Suche:b visible

“ In search for unseen colours beyond the visible spectrum, Kangding Ray explored the outer fringe of club music and came back with a set of prismatic sonic crystals ”

Vier Tracks aus dem erfolgreichen Album "RR7349" (2016) der experimentellen Synthie-Band S U R V I V E aus Austin, Texas, die für den Soundtrack der Netflix-Erfolgsserie "Stranger Things" verantwortlich ist. Abgemischt und neu interpretiert von Künstlern wie Lena Willikens, Not Waving, Sam Haar (Blondes) und Justin K Broadrick aka JK Flesh (Godflesh, Jesu). Diese vier Remixe zeigen gekonnt die kompositorischen Fähigkeiten und die musikalische Vielfalt, die in jedem Track zu finden ist, und fassen die große Klangpalette von S U R V I V E zusammen. Für alle Fans von Stranger Things, John Carpenter, Trent Reznor, Tangerine Dream, Boards Of Canada, The Haxan Cloak, Zombi, Visible Cloaks, Floating Points!

Following the sensory adventure of Tancade, in which Gaspar Claus led his listeners to a secret beach, somewhere between friends’ parties and summer sun, a new territory opens up. With Cells, he offers an even more expansive journey: an inner journey as much as a cosmic shift, a plunge to the point of origin, where life is invented.


True to his sole instrument, the cello, Gaspar multiplies its sound to the point of abstraction. This new work seeks to reach the primordial moment of the first cell division: a tiny, infinite moment when everything was still possible. On stage, he has built a shelter, a refuge-cell, a porous space where the visible and the invisible respond to one another. Lights, electronic breath, uncertain presences—everything conspires to confront the audience with its own dizzying presence in the world.
On the album, this architecture unfolds across ten “musical cells.” Each piece observes the same phenomenon: the cello allows itself to be absorbed, dissolved, stretched, or replicated by the machines. Sometimes preserved, often transformed, the instrument becomes living matter, an unstable organism, capable of emitting both electronic landscapes and archaic beats. A rich, luminous album, imbued with an almost healing energy, Cells might seem more electronic than Tancade. Yet every sound that makes it up comes from the cello— transformed, filtered, and reworked through a series of successive transformations. This is music that doesn’t merely describe life: it re-enacts it, cell by cell.

The Yummy Fur’s first album of new material in over 25 years is seductive and ambiguous; a fast-paced flip through scenes from art, myth, life and fantasy; a witty whole made from glittering scraps. The band’s original incarnation – fronted by singer, songwriter and guitarist John McKeown from 1992 to 1999 – morphed from making quick-hit cartoon-art songs to Eno and Cale-influenced creepers, populated by characters from McKeown’s life in Glasgow and the films, books and poetry that he lived a parallel life through. Everybody Talks About The Weather delights in using every past iteration of the band as potent collage material: a melee of sounds and ideas existing at once, revealing themselves then dipping back into hiding.
Recorded by the original core trio of McKeown, Brian MacDougall (guitar) and Paul Thomson (drums), Everybody Talks About The Weather comes 17 years after the band reformed for sporadic live shows, and seven years after the release of their sorta-greatest hits compilation Piggy Wings (Rock Action). Ten tracks long with nothing to spare, it is as condensed and vital as their best songs, with a new clarity of sound that allows their ambiguities to come into the light.
The album begins with “Cogs”, a taunting inquisition from within. As McKeown stages a fight between his id and ego, the tension heats up between conversational guitar lines and minimalist repetition; threatening sing-song melody and real, palpable menace. The band members are forced in tandem only to break apart, sustaining a genuine sense of just-hidden danger throughout the whole record – except, arguably, “Headphones”, a looser moment which sees McKeown make an existential something out of nothing while waiting for someone in the car (“I should have brought a book.../My ears are bleeding from the compression on your album”)
The songs are riots of reference: “Unity Over Europe” is a slyly complex two act play about the Mitford sisters – Diana, Unity, and Nancy, in a wink to the YF canon – smashing tragic biographical detail together with allusions to Thomas Pynchon and Francis Bacon. Pynchon is also lifted to serve “Blue Sunshine”, a collision of school shooters, serial killers and fictional fuck-ups (“Fast forward to Compton/Fast forward to Pynchon/Fast forward to Columbine'”) whose buzzy guitar lines are taunting and confrontational like a smarmy teenager. The innocuous title of “My Lasagne” belies a song that exists in several time periods at once: a visit to see Guernica, 50 people with their backs to the portrait of Dora Maar; the time that Picasso painted from; the Reina Sofia and the dirty streets of the Malasaña; myth-making musicians and the myths they’re riffing off overlapping and leering at each other.
All this could be laboured in lesser hands, but cultural verbosity is second nature to The Yummy Fur, who transform all this source material into songs that are weird, sexy, funny and absurd. Meaning is not happily understood or flattened. Susan Sontag's essay Against Interpretation accompanied McKeown as he wrote this album, and she’s paraphrased in “Semolina Ballerina”, the album’s justification of artistic ambiguity. Thomson’s motorik beat leads a gathering of back-and-forth instrumental phrases – including a wiry contribution on saxophone – embodying the futility of trying to parse something definitive from repeated action. “Listen to the very first thing that’s in your head,” Sontag-via-McKeown commands directly, then slinks sideways: “Interpretation is a conversation in an unmade bed”
The album features two more focused portraits, or at least The Yummy Fur’s version of such a thing. “Wanda” merges the life of filmmaker Barbara Loden and the title character of her semi-autobiographical 1970 feature film, with Loden’s then-husband Elia Kazan joining the fray of no-good men in her film. It’s a mix of adaptation and avant-criticism, with McKeown’s wordplay and mannered pronunciation mirroring the way that non-fiction and fiction twist around each other in the song. The title track is a series of vignettes and impressions from the lives of the band’s ‘90s inner circle, positing painter Mac McNaughton as a kind of Falstaffian ringleader. As with Piggy Wings and the recent single “New T-Shirt”, McNaughton painted the cover of Everybody Talks About The Weather – like the album’s music, the image of a coy girl in a white dress is an uncanny amalgamation of styles, suggestions and references just out of reach, as though seen in an art museum in a dream.
The album ends with two reads of the same frustration. “King of Nothing” is the closest The Yummy Fur will ever get to sludge-rock: the band melts together into a dusty, dreary haze as McKeown drowns in a drudgery of personal struggle (“Two jumpers on in Babylon/And only cats to talk to”) and the rhythmic toppling of heroes (Rowlands, Duvall, Munro). The majority of visible dirt is cleaned off for “Say Hello”, an uncharacteristic depiction of throwing the windows open after a dark night of the soul. Here, the situation is still cold and hard (“When the sun burns gold, but the heat never reaches your fingertips”) but it feels surmountable. Everybody Talks About The Weather is an unpredictable album from an unpredictable group, but ending on a moment of almost uncomplicated light is maybe its biggest surprise. - Claire Biddles (2026)

