Weltschmerzen News

Viktor Ori's debut solo album LEPSIE NEBOLO NIKDY DOBRE NEBUDE is an album all over the place. in the most complimentary of senses.

Coming from one of the deepest and most uncompromising projects on the Slovak contemporary music scene, it is an album of profound weltschmerzen.

The music and themes are acute, harrowing, and deeply radical. LEPSIE NEBOLO NIKDY DOBRE NEBUDE paints a bleak picture. exactly as the time we're living in.

It is a statement at times subjective and personal, at other times universal, general, generational. at all times deeply honest and political.

It is not hopeful but at least, it feels sincere.

LEPSIE NEBOLO NIKDY DOBRE NEBUDE is Viktor Ori's debut solo album. thematically and compositionally, it marks a departure from Viktor's band Shallov, but still features his closest collaborators - brother Dusan Ori on bass and Antonin Kropacek on drums. additionally, the album is heavy on collaborations with various, yet likeminded artists.

The songs are simpler and shorter and perhaps more straigh-forward, but as intense and heavy as ever. layered, surprising, full of odd time signatures, sublime harmonies and sudden sonic changes. you can still feel the grandeur, monumentality, and mayhem of Shallov. many moments are cathedral, cathartic and the music leaves you in awe.

Viktor has somehow // unfathomably managed to compress Shallov's eposes into almost-radio-friendly almost-popsongs (had the "common" radio-listener been slightly more openminded and keen on social awareness) and for the first time, his songs feature Slovak lyrics. these are not only hopeless and unsettling, but also astute, sardonic,almostcynical. yet, it is perhaps thisdetachedand more realistic way of experiencing the world that allows for some relief and reconciliation. and at the same time, encourages action.

The Slovak trio Berlin Manson was formed as a so-called apartment band in the dark days of Corona lockdowns. The founders Patrik Nagy and Adam Dragun compensated for the lack of cultural activities by creating new and original music, where Patrik provided D.I.Y. made electronic beats with live guitar playing and Adam provided his lyrics full of irony and criticism of the scene and society.

After the first successful concerts and singles, the cloud around the name Berlin Manson is steadily growing. It wasn't until a track and music video titled I'm not dancing I'm nodding my head that catapulted them into the limelight of the alternative scene, heralding their debut EP Life Ends When You're Thirteen (2022). Later, the original duo were joined by drummer Tomáš Tabiš, who is also in the band 52 Hertz Whale, whose album was also released under the Weltschmerzen label. Their concert performances have gained more momentum and their drive has made them one of the most popular club and festival line-ups in Slovakia and the Czech Republic.

After a successful collaboration on the 2023 single Hotel Kyjev with Pisht Kralovic a.k.a. FVLCRVM, the band is releasing their first full-length album Poor but Sexy, with which they are moving under the Weltschmerzen roof. The fusion with roots in electronica, punk, pustpunk, rave and HC is once again complemented by Adam Dragun's great lyrics, which alternate social engagement with sarcasm, irony and cynicism, or nostalgia and sadness. On the current release we can also hear collaborations with guests such as Katarzia, Edúv Syn, Fvck Kvlt, Temný Rudo, Dušan Vlk or Paris.

Step into the unknown with URN's latest masterpiece, 'Surprise Me.' In this kaleidoscope of sound, genres intertwine like threads in a tapestry of boundless creativity. Led by the enigmatic Jakub Volovar, each track is a journey into the depths of emotion and imagination.


From haunting melodies to pulsating rhythms, 'Surprise Me' defies classification, inviting listeners on a sonic adventure through uncharted territory. Like a meticulously crafted collage, it weaves together elements of jazz, trap, and beyond with effortless grace.

While a sense of doom lingers in the shadows, it never overwhelms; instead, it adds depth and texture to an already mesmerizing landscape. With 'Surprise Me,' URN proves once again that true art knows no boundaries.

