Buscar:bad behaviour

Big new release by Peter Van Hoesen! Continuing his exploration of intricate techno systems, their effect and direct perimeter of action, Peter van Hoesen turns in his newest four-track piece, ‘Prime Directive’: a fascinating dive into the artist’s shape-shifting headspace and inner creative chaos.

Fuelled on a furnace-hot mix of abstract-leaning immersion and hi-octane rhythmic thrust, ‘Prime Directive’ looks at contemporary techno from the angle of experimentation and intuitive abandon. The result comes in the form of four distinct movements, each carving out their own logic and associated behaviour out an endless pool of potentialities. Here comes chaology unfolding in all its unadulterated, visceral glory.

‘Definition by Absence’ breaks the trip in to the sound of a faux-random symphony: its train-like swing and fiery bass seesaw coalesce through an elliptic fluttering of sorts, iterative and not, patterns moving in and out of synchronicity as van Hoesen applies more or less pressure on both ends. All in gusty in-your-face-ness, ‘Variables Edit 1’ whirls and swirls like an ominous vengeance of nature; Its puncturing kicks and whistling menace set against stellar winds and rabid machinery on the prowl for its next victim.

An even more unsettling piece of disjointedly arrhythmic, anti-club music for the dance floor, ‘Prime Directive’ will have you zoning out like a bad dream, flush with metronome-faced monsters and molten clocks hanging from dead trees. ‘Morphology’ could be PVH’s attempt at giving his concepts a carnal carcass to hold onto. Here, rhythm becomes somewhat less erratic, offering his 360-degree vision more melodic surface and actual room for dispersion. One to keep the boundaries pushed and status-quo challenged, this is techno at its most entrancingly bold and fearless.

*This new four-track epic from Peter van Hoesen comes draped in a fine piece of artwork courtesy of Atact, and pressed according to our standards in 180g audiophile quality so you get to experience the Belgian master's chiselled sound design in all its glory.

To celebrate the 15-year anniversary of Dizzee’s Rascal’s most iconic and commercial album ‘Tongue N' Cheek’ comes a brand-new Zoetrope! The album that brought Bonkers, Dance Wiv Me and Holiday now has two incredible designs across side A and B plus a remix with rising star Buckley for the first time on vinyl.

In Cornish slang it is said that things get done ‘dreckly’; that is, not now, not necessarily tomorrow, but, at some indefinite point...in the future...soon...

Fitting then that when Bristol’s Langkamer decamped to their de facto home-from-home in the picturesque south-west seaside town of Falmouth to record their third album in as many years (with an EP thrown in there too) - there was no particular need to rush things: “The process was much slower and more considered for Langzamer.”, drummer/vocalist Josh Jarman explains: “The first two albums felt pretty urgent, and each was finished in about 6 months, but this one feels a lot more deliberate. It’s taken us two years to get this done.”

Equally fitting too that Langzamer kicks off proceedings with ‘Heart of Tin’: the first bars are languidly lugubrious, so deliciously plucked-out and scuzzed-up that they linger in the air like passing smoke, magically, slowing time down to their own assured and steady will. And in so much time, that also feels like no time at all, comes an opening line of such stark, disarming confessionalism as might be found in the David Berman/Silver Jews songbook: “Do you want the good news or the bad news first? // They’re both bad news, but the bad is worse” It’s Langkamer in a nutshell: embattled, heart-on-sleeve Slacker Rock slaked with twinges of fret-sliding Americana, yet deeply embedded in the folk mythologies, colloquialisms and experiences of the band’s West Country roots.

Throughout Langzamer, confronting the listener again and again is this conflict between the band’s breezy, melodic charm, and the threat of something more sinister lurking in the undergrowth. While those more familiar with Langkamer’s oeuvre to date will have already come to know and love their often self-deprecating yet witty lyricism, the songs on Langzamer take this trademark ebullient gloominess to more challenging plains: “Principally this is an album about grief, and everything that entails...” explains Jarman. “in a sense death brought these songs to life.”

This thread is felt no more so than on ‘Salvation XL’. Inspired by a “particularly bad batch of food poisoning I had in Morocco”, Jarman explains, and beginning with the memorable opening line, “Jesus came to me a Burger King in Marrakech”, the band wind their way through the ‘big topics’: death and God.