The Yummy Fur’s first album of new material in over 25 years is seductive and ambiguous; a fast-paced flip through scenes from art, myth, life and fantasy; a witty whole made from glittering scraps. The band’s original incarnation – fronted by singer, songwriter and guitarist John McKeown from 1992 to 1999 – morphed from making quick-hit cartoon-art songs to Eno and Cale-influenced creepers, populated by characters from McKeown’s life in Glasgow and the films, books and poetry that he lived a parallel life through. Everybody Talks About The Weather delights in using every past iteration of the band as potent collage material: a melee of sounds and ideas existing at once, revealing themselves then dipping back into hiding.
Recorded by the original core trio of McKeown, Brian MacDougall (guitar) and Paul Thomson (drums), Everybody Talks About The Weather comes 17 years after the band reformed for sporadic live shows, and seven years after the release of their sorta-greatest hits compilation Piggy Wings (Rock Action). Ten tracks long with nothing to spare, it is as condensed and vital as their best songs, with a new clarity of sound that allows their ambiguities to come into the light.
The album begins with “Cogs”, a taunting inquisition from within. As McKeown stages a fight between his id and ego, the tension heats up between conversational guitar lines and minimalist repetition; threatening sing-song melody and real, palpable menace. The band members are forced in tandem only to break apart, sustaining a genuine sense of just-hidden danger throughout the whole record – except, arguably, “Headphones”, a looser moment which sees McKeown make an existential something out of nothing while waiting for someone in the car (“I should have brought a book.../My ears are bleeding from the compression on your album”)
The songs are riots of reference: “Unity Over Europe” is a slyly complex two act play about the Mitford sisters – Diana, Unity, and Nancy, in a wink to the YF canon – smashing tragic biographical detail together with allusions to Thomas Pynchon and Francis Bacon. Pynchon is also lifted to serve “Blue Sunshine”, a collision of school shooters, serial killers and fictional fuck-ups (“Fast forward to Compton/Fast forward to Pynchon/Fast forward to Columbine'”) whose buzzy guitar lines are taunting and confrontational like a smarmy teenager. The innocuous title of “My Lasagne” belies a song that exists in several time periods at once: a visit to see Guernica, 50 people with their backs to the portrait of Dora Maar; the time that Picasso painted from; the Reina Sofia and the dirty streets of the Malasaña; myth-making musicians and the myths they’re riffing off overlapping and leering at each other.
All this could be laboured in lesser hands, but cultural verbosity is second nature to The Yummy Fur, who transform all this source material into songs that are weird, sexy, funny and absurd. Meaning is not happily understood or flattened. Susan Sontag's essay Against Interpretation accompanied McKeown as he wrote this album, and she’s paraphrased in “Semolina Ballerina”, the album’s justification of artistic ambiguity. Thomson’s motorik beat leads a gathering of back-and-forth instrumental phrases – including a wiry contribution on saxophone – embodying the futility of trying to parse something definitive from repeated action. “Listen to the very first thing that’s in your head,” Sontag-via-McKeown commands directly, then slinks sideways: “Interpretation is a conversation in an unmade bed”
The album features two more focused portraits, or at least The Yummy Fur’s version of such a thing. “Wanda” merges the life of filmmaker Barbara Loden and the title character of her semi-autobiographical 1970 feature film, with Loden’s then-husband Elia Kazan joining the fray of no-good men in her film. It’s a mix of adaptation and avant-criticism, with McKeown’s wordplay and mannered pronunciation mirroring the way that non-fiction and fiction twist around each other in the song. The title track is a series of vignettes and impressions from the lives of the band’s ‘90s inner circle, positing painter Mac McNaughton as a kind of Falstaffian ringleader. As with Piggy Wings and the recent single “New T-Shirt”, McNaughton painted the cover of Everybody Talks About The Weather – like the album’s music, the image of a coy girl in a white dress is an uncanny amalgamation of styles, suggestions and references just out of reach, as though seen in an art museum in a dream.
The album ends with two reads of the same frustration. “King of Nothing” is the closest The Yummy Fur will ever get to sludge-rock: the band melts together into a dusty, dreary haze as McKeown drowns in a drudgery of personal struggle (“Two jumpers on in Babylon/And only cats to talk to”) and the rhythmic toppling of heroes (Rowlands, Duvall, Munro). The majority of visible dirt is cleaned off for “Say Hello”, an uncharacteristic depiction of throwing the windows open after a dark night of the soul. Here, the situation is still cold and hard (“When the sun burns gold, but the heat never reaches your fingertips”) but it feels surmountable. Everybody Talks About The Weather is an unpredictable album from an unpredictable group, but ending on a moment of almost uncomplicated light is maybe its biggest surprise. - Claire Biddles (2026)

Pressure is the medium of wind players. Wind instruments all sound thanks to pressure differentials, whether that’s the rush of wind over a lip plate or a steady, buzzing exhalation through pursed lips. Ka Baird and Chris Ryan Williams (HxH) are wind players well- schooled in the power of using pressure and movement to amplify the mystery of an invisible force animating a metal tube. They augment their instruments, flute and trumpet respectively, with electronics, sometimes obscuring the acoustic sound source, sometimes making it hyperreal. Flutters of lip and tongue slither over the listener’s ear, and sustained tones become a dense fog, pushing on other kinds of visceral, emotional pressure points.

On Enthalpy, Baird and Williams’ first album as a duo, the energy they conjure feels barely contained, the pressure built up to a breaking point before spilling out in multiple directions at various speeds. They borrow the title from thermodynamics, referring to the total energy of a system based on its pressure and volume. The music flies out in bursts; it seeps and oozes, flows with intention. It is an incredibly rhythmic work without any hint of meter, full of sounds that punctuate with the thud of a dart hitting a bullseye. Williams’ capability to conjure swirling atmospherics, as well as his remarkable ability to pull fragments of melody from the haze, fit puzzle-like into Baird’s exclamations and the eruption of electronics that often dovetail them. The duo draws on tones from nearly the entire range of human hearing, from nimble but bulbous throbs of sub-bass to pinprick flickers of ultra-high end.

The sessions that produced Enthalpy were completely improvised, showcasing a degree of mind-meld that belies each participant’s thrill at approaching the unknown. This isn’t a casual conversation, but an omnidirectional tangle that ties and reties itself into new knots as the album progresses. Williams and Baird have both become ubiquitous presences throughout the New York City experimental music communities, collaborating with innumerable others and learning how their unique approaches work in tandem with similarly expansive thinkers and players. Even in the album’s most spacious moments, there’s a tension between the feeling of being unmoored and yet completely locked in, like the abyss is just one more river to cross. They ford it together before moving on to the next idea in lock step.

For the listener, Enthalpy is often felt in the body as much as it reverberates within the ears. We’re tossed from side to side, made to shoulder the impact of detonating electronics, absorbing these sounds with the feet, gut, and crown. Baird reaches into the back of their throat for guttural growls, and we can almost feel the scratch. As we tread the border of the synthesthetic, it's a reminder of the physical nature of sound, that the space between our ears and the speakers is its own enthalpic system of energy conduction. Move with it, let it move you, and see how it feels.

“I like to work with a variety of instruments and set ups,” says Mark Van Hoen, sometimes known as Locust or Autocreation but here working under his own name on the excellent Plan For A Miracle, his first physical release of solo music since 2018’s Invisible Threads. ”Sometimes it’s literally in my studio, with all the hardware electronics available. Sometimes the laptop, using software instruments. Some of the tracks on this record were recorded in the desert (Joshua Tree) using a 4-track tape machine and small modular synthesiser set up. Each track was recorded in different location using different instruments, which accounts for the distinction between each piece. It’s also about my own reaction to my environment, and what’s going on in my life at the time.”

The Croydon-born Van Hoen started musical life in the early 1990s, signing for R&S records in 1993 but developing his own, myriad and distinctive style across a range of releases on Touch, Editions Mego and other labels, using a battery of instruments, including analogue synthesizers and taking a number of different approaches to recording, rather than ploughing a single sonic furrow. He has worked on a number of collaborations, including with Nick Holton and Neil Halstead of Slowdive, under the moniker of Black Hearted Brother - their Stars Are Our Home was released in 2013. “I have known Neil Halstead since 1992,” says Van Hoen. “He shared a house with me for a couple of years, and the music I was making and listening to along with clubs I was attending had an influence particularly on Pygmalion, the final Slowdive album on Creation.”

Each track on Plan For A Miracle does indeed sound like a world unto itself, a mini-environment, a weather condition, an ecosystem created for the moment. It’s a collection of tracks recorded over the past few years, released on Bandcamp - despite his apparent absence, Van Hoen works constantly. Opener “Climates”, in its exquisite limpidity, feels like a homage to Brian Eno, one of his most formative influences in his teen years, commencing with Music For Films, which he bought in 1979. “This Is For Them”, feels like a ghostlike throwback to early drum & bass or electronica, reminiscent of his own, earliest outings. “There have been a number of requests from labels to make some more music like my very early releases on R&S,” says Van Hoen. “This is part of ‘letting go’ and realising that there’s nothing less creative about going back to those styles again.”

“Pencil Of Spheres” is something else again, a magnificent, imaginary glass structure, shimmering, refracting, without visible means of suspension, a thing of impossible beauty. “Electric Lights” evokes an abandoned fairground, its lights still pulsating, its music lingering. “The Underpass”, meanwhile, insofar as it reminds of anything at all, is faintly reminiscent of Cluster or Neu’s! West German ambience, the urban mundane rendered magical, the sodium lights, the whitewashed walls. The reverberant, faintly oriental chimes of “Insight” transport us yet again, burgeoning and intensifying.

The landscapes, the skyscapes rendered on Plan For A Miracle feel unpopulated as a rule - but when he does introduce vocal elements, Van Hoen has a history of doing so to spectacular effect - think of “Real Love” from 1998’s Playing With Time, the seductive intonation of its title recurring throughout like a series of massive holograms, echoing, stuttering, breaking up, surging. Here, there are just the faintest of vocals, barely distinct, disquieting. “There’s been a bit of a game changer in recent times,” explains Van Hoen. “AI software that enables you to extract vocals and instrument parts from virtually any recording. That means sampling individual parts from existing sources is no longer limited to the original mix exposing certain parts soloed. The vocal parts I use are from multiple sources and often pitch shifted altered rhythmically and melodically.“ There’s further vocal chatter on “I Really Do”, proceeding at a faster pace as if giving chase, or being pursued - distant, enigmatic. “The Music”, meanwhile, its beat tolling, lost in its own fog of static, features a curious intonation, like the ghost of a lost Walker Brother.

