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Chins For Lefty is the debut album and first recording by Gichard, a new duo chronicling the absurdities of end-stage capitalism and mouldering social rituals from their vantage point in Glasgow, Scotland. Recorded primarily in the band’s home studio straight to tape, Chins For Lefty combines gorgeous, ramshackle melody, DIY kosmische punk, drum machine + synth and, in vocalist/lyricist Lisa Jones, an absurdist commentator on the human condition as it navigates the anxieties of the modern world. Instrumentalist Chas Lalli’s swirling music accompaniment stitches an evocative mix of musical styles, the ragged wind beneath the lyrics’ wings.

Although the duo first collaborated in their previous group Dragged Up, their disparate musical and artistic backgrounds make for an alluring mix in Gichard. Lalli has spent the last 20 years in the Glasgow underground, most notably in the noise rock group VOM, while Lisa Jones’s practice was in poetry and spoken word. Beginning as co vocalist in her previous band, in Gichard her lyrics are centre stage; the vision concocted alongside Lalli amounts to a total world-build.

Chins For Lefty scans almost like a novel, with each track elucidating a skewed universe that bears only some resemblance to the one you and I partake in. Like all works of fiction Gichard’s songs are rooted in reality and the lived experiences of its authors, but here characters are exaggerated, social mores and habits are pulled apart to reveal their inherent alienness. Universal emotions are laid bare, the bright light of anxious examination searching out every hairline fracture in our relationships. Distorted and cracked, the mirror that Gichard hold up to our world is also pretty damn funny.

Opener Cholesterol Test launches an expansive, cosmic guitar and synth intro that belies the Tascam-tape recorder it was recorded onto, like a Chromatics cut substituting anxiety for overt sexuality. Here Jones intones an apology to a non-responsive recipient, in the medium of a long voice note forensically deconstructing an interaction from the night before. Over punk guitars and shuffling, lo-fi drum machine splutters, the narrator in Asking The Apes “prefers things to people” before being taken hostage in the city zoo to confess an obsession which consumes the protagonist, ending with the immortal two liner “I sleep in a cocoon of old newspapers at the end of your street / And I think I have been fired from my job,” On album standout Posthumous Hologram, the narrator is faced with a human simulacra, in this case an undead pop star; the face of the encroaching technological singularity. Yes, it does requests, it can do My Way in 200 different language options. But what are the implications? While you’re left pondering, the alternating deadpan verse delivery and undeniably catchy chorus keep you company.

By the time Break Up With Johnny Dogbirth rattles into view, the band are satirising a suburban inanity blown up to cartoon proportions, soundtracked with a drawled musicality that recalls Rowland S. Howard’s post-Birthday Party balladeering. This approach is furthered on Human Resources: over an angular guitar+bass track, Jones’s short story recalls Dry Cleaning’s erudite lyrical post punk. On Soft Face, Lalli’s guitar and drum machine are swathed in echo and delay, as Jones dissects dating rituals with a west of Scotland drollness. Hamming It Up brings a porcine perspective in a short story that begins with the line “I was breastfeeding discreetly in the service station. She didn’t mind.” What follows is a passage punctured with canned laughter and a narrative involving tribute acts, modern farming techniques.

Brilliant first single Your Private Hell closes the album, the closest the group get to earnest perhaps, filtered through a surreal central Scottishness. While Your Private Hell might seem like a sardonic take down of romance, perhaps it’s the very distillation of love in all its awkwardness, selflessness and weirdness. Here there’s a distinctive Glasgow-ness to this doomed romance: the protagonist falls for an outsider, offers them cheap jarred hot dogs and carbolic soap (the infamous, excoriating soap dished out in schools and government buildings throughout Scotland), offers to cover up a murder, stalks them in the all-night Spar. It’s a short story of intrigue, murder and the irresistible pull of self-sacrifice to share in someone else’s suffering. If that’s not love, what is it? You can see this vision mapped out in black and white on their video for 'Your Private Hell'.

To celebrate the 10th anniversary of the iconically brutal-yet-stylish Hotline Miami, the head honchos at Devolver Digital, Dennaton Games and Laced Records picked up the phone and made the call to bring back two killer soundtracks to vinyl.

This Standard Edition of the Hotline Miami 1 & 2: The Complete Collection 8LP box set includes traditional black vinyl.

Every in-game track from Hotline Miami and Hotline Miami 2: Wrong Number is present and correct, including Castanets’ “You Are The Blood” (not previously available via the HM2 Steam soundtrack release.) 76 tracks remastered for vinyl will be pressed to heavyweight LPs that come in spined inner sleeves, contained in a rigid board lift-off lid box with spot UV highlight.