Sunk in quicksand, doused in prosecco and soundwaves of glitches and Croatian choons, Bolka

is stuck in the raw state of desire. This love came into being under the sad ceilings, bearing traces
of fantastically naive melodies shredded by claws of intruding noises of the artist's debut EP.
And yet, radical sensitivity and optimism on the new EP do not remain just on the beach.
Žiadzasamy (loosely translated as Yearningforus) include love songs about love read in cards,
about overcoming insecurity, about scratching up the slippery walls of reality towards the dream
source of warmth that only SHE possesses.
Syrupy pop tunes in "nech sa ti páčim" ("i hope you like me") are led by a nursery rhyme about
the complex embrace of infatuation, from the head down to the shoulders, knees and toes of the
desired person. The sound wizard of peculiarities goes by the motto "let anything I wish for
come true", whether it's his white buttocks shining in the dark sea or him sweeping past barefoot
in search of seafood delicacies, and the same is heard in his music where euphoric and childish
moods sink arbitrarily to the depths of corroded and distorted rhythms of anxiety. "A smutek
utek" ("and the sadness is gone"), though, sets a new direction for the Bolka's musical piece;
after a slow mo deflation of the balloon of hopes, after wallowing in oozy and sticky blend of
delirious melodies, Bolka gets to spin the wheel of the real Balkan soap opera.

"More, mám ťa veľmi rád" ("sea/man, i like you very much") is the pinnacle of absolute
infiltration and absorption with infatuation and suddenly, the amusing nods to stereotypical
Croatian hits make it clear that all the joy and high spirits do not stem from holiday idleness. In
žiadzasamy, Bolka indulges in the ideal notion of love that is closer to reality with each passing
kilometer, impatiently speeding up the Latin tempo in the hyper-pop escalation in order to
venture into the most radical decision – that all will end well.
Žiadzasamy is hedonism injected right into one's vein, an ashtray always aglow with a lit
cigarette and a musical burst of new-born love that sets the Bolka's sound world on a single
course: from siesta to fiesta, and so on and on.




[d] 04: Žiadzasamy (Remix) [feat. Viktor Jenčuš]

The Bratislava-based band 52 Hertz Whale release their new album Present Sense Impression in a collaboration of the labels Weltschmerzen and Full Moon Forum.

Three years since their album I've Met a Lot of People, the band brings forth a lot of new ideas, finding a new resonant space, and utilising the fierceness // savageness of their live shows, in an intimate stare at contemporary guitar music.

52 Hertz Whale is a band well known in the Central European music context. Their ferocious sound, mixing the intensity of post-punk, heavy guitar wails, and melancholic // stark vocals of Dominik Prok has been tearing down the fixtures of many festivals and venues, all the while being a great example of a band driving at 200mph nonstop. On Present Sense Impression, the band, composed of Dominik Prok, Dominik Fabian, Patrik Nagy, Tomáš Tabiš and Adrián Krišák, have arrived at a record full of manifold manifestations of their live sound, but at times recalling the more marginal waves of 80s pop // rock sound. Resolute drums, heavyweight guitar and bass riffs now deem closer to the lightness of early ethereal darkwave, just to indulge in the classic melancholic heaviness they are known for only seconds after.

Some of the songs have been produced by "Prague's favorite rock'n'roll enfant terrible" Lazer Viking as well as Pulp Studio's Jakub Hríbik, and one features a special guest - the cemballo virtuoso Marcel Comendant. The traditionally stunning artwork was created by the accomplished Martin Mesaroš.

Present Sense Impression is the 20th album released under the Slovak romantic // experimental label Weltschmerzen focused on emotionally hypercharged, humanely intertwined, and acutely sounding contemporary music. This time in collaboration with the czech label Full Moon Forum. It releases August 26th on limited edition baby pink, standard edition black vinyl and on all streaming platforms.

The creation and release of this record have been supported using public funding by the Slovak Arts Council, and SOZA. Fullmoon Forum project was supported by the Ministry of Culture of the Czech Republic.

The Slovak band Shallov releases their new track "Refrain" on the experimental label Weltschmerzen just one year after the release of "Coexist". Two tracks that both span more than 10 minutes in length, work together as one coherent audiovisual art piece and are out as an EP on 10" vinyl. Music videos do not only visually supplement both tracks but they are equally autonomous art pieces.

The visual feature of the music pieces is highlighted by the vinyl's cover painted by Slovak artist Michal Fízik. The previous back cover carries a photograph which served as an inspiration for the painting while the current back has been created via AI reinterpretation.

The musical component of Refrain is based on a repetition building into a hypnotic trance, gradually disintegrating so it eventually ends in a monumental climax. It contrasts the band's previous work as well as the track Coexist which uses rather neverending rhythmic variations, and a changeable vibe and atmosphere.

The concept of the visuals in Coexist is a result of a collective fusion between the theatre director Adam Dragun, Viktor Ori and dozens of other participating non-actors. The video depicts individualistic egoist actions shaping a contradicting and incomprehensible totality of the world which ultimately seems to be alienated to everybody.