Sadly, the album’s title is in reference to a personal tragedy on Van Hoen’s part - the loss of his wife. Titles such as “I Won’t Give Up”, which faintly reminds of another Eno masterpiece, Another Green World, in its nautical hurly-bury, or the pastoral strains of “Mrs Who”, heavily clouded with sadness, seem to allude to this. “In fact the record was recorded entirely before she passed away,” says Van Hoen, “most of it before she even became very ill. The title was given to the album when it started to look like she wasn’t going to make it beyond a few months. It was something Osho said - “plan for a miracle” - so it was a statement of hope. Unfortunately it was not to be.” Although the album is non-thematic, non-specific in its atmospheres, sound paintings, elegant structures it most certainly stands as a magnificent monument to Osho’s memory.

-David Stubbs.

There is a pivotal scene in “August in the Water” (dir. Sōgo Ishii, 1995) where the surface of a pool turns into a stone wall. The water that gave the protagonist's life its meaning becomes a threat. As you fall through this stone wall, you appear in a set of underwater coral-reef corridors, and one of the most beautiful musical themes begins to play: Aquatic Ambience, composed by David Wise for Donkey Kong Country (1994). It's a theme that represents the weightless vibe of your new deep-sea life, where you go about your mundane errands, collecting bananas while driving on a swordfish, or, as HerzMayhem put it: "Poor monkey... always swimming, never going anywhere..."

Synthetic Water Music is the second of three compilations, following Synthetic Bird Music and timed to mappa's 10th anniversary. As with the birds, it gathers friends of the label, artists who have released with mappa or played our shows. Most of the music is new, made to measure for this compilation, much of it from Central and Eastern European hands. Birds and water mix well, so please feel invited to play them together, creating your own environments.

Where the birds were in one flock, water is dispersed across four chapters. You live your life as a droppity drop: vapour in the heavens, condensing in clouds, falling into a swamp, trickling into the deepest sea.

Tlālōcān (Cassette 1, Side A)
A place of eternal spring, of aquatic energy that nourishes everything and allows all things to bloom. Bubbly and splishy-sploshy, it is full of dripping sounds and moist caverns (“Emerald Pool” by Pauline Anna Strom), a landscape filled with living fountains (“Oh, to be a Fountain” by Eva Sajanová) and winding streams that flow through the area, forming part of its organic architecture. It is also a paradise reserved for those whose deaths were water-related, where the aquatic and terrestrial beings live in symbiosis and perspectives shift rapidly, from observing a single droplet (Shakali, Lau Nau) to dew (Feronia Wennborg & Lucy Duncombe) and on to flowing currents (Visible Cloaks) that gradually transform into river music (Ursula K. Le Guin & Todd Barton).

Nephelora (Cassette 1, Side B)
A celestial anti-gravity sound world made of evaporation, steam and the formation of clouds, as if looking at “The Sky At The Bottom of the Well” (by Natalia Beylis) or at “The Cloud That Never Rains” (by Henrique Vaz).

If a cloud never rains,
it is not a cloud at all, but a veil that parches the earth with its gaze.
It generates only its own shadow —
a looming mass of suspended longing,
a sky that hoards but never yields,
a reservoir that swallows every river and returns nothing but echoes.

The water in this world is often invisible but sometimes all the more present, as Bint Mbareh describes it: “Recently been obsessed with invisible waters because I come from a place where you have to imagine the water is there even though you cannot see a river, a sea, usually no rain, so water is in the air, the voice and the imaginal realm, drought is imagined to be negotiable.”

Žaboglach Zha-bo-glahch (Cassette 2, Side A)
A fusion of Scottish lochs and Slovak ponds: a misty, foul-smelling, swampy realm, the kind of place that swallowed Artax from The NeverEnding Story. Stagnant waters full of decay become a blooming habitat for sirens (“thereby losing the weightless delight of being swept along with it” by Adam Badí Donoval) and beings straddling the line between fauna and flora, inventing their own communication systems (“Water-lily phase” by Action Pyramid).

R'lyeh (Cassette 2, Side B)
A brooding sunken city at the bottom of the ocean. It’s a journey to get there. Let this chapter guide you, from the shore down to the depths, to the gates of an unexplored world that is inherently dark, unfathomable, and beyond the limits of human perception: starting with seasickness ("Seasick" by Nikolaienko), passing through a classic Poe-esque maelstrom ("Flurry at the Whirl-pull" by Atte Elias Kantonen), a gateway into the darkness and emptiness of the ocean floor, and finally traversing the city itself (“last waves of 2025” by Jules Reidy).
But what is pulling you to a place like this that only a few explore and even fewer leave? Maybe “the darkness that water can contain, the expanse of things we don't know and that can trigger fear instincts even as we try to rationalise them and think we are in control of the rest of nature” (“supercritical fluids” by Diane Barbé).

Dive in and surface wherever you like. Always swimming, never going anywhere. Just don’t forget to take water breaks.

P.S. Birds, then water, can you guess what comes next? Synthetic Soil Music, an elegy for insects and worms? Synthetic Glaciers, or maybe Pollinators? Which sounds would you miss the most if they disappeared? Or what if the third one never comes at all, and somebody, or something, makes Synthetic mappa Music instead. Don't you worry, with the right training data, it can all be replicated, better than the real thing.

Silver Vinyl
Simon Popp is back on Squama with his fourth album Trio.
At its heart, Trio is a work about collaboration, playfulness and unification. It is music as a means of coming together, a sonic equivalent to the Japanese philosophy of Kintsugi, in which broken ceramics are repaired with a visible golden lacquer. Rather than hiding the breaks, Kintsugi embraces them, making them part of the story, a form of delicate transformation. Popp and his collaborators Flurin Mück and Sebastian Wolfgruber take a similar approach: three distinct drummers, three different temperaments, three personal styles. Fused together into a single expressive instrument.
The album is a celebration of timbre, texture, and touch, its sound palette drawn from across continents and traditions. Human beings at all points of time, across all cultures and continents have used music to celebrate, mourn, worship and bond. Along with our voices, creating rhythm with our bodies. Clapping, stomping, hitting with sticks. A celebration of rhythm as both a shared human memory and an audible expression of close bonds.
Trio is a reflection of the beauty of imperfection and the timeless pull of rhythm as a shared human force. The cracks are not hidden. They are filled with gold.

There are two version of the LP - limited to 100 numbered copies with transparent wax and classic black wax edition. Both 180g with special OBI strip.

Maciej Envee Goliński is an artist who probably needs no introduction. He has been working with U Know Me practically since the label's inception. His last album ("Time & Light") made a huge impact worldwide, but we had to wait eight years for the next vinyl release. In the meantime, Maciej has certainly been busy – he has released numerous club singles under several aliases, and has helped record and mix numerous albums from the world of jazz, soul, and electronica. "Wyszymory" is a carefully crafted concept album, inspired by our roots. "Wyszymory" is an album on which every open-minded listener will find something that has been playing in their soul for a long time...


"Of all things visible and invisible, my life is most filled with music and a fascination with sound. It matters not whether they are natural or artificial, isolated or resonating through space. Sounds that evoke
memories, as well as those entirely new. Some of them have resonated unchanged for thousands of years. Certain resonances and rhythms have remained unaltered for generations so distant that they have left no other trace in human civilization.

This bond with our ancestors truly fascinates me. Ever since I realized it, I have become more attuned to inspiration. Listening to traditional and classical music, I kept finding new anchor points. I was constantly surprised by new invitations to ponder what connects – or divides – the pulse of our region’s traditional music with the rhythms of Africa, the tribes of the vast East, or the frozen North. My great authority, Tomasz Stańko, in interviews conducted by Tomek Michałowski, used beautiful parables of love and creativity to bring me closer to the ­Cro-Magnon cave artists. The Icelandic literary magician Andri Snær ­Magnason, in his book On Time and Water, captivated me with the fascinating observation that through emotional contact, words, ideas, or memory, we reach back and forward two or even three generations – spanning a period of about 270 years. Then there is Sam Kowalski, who with his wonderful obereks played on the gitalele, took me on a hypnotic journey, from which one returns with a deep admiration for the art of musical storytelling, passed down from generation to generation. Finally, my own children surprise me with talents, behaviors, and increasingly distinct features of those generations that now dwell only in my hazy memory and on old photographs.