“This trip was shortly after a few of my friends had passed away, and I think a lot of my thoughts and actions at that time were being influenced by my grief without me realising it.”, he explains, “Whenever I dwell on grief, and how death has given my life a new context, I come back to that. The ongoing battle between agnosticism and atheism. I wasn’t raised in a very strict religious home, but I come from a long line of methodists, and it’s interesting to think about the way theism and religion have shaped my life without me knowing it. I think that’s being channelled on this album a lot. The uncertainty that comes with disbelief.”

Our collective mortal frailties are also felt on lead single ‘Richard E Grant’. With a trademark bittersweetness, a track that begins as an appreciation of the actor’s humorous social media presence unfolds as a study on “finding healthy coping strategies to deal with loss.”. Elsewhere, ‘At The Lake’ - to the tune of mournful, folk-like balladry - explores binge-drinking culture and the troubled association between unhealthy behaviour and creativity. The listener is left in no mind as to the meaning behind the references to James Joyce and Janis Jopin as “souvenirs stolen from the dark”.

With themes as weighty as these strewn across the album’s 10 tracks, It seemed like a particularly astute move then for the band to personally approach Ben Woods, founder of the Golden Dregs, to assist on production duties. Not only would the delicate intimacies of Woods’ main project - see 2023’s On Grace & Dignity for reference - add an appropriate moodiness, but Woods was also born and raised in Cornwall, where the album was recorded; amidst “eating pasties” and breaks by the sea, Woods and the band transformed the vaults underneath iconic Falmouth venue The Cornish Bank into a makeshift studio for a weeks’ worth of recording. Occasionally friends would drop by to lighten the load; Zander Sharp tracking violin on ’Double Island’ and ‘Flight’; Josh Law and Ben Sadler of Breakfast Records labelmates Getdown Services, both of whom contribute to the soul-stirring ‘mountain’ chorus on ‘Aberfan’.

When compared to the brightness of 2023’s The Noon and Midnight Manual, Woods’ influence on the record seems indisputable. On the aforementioned ‘At The Lake’, for instance, which features backing vocals from Woods. Or, most acutely, on the piano strains of harrowing closer ‘Bluff’, a track with such chilling, spectral severity as to effect the band’s most heartbreaking effort to date. While it’s particularly sombre note on which end proceedings, it's also an appropriate one: Langzamer bravely stands tall as their most restrained, matured, and sincere collection to date. And almost by virtue of its impeccable honesty, those moments of sunshine-joy that creep through the cracks feel that much more golden.

The last twelve months have been a whirlwind for Henry Counsell and Louis Curran, the men who make up Joy (Anonymous). Having established themselves during the Covid-19 era by playing impromptu meet-ups on London’s South Bank, they have graduated to bigger venues, travelled to far-flung locales and recorded their second album, Cult Classics, while maintaining the spontaneous energy and irrepressible joy that made their name. Their music revels in the euphoria of being alive and all the feelings, good or bad, that come with it. It invites us into a community, draws us close and promises the night of our lives.

Recorded over the course of a year, the blueprint for Cult Classics was laid down over a two-week span at Imogen Heap’s Round House in east London. Joy (Anonymous) invited friends old and new to visit - they’d record live instruments in jam sessions upstairs and then retreat to a second room to flip and loop and generally mess with the sounds, moulding them into sizzling dance tracks. “Loads of people were coming up to me like ‘I thought this was going to be a dance record?’” Louis says, remembering the quietly beautiful music they’d be recording. “I’d be like, don’t worry about that, just keep playing.” He’d send it back to people later and they’d be floored - “That was my bit and you’ve made it... jungle!”