Refrain is an introspective journey leading to the dissolution of the individualistic experience of human existence. The video's concept, direction and production was conducted by the visual artist and performer Jak Užovič who also tends to inter-media art and object installations.

As Shallov and Jak Užovič explain the track's conceptual background: "The idea of owning one's own body and mind is an unnatural way of looking at ourselves imposed by the dominant paradigm. It's a blind ideology - the view of a body as a machine or a commodity is incomplete and represents a materialistic utopia which is being systematically internalized. We're not a community that acts right or wrong, our intentions are determined by an ideology which pretends not to exist - our relations are relations of masters and slaves, of domination and exploitation. We are a society bound by these features and even though we refuse to admit it, the world presented to us is only a legend we're striving to keep alive at all costs, while believing that there is no alternative. Our quality doesn't stem magically from the inside, on the contrary, it's determined by the conditions within which we interpret it through collectively shared fictions. We don't get to know our consciousness through ourselves, but we recognize it through others as they create and form us."

On the outskirts of Bratislava, in the pulsating shadows of a refinery's burning chimneys, on the plot of a family house, there stood a small shack. Initially, it housed trials in domestic mushroom growing. Later, after a makeshift acoustic touch-up - lining the walls with old cardboard egg cartons - it became a shelter for music. Sensitive, evocative, nostalgic, lo-fi music by a man named Cadillac Face.

Today we would probably use the term 'safe space', but back then it was (in Cadillac's words) kutica, a cubbyhole. He hid there from a world that ached. Here, Cadillac secretly smoked, sang, and composed. And tried not to go crazy from anxiety. He wrote music unlike anything during his time.

Here, he struggled. With sound (unable to adjust it to his liking), with instruments (which he couldn't bring himself to play), with the world (with which, understandably, he was at odds).

Cadillac Face was a man who didn't belong here.

He wrote and sang in English (in a post-socialist and early-capitalist Slovakia, when command of English was no matter of course); he also wrote in Slovak (blogs and diaries, which, due to a stream-of-consciousness and surrealist style, were as incomprehensible as they were immersive and intimate); gave advice to teenagers (to their quasi-banal questions on talking forums about relationships, life and adolescence, where they were often met with ridicule and mockery); he composed electronic and noise music (at a time when no one had a clue what the abbreviation DAW meant).

This Cadillac's compilation album is not aiming to compete with/replicate Noizy Days - a compilation of Cadillac's contributions to the project Noize Konspiracy. Underground compilations circulated through a local proto-social network. Borderline music without rules - open but often inaccessible. There, Cadillac contributed mostly with experimental-electronic compositions. Noizy Days was compiled by Ďuro Ďurček, one of the initiators of Noize Konspiracy. Both Ďuro and Cadillac have been dead for years.

Songs For The Trees is a selection from Cadillac's songwriting. The most intimate of his intimate recordings. Cadillac at his most fragile, brittle, and quiet. The most romantic, the most tormented, the most painful and direct of his songs I know.

Cadillac became an anthropomorphic grotesque tree. Neither broadleaf nor conifer. Or perhaps it's a candle slowly incinerating – bored, sad, playing the guitar. A tragicomedy. Sometimes it kindles what it doesn't mean to, and it can't put itself out. Or can it?

Ondrej Zajac doesn't practice. Neither does he play his guitar with as little as a hint of striking technical prowess. Despite this, he makes music with the confidence of a master instrumentalist who doesn't let their chops get in the way. This is because Ondrej Zajac understands that the point of playing an instrument is to transcend it.

Such principles have been the source of pride for the idioms of experimental and free music, but these suffer from the chronic peddling of artistic narcissism. Ondrej Zajac works in the confines of these genres, but impressively avoids all their pitfalls. His music is almost pure content, as straight as a line, and so immediate and so fucking honest it leaves you wondering.

I Will Be Forgotten offers plenty of opportunities for such wondering, regardless of whether the composition is sixteen minutes or sixty seconds long. The structure of the whole thing, the appreciation of all properties of sound without indulgence in any of them, the playfulness and composure beyond it all, not even the beautiful sonic grain of the guitar itself, none of this does dwarf the most remarkable accomplishment of this record // its utter artistic integrity.