I wanted the protagonists of this album to be the very phenomena that modern humans share with their ancestors, ­regardless of the level of civilization. Most vital among them is the relationship between humans, nature, and their own emotions. Wyszymory has nothing to do with an academic study, though I did delve into Slavic mythology, archaeology, and history in search of inspiration. Nor is it an album of traditional music, even if such music is present thanks to wonderful instrumentalists. I managed to invite artists who cross boundaries daily, working not only with Polish music but also with Hindu and African traditions, and even jazz, with its long history of blending influences. Naturally, the album became a kind of sonic comic book, where individual scenes and stories – the sounds, pulsations, and ideas on how to use them – came to me over time, often under unique circumstances and in inspiring contexts."
Envee

Prison hits the road album, riding two massive jams across altered routes of consciousness a la the allegorical and literal heavy traffic of the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, visible from the windows of the studio in which Big Rigs on the BQE was recorded! The requisite Prison gear, guitars, bass and drums plus synth & FX, coughs out exhaust flavoured with Groundhogs/Velvets/Hampton"s/Pink Fairies/Magic Band/Good Rats/Can. An improvised rock and roll tapestry, gas "n guitar pedal on down to the metal.

First released back in 1998, Random Factor's Too Fast Into The Future returns to wax and serves as a reminder of just how far UK mainstay Carl Finlow was already thinking ahead. The album was also a standout moment in the Leeds-based 20/20 Vision label catalogue that threads house, techno and electro into something more unsettled and brilliant. 'Lead Me Blind' and the title track fold processed vocals into stark machine rhythms, while 'First Principles' and 'When Daylight Fades' remain DJ touchstones. There is tension in every bar and introspection rubbing against dancefloor drive. Decades on, it still bangs.

Berlin lo-fi crooner Der Assistent returns with "Ultramarin", a sun-faded suite of soft-focus pop, Balearic grooves and late-night yacht moods drifting between languages, moods and references – slightly surreal, and quietly melancholic.
Following the tropical haze of its predecessor "Amnesie am Amazonas", his third album makes a slightly bigger splash: classic late-80s digital pianos, downbeat grooves and flashes of dub-reggae intertwine with subtle soprano and alto saxophone lines that drift between lounge melancholy and nocturnal jazz.
Laid-back opening cut “Wenn der Scirocco weht” pays homage to Japanese lovers rock, while the dubby downbeat title track celebrates the color blue in French, English, Italian and German, echoing situationist slogans and painter Yves Klein’s idea of “the invisible becoming visible.” Lead single “Mann am Telefon” dives into hazy yacht-pop and lo-fi soul, gradually unfolding into an instrumental outro that recalls the early synth romanticism of Vangelis.
Across the album, Der Assistent traces a playful tale of split personalities – with subtle nods to Fight Club and Blade Runner – culminating in the lush closing 80s R&B ballad “Total Confusion”.

Written, recorded, produced and mixed entirely by Der Assistent, Ultramarin also inaugurates his new imprint of the same name.
RIYL: Fishmans, Eddie Chacon, The Zenmenn.

The new label R.I.T.M.O. launches its journey with a clear statement of intent: VOID RIFT QUANTUM, a six-episode cosmic voyage by WHITE SOLAR DOG, complemented by two premium remixes from UNIVAC and PROMISING YOUNGSTER. The EP opens with “VOID RIFT QUANTUM” a dark, expansive electro exercise where crushing basslines, syncopated rhythms, and a dialogue between vocoders and acid lines evoke an interplanetary landscape. On “I.N.S.I.D.E.” the intensity ramps up through driving percussion, tribal voices, razor-sharp breaks, and an almost ritual force that propels the body into physical and mental trance.

UNIVAC’s reinterpretation of the title track unleashes his full arsenal: a steely remix of relentless energy that pushes the original into a hard-edged industrial realm, stamped with the unmistakable signature of the Catalan producer. “MOVE YOUR BODY” showcases WHITE SOLAR DOG’s most direct side: classic electro with heavy bass, pads, and bright melodies, where the machine calls the dancefloor to action without compromise. The journey reaches its most ethereal point with “SING TO ME” where a female vocal intertwines with broken rhythms, crystalline atmospheres, and fresh acid incursions—cementing WSD’s personal hallmark: equal parts intensity and spirituality. The release closes with Promising Youngster’s remix, which takes the vocal elements of “SING TO ME” and guides them into a hypnotic state, suspended between the dreamlike and the club. With VOID RIFT QUANTUM, R.I.T.M.O. presents its inaugural catalog, distilling the power of contemporary electro and the otherworldly vision of WHITE SOLAR DOG. A debut that clearly establishes its coordinates: impact, exploration, and progressiveness, introduces itself to the world through an inaugural catalogue that distills the present and future of electro: mysticism, power, and precision.

All covers are handmade. They feature a fluorescent strip along the sides for easy identification, and under black light, the Spanish version of the cover is visible. Each disc contains three handmade inserts: a pop-up of R.I.T.M.O., a template, and a paper synthesizer model based on the actual synthesizers used to create the album (a different one on each disc). Each disc comes in a plastic sleeve.

All covers are handmade. They feature a fluorescent strip along the sides for easy identification, and under black light, the Spanish version of the cover is visible. Each disc contains three handmade inserts: a pop-up of R.I.T.M.O., a template, and a paper synthesizer model based on the actual synthesizers used to create the album (a different one on each disc). Each disc comes in a plastic sleeve.

Swedish visionary Boko Yout is releasing their long-awaited debut album GUSTO, out via Hoopdiggas Recordings. GUSTO is Boko Yout's debut album - a kaleidoscopic journey through memory, trauma, humour and healing. Framed as a fictional therapy programme led by the eccentric Dr. Gusto, each track represents a confrontation with a different shadow of the self: unspoken fears, inherited burdens, or unresolved inner conflicts. But GUSTO is not just about darkness - it's also about hope, longing and the light that makes those shadows visible in the first place. Boko Yout weaves together raw emotion, spiritual symbolism and bold experimentation. Referencing vodun philosophy, Jungian archetypes and post-genre production, they draws inspiration from artists like Yves Tumor, Odd Future and LCD Soundsystem. The result is a debut that feels more like a sonic manifesto - driven by love, intention and a deep commitment to artistic freedom. Previously not available for retail outside of Sweden, 1st edition sold out, 2nd edition repress - Mixed and mastered by Gustav Brunn (ALLINAUDIO) - Genre/Style: Alternative / Rock / Afro Grunge

Schatterau’s third album, »Wir gingen durch leere Stunden« (We went through empty hours), sees the German duo blossoms with beauty and sophistication through a broad creative language.

This opus, presented in the form of vivid auditory tableaux vivants, explores the topography of memory as a landscape in constant motion – full of loops, feedbacks, and mirage-like distortions. Sounds climbing like vines over old walls, concealing details only to reveal new ones. Some pieces feel like fragments of a dream whose origin has vanished, others like displaced echoes of a day long gone.

Memories create paths that only become visible in retrospect – detours that somehow always lead back to oneself. Each track draws the listener into a different recollection, as if opening an old door. Inside, time behaves strangely: it jumps, stretches, and repeats.

»Wir gingen durch leere Stunden« ultimately presents Schatterau at their most experimental, complex and measured extremes, channelling ambiguous human emotional resonance ranging from melancholy to pure ecstasy.

Pulitzer Prize-winning American composer John Luther Adams wrote this piece for the Australian Chamber Orchestra. Inspired by his recent relocation to Australia and his travels across the continent - from the Northern Territory and the Red Centre all the way to Tasmania - 'Horizon' is an immersive audio experience exploring the relationship between the visible horizon, with its trees, its mountains and its human structures, and the true horizon: the enveloping circle where the sky meets the earth. How long might it take us to traverse that distance, from where we are to as far as we can see? And what lies beyond that edge of the known? The Australian Chamber Orchestra brings its passion, its virtuosity and its vibrant energy to this exquisitely unique musical experience.

With Dispersion, Loom & Thread return to the volatile architecture of the expanded piano trio - and quietly fracture it from within.

Daniel Klein (drums), Tobias Fröhlich (double bass) and Tom Schneider (keys, sampler) remain the sole agents on stage and in the final recording. The triangle holds. And yet, the field has expanded. For their second studio album, the trio fed their improvisations with the timbral signatures of guest saxophone and vibraphone players - not just as additional voices to be featured, but also as material to be absorbed, atomized and redistributed. The result is not augmentation but thorough refraction.