It was an organic and creatively fulfilling approach, one that didn’t allow any of the music to get stale or stagnate. As they built the tracks from the sounds they’d collected, Joy (Anonymous) would weave the new songs into their famously improvised live sets, testing them, refining them, taking note of the audiences’ reactions. In a year punctuated by a lot of travel, they’d also incorporate the voices of people they met along the way - “Beazley’s Poem”, which opens the record, features the words of a man who was working security at a Fred Again show at New York’s Terminal Five. “He was basically doing the opposite of his job and being a hype man, climbing on the fence and ramping up the crowd - we ended up hanging out with him - like, who’s this legend?” Louis explains. “He just speaks really amazingly about his life, all these amazing thoughts and opinions - he started jumping on the mic when we were playing, preaching these amazing messages to the crowd, like that we all need to be nicer to each other. The first time we played the record in its entirety, he introduced us and that’s the recording we’ve used.”

Joy (Anonymous) remain dedicated to the spirit of spontaneity. They shut a street down with a surprise waterside party in New York. On a trip to Copenhagen they played an impromptu set in a cafe, which turned into a house party and a night-long good time. In Lithuania, they ended up playing in a decommissioned prison. It’s harder, perhaps, to keep that spirit alive now that they are operating more within the confines of the music industry but they will keep lugging their kit to wherever the party calls for as long as they can. “I think if we lose that, we’ve kind of lost what makes us us,” Henry says.

Bursting with multi-genre reference points and disparate influences, Cult Classics is very much a dance album. The samples we made ourselves or we took from music that is quite different to dance music, but we definitely wanted to shout out a lot of the dance influences that we love,” Henry says. They listened to a lot of Daft Punk and Basement Jaxx as well as The Prodigy (“more rage stuff”), taking songwriting tips from their dance forebears, but also recording bits that felt more like jazz and motown (see: A Place I Belong and the lovely album closer, You’re In Or You’re Out). Emir Taha’s gentle classical guitar runs like a thread throughout Cult Classics, washing into the undertones of the record, tying it all together.

The album follows the beat of a night out, from frenetic, sweaty movement to the gentler winding down as the dawn breaks. At times it is euphoric, celebratory and pure, whirling fun, at others it seeks the joy in the darker emotions that life throws our way. 404 is designed to encapsulate everything about the Joy (Anonymous) journey so far. Skittering beats and ghostly vocals give way to vibrating house chords: sirens blare as we approach a dubstep drop. It’s dramatic and wild, ratcheting up, seeming to settle then hitting you with an intense and frantic breakdown before the ghostly vocal returns to lull us back into the world. It has the feel of a hungry cat playing with a mouse, toying with it before letting it get away.

What sounds like someone playing the spoons on playful, housey How We End Up Here is actually Louis’ restless habit of clicking his rings on everything, one of a myriad of calling cards and easter eggs that day one fans will recognise. They rework Miley Cyrus and Swae Lee’s Party Up The Street into a French-electro-inspired future classic, adding a note of melancholy to a tune that you can imagine hearing blaring from every car on a summer drive. The lyrics on Cult Classic are generally reassuring, inspirational, originally drawn from Henry in stream-of-consciousness freestyles. You’re fine the way you are, they seem to say - the repeated “No need to try” of A Place I Belong, the assurance that “It’s in me all the time” on In Me All The Time. Even the summery but regretful Did You Wrong hints at the growth that is possible from less than ideal behaviour. For Joy (Anonymous), joy isn’t about just being “happy” all the time - it’s about relishing every element of your being.

The name ‘Joy (Anonymous)’ is taken from the work Henry did with Alcoholics Anonymous groups: it is a way to build a community around sharing joy. Their impromptu live sets are known as ‘meetings’; they encourage fans to share moments of joy to their website. They care deeply about the scene they’ve come up in and are determined not to leave it behind. Every show is another chance to reach out and connect with people who love to come together and revel in music as loud as it can go.

Support slots for Fred Again and The Streets, wild B2Bs with Fred and Skrillex, and a set at Four Tet’s Finsbury Park all-dayer this summer have given the duo the opportunity to live out childhood dreams and introduced their infectious live shows to new audiences at huge venues.

With an album as assured and joyful as Cult Classics on the horizon (and a killer collab with The Blessed Madonna coming up), they’re only going to reach higher heights. But the essence of Joy (Anonymous) remains on the South Bank. Between shows at Ally Pally in September, they dragged their camping chairs and gear back down to the banks of the Thames: and it just felt right.