Recorded live at Divadlo 29 in Pardubice and co-produced and mixed by Václav Šafka, I Will Be Forgotten is the second solo release by Ondrej Zajac (Banausoi, Data Koroptev) and the 19th release by the sincere label Weltschmerzen.

A live act renowned for their free improvised performances, BIOS have markedly changed their approach since the debut release Fluorescent Minerals five years ago. To serve as a reliable basis for improvisation, the duo began to play with prearranged themes. Far from being limiting, on Powers of Ten these foundations become structures that are as full of change as they are playful. A single track can seem like a medley moving through sections of drama // reverie // fun without dwelling too long on either so as not to be at the expense of the whole. Fractured yet coherent, these emotions are professed in utmost seriousness and also half in jest.

Powers of Ten also marks a change in sound >> a new prominence given to rhythm and melody. Both members of BIOS claim not to listen to dance music much, but incidentally what they achieve on their new record is a kind of evermoving anxious dub. Its energy endures even after the rhythms and motifs dissolve in distant soundscapes, so that those too seem genuinely kinetic.

If the listener decides to follow this movement, they will be led on a journey into the record, framed and imagined as a quest through parallel variations of one environment. Powers of Ten is a decidedly adventurous album >> a spatial and hypnotic work of music composed by graphic designer Jozef Tušan and visual artist Boris Sirka, and the eighth release by the label Weltschmerzen.

The space between every love is filled with vigilance in preparation for future threat. This threat is not so much pain as failure and, above all, fatigue. Even the beginnings, when love seems at its most accessible, are disturbing. In spite of this we advance into the turmoil because we are inebriated with love.

Dominik Suchy's third album admits all this as a quality of love. Disembodied and denied to be gloom or bliss, love is revealed to be a raw process at full length. This makes for emotionally hypercharged music that is more inevitable than tense. The record unfolds, for all its ruptures and weight, as familiar. It is a music of pathos, because it benefits from the emotional knowledge that already resides in you.

The universality of this angle allows for compositions that are less than opulent. A focus on the mass of sound // verticality leads to a bareness that sets "Every Love..." apart from Suchy's previous works. At times sonically overwhelming and rhythmically ambiguous, it should be approached as free jazz rather than post-club.

Every Love Is an Exercise in Depersonalisation on a Body Without Organs Yet to Be Formed does not submit to the weariness of love // Weltschmerzen does not submit to the weariness of the world.

“In places harrowing and emotionally charged, in other places quite inconspicuous, you feel that you are standing in front of something big, transcending everything, which you observe with sacred reverence. Maybe it's the eye of the storm or that love which is the origin of everything.”
Peter Dolnik, 34.sk —

“One of the most distinct electronic artists in our geographical area.'”
Roberta Tothova, Pravda.sk —

“Everything happens with deep apprehension, the atmosphere and its variations are executed on a masterly level””
Richard Kutej, Fullmoon Zine —

“An album full of incessant soundscapes, undulations and sound-design based portrayals of magnificence.”
Mikulas Hamerla, Alterecho.cz —

Exactly two years after their debut album, the project formerly known as Weltschmerzen returns as Pain Palace. The project's new moniker resolves potential confusion with the eponymous record label, but it is a change in name only // the music remains ambiguous in genre but emotionally resolute, an amalgam of approaches bound by an awareness of the remorseful nature of the world.

This is a continuity in creed rather than sound. Apart from the occasional drums // peculiarly captivating in tempo and rhythm // Pain Palace do little to invoke their first album. Despite the similar setting of an intensive week-long recording session in rural Slovakia, the trio arrives at a place that is distinct even from all their earlier projects. From a viewpoint where the world's indifference is recognised as a landscape, the tracks are presented as seven distinct perspectives that range from brutalist chaos to tenderness but always remain compassionate.

This is best revealed in On the Height of Despair // the album's nearly ten-minute-long climax that seemingly borders on collage only to become an engulfing suite of severe movements. The music of Pain Palace stands apart from what Tomáš Pristiak, Matus Mordavsky and Dominik Suchy create either solo or in their respective bands (Tante Elze, Tittingur), and it is the 13th release by the wistful label Weltschmerzen.

dog-rose is an exploration of musical articulation and vocalization. Its themes can be felt gnawing at the surface of the world: people's clumsy everyday intimacies, the neverending pursuit of self-knowledge, God. Of foremost interest was the unreliability of memory as a tool through which we experience life, yielding an attempt to dismantle it into its minute elements.