Where the debut album explored the recursive labyrinth of Schneider's live sampling of his own piano, Dispersion introduces an external grain into the feedback system. Breath and metal. Reed turbulence and struck resonance. The trio sampled extended improvisations by saxophone and vibes players: Victor Fox, Asger Nissen, Volker Heuken, and L&T's own Daniel Klein; dissected their attacks, overtones and decay curves, and integrated these fragments into the trio's internal circuitry. What emerges is a play of presences without bodies - instrumental ghosts circulating through the dense weave of rhythm and keys.

At first, one might hear the familiar relational tension: Klein's polyrhythmic elasticity interlocking with Fröhlich's tensile double bass figurations, Schneider poised at the hinge between tonal field and percussive impulse. But soon, the surface splinters - again. A vibraphone shimmer appears, yet no mallets are visible. A reed multiphonic surges through the texture, bending space between bass and drums. These events are neither quotations nor overlays; they are redistributed energies, dispersed across the trio's grammar. A digital multidimensional interplay ensues.

If the first album unfolded as a two-tiered game - live phrase and sampled reflection - Dispersion adds a further axis. The sampled materials from other improvisers are stripped of their erstwhile two-way interaction and reconstituted as malleable particles. Signifier detached from origin, resonance detached from gesture. The trio navigates a constantly shifting topology in which acoustic memory and electronic manipulation are indistinguishable.

Crucially, the album never abandons the physical urgency of three musicians reacting in real time. The additional timbral layers do not thicken the texture into opacity; rather, they introduce stark points and arrows of diffraction. Density opens into prismatic clarity. Lines splinter and regroup. What seems like a quartet or quintet collapses back into three bodies negotiating an expanded field.

Dispersion is not about addition but about distribution - of agency, of timbre, of temporal perspective. It is an album in which the trio setting becomes a site of multiplicity without surrendering its immediacy. A dissolution not only of the divide between present experience and memory, but between inside and outside, self and other.

Three musicians. Countless vectors. A music that fractures in order to cohere.

CREDITS:
Tom Schneider: piano & sampler
Tobi Fröhlich: double bass
Daniel Klein: drums & percussion

sample sources:
Victor Fox: tenor saxophone
Asger Nissen: alto saxophone
Volker Heuken: vibes
Daniel Klein: vibes

Recorded by Martin Dressler at Bauer Studios, Ludwigsburg.
Mixed & mastered by Martin Ruch.
Artwork by Viet Hoa Le.

Swedish visionary Boko Yout is releasing their long-awaited debut album GUSTO, out via Hoopdiggas Recordings.
GUSTO is Boko Yout’s debut album – a kaleidoscopic journey through memory, trauma, humour and healing. Framed as a fictional therapy programme led by the eccentric Dr. Gusto, each track represents a confrontation with a different shadow of the self: unspoken fears, inherited burdens, or unresolved inner conflicts. But GUSTO is not just about darkness – it’s also about hope, longing and the light that makes those shadows visible in the first place.
Boko Yout weaves together raw emotion, spiritual symbolism and bold experimentation. Referencing vodun philosophy, Jungian archetypes and post-genre production, they draws inspiration from artists like Yves Tumor, Odd Future and LCD Soundsystem. The result is a debut that feels more like a sonic manifesto – driven by love, intention and a deep commitment to artistic freedom.

A cocktail of rebellious queer vocal fragments, deceptive percussive granules and swaying hammered vibrations, upsammy and Valentina Magaletti's first collaboration trembles with suspense. The seeds of 'Seismo' were sown following a commission from Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum to soundtrack an exhibition of work from the Museum Boijmans van Beuningen in Rotterdam and the duo didn't want to approach their collaboration flippantly. So, wandering the museum's maze of rooms, they recorded various improvised percussive sounds with their arsenal of microphones, using the space to inform various rhythms and textures that were sculpted later into electroacoustic vignettes. This was just the starting point, though; as Magaletti and upsammy began performing together, the project evolved and 'Seismo' began to take shape. The duo had struck on a salient aesthetic concept, using mostly digital and acoustic mallet instruments to blur the boundary between their roles and create friction between the synthetic and the authentic. And the finished record is a phantasmagoric push-and-pull between its various conflicting elements: harmony and dissonance, randomness and predictability, openness and constraint. 'Seismo' isn't the first time that upsammy has studied her environment in search of revelation. On her acclaimed second album, 2024's 'Germ in a Population of Buildings', the Amsterdam-based DJ, producer and multidisciplinary artist erected her complex, unorthodox rhythms and eerie melodies around a modernist frame of field recordings collected in various cityscapes, countering heavyweight basslines with subtle, microscopic sounds. London-based Italian vanguard Magaletti, meanwhile, has applied her unique logic to innumerable projects at this point, working with everyone from batida icon Nídia and hardcore-dub outfit Moin to French writer Fanny Chiarello and British bass scientist Shackleton. For years she's approached the drums with criticism, attempting to challenge any preconceptions, something that's most visible on 2020's 'A Queer Anthology of Drums'. And both artists' thoughtful perspectives are welded together seamlessly on 'Seismo', a dizzying suite of eight eccentric statements that's fragile but never insecure, gauzy but not indistinct. An unnerving sense of space characterizes 'It Comes to an End' as Magaletti's in situ improvisations herald for upsammy's microscopic glitches and chiming pitch-bent melodies. It's almost unbalancing to witness the track's impossible dimensionality, the interplay between reverberant marimba hits and bone-dry synths, or percussion that's been recorded and processed in consciously different settings. A new architecture emerges in the sound itself that the two artists scan and explore meticulously, testing its boundaries with undulating hybridized rhythms on the invigorating 'Superimposed' and offsetting the powdery drums with liquified smacks and alien voices. The duo's vibrations are knotted with piano flourishes on 'Hyperlocalize', balanced with artificial clanks and clangs that disappear into the track's sonorous atmosphere, replaced by whispers and half-hallucinated insectoid chirps. 'Seismo' is an album that feeds off the energy generated by its juxtapositions: the tension and anticipation that's melted by rapid, hyperactive movement and the finely drawn rhythms disrupted by a layer of indistinct, barely perceptible microsounds. It's a collaboration that sounds like two minds challenging each other but not wrestling, each peering from their own distinct vantage point and imagining a third landscape shaped by optimistic, queer vibrations.

Incl. Remixes by Red Axes, Roman Flügel & Abe Duque

What does it mean to exist in sound?

It does not begin with a beat, but with a choice. With the moment when someone decides not merely to inhabit the space, but to shape it – and in doing so, makes themselves visible.

Roman Flügel stands as a constant in the background. Not as an authority, but as a collective consciousness. Since the 1990s, he has moved through club music like a seeker, never content with the first answer. House, techno, experimentation – these are not genres, but states of being. His remix thinks, hesitates, opens, strikes like a surging acid wave, warping reality and demanding true presence.

New York taught him that club music is never neutral. It is body, friction, attitude. Abe Duque’s remix carries a strangely enchanting relentlessness, a resistance to smoothness – as if the dancefloor were a place where freedom is not claimed, but fought for.

Red Axes do not enter this space; they conjure it. Their sound is raw, repetitive, circular, as if deliberately refusing linearity. House, dub, and acid elements become material for a movement that is more trance than structure. Their remix does not ask where it is going; it asks why one should ever stand still.

And then there is Tim Paris. Not at the center, but as a narrator. As someone who knows that the voice is an attitude. “That Boy” is not a pose, but a mirror, ironic, direct, vulnerable. Paris moves between new wave house and club, always aware that identity is never fixed, but formed in the moment.

This remix record is not a gathering of names. It is a situation, four perspectives on the same question:

What does it mean to exist in sound?

Yet sound alone does not tell the full story: like music, the visual is a space to be shaped, felt, and deciphered. The cover of Tim Paris feat. Foremost Poets – That Boy, created by Konstantin Fürchtegott Kipfmüller, a visual artist at the Hochschule für Gestaltung in Offenbach under Heiner Blum, embodies this principle. Drawing inspiration from the urban environment, Kipfmüller transforms traces of decay, weather, and time into abstract narratives that, like the music of Tim Paris, Roman Flügel, Abe Duque and Red Axes, unfold meaning layer by layer. The result is no mere adornment, but a mirror of the sonic landscape: every line, every surface an echo of the question of what it means to exist – fully, in the moment, in sound.

'Balconies' is an urgent, physical record shaped by momentum and heat. The album takes its title from a recurring metaphor: a balcony as a place of exposure and distance. Elevated, visible, yet removed from the action below. Throughout the record, Tin Fingers explore feelings of observation, displacement and restlessness, moving through places without fully belonging.