Also included in the box are two 12” art prints of the front and back cover pieces, and a 50 Blessings symbol felt slipmat and metallic sticker.

The box set features brand new eye-exploding artwork by long-time Dennaton collaborator Niklas Åkerblad — aka El Huervo aka Beard — alongside illustrator -IZMA-. El Huervo’s grisly covers depict contradictory accounts of a berserk face-off between Jacket and Biker, replete with entrails. -IZMA-’s disc sleeves explore scenes from the series’ lore, tapping into the violence, psychedelia and nihilism that pervade its characters and themes.

10 years on, neon-soaked indie hit Hotline Miami has become a cultural touchstone in a way that few video games ever achieve — and the electronic soundtracks for both series titles are held up as modern classics that have transcended gaming. At turns brutal and laid-back, pulsating and aimless, coked-up and checked-out, these two ultracool compilations were at the heart of the retro-’80s synthwave scene that swept the Internet over the 2010s.

Growing together both personally and musically… That is indeed the good fortune of the musicians in the Marseille-based trio ubaq. We’re talking about bassist Antoine Carletto, guitarist Lucas Schemidt, and drummer Antoine Saussol, winners of the Rezzo springboard competition at Jazz à Vienne 2025. In their early twenties, they met in their late teens while still honing their musical skills. Nearly ten years later, they burst onto the scene, in perfect harmony, with their very first album, “Night WIP,” a follow-up to their EP, “20bis,” released in 2024. They owe their stylized stage name—written in lowercase with a “q”—to the ubac, that side of a mountain with very little sun exposure, where twilight reigns. “We liked that idea because we’re night owls,” says bassist Antoine Carletto. Hence the “night” for “nuit” and the “WIP” for “Work In Progress,” explains guitarist Lucas Shemidt. ubaq’s music is characterized by a nocturnal, melancholic heaviness, pierced by beams of light. “We love creating music that soothes us and highlights the precious nature of composing and playing in complete harmony,” says Antoine Carletto. “We cultivate complex tones, sometimes difficult to bear, whether they’re nostalgic or even verging on depression. But we manage to convey emotions without falling into clichés,” adds Antoine Saussol. Night and twilight serve as the perfect catalysts for this trio, which moves forward with perfect chemistry and harmony.

On this album, they feature the German-Armenian rapper and singer Talin, who is also based in Marseille. She appears on the track “Regarding Others,” where she chants that even though the year 2026 may see mothers weeping in every corner of the world, she still manages to smile. Thus, this track explores the three musicians’ relationship with the world and the necessity of looking at others. The unsettling “Sciatiq,” the haunting “Sakakinik,” and the ambivalence of “Flayosc”—the final track, on which the trio features trombonist Jules Regard—owe their titles to the musicians’ own observations and experiences. The multi-faceted track “Proud,” in two parts, is a tribute to Lucas Schemidt’s mother, who has since passed away. The presence of wind instruments—whether Jules Regard’s trombone or Mathieu Fabre’s saxophone on the intense track “From The Ending”—adds textures missing from the natural landscape depicted in “Night WIP.” This debut album captures the obsessions and introspective wanderings—sometimes anxious, sometimes enchanted—of a trio that cultivates melody as a pledge of warm fulfillment.

“One foot out the door, another in the otherworld…”
So begins Hannah Lew’s debut, self-titled solo record, soaked in imperious, wide-eyed pop songwriting and a girl-group/post punk aesthetic that belies the artist’s history in the U.S. underground. A towering, hook-laden album, it’s infused with an optimism and surrealism that conversely deals with the times we find ourselves in.

Recorded at home in Richmond, CA and in The Best House studio with Maryam Qudus in Oakland CA, with the assistance of a crack team of West Coast musicians, this album sees Hannah Lew stepping out from behind the legacy of her two groups Grass Widow and Cold Beat. While musically bearing similarities with her previous work, “Hannah Lew” is a bold leap into direct pop territory, making ample use of a vocal style that teases out the inherent melancholy in her melodies. Mastered by Sarah Register, each song is a perfectly honed nugget that frequently pulls the heart in two directions at once.

Themes of change, breaking up, shattering old ways of being are shot through the record. For the front cover, a photograph of the artist’s face was printed, ripped up and re-assembled, resembling the creative process embarked upon by Lew for her first “solo” material. The album feels instinctual, almost dream-like in its assemblage of sweeping synths and pulsating, propulsive drum machine beat patterns with Lew’s vocal performances sensitive and caressing over the top. Increasingly relying on the subconscious and dreams to guide her creative process, Hannah Lew frequently abandons literal interpretations or linear narratives, the songs seeming to exist in a swooning, effortless flow-state while remaining emotionally hard hitting.