"I arrived at a combination of diary entries in the form of field recordings, various, mostly acoustic, instruments through which I invoke different modes of memory // its associative functions, and my own voice, more an agent of introspection than any conventional vocal. The lyrics were originally written as pop-songs, but committed to the form of contemporary music they appear as field recordings made to be sung. They are field-songs."

"To me, musicmaking is a dialogue with sounds where I seek to understand their character and how to handle them. This is a performative process and admittedly also a projection – what I am actually discussing is myself. The recording took place at a remote cabin in the forests of Tribeč. Most of my work is created in isolation, regardless of the social distancing and lockdowns of the outside world."

Tomas Pristiak is a member of Tante Elze, Pain Palace (FKA Weltschmerzen), and dog-rose is his first solo album and the 11th release by contemplative label Weltschmerzen.

For the past five years, Projekt Ruiny has been rejuvenating abandoned and decaying industrial landmarks by using them for concerts, exhibitions and discussions. This refusal of disuse also defines the character of SILO by Kolektív Ruiny, which disposes of all aspects of such cultural urban exploration besides the two most monumental >> sound and time.

The trio of musicians // sound artists kept returning to sugar and brewery silos in Rimavská Sobota in southern Slovakia for over six months to listen to their sounds and reply with improvisations. The silos' ambience proves that these places in a state of decay are living environments that hear plenty themselves, both from outside and inside, and spread what they hear wholeheartedly.

Kolektív Runy builds on this acoustic generosity with a combination of empathy and boldness. The attitude is most apparent on the few tracks that are musically harsh, but still offer the same discernible respect towards their industrial venues as the most serene pieces on SILO. It is an homage to these places, teeming with attention and care, and the ninth release by the devout label Weltschmerzen.

The cinematic opening track Inthenever starts off as a film >> somewhere on a desolate coast, where everything has already ceased. This is going to be an album with a story and depth, a fearless tour of the barren shores of our days // or is it possibly just a mirage conclusion of their razor-sharp sound brutalism? Tittingur's third album, Epiphany, is here, pounding with waves they had not done before.

It seems as though this dyad has disposed of all the genre confines that had locked them in, and have grasped the sound of new subject matters, for which the moniker of experimental techno is finally too narrow. With utter urgency and candid to their emblematic, thunderous sound, Dominik's and Matus's deafening mallets collide in beats which are now, more than ever, drenched in a mass of palpable gloom and anguish. As though we could touch the rising levels of the oceans, and smell the melting of the glaciers themselves.

In one way or another, the music of Tittingur has always been about nature, its fierce essence, and its stark contrast with the post-era that we have found ourselves living in. However, whereas before, it was the sound of old, weather-stained concrete, and the pounding of abandoned, overgrown buildings, now it is, unavoidably, their most direct and honest return to nature landscapes, and to human, age-old traditions, referenced in the Slovak folk motives, recordings and found sounds.

On Epiphany, Tittingur's sound becomes yet more abstract, in a sound world that is ambiguous but also unified, and works on its own. The duality of nature and technology, of inland human folklore and the trenches of deepest oceans, invite us to come closer and observe the volatile obliteration taking place. Can we even attempt to re-assess our position with nature, or is this whole experiment doomed to fail?

Unsurprisingly, in the echoes, all the ingredients of the classic Tittingur sound are still present, distilled into new forms >> the ever-present over-saturation, the exaggerated, maximalist approach and megalomania >> the sound of impending climate change, doom, and near-apocalyptic visions, the scent of borovička mixed with the wild North Sea, the agony of contemporary urban life, and the adventure of wilderness: ferocious synths, monumental beats, aggressive basslines and crumbling noise-scapes built of a found-sound, music concréte-like, collagist approach.

At moments, it seems the means have changed. Just until you realise that the sentences of this story are spoken in a new language. If you dive deep enough, and listen to the essence that the music of Tittingur articulates, it's surprisingly easy to understand >> although the notions and emotions are difficult to put into words. The profound narrative of Epiphany is that of an endless inner struggle of society, anxiety, crises, and ambiguously easy // difficult solutions in the post-modern global chaos. It is the calm before a storm. It is the storm. Is it the calm. It is all of it, in itself. credits

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.

Two years after recording an EP on a guitar he didn't know how to play, Ujko releases a piano album without knowing how to play the piano. To add to that, Hudba k filmu is a soundtrack to a movie that doesn't exist.