Musically, 'Balconies' marks a clear shift for the Antwerp band. Where earlier releases leaned into intimacy and melancholy, this album is louder, more direct and built for movement. Sharp, energetic songs are balanced by the band's continued attention to atmosphere and imagery.

The album was written instinctively over three months by frontman Felix Machtelinckx before being brought to the band, with arrangements coming together quickly thanks to years of shared experience. Recording took place over four hot summer days at The Old Carpet Factory on Hydra, Greece. The warmth, the sea and the island's isolation shaped both sound and mood, while limited time encouraged live recordings that capture the album's raw energy and immediacy. 'Balconies' was mixed by D. James Goodwin (The National, Kevin Morby, Whitney).

Following the release, Tin Fingers will present 'Balconies' live, with shows at De Roma (Antwerp), Mezz (Breda) and Supersonic (Paris).

Analog Fingerprints Vol. 0 is a compilation bringing together the early 2000s works of Marco Passarani under his Analog Fingerprints alias, collecting key tracks originally released on Rome’s Plasmek and Pigna labels.

For Numbers, the story starts long before the label itself. In their formative years, digging in Glasgow’s Rubadub, Passarani’s records felt like dispatches from a future city. Releases on his own Nature Records and on labels such as Generator and Interr-Ference Communications were mind blowing: rooted in Detroit techno, Chicago house and electro, yet pushing somewhere new. Much like fellow travellers Autechre, who would remix him in 2001, Passarani’s music balanced machine funk with restless experimentation.

Information was scarce, and you would hear these records first on the dancefloor or at listening stations in shops like Rubadub. Print fanzines like Ear and early web outposts such as Forcefield offered only fragments. But there was a palpable axis forming between Detroit techno and a new European wave of record labels including Skam, Rephlex, Clone, Viewlexx and Nature itself. It was the sound that defined Saturday nights at Rubadub’s ‘69’ parties in Paisley, just outside of Glasgow.

Passarani’s records, in particular, were instrumental in bringing together the future Numbers co-founders. Richard had already booked him pre-Numbers; meanwhile Calum (Spencer) and Jack (Jackmaster), then 16/17 year olds working alternate Saturdays in Rubadub, were so enamoured with the Roman sound that they travelled to Rome for the Bitz Festival in 2003 to seek out Passarani and Lory D at their source.

The first Analog Fingerprints release landed as a 12” on Plasmek in 2001, following the fractured, IDM-leaning 6 Katun material. For Passarani, the project marked a recalibration. A DJ first and foremost, he had moved into production via early computer setups, from a Commodore Amiga through primitive PC audio, Cubase and Logic, later experimenting with Ableton. The IDM scene had offered a playground for trial and error, but there was always a tension between abstraction and the dancefloor. Analog Fingerprints became the bridge: still intelligent, but with more dance than distance. After years of broken beats and complex arrangements, he wanted directness without surrendering identity.

Working closely with Francesco de Bellis and Mario Pierro in the Pigneto district, the trio formed Pigna as a vehicle for reclaiming a more accessible dance sound, deliberately steering away from the minimal wave beginning to dominate Europe. Sessions were fast, instinctive, often stretching late into the night with friends dropping by. It was a studio as social space, production as collective energy.

“In that constant search for balance, Analog Fingerprints was my way of expressing something closer to the classic dance floor. The track 'Tribute' - a tribute to my favourite early Detroit techno track of all time, 'First Bass' by Separate Minds - came after I realised I had almost lost my connection with the dance floor. The simplest step was to take inspiration from early Chicago and Detroit and twist it in our Roman ‘Pigna’ way. My goal was to create more accessible dancefloor tracks by mixing my unconscious Italo roots with my teenage love for that early US sound, ensuring the result was as far as possible from the minimal sound that was starting to dominate everywhere.” - Marco Passarani

Technically, the Analog Fingerprints tracks span a transitional era: Roland TR-909, SH-101 and Alpha Juno hardware met early software experiments. A Novation Drumstation rack stood in for the unattainable TR-808, syncing with TB-303 and TR-606. Yet the true secret weapon was Jeskola Buzz, a tracker-style modular environment that allowed step-by-step parameter control and strange melodic constructions, later exported into the audio sequencer. Even the lead on ‘Tribute’ came from an early PPG Wave-style plugin. It was hybrid thinking at a moment when digital tools still felt unstable but full of possibility for technologists like Passarani.

Behind the music sat Finalfrontier, a loose Roman collective orbiting Nature and Plasmek. Distribution and production were intertwined; importing obscure records into Italy built connections with like-minded outsiders across Europe and the US. Expensive phone bills and fax machines forged an “electronix network” that linked Rome to Clone, Viewlexx, Skam, Rephlex, Rubadub and Detroit’s Underground Resistance. There was a shared sense of survival and resistance, of operating against commercial systems.

Passarani recalls “The first time I found a sheet of paper inside an Underground Resistance 12” with info about upcoming releases... and a huge picture of Spock on the back. Imagine that: you love the music, you love Star Trek, and there’s someone on the other side of the ocean sharing those same values and sounds. It was the perfect match. We even gave our original company the suffix ‘Finalfrontier’: that says it all.”

Feedback in that era arrived physically: distributor faxes, conversations with visiting DJs, the experience of playing abroad and meeting kids who had connected with the records. Glasgow became a key node in a scattered outlier network. Passarani personally brought the first two Nature releases to Fat Cat in London, playing them in-store. Shortly after, a fax arrived from Rubadub in Glasgow requesting copies.

“I still remember that phone buzz and the fax paper slowly sliding out, with someone I didn’t know saying they wanted 75 copies of Nature 001. Or like the time we got a fax from the Rephlex crew just saying, “Hello Nature Records, Keep up the good work.” That was how we knew the message was getting through. It was a fantastic feeling; just one piece of thermal fax paper as an analog notification - the mood for the entire week would change.” - Passarani

The connection to Glasgow has since stretched across generations. As Passarani reflects, links often fracture as scenes renew themselves, but in Glasgow something different happened. New and old mixed seamlessly. There was a visible trust in what came before, and a willingness to carry it forward rather than discard it. Observed from Rome, it was deeply encouraging.

Analog Fingerprints Vol. 0 captures that moment of exchange: Rome to Glasgow, Detroit to Europe, experiment to dancefloor. It documents an artist recalibrating his sound and a network of scenes discovering one another in real time, connected by vinyl, faxes and shared intent.

TALKSHOW is Haexler's 3rd EP and clearly marks an evident deep dive into the environment of purist Powerviolence. While the Hardcore influences were overtly visible on their previous releases, Haexler now turn their heads towards fully submerging in a primitively harsh tone that flirts with lo-fi soundscapes and noisey elements. On TALKSHOW, Haexler return with their concise and accurate deconstruction of political frameworks, frontally addressing the scope of formations of the liberal democracy, following the foundation of Agnoli's classic "Die Transformation der Demokratie." The full set of disputes regarding the scheme that builds the foundation of liberal democracies from lobbyism all across the possible impact of the media (talkshows), rituals of parties, political pluralism to western values is ferociously dissected with cynical implementations of snippets off the TV series "Mad Men". TALKSHOW will only take a comparably short amount of time to fittingly blast your head off. Make sure to be prepared! Classic black one-sided 11-Track 12" w/ b-side etching and lyrics insert!

"And what about you? What are you looking for?" - René Daumal

This musical journey pays tribute to René Daumal and his enchanting world of mysteries and magic. The album shares its title with Daumal's novel, Mount Analogue: A Novel of Symbolically Authentic Non-Euclidean Adventures in Mountain Climbing, published posthumously in 1952, eight years after the author's untimely death.

Mount Analogue is a classic allegorical adventure novel. The novel describes an expedition undertaken by a group of mountaineers to travel to and climb the titular Mount Analogue an enormous mountain on a surreal continent, that is invisible and inaccessible to the outside world and can be perceived only by the application of obscure knowledge. The central theme of mountaineering is extensively explored through literary and philosophical lenses. Daumal died before the novel was completed, providing an uncanny one-way quality to the story, which ends abruptly in the middle of a sentence.

The first disc features a fifty-minute composition divided into six chapters: Introduction, Meeting, Supposition, Crossing, Arrival, and Conclusion. This album weavestogether a rich tapestry of diverse instruments, sounds, and voices that collectively tell the story of this conceptual work, loaded with a synesthetic multitude of colors, aromas, meanings, textures, and moods.

Contributors to this musical poem include Bill Laswell (bass), Henry Kaiser (guitar), Anna Clementi (vocals), Percy Howard (voice), Hideo Yamaki (percussion), Graham Haynes (cornet), Dorian Cheah (violin), Nils Petter Molvaer (trumpet), Peter Apfelbaum (keyboard), and P.ST (concept, electronics), who all lend their talents to a series of excerpts from Daumal's text.