ENG 'Behavioural Sink Delirium' is the new studio album from MADMADMAD. Powered by their wild live parties and rooted in the sounds of mutant disco, post-punk and experimental electronics, the London-based trio's third LP is due out July 21 via Bad Vibrations. Arriving following 2019's 'Proper Music' and 2020's 'More More More', 'Behavioural Sink Delirium' was recorded and produced by Eddie Stevens (Zero7, Moloko, Róisín Murphy) in his Fulham studio. "We locked ourselves away for ten days and recorded 30 hours of music, all played live in one room, and only edited to create arrangements", MADMADMAD recall. The result of those sessions is nine unhinged techno-dystopian freak-outs that mark the trio out as a truly singular group. 'Behavioural Sink Delirium' takes its name and inspiration from the 1968-70 'Universe 25' experiment by American ethologist John B. Calhoun, looking at the behavioural effects of population growth in a 'rodent utopia'. During the studies, a perfect space was built for a colony of 3,000 mice to thrive in, with constant food and water supplies, cosy apartments and no outside threats or predators. Starting with 4 females and 4 males, the population grew rapidly before capping at a number of 2,200. At this point, a living nightmare ensued, filled with antisocial and violent mice as the utopic conditions began to collapse. The mice formed violent cliques and social hierarchies, cannibalism started becoming common practice and the population started plummeting to eventual extinction. Calhoun coined this tipping-point the "behavioural sink" effect, and it's this state of societal breakdown that the trio tap into on the record. "You can easily see the link with our species in terms of overpopulation, but also with the Internet medium or 'metaverse' and its overproduction of data, causing tremendous societal, mental and environmental shifts. What was supposed to cater for most of our needs has also turned on us. Delirium kinda states the air of it all, and the folly of the music." Pressing Info: 180g red vinyl, standard sleeve, printed inner-sleeve, download card included!

Following up on their acclaimed debut EP Yagana in 2022, the 5-piece band Pigeon return with a brand new offering: Backslider.

As Pigeon develop and hone their sound further, Afro-disco remains at the core while jazz and no-wave make way for new elements of electro, rock and synth pop.

With their debut Yagana EP gaining critical acclaim, each member has found themselves heavily in demand on top of their own individual pursuits – Falle Nioke is releasing his solo work as well as other projects, while Steve Pringle and Graham Godfrey play in various bands (Michael Kiwanuka and SAULT to name a few). Adding to the creative melting pot, Tom Dream pursues filmmaking and bespoke music composition via his own studio, and Josh Ludlow runs his own record label M.A.D. Records.

​​Lead single 'Backslider', a laid-back, 80s funk-rock bassline is backed by a deliberate, plodding drum kit - frontman Falle Nioke proceeds to sing in English and French - calling someone a 'backslider', for their dishonesty and bad behaviour.

Track 'Ikanabore', is a fast-paced, Afro-disco workout primed for the dancefloor, driven by a catchy chorus, guitar hooks, a heavy rollicking kick drum and plenty of modulated synth - highlighting the band's ability to effortlessly cross between tempos and genres.

Orpheu the Wizard has a magic touch at finding records that fall between the gaps in music - oddities, curios, the weird, the wonderful. But that's just half the trick. It takes a sensitive and selective ear to construct a coherent, accessible narrative from them. So you get DJs who can play for the crowd and "selectors" adept at mining the black gold. In Orpheu, you've got yourself someone who can do both. On a festival main stage, he can keep it weird enough for the heads. In an audiophile setting, he'll keep the flow.

These skill sets come into play on the fifth The Sound of Love International compilation. Jumping between genres, decades, continents, the truly rare, and many B-side cuts that passed you by. But never eclecticism for its own sake; this collection makes sense. Orpheu never loses sight of the listener - he's a friendly and knowledgeable guide to the cosmic outer reaches.

He opens his account with the warm, psychedelic electronics of Drawing Future Life, with ‘1969’. Tucked away on the B-side of an LP of ambient/trance hailing from Fukuoka, this is a very pretty piece of music on a truly rare piece of wax. Then, leapfrogging a couple of decades and timezones, we have Rutuu Poiss' "IHATSIN." Off-kilter, experimental sounds with an endearing melodic hook, followed up by the with lethargic ambient breakbeat of Digital Distortion's "Mellow Bug".