If Ujko previously played with the clumsiness and exposed intimacy of outsider music, on Hudba k filmu he instead focuses on the emotional and dramaturgical possibilities of a film score. The movie may be hypothetical, but this album still imposes a narrative of melancholy and hopelessness, even more penetrating in the guise of a supposedly background music. It's also mostly instrumental, adding to ambiguity and potential projection // Hudba k filmu sneaks up on the listener and encumbers them with the weight of their own world.

Ujko thereby manages to mediate his despair without being as presumptuously overbearing as most film composers. Even the lack of instrumental skill is barely noticeable, enough so that Hudba k filmu doesn't fall for its own concept, but is instead an accomplished and complete work of film music, lacking nothing.

A musical project with roots in the work of cult underground collective Noize Konspiracy, Ujko is an alias of Mišo Ormos. Hudba k filmu is his second release on the world-weary label Weltschmerzen.

Unbelievable Friendship is the second solo album by Filip Misek and the first one published under his own name. Unlike on his previous record from more than ten years ago, here Misek is more experimental and candid while still striving for songs that are an // ultimate // end in themselves. Though few of them can be sung, the songs often include vocals and voices courtesy of several guests // heavily processed as they might be. More importantly, Unbelievable Friendship sticks to the idea of a song, so that each of them works both on its own and as a part of a whole.

Decision Paralysis is the first collaboration by Eva Sajanova and Dominik Suchy.

Their music is very minimalist, repetitive, still, the compositions // songs surprisingly evolve over time. The cold synths are beautifully augmented with raw or effected layers of Sajanova's vocal. Of striking prominence is the decision to forgo the use of any beats or percussive elements. The whole album revolves just around vocals, synths, and layers, and the richness they possess enough in themselves.

This goes in line with Suchy's previous work, one of his trademarks being working mostly with melody and harmony, defying a lot of what is going on in contemporary experimental music. In a way, it is a strive to return to classical or pop ????? in her deepest sense; experimental more in the use of sounds, approaches and forms, rather than defying the musical.

The lyrics are exclusively in Slovak, open to interpretation and perhaps leaving the listener unburdened by meaning, enabling them to focus on Sajanova's voice, phrasing, and vocal techniques. They span from child-like repetitive dadaist poems, to heavy existentialist statements on life's inherent beauty yet meaninglessness.

All of it is further supported by the album cover by the Slovak illustrator Martu, blurring the lines between the naive, the beautiful, the natural, synthetic, dark, and glowing. All at the same time.

Somebody somewhere once said that music doesn't mean anything; it is meaningful.

The Czecho-slovakian instrumental trio, Inheritance, invite you to rediscover their sonic journey with the reissue of their previous EPs, "Frames" (2014) and "Saturate" (2016), now elegantly entwined into a single captivating package released for the first time on vinyl, on Weltschmerzen. Comprising of the trio Jakub Volovár (guitar), Alex Strapková (piano), and Peter Kušnírik (drums), Inheritance was active in the mid 2010s in Brno, later unfortunately disbanding due to own personal pursuits.

Frames // Saturate embodies the melancholic and melodic tension characteristic of contemporary post-rock, complemented by the whimsy of piano-led instrumentals with a tint of indie-playfulness and a very slight yet powerful grain of sludge heaviness that can be traced back to Volovár's and Kušnirik's earlier post-metal project, Dawn to Come.

"Frames // Saturate" is first and foremost a compact sonic voyage. Volovár's evocative yet precise guitar work builds complex yet airy scaffolding, while Strapková's piano melodies create a tapestry of moods around it. Both EPs showcase Strapková's piano prowess, transforming each composition into a living organism. Kušnírik's drumming then acts as the steady pulse, guiding you through. These songs encapsulate the kind of mutualism and appreciation for (musical) interdependence that you can only develop throughout the years of practice and playing live.

You can hear how much fun it was for the band to play these songs, and that sense of joy translates directly into your own listening experience. It's the kind of music that makes you pick up an air guitar, (piano, or drums) - and sometimes everything all at once. It is music serious and poetic, yet fun and moving and complex at the same time.

András Cséfalvay makes simple music with a potent atmosphere. A well-known figure in the Slovak underground (artistic, literary and music) scene, he returns after years of silence with a collection of intense songs. It's music which tackles both fantasy concepts and environmental trauma; Cséfalvay, armed only with the voice of a bard and his own hand-made guitar, will kindle your imagination and take you to the most unexpected corners of your mind.