A truly global project, the recordings took place across various locations in Europe, North America, and South America, culminating at Orange Music Studio in New York, thanks to the collaborative efforts of Bill Laswell, James Dellatacoma, and Michael Fossenkemper.

The second disc presents five improvisations for solo electric guitar by Henry Kaiser. The first solo, Jodorowsky's Peradam, draws its inspiration from Alejandro Jodorowsky's 1973 film The Holy Mountain, which was inspired by the Daumal novel. Kaiser's initial forty-eight-minute guitar solo serves as a foundational guide for his four subsequent, Rashomon-esque, solo musical interpretations of Mount Analogue, as seen through the psychedelic labyrinth of Jorodrowsky's cinematic masterpiece.

"And what about you? What are you looking for?" - René Daumal

This musical journey pays tribute to René Daumal and his enchanting world of mysteries and magic. The album shares its title with Daumal's novel, Mount Analogue: A Novel of Symbolically Authentic Non-Euclidean Adventures in Mountain Climbing, published posthumously in 1952, eight years after the author's untimely death.

Mount Analogue is a classic allegorical adventure novel. The novel describes an expedition undertaken by a group of mountaineers to travel to and climb the titular Mount Analogue an enormous mountain on a surreal continent, that is invisible and inaccessible to the outside world and can be perceived only by the application of obscure knowledge. The central theme of mountaineering is extensively explored through literary and philosophical lenses. Daumal died before the novel was completed, providing an uncanny one-way quality to the story, which ends abruptly in the middle of a sentence.

The first disc features a fifty-minute composition divided into six chapters: Introduction, Meeting, Supposition, Crossing, Arrival, and Conclusion. This album weavestogether a rich tapestry of diverse instruments, sounds, and voices that collectively tell the story of this conceptual work, loaded with a synesthetic multitude of colors, aromas, meanings, textures, and moods.

Contributors to this musical poem include Bill Laswell (bass), Henry Kaiser (guitar), Anna Clementi (vocals), Percy Howard (voice), Hideo Yamaki (percussion), Graham Haynes (cornet), Dorian Cheah (violin), Nils Petter Molvaer (trumpet), Peter Apfelbaum (keyboard), and P.ST (concept, electronics), who all lend their talents to a series of excerpts from Daumal's text.

A truly global project, the recordings took place across various locations in Europe, North America, and South America, culminating at Orange Music Studio in New York, thanks to the collaborative efforts of Bill Laswell, James Dellatacoma, and Michael Fossenkemper.

The second disc presents five improvisations for solo electric guitar by Henry Kaiser. The first solo, Jodorowsky's Peradam, draws its inspiration from Alejandro Jodorowsky's 1973 film The Holy Mountain, which was inspired by the Daumal novel. Kaiser's initial forty-eight-minute guitar solo serves as a foundational guide for his four subsequent, Rashomon-esque, solo musical interpretations of Mount Analogue, as seen through the psychedelic labyrinth of Jorodrowsky's cinematic masterpiece.

Mit dem BIPPP Sampler bringt uns das in Frankreich ansässige Label Born Bad ein Stück französischer 80s Untergrundmusikgeschichte für das manche Leute töten würden wenn sie die Originalaufnahmen in die Hände bekommen würden!

Die Compilation ist vollgestopft mit extrem raren französischen Minimal-, Synth- & Coldwave. Der Großteil der Songs von u.a.: A Trois Dans Le Wc, Act, Les Visiteurs Du soir, Vox Dei, Comix, Tgv, Mary Moor, Ruth, Visible, Casino Music sind dabei wohl auch nur dem engeren Kreis der Minimalsammler bekannt, können hier aber dankenswerter Weise auch endlich einem (etwas) größerem Publikum präsentiert werden. Wer frühe Soft Cell, Silicon Teens, Grauzone, Nouvelle Vague die von Martin Hannett produzierten belgischen Names oder ähnliches mag kommt hier wirklich nicht dran vorbei. Großer Tip für alle die auf schrägen 80s Epop, Postpunk und Minimalelektronik stehen, inkl. tollen beiheft- leider nur auf französisch!

To decay is also to transform. Rusting metal is the visible traces of passing time, as the oxidation process accumulates dampness in our atmosphere and imprints it as unpredictable patterns onto hard iron and steel. Working in construction for a year now, Kensho Nakamura sees rust all the time, clambering up ageing chunks of material. Normally discarded as waste, Nakamura began discerning beauty in the phenomenon, organically spiralling around and consuming some of the very hardest of manufacturing stuffs into unique new forms.

‘Electric Rust’ continues the conceptual electronic composition mode of Nakamura’s previous works with a series of fractured musical dioramas. These scurrying notes, sparse hums, and quivering bleeps explore the topics of rust and the accumulation of time. The music ticks like a clock, drips like a tap, and manifests unknowable inorganic shapes. Recognisable musical snippets of bells, pianos, or murmured voices are buried inside counterintuitive synthetic rhythms and tension.

On ‘wet air’ piano notes tinkle and pipes gargle, digital detritus tap dances and arpeggios stumble. On ‘unique faces’, idle marimbas and malfunctioning animalistic squeaks flounder. This is music from the promethean space between being forgotten and being conceived. ‘Electric Rust’ is a topography of a world of rust, where corroding structures evolve into new — and beautiful — patterns of life.

Paperbark is the ambient project of Jon Mulville, who has been shaping rhythmic and textural soundscapes since 2016. His music is rooted in memory, as a way to process emotional fragments. Guided by time spent in nature and created in response to a culture that often feels lacking empathy, his work aims to create space for reflection.

He has released eight albums, primarily on Seil Records, as well as Constellation Tatsu. 'Light Behind Me' marks his first CD release and only his second appearance on vinyl.

Ten years after her first release, electronic musician Mor Elian presents her debut album Solid Space. Showing her full artistic range, the LP drifts between dream-like listening states and experimental club spaces. Written in a transitional time, these compositions arrived in emotional, unfiltered bursts. Solid Space brings together ambient textures, early IDM structures, and experimental electronics, with distant, hazy vocals converging into a single, subconscious flow. It is released by adventurous electronic music label topo2 on November 28, 2025. The record is pressed on 180 grams of ICCS-certified bio-vinyl, housed in a heavy full-colour sleeve, and comes with a download-code to the full release. Mastering is done by Ike Zwanikken, mixing by Gramrcy, artwork courtesy of Kees de Klein, and poetry written by Eelco Couvreur. Additional production and mixing on track 7 by Carrier.
—

in the half-sleep: a voice
not anyone’s, just sound.
what it touches, it mirrors
learning to name itself.

a throat opens —
to hum through bone
to say nothing correctly.

we coexist as opposites
in our mother tongue, dreaming
the things we were never meant to touch.

there is a channel
between pulse and sentence —
a being moving through
the being that once answered to me.

to feel and not own the feeling,
each of us made visible
by the other.

What We Do When in Silence is the trio of Nicola Ratti, Alessandra Novaga and Enrico Malatesta.

Imagine a series of small movements in an empty space. Imagine their shadows on the floor, there’s a natural light sliding in from the 3 windows on your right side. There’s no silence here. There are people outside waiting for others, waiting for the people since what we do is not visible, since we do it when in silence and there is no silence here. Synthesizer, piano, whistling, electric guitar and percussions.

Nicola Ratti is a versatile musician and sound designer who has long been active across diverse experimental fields. His sound production creates systems shaped by repetition and expansion, with a particular focus on building environments that resonate with the spaces and architectures we inhabit, and on balancing the emotional and perceptual orientations to which we are accustomed.

Alessandra Novaga is a guitarist who has been exploring, for years, the possible territories her instrument can lead her to. She has crossed through the most classical worlds, reaching into intangible abstractions without setting boundaries between the two. Sound, meanings, encounters, and narratives are the elements that guide her path.

Enrico Malatesta is a percussionist and independent researcher working within experimental contexts that intersect music, performance, and territorial investigation. His practice explores the relationship between sound, space, and movement, and the vitality of materials, with a particular focus on surfaces, listening modes, and the articulation of multiple layers of information through an ecological and sustainable approach to percussion instruments.

300 ONLY LIMITED TRANSPARENT BLUE VINYL LP, HOUSED IN GLOSS FINISHED SLEEVE WITH POLYLINED INNER BAG. NON-RETURNABLE.
Guitar wielding heavy psych explorers Dead Otter return with their inter-dimensional new album 'The Sentinel', released on Riot Season in the UK and Echodelick in the US, this full length marks the band's first release since 2018's 'Bridge of Weird'.