On the B-side, things start to get lively. French Audacity featuring Valerie's "That Fine One" is Gallic garage that has simultaneously got it hugely wrong and mas­sively right. Owing as much to new wave as New York house, this is propulsive and quirky dance music at its finest. Next, we're on a ferry over the channel for DJ Spike and "Gaps In Space." Up-tempo electro with a fondness for sampled vocal cut-ups, like its predecessor.

lnterdance's "Kurz" (another B-side) is the perfect segway - house from 1990 with that sweet, slightly goofy naivete. Things move toward the gnarly with Bad Behaviour and "Living on Smoke," a lesser-known cut on the legendary Atmosphere records. The tempo edges upward on "Systematic Input" by Frequency, hectic hardcore techno that still retains a lightness of touch.

"Lushes" by Diffusion spins us off into space, filigree techno with an emotive trance edge. The chiming intro of "Blue to Be Happy" by MFA lulls us into a sense of false security before massively putting the boot in with a pounding kick drum, bassline, and arpeggiation. From there, it's a sharp left turn into the urban psychedelic dub of R.I.P's "E.O Pan" on cult label Digi Dub.

Sticking with UK sound system music but taking it down a notch, Orpheu closes proceedings with a leftfield reggae excursion from the master of the mixing desk, Mad Professor’s"Oh Hell".

It's a compilation as varied as the many moods and grooves of Love International itself - from sun-dappled olive groves to moments deep in the strobes. This is serious music for party freaks or party music for serious freaks. Tisno is calling.

‘Miracle’ is the new album from Manchester singer songwriter Francis Lung,
released on Memphis Industries.
“For me, ‘Miracle’ is about the struggle between my self-destructive side and my
problem-solving, constructive side,” says Francis. “I suppose through a lot of
these songs I’m dealing with these emotional problems, acknowledging the
negative aspects of my behaviour instead of burying them, and providing an
alternative point of view for myself.”
Despite its serious subject matter, ‘Miracle’ is far from austere in sound, marrying
the cinematic, dreamlike quality of Francis’s earlier music with the pared-back
charm of great singer-songwriters like Judee Sill, Jeff Tweedy and Elliott Smith.
The album opens with ‘Bad Hair Day’, a relentlessly catchy - and deceptively
upbeat - ode to hangovers and missed connections. “I’ve been calling on you all
night / But I never get through, I just get in the way” Francis laments; “I am a
cloud in the sun’s light / Whatever I do, whatever I say.”
Elsewhere, the title track finds him pondering the fickle nature of the music
industry: “I think of [‘Miracle’] as acknowledging and even encouraging the
feelings we’re not supposed to succumb to - giving up, giving in - just because it
can be comforting to hear it from someone else. ‘Why am I climbing these social
ladders and jumping through the hoops of this creative industry? Does this make
me happy?’”
These themes of longing and lacking, missing and being missed, reoccur
throughout ‘Miracle. “When I die / Will I be missed / Or am I missing the point?”
asks ‘Say So’; while ‘Lonesome No More’, inspired by the Kurt Vonnegut book of
the same name, begs the question: if loneliness was eradicated, would we miss
it?
By confronting these feelings, Francis is able to move forward, as triumphant
album closer ‘The Let Down’ proves. Its lyrics serve as a call to action, as
Francis wills himself (and the listener) to “Get up / Get something going / Do
something, do it / Do it now.”
‘Miracle’ was produced by Francis in collaboration with Brendan Williams (Dutch
Uncles, Matthew Halsall, Kiran Leonard) and Robin Koob (who co-arranged and
performed strings). The opportunity to take creative control was one Francis
relished. “I’m quite bad at delegating,” he admits, noting that he played every
instrument except strings on ‘Miracle’. The result is a cohesive, deeply personal
record, which is as vital as it is vulnerable. “I don’t want to be defined by my
anxiety, my depression or any history of substance abuse,” Francis says, “but I
do want to reach out to other people who have had similar experiences,
especially if it’s in a way that helps them feel a little better. To me, this music is
celebrating healing as much as it focuses on the darker sides of the human
psyche.”