More than a singer, on 'Future Role of the Church in the Forthcoming Enviromental Transformation' Cséfalvay acts like a narrator, wearing his heart on his sleeve. He sings of his hate of percussion instruments, Jupiter and other planets, tells tales of guns and love, nature and Mithrandir. His unique style is completely absorbing, despite the minimal, traditional set-up known from his live performances. Existential, yet light, these twelve songs mark a welcome return of a fascinating artist who presents his own vision of the past, present and future – it's bleak and existential, but also filled with purity and honesty that's impossible to resist.

'Future Role of the Church in the Forthcoming Environmental Transformation' is András Cséfalvay's second album, and his first for the sincere label Weltschmerzen.credits

In 2020, electronic musician Nina Pixel was offered a track on a compilation album of songs from the Liptov region. What started as a rearrangement of a single folk song eventually grew in scope and size, eventually becoming a series of releases. Titled Ancestral Archaeology, the series counts two self-released EPs, an audiovisual show in co-operation with Adrián Kriška, and now, after two years, a double LP published by Weltschmerzen. In this definitive form of an album, Ancestral Archaeology reveals itself as a musical reimagination of traditional historical Slovak culture at large.

Nina Pixel averts the perils of lapsing into inauthentic fakelore by building her music with, rather than on, the ethnographic riches of Slovakia. With the eagerness of a genuine archeological prospector, Ancestral Archaeology invokes the always present but seldom perceived linchpins of folklore culture: the desperate clinging to the memory of pre-Christian paganism and witchcraft, songs with narratives of beautiful innate wyrdness that is utterly unfit for mass culture, and superstition as the most serious longing for the balance between sense and irrationality.

If we acknowledge the truism of folklore as the shared way of expression in rural society, the techno music on Ancestral Archeology proposes that, in the urban society of ours, this role is served by raves. The argument isn't as much declared as it's implied // in music and in the spoken-word lyrics that are rife with historical and contemporary sources. An 18th-century recipe by the writer and priest Juraj Fándly proposes snorting the grounded flowers of the medicinal weed Valerian as a way of curing bad vision. "It is a proven remedy!" we are repeatedly assured, and it's not hard imagining Fándly and his parishioners, strung out on Valerian, moving almost involuntarily to the rhythms of their era just as we can move to Ancestral Archeology.

Nina Pixel is a Slovak music artist based in Berlin. Lyrics are inspired by Slovak folklore traditions, songs and shared beliefs.



Manifestation tools: cello, overtone flute koncovka, fujara, gong, metal bowls, sheep bell, field recordings of Slovak forests, Andreas's tom and various drum machines.

Ocela can be a dance album if you want it to be, but above that, it is an album about dancing. The second instalment in a planned trilogy, it regards dance as a form of pathmaking, a physical chronology of a journey. Its voyager is the eponymous Ocela // an invented feminine form of the word steel // who wields both strength and brittleness. While the first album (Spojky Čiary) focused on Ocela's inception and youth, here she is mature // on a resolute trajectory between birth and passing away.

Ocela is not a concept album // unless you want it to be // but it is an album built around beats. While there is a loose precedent for rhythms in the two-piece project Jamka, the trilogy also marks Daniel Kordik's solo return to melodical composition. On this record, Ocela dances on her orbits in patterns that are harmonious but always slightly elliptic. Each song on the album travels with its own varying velocity, before it abruptly finds itself at the subjective beginning. Then it goes through further revolutions, with determination bordering on a lack of choice.

Recorded live onto a 4-track before mixing, Ocela is unlike its predecessor in that it shuns any form of field recording, and was instead made using only hardware (Elektron Octatrack MK1, Elektron Digitone, Jomox Mbase01).

Daniel Kordik, also known as Iskra, is one half of Jamka, member of the Urbsounds Collective, co-founder of Earshots Recordings and Ocela is his second release on the melodramatic label Weltschmerzen.

With the world burning around oneself, the importance of the current moment is core, not to get lost. Focus on the important, i.e. the non-urgent, the ectoplasmatic material in the cracks between the whirlwinds of hurry, angst and greed around. Scarred ourselves, yet with unrelenting blissful resistance to the unforgiving circumstances, an apocalypse is not about giving up. Circling around the chaos to find one's own unique place(s), hailing and embracing the rare people that share those whereabouts. Connection, mutuality and community as the means to walk through the harsh cliffs of the world.