The otternaut, having traversed through the wormhole laden 'Bridge of Weird' finds themself isolated on a desert planet, the only visible life towers above in the form of a malevolent, sky dwelling planetoid known as "The Sentinel".

The Sentinel was recorded in Glasgow's Dystopia Studio, mixed by Omar Aborida (The Cosmic Dead) and mastered by John McBain (Monster Magnet, Desert Sessions, Wellwater Conspiracy).

EN/JP liner notes by Doran and a hyper-realistic cover by Japanese visual artist/graphic designer Kai Yoshizawa using 3DCG software.

"8 Automated Works", the first full release by Componium Ensemble, an "indeterminate chamber music" ensemble helmed by Spencer Doran of Visible Cloaks. The project is inspired by the long history of automated musical instruments, beginning with the ancient Greek Archimedes and further developed by the Banū Mūsā brothers in 9th century Baghdad, who "first perfected the concept of a programmable, automated musician: a mechanically controlled flute which used hydraulic water pressure and a system of arrangeable punchcards using a visionary proto-MIDI structure", as Doran explains in the liner notes. This mechanical music-making was extended a millennium later with the use of aleatoric principles by the European Dietrich Nikolaus Winkel, inventor of the self-composing Componium mechanical music system. Doran continues this lineage further, using the possibilities of digital technology and its ability to automate a huge range of virtual instruments and introduce aleatoric elements, moving beyond human impulses and limitations, allowing "new shapes to emerge". Dedicated also to Noah Creshevsky, pioneer of what can be considered cyber-human music, Componium Ensemble features a wide and intriguing range of instruments including prepared piano, bowed harpsichord, celesta, bass clarinet, flute, cello, Balinese tingklik, and more, often in multiple groupings. Despite this variety of instrumentation and the seemingly formidable theoretical underpinnings, the music is very accessible and attractive, spacious and fresh, with a light touch and a sophisticated melodic sense which will appeal to pop fans as well as classical/contemporary music listeners. The album is mixed by longtime collaborator Joe Williams (Motion Graphics, Lifted) and available in 10-inch vinyl, ,

Simon Popp is back on Squama with his fourth album Trio.
At its heart, Trio is a work about collaboration, playfulness and unification. It is music as a means of coming together, a sonic equivalent to the Japanese philosophy of Kintsugi, in which broken ceramics are repaired with a visible golden lacquer. Rather than hiding the breaks, Kintsugi embraces them, making them part of the story, a form of delicate transformation. Popp and his collaborators Flurin Mück and Sebastian Wolfgruber take a similar approach: three distinct drummers, three different temperaments, three personal styles. Fused together into a single expressive instrument.
The album is a celebration of timbre, texture, and touch, its sound palette drawn from across continents and traditions. Human beings at all points of time, across all cultures and continents have used music to celebrate, mourn, worship and bond. Along with our voices, creating rhythm with our bodies. Clapping, stomping, hitting with sticks. A celebration of rhythm as both a shared human memory and an audible expression of close bonds.
Trio is a reflection of the beauty of imperfection and the timeless pull of rhythm as a shared human force. The cracks are not hidden. They are filled with gold.

"Paloma mensajera" (featuring members of New Juggler Sound / Laghonia) shows the shift that was taking place within Peruvian rock away from psych and hard rock which had predominated during the early 70s. The style adopted by Grupo Amigos (and other bands and artists during this period) highlights the influence of soft rock, UK, US and Latin American folk rock and, above all, the desire to keep the melodic greatness of The Beatles alive. This reissue includes bonus tracks and extensive liner notes. DESCRIPTION "Paloma mensajera" (featuring members of New Juggler Sound / Laghonia) shows the shift that was taking place within Peruvian rock away from psych and hard rock which had predominated during the early 70s. The style adopted by Grupo Amigos (and other bands and artists during this period) highlights the influence of soft rock, UK, US and Latin American folk rock and, above all, the desire to keep the melodic greatness of The Beatles alive. The positive reception albums by artists such as We All Together, Telegraph Avenue and Zulu garnered between 1972 and 1975, marked a change of paradigm and in preferences within the Peruvian rock scene. Eclecticism gained new ground, to the detriment of the sectarian and orthodox, while melody grew more present and visible, moving away from the progressive experimentation that typified underground Peruvian rock up to the beginning of the 70s. For their first single on MAG, included on this reissue, the band adopted a formula in which Beatles harmonies converged symmetrically with folk motifs. 'Dirty Girl' was a hit on the radio. A full album followed but only a fairly small number of copies of the album were pressed, which seems to have been the main reason for omitting it from the historical accounts of Peruvian rock music from the late 90s onwards. In "Paloma mensajera" all compositions were penned by the group, after several years during which cover versions were a staple. Some of the musical resources that the band had at their disposal in terms of composition and arrangements are striking and even surprising, considering that they were a debut band, whose members were under the age of 20. The arrangements included the clever use of a Moog synthesizer which had just arrived at the MAG studio. The success achieved by the Beatles tribute performances played by the members of Grupo Amigos for decades have eclipsed the songs that Edmundo, Andrés Da Ros and Simón Ames composed with youthful enthusiasm and energy between 1972 and 1973 to the point where they have almost been forgotten. This re-release of "Paloma mensajera" should help rectify this major injustice. It includes bonus tracks and extensive liner notes.

Squanderers sind David Grubbs (Gastr del Sol), Wendy Eisenberg und Kramer. Sie kehren zurück und liefern mit Skantagio den Nachfolger ihres Debütalbums If a Body Meet a Body (Shimmy-Disc, 2024). "Wir waren einen Tag lang im Studio und haben alle Stücke der ersten LP gespielt, bevor wir in die Mittagspause gingen. Skantiago enthält die Stücke, die wir nach dem Mittagessen gespielt haben", sagt Bassist und Shimmy-Disc-Gründer Kramer. "Wir mögen Squanderer (Verschwender) sein, aber wir trödeln nicht. Und wir vertiefen uns nicht zu sehr in unseren spontanen Erfindungen, während wir im Studio sind." Für Fans von: Gastr del Sol, Editrix, Pan American & Kramer, Jim O'Rourke, Bill Orcutt

3XL’s first new release in 2025 by Italian trio Cortex of Light is a synapse-tickling dose of classic FSOL-era world-building that takes in gloopy trance cooked down with sub-heavy, vaporous dub, mutant acid, breakbeat rave, Artificial Intelligence and a Mark Fell-style algorithmic brainmelt.

You'll know if you've spent any time following Piezo's output that the Milan-based producer and Ansia boss has a knack for lysergically enhancing any club template he sets his sights on. With releases on Idle Hands, Wisdom Teeth, Loefah's 81 and most recently Dekmantel, Luca Mucci has blottered up dubstep, hard drum, 2-step and minimal techno, here re-convening with fellow Milanese journeymen Aitch and primordial OOze/xàr num as Cortex of Light to blur those edges even further

'ILLUMINOTECNICA' isn't the trio's first release, but it's their most substantial and easily most developed. If 2024's 'Aeon Is A Child At Play With Colored Balls' showed off their aptitude for threading their luminous soundscapes into a horizontal soundtrack, then this album is a proper chance for Cortex of Light to show off their versatility in a different setting, matching dancefloor hallucinations with expertly sculpted sound design.

Psilocybin-tainted soundscapes scrape into breathy flute sounds and chest-thumping bass drops on the opener, haunted by a vision of electronic music that's been contrived in back rooms, squats and outdoor raves for decades at this point. Like so much of the rest of the 3XL catalog, there's a drive and coherence here that comes from classic dub techno and chill-out room fodder (think The Black Dog or Pentatonik), but always infused with something that dates it to the present era, be it a tactile sliver of Visible Cloaks-style neo-new age ambience, or a sort of mescaline-dipped take on Photek's bass-heavy, meticulously hazed 'Solaris' period downtempo gear, chopped 'n screwed into the uncanny.

‘selfsame’, the second 12” on false aralia, mirrors the structure of companion release ‘zero key’ in presenting an iterative exploration of versioning itself, unspooling a line of flight through four ascending rhythmic configurations. the objects at the center remain hard to glimpse: holographic percussion, snatches of breath, contorted blue chords, and roiling subs phase in and out of perception, interlocking, dissipating and reappearing as familiar silhouettes. the slow and quick domains of rhythm superimpose and bifurcate, perpetually just out of grasp, only visible in mutual reflection. the apparent solidity of the structure dissolves into a froth of microscopic activity upon close inspection.