On an album where every song could be a single, there are kaleidoscopic shades and varying emotional tones in abundance. First single Another Twilight is carried along a pumping, Italo-disco-style 4/4 beat and mono-synth bass line, the low end pulling at the heart and body. Lew’s vocal melody teases the track before swan-diving into a gorgeous chorus as she sings “it’s all over baby and I don’t mind… in decline, I take my time…” The album is suffused with moments like this. On slow builder Damaged Melody, an arpeggiated synth elongates the verse before a cascading synth showers down melodic glitter. The stunning Replica uses dual swirling synth patterns before a driving, synthpop chorus for the ages carries Hannah Lew’s vocal into the stereo field, sailing in on a high register singed with the embers of a break up.

In a departure from previous groups, her solo songs are guided by dreams and free association inspired by Dada and the Surrealist movement and sculpted afterwards. As such, the songs reveal themselves on repeated listens, revealing traces of heartbreak inspired by both personal and global elements - Hannah Lew regards the album “a wartime album.” On Move In Silence, Lew intones “there’s a war outside, just out of view,” revealing the dichotomy at play throughout. With the songs evolving naturally and in a flow state, the pressures and sadnesses of the modern age bleed through, mixed in with Lew’s inherent love, sensitivity and fractured-but-intact optimism. On the swooning, sublime Sunday layers of Numanoid synths open up for the commanding vocal performance pontificating on grief, love, pain as she “feels the ache on Sunday…” As the chorus builds and Lew’s call-and-response vocal adds to the emotional tension, it almost feels like too much to take.

Elsewhere, there are echoes of Hannah Lew’s previous work. On Time Wasted a bass guitar comes in with a heavy, punk attack before the synths and vocal harmonies reminiscent of later Cold Beat elevate everything. The glassy, sweetly resigned closer The Clock sounds like so classic it could be cover, a sweetened Jesus & Mary Chain tune perhaps, before it erupts into volcanic chorus that could only come from Hannah Lew in 2026.

You wake up abruptly on cold floorboards, your body aching as if from a great fall. White light floods your vision. Where are you? Last thing you can remember you were hurtling through the Genesis Domain at breakneck speed, but this is definitely somewhere different. As your eyes come into focus you see the hall is grand, intimidatingly opulent. A full house of seated onlookers peers at you expectantly. You’re on a stage, you realize. Flames creep up the walls, engulfing the room and lighting the faces in the audience; the heat is oppressive, but nobody seems to notice. A voice booms out.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! Presenting: a performer of great renown all across the land, yours for one night only… introducing—”

Tiny bells jangle around your head as you shift your weight, obscuring whatever name the announcer just called out. You try to sit up. The jester’s hat tumbles off with a clatter. Not this again, you groan. Your head spins with vertigo. You grimace, trying to remember something. You had just gleaned an urgent and existential truth in the Genesis Domain, but it’s slipping away now… what was it?

Off to your left, a whip cracks. The impresario glares at you from the wings, fist clenched around a diamond-encrusted whip, mouthing at you to get up.

You try to run, but the weight of an incorporeal authority bears down upon you. The impresario cracks his whip again, an impish smirk forming on his lips.

With resignation, you begin to work the room. What else can you do? Tendrils of giggling and gossip creep through your periphery. The heat is suffocating and the smoke stings your eyes, but the show goes on. Remembering your bag of tricks as if from a dream, you raise your hands in the air, invoking the universal call to audience participation. The crowd goes wild. You feel the rush of a familiar thrill. Being the Fool comes naturally to you, you realize, as the palace burns around you.

ROTCIV is back with his new EP ‘Memory’, which marks the 20th release on Beartrax’s label Melodize. Throughout the record, the Berlin-based and native Brazilian producer explores his signature dark, mysterious, and atmospheric vibes shaped by the underground and queer club nights and dance-floors that fuel his sound, refined by over almost 30 years behind the decks.

Maintaining Melodize’s specialized sound deep-rooted in moody electronic principles, the EP opens with ‘Memory’, a piercing, dark, synth dynamic alongside rich tonal textures in both harmony and melodies alike. Unapologetic, yet calming and reminiscent of a slow drive through the winter nights; cold, yet bold, sharp, and comforting.

First to remix ‘Memory’ with a nostalgic, synth-heavy 80’s remix is Frankfurt-based DJ, producer, and visual artist Chinaski. Integrating his signature bold synth hooks into the track, Chinaski knows how to roll in with longing sentimentality. The remix features a bouncier approach with re-envisioned acoustic percussion and catchy synth arps, along with an eery dark disco feel.

