Place an audio playback device in the proximity of a thimblerigger. Play works for orchestra (by Debussy or Mahler). Move slowly towards the gamblers with a microphone.

Helmut Schmidt

Multiple identity and fictional character devised by GES. Figures variously within the semiotic system of GES as member, guest artist or public representative. Following the historical example of Subcommandante Marcos (EZLN).

Kraftwerk

The German band founded by electropop musicians Florian Schneider-Esleben and Ralf Hütter (a.k.a. Die Prozessoren) is the natural enemy of GES. Protected by computer-generated avatars, Kraftwerk operates a quote-hostile cultural hegemony. Their strategy: Install a special brand in the collective consciousness by means of a sophisticated system of quotations and references that may in turn not be quoted by anyone else. Other bands with such delusions of omnipotence: U2, Metallica.

Marcel Duchamp

As the inventor of the readymade, Duchamp may be viewed as a precursor to the art of sampling. However, the artist is appreciated above all for his sonorous qualities, as his vocal silence has often been sampled and processed. It was the inspiration for Jelinek's radio play Zwischen.

Orecchio di Dionisio

This 65-meter-deep limestone cave in the Sicilian town of Syracuse, carved out of a hillside in ancient times, has exceptional acoustics: A person standing at the cave entrance can hear every word whispered deep down inside it. The painter Michelangelo da Caravaggio gave it its name (The Ear of Dionysius) in 1608. The cave indeed resembles an ear and – according to Caravaggio – had a specific function: The tyrant Dionysius I imprisoned his political prisoners in the cave in order to spy on them. Orecchio di Dionisio will be featured in the Acoustic Surveillance Series in the near future.

Sampling

Compositional practice whereby recorded music is fragmented, turned into sound collages and transferred into different contexts of meaning. Since the advent of affordable sampling technology in the 1990s, the music industry has been trying to criminalize and/or promote the practice. Both strategies are driven by the same principle: Profit.

Uguisubari

Sound-making floorboards in Japanese temple and castle complexes, featured in the Acoustic Surveillance Series in 2017. In the Edo period, the “nightingale floor” (literal translation of uguisubari) was a popular acoustic warning system. The principle was straightforward: When someone stepped onto the boards, nails would rub against metal clamps beneath the floor, creating a tell-tale squeaky sound that was said to resemble the chirping of the Japanese nightingale.

Wind

A generator of acoustic events and an amplifier/transmitter of existing sounds. A meteorological form of energy appreciated by the GES on account of its unpredictability. A series about wind as an acoustic phenomenon is planned. Working title: Hotel Corridors.

Zwischen (Between)

Radio play by GES member Jan Jelinek based on recordings of various public interview situations. From the speech of the interviewees (all of them eloquent personalities) the pauses between coherent utterances were extracted and assembled. What we hear is an archaic body language: modes of breathing, word particles and onomatopoeic turmoil. A key question for GES: Which comes first, personal rights or artistic freedom? For Zwischen, Jelinek used only recordings by public figures that were already available to the public.

Around the year, the sturdy red brick walls of an old Cable Factory stand there like a mountain, facing weathers of all kinds rising from the Gulf of Finland. It might be freezing winter winds whipping the whole shore line into submission, fog heavy as concrete, or the relentless sun of the summer months, softening the asphalt to a boiling point. Whatever the weather may be, the narrow courtyard of the old factory embraces those musicians, who are looking to get down. They gather from all directions, making their way towards a pair of doors that lead towards a flight of stairs, again through a few doors all the way to the last portal, where an open padlock and a loosely hangin crossbar signal that Cold Diamond & Mink are inside, locked in a groove.

Who could it be with them this time, perhaps the jazz prophet Jimi Tenor beaming out of his space ship, maybe it's the golden voiced knight of soul Tuomo "Pratt" Prättälä, the number one trumpet wielding dandy Jukka Eskola or the saxman Pope Puolitaival, who loses nothing in coolness compared to the former? The reel to reel is always there in the monitoring room, catching each analog layer of sound, even the silences and banter between takes. Seppo lays down the guitar and tries to catch the riff on organ instead, Jukka throws a rare tune on the turntable, hoping to guide their unit through that wobbly chorus, Sami waits there bass in hand, maybe already thinking about the next production.

After a whole lot of playing instruments, arranging and taking care of business, after the moon has travelled around the old industrial building for some rotations, Carlton Jumel Smith comes waltzing through those same doors. There's a handful of unnamed tracks waiting for him. He sits there listening and then starts writing, maybe echoes of soul classics from his own record collection in New York projecting inside his mind. Then the tape is rolling again. Starting with a short intro rap Carlton lets it out, singing on the edge of shouting "Woman you made me...". After the vocals are in the can, Carlton ascends out of the basement and heads out to entertain an audience somewhere. Some months later, after the mix is said and done, there's the question of the instrumentals. It seems they're pretty good as they are. And here they are.




d 4 Help Me (Save Me From Myself) [Instrumental]

Naïf 008 opens a series of five ep´s that will be released around the release of the DJ-Mix-CD also named - naïf which has it´s release in April 2018
The first strike comes with two blinding Techno tracks: Running man is a contribution by the - Gentleman of Techno Steve Bicknell. The other comes from the young swedish Producer that goes by the name of KUF and who is part of the Arsenik Crew.
Besides that we find two compositions by Phillip Sollmann himself that show his abstract and experimental Approach.
While - Aliasing Bells is a texture of sampled tibetan bells - Tag3 by his side-project - Autolyse is a jam on a light-sensor-controlled custom-made synth. Perfect for layering on top of a mix.

After more then three years of silence as a producer, Efdemin a.k.a Phillip Sollmann returns with a striking hybrid concept that merges the album format with the continuous DJ mix' format, presenting completely new material in a seamless manner. The CD-mix, named Naïf, officially reinstates his label of the same name and is a sprawling tour of inner space featuring 19 distinct tracks from fellow producers along with an additional ten that feature Efdemin himself (either as soloist or collaborator). The release condenses his decade-long DJ-ing journey and evolution as a producer into a single potent elixir of contemporary techno.
Naïf consists of completely unreleased material from both himself and valued collaborators, all of which will eventually manifest as EP releases: five on his own Naïf label and two more on Curle.

Curated by Phillip Sollmann, Berlin 2018
Mastering and Cut: Kassian Troyer
& © Naïf Recordings 2018