On the B side, Rotciv kicks in with ‘Trintage’, which gives a sinister sensation with its hypnotising bass synth lines alongside contrasting, choir-like pads. Seeping with articulate poly-rhythmic synth arps, Trintage guides the listener to be indulged into a dream-like state on the border between both digital and analogue soundscapes, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality.

Next up is New York-based and founder of Samo Records, Facets, who takes on the next remix for ‘Trintage’ with a more electro-grunge techno approach consisting of heavier four to the floor kicks in company of Rotciv’s hypnotic textures. Having shifted the synth melody rhythmically, a sense of space and tension is created within the soundworld of this track. The play between gritty bass-end synths along with softer, textured high-ends helps emphasize the groove injected into this remix.

One last remix of ‘Memory’ by Melodize’s own label founder, Beartrax, rounds out the EP. Available exclusively via digital bonus, Beartrax features his deeply hypnotic aesthetic by driving in ethereal synths alongside cosmic arps and slow-rolling rhythmic and pulsating groove lines.

Drummer-composer Tom Skinner announces Kaleidoscopic Visions, his second solo album, out 26th September 2025 via Brownswood Recordings and International Anthem

Kaleidoscopic Visions unfolds across two distinct sonic landscapes. Side A presents entirely instrumental compositions performed by Skinner's live Bishara band—bassist Tom Herbert, cellist Kareem Dayes, and Robert Stillman and Chelsea Carmichael on various woodwinds and reeds—with electric guitar on two tracks courtesy of Portishead's Adrian Utley. A drummer-composer bringing his wealth of experience to bear on the role of bandleader, Skinner composed primarily on guitar, embracing the freedom that came with writing on his secondary instrument.
These compositions include "Auster," dedicated to late novelist Paul Auster, and "Margaret Anne," which honours Skinner's mother Anne Shasby, a former classical concert pianist prodigy who abandoned her own promising career in the face of systemic misogyny, only to impart on her son what Skinner calls "the gift of music."

Skinner’s musical world opens further on Side B, where a collection of poised vocal collaborations stretch out from jazz and improvisation towards a more dream-like, soulful sound. The centerpiece is "The Maxim," a ten-minute collaboration with Grammy Award-winning Meshell Ndegeocello, a dubby, spacious meditation on life and death, delivered with a free-spirited grace. For Skinner, working with Ndegeocello—whom he first saw at Glastonbury as a teenager in 1994—represents a full-circle moment, indicative of the indirect paths and inspirational detours that have shaped his life.
The album goes on to feature South Carolina-based singer Contour (Khari Lucas) who appears on the low-lit soul ballad ‘Logue’, and closes with ‘See How They Run’, featuring London keyboardist-vocalist Yaffra (Jonathan Geyevu). It is the album’s most overtly lyrical track, an articulate exposition of jazz-inflected spoken word that speaks not only to the genre-fluid nature of the music but the breadth of Skinner’s palette.
This should come as no surprise. On Kaleidoscopic Visions, one of London’s most vital musical figures gives us a sparkling glimpse of the multi-coloured lens through which his unique sound is now refracting.

The Éthiopiques series returns! Essential archive recordings from an extremely fruitful period in Ethiopian music.

Before “Swinging Addis” took over the world, there was Moussié Nerses Nalbandian — the Armenian-born composer who shaped modern Ethiopian music. Mentor, arranger, and pioneer, he laid the foundations of Ethio-jazz.

This Éthiopiques volume revives his forgotten legacy, recorded live by Either/ Orchestra First issue ever with new exclusive photos and in depth liner 8-page insert.

“Ethiopian jazzmen are the best musicians that we have seen so far in Africa.
They really are promising handlers of jazz instruments.”

Wilbur De Paris
(1959, after a concert in Addis Ababa)

አዲስ፡ዘመን። *Addis zèmèn* **A new era.**
The time is the mid-1950s and early 1960s, just before "Swinging Addis" bloomed – or rather boomed – onto the scene. Brass instruments are still dominant, but the advent of the electric guitar, and the very first electronic organs, are just around the corner. Rock’n'Roll, R’n’B, Soul and the Twist have not yet barged their way in. Addis Ababa is steeped in the big band atmosphere of the post-war era, with Glenn Miller's *In the* *Mood* as its world-wide theme song, neck and neck with the Latin craze that was in vogue at the same period. Life has become enjoyable once again, with the return of peace after the terrible Italian Fascist invasion of Ethiopia (1935-1941). The redeployment of modern music is part and parcel of the postwar reconstruction. *Addis zèmèn* – a new era – is the watchword of the postwar period, just as it was all across war-torn Europe.
The generation who were the young parents of baby boomers** were the first to enjoy this musical renaissance, before the baby boomers themselves took over and forever super-charged the soundtrack of the final days of imperial reign. Music is Ethiopia's most popular art form, and very often serves as the best barometer for the upsurge of energy that is critical for reconstruction. Whether it be jazz in Saint-Germain-des-Prés or the *zazous* who revolutionised both jazz and French *chanson* after the *Libération*, be it Madrid's post-Franco Movida, or Dada, the Surrealists and *les années folles* that followed World War I, the periods just after mourning and hardship always give rise to brighter and more tuneful tomorrows. Addis Ababa, as the country's capital, and the epicentre of change, was no exception to this vital rule.

**Two generations of Nalbandian musicians**
Nersès Nalbandian belonged to a family of Armenian exiles, who had moved to Ethiopia in the mid-1920s. The uncle Kevork arrived along with the fabled "*Arba Lidjotch*", the** "*40 Kids*", young Armenian orphans and musicians that the Ras Tafari had recruited when he visited Jerusalem in 1924, intending to turn their brass band into the official imperial band. If Kevork Nalbandian was the one who first opened the way of modernism, pushing innovation so far as to invent musical theatre, it was his nephew Nersès who would go on to become, from the 1940s and until his death in 1977, a pivotal figure of modern Ethiopian music and of the heights it. Going all the way back to the 1950s. Nothing less. And it is Nersès who is largely to thank for the brassy colours that so greatly contributed to the international renown of Ethiopian groove. While the younger generations today venture timidly into the genealogy of their country's modern music, often losing their way amidst a distinctly xenophobic historiographical complacency, many survivors of the imperial period are still around to bear witness and pay tribute to the essential role that "Moussié Nersès" played in the rise of Abyssinia's musical modernity.
Given the year of his birth (15 March 1915), no one knows for sure if Nersès Nalbandian was born in Aintab, today Gaziantep (Turkiye/former Ottoman Empire) or on the other side of the border in Alep, Syria... What is certain is that his family, like the entire Armenian community, was amongst the victims of the genocide perpetrated by the Turks. Alep, the place of safety – today in ruins.
Before Nersès then, there was uncle Kevork (1887-1963). For a quarter of a century, he was a whirlwind of activity in music teaching and theatrical innovation. *Guèbrè Mariam le Gondaré* (የጎንደሬ ገብረ ማርያም አጥቶ ማግኘት, 1926 EC=1934) is his most famous creation. This play included "ten Ethiopian songs" — a totally innovative approach. According to his autobiographical notes, preserved by the Nalbandian family, Kevork indicates that he composed some 50 such pieces over the course of his career. This shows just how much he understood, very early on, the critical importance of song as Ethiopia's crowning artistic form. Indeed, for Ethiopian listeners, the most important thing is the lyrics, with all their multifarious mischief, far more than a strong melody, sophisticated arrangements or even an exceptional voice. (This is also why Ethiopians by and large, and beginning with the artists and producers themselves, believed for a long time — and wrongly — that their music could not possibly be exported, and could never win over audiences abroad, who did not speak the country's languages).

Last but not least, one of Kevork's major contributions remains composing Ethiopia's first national anthem – with lyrics by Yoftahé Negussié.
Nersès Nalbandian moved to Ethiopia at the end of the 1930s, at the behest of his ground-breaking uncle. Proficient in many instruments (pretty much everything but the drums), conductor, choir director, composer, arranger, adapter, creator, piano tuner, purveyor of rented pianos,... he was above all an energetic and influential teacher. From 1946 onwards, thanks to Kevork's connexion, Nersès was appointed musical director of the Addis Ababa Municipality Band. In just a few years, Nersès transformed it into the first truly modern ensemble, thanks to the quality of his teaching, his choice of repertoire, and the sophistication of his arrangements. It was this group that would go on to become the orchestra of the Haile Selassie Theatre shortly after its inauguration in 1955, which was a major celebration of the Emperor's jubilee, marking the 25th anniversary of his on-again-off-again reign.

At some point or other in his long career, Nersès Nalbandian had a hand in the creation of just about every institutional band (Municipality Band, Police Orchestra, Imperial Bodyguard Band, Army Band, Yared Music School…), but it was with the Haile Selassie Theatre – today the National Theatre – that his abilities were most on display, up until his death in 1977. To this must be added the development of choral singing in Ethiopia, hitherto unknown, and a sort of secret garden dedicated to the memory of Armenian sacred music, and brought together in two thick, unpublished volumes. Shortly before his death (November 13, 1977), he was appointed to lead the impressive Ethiopian delegation at Festac in Lagos, Nigeria (January-February 1977).

His status as a stateless foreigner regularly excluded him from the most senior positions, in spite of the respect he commanded (and commands to this day) from the musicians of his era. Naturally gifted and largely self-taught, Nerses was tirelessly curious about new musical developments, drawing inspiration from the very first imported records, and especially from listening intensely to the musical programmes broadcast over short-wave radio – BBC *First*. A prolific composer and arranger, he was constantly mindful of formalising and integrating Ethiopian parameters (specific “musical modes”, pentatonic scale, and the dominance of ternary rhythms) into his “modernisation” of the musical culture, rather than trying to over-westernise it. It even seems very probable that *Moussié* Nerses made a decisive contribution to the development of tighter music-teaching methods, in order to revitalise musical education during this period of prodigious cultural ferment. Flying in the face of all the historiographical and musicological evidence, it is taken as sacrosanct dogma that the four musical modes or chords officially recognised today, the *qǝñǝt* or *qiñit* (ቅኝት), are every bit as millennial as Ethiopia itself. It would appear however that some streamlining of these chords actually took place in around 1960. It was only from this time onward that music teaching was structured around these four fundamental musical modes and chords: *Ambassel*, *Bati*, *Tezeta* and *Antchi Hoyé*. A historical and musical “details” that is, apparently, difficult to swallow, especially if that should honour a *foreigner*. Modern Ethiopian music has Nersès to thank for many of its standards and, to this day, it is not unusual for the National Radio to broadcast thunderous oldies that bear unmistakable traces of his outrageously groovy touch.

Utter presents Marshall Jefferson's previously unreleased meditation opus 'Yellow Meditation For The Dance Generation' alongside two remixes from French production maestro Joakim.

Marshall Jefferson: Chicago House music pioneer, creator of the anthemic ‘Move My Body’, an original collaborator of Adonis, Ce Ce Rogers and Roy Davis Jr., production mastermind of countless dancefloor classics such as Phuture’s ‘Acid Tracks’, Sterling Void’s ’It’s All Right’, Hercules’ ‘7 Ways’… and the soothing voice behind a 36 minute healing meditation guide. Yes, really.

But let’s rewind, slightly.

In 2017, Marshall was approached and encouraged by Ian ‘Snowy’ Snowball to write his autobiography and the pair set about putting Marshall’s account of the history of House music together. The book, ‘Marshall Jefferson: Diary of a DJ’ was published in 2019.

Following the book’s release, Ian and Marshall's collaboration continued and during the pandemic an outlandish idea arose to create a piece of music combining Ian's interest in meditation (he runs Club Chi specialising in Shibashi Qigong - a form of Tai Chi Qigong - which is a gentle form of movement therapy/exercise) and Marshall's willingness to experiment musically to see what might be possible.



The result is ‘Yellow Meditation For The Dance Generation’, where Marshall vocalises Ian’s lyrics in his instantly recognisable voice. The keen-eared out there may also recognise aspects of the music itself as a stripped back, lengthened and far mellower version of Marshall’s 1985 obscurity ‘Vibe’:

“I would take tapes to the Music Box and Ron Hardy would play my music. ‘Vibe’ was one of those tracks. I recorded ‘Vibe’ in 1985, but it became one of my tracks that I just forgot about until some guy on Facebook sent me a recording of it that was taken from a club. The only person who I ever gave a recording of ‘Vibe’ to was Ron Hardy. The other people I know who had copies of the track were Gene Hunt and Emanuel Pippin (DJ Spookie).

"The original version of ‘Vibe’ was made using a Roland 707, Roland JX-8P keyboard and a Roland 727 drum machine. I was still working at the Post Office at the time, and this was pre-‘Move Your Body (The House Music Anthem)’. ‘Vibe’ has the building blocks for ‘Move Your Body’ because it was using the instruments on the track that I discovered what I could do with the bass sound, to make a track like ‘Move Your Body’.”



Still, Ian’s initial intention for ‘Yellow Meditation’ was function and it was designed to be a ‘Sequential Relaxation Exercise’ focusing on the Solar Plexus. Bearing this in mind, Marshall took a bare-bones and hypnotic approach to this particular re-recording of ‘Vibe’ so that the voice takes centre stage and listeners (hopefully) find themselves on a meditative journey. In fact, this long-form track was always intended as a private tool purely for meditation at Club Chi rather than released to the public - after all, Marshall had also created and released a more drum heavy, ’traditional’ club-focused 'Vibe Three' instrumental version for that very purpose - but a chance airing of the full 36 minute version changed its path.



Much like those 1985 ‘Vibe’ cassettes, Marshall had sent the track to a few close contacts, one of whom was Kieran at Phonica Records who aired it over the shop’s basement soundsystem. Its unorthodox nature caught the ear of colleague Alex (of Utter) and the seeds of a physical release were planted.

Eventually, with the full-version carefully whittled down to a vinyl friendly length of 24 minutes, full track parts in hand and a b-side to fill, Alex sought out one of his favourite producers to take up the remix reigns: Joakim. The Tigersushi co-founder and Crowdspacer boss has a long history of boundary-pushing remixes that straddle both dancefloor functionality and experimentation. This time the original material resulted in Joakim coming up with a number of ideas and he finally delivered two versions - one club focused (‘Vertical’), the other more introspective and meditative (‘Horizontal’), both of which appear on the final 12”.

The limited edition 12” also includes a download code giving buyers access to all of the vinyl tracks plus an 18 minute extended version of Joakim’s ‘Horizontal’ remix, its instrumental counterpart (for those who can live without Marshall's voice) and full 12 minute acapella (for those who can't!)


Alex

a A1. Yellow Meditation For The Dance Generation (Edit) 24:00
b B1. Yellow Meditation For The Dance Generation (Joakim's Vertical Remix) 9:09
9:05

Fennesz's first album in over five years is a moquettish mosaic of heart-tugging synth string movements and tinctured textures, described by its releasers P-Vine as bearing "terrifyingly detailed sound image". If inhalatory gasps in the face of the Byronic sublime were merged with the atmospheric-communicative chatter of radio and telecoms, this would be the sonic result. Described as Christian Fennesz' most introspective album to date, the record follows a newfound process for the artist, which came after the construction of a new studio and the sticking to a strict regimen. The likes of 'Personare' and 'Goniorizon' reflect this commitment, with new molten plastic ventures in sound yielded as a result; clock the tender, hand-pulled, doughy sound design on the latter track in particular.

One of Europe's most popular alternative / dark wave bands. Lebanon Hanover have over one million monthly listeners on Spotify. Following their first US tour in over a decade, Lebanon Hanover returns with a soul-stirring double A-side single release, marking their first new material since the captivating 2020 album, 'Sci-Fi Sky.' Now, the enigmatic duo of William Maybelline and Larissa Iceglass beckons listeners into unventured sonic domains, intricately weaving folk-driven acoustic dream pop with the vulnerable essence of post-punk in a contemplative exploration of life's ephemeral yet profound nature. Embarking on a Cure-like sonic voyage reminiscent of the 'Head on the Door' and the 'Kiss Me’ era, title track 'Better Than Going Under' manifests as a romantic, sombre daydream. William Maybelline's brooding baritone intertwines with sighing back vocals, narrating an ode to life's fleeting yet boundless vistas. The acoustic strums initiate a folk-driven narrative which, when coupled with a celestial choir, crafts a contemplative soundscape of cautious optimism, reminiscent of Echo and the Bunnymen or The Church.. KYIV: Bearing the name of Ukraine's capital, 'KYIV,' voiced by Larissa Iceglass, delves into a narrative reflective of the sorrow and despair entwined within war-torn regions like Ukraine and beyond. The acoustic guitar and drum machine create a Cocteau Twins' 'Treasure'-esque soundscape, evoking a melancholic yet beautiful auditory journey. Iceglass's voice, transitioning from her husky baritone to a more resigned lament, embodies a poignant reflection on the harsh realities faced by those embroiled in conflict-ridden landscapes.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes.

The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process.

Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever.

The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before.


‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

Sundays is the debut full length from Oakland-based Tanukichan, aka multi-instrumentalist Hannah van Loon. At surface level, the album sounds just how the title describes: hazy, dreamy, reflective, just like a lazy Sunday afternoon. Upon second and third listens, the dreamy music unveils a deeper world: an ever present sense of longing, an endless state of summer and a period of instability that plagues us all at one point or another in our lives.
Raised in San Francisco, van Loon started out making classical, bluegrass and jazz music as well as playing in numerous bands in the area before deciding to make something more personal. What started with a few unfocused demos, with van Loon playing all the instruments herself in her house, became a studio experience and viable collection of music after her friend Anthony Ferraro of Astronauts, Etc. introduced her to Company Records founder Chaz Bear (Toro Y Moi, Les Sins). After collaborating on her 2016 EP Radiolove, van Loon and Bear set out to make a much more sonically cohesive release, with both the producer and artist playing all the instruments on the record. The result is a slice of dream pop that could only come from the combination of the laid back atmosphere of California and the nostalgic and often difficult memories that are generally associated with coming of age.
To van Loon, the tracks of Sundays are a form of contemplation and approaching life’s issues from a different and less complicated perspective. “Sometimes for me, it feels easier to write songs about things than to talk. A lot of things in life are layered and paradoxical, but with songs it always seems simpler.”
Opening track “Lazy Love” sets the stage, sonically and lyrically, for the rest of the album, combining vulnerable lyrics with gorgeous, fuzzy tones. Above pummeling synths and guitar tones, van Loon sings “you know I'd do anything/don't you know I try my best/if I could wake up when the sun is rising” showing the album’s constant theme of balancing always wanting to be the best person you can be, while also feeling a low level joy at letting life play out as it wants to. “Natural” is a track that feels perfect for a road trip, a track that hums away with a driving beat, culminating in the sheer excitement of finally having a night alone with someone you’ve loved for a while, among many highs and lows: “a window too bright/it's natural sunlight/grey fades to white lie/kiss you tonight/it's natural delight/help me feel right.” The tracks collectively address a deep rooted sense of yearning for someone, something new, while also feeling content with your life; a realization that maybe the places you’ve always belonged aren’t where you should be anymore, that suddenly you might be looking for something completely different.
“I settled on the name Sundays as the title of the record because it encapsulated how the record felt to me,“ van Loon says. “I was thinking about the laziness, and dreamy clarity that you can feel after a late night, waking up having to face the world with a new perspective.” Sundays encapsulates this feeling, a nostalgic way of looking at the world, waking up feeling like a slightly different person than before, looking back on life, not sure if you can tackle what’s next, but doing your best, day in and day out

Turner Cody first collaborated with Nicolas Michaux and the Soldiers of Love (Clément Nourry, Ted Clark, and Morgan Vigilante) on his album Friends in High Places (2021). This album marked a turning point for Turner Cody, in which he started to incorporate country influences to his songwriting. But that was only the beginning, and Out For Blood is without question a country album. This new album offers the perfect canvas for him to express his poetic lyricism, and to paint portraits inspired by American mythologies. The songs explore such themes as freedom, individualism, destiny, sin and redemption. Rooted in traditional narratives yet resonating with our times, these songs are to be seen as parables: imaginary characters faced with the dichotomy of good and evil. In the vein of Kris Kristofferson, Townes Van Zandt, or John Prine, Out For Blood stands as a major contribution to the great repertoire of American song. ut For Blood bears witness to a transformation in Turner Cody"s life. While his songwriting already hinted at a certain Americana, it primarily reflected his twenty years spent in New York and the legacy of the anti-folk scene-closer to the Velvet Underground than to Hank Williams. Then came the move: Cody and his family left New York to settle in St. Louis, on the banks of the Mississippi. This change of scenery and perspective fueleda new way of writing. The challenge was clear: maintaining the subtlety and textural work characteristic of his previous works while integrating the country heritage of the new songs. The collaboration between Turner Cody and Nicolas Michaux signs the perfect communion between an artist who writes in the language of poetry and another who crafts sound and textures. The Soldiers of Love, far more than a backing band, have influences ranging from jazz to fusion, from pop to Congolese rhythms. Their subtle, atmospheric sound merges with Turner Cody"s "three chords and the truth" to create this unique magic!

Grizzly Bear haben sich nie aufgelöst. In den sechs Jahren seit ihren letzten Auftritten haben sich die vier Mitglieder, die vor zwei Jahrzehnten als lose Freunde und sogar völlig Fremde zur Gruppe stießen – Chris Bear, Ed Droste, Daniel Rossen, Chris Taylor – anderen Dingen zugewandt. Sie haben andere Musik gemacht, andere Karrieren verfolgt, andere Familien gegründet und andere Leben jenseits dieser Band geführt. Und nun, zum ersten Mal seit 2019, kehren diese vier Musiker und Freunde zu Grizzly Bear zurück, um die Bande, die sie zu einem der fesselndsten und beliebtesten Acts dieses Jahrhunderts gemacht haben, auf die Probe zu stellen und zu sehen, wohin diese alten Verbindungen noch führen. Da sich Grizzly Bear nie aufgelöst haben, sind ihre ersten Auftritte seit sechs Jahren keine Reunion; sie sind Ankunft und Aufbruch zugleich, ihr nächstes Ziel noch unbekannt.

Diese Art von offenem Ansatz ist es schließlich, der Grizzly Bear noch immer zu einem der prägenden Acts dieses jungen Jahrhunderts macht. Vor zwanzig Jahren wandelten sie sich rasant von einem Lo-Fi-Songwriter-Projekt zu einer vollwertigen Band mit einem sofort einzigartigen Sound, unheimlichen Harmonien, die sich um Arrangements schmiegten, die den Glanz eines Kammerorchesters mit der Härte einer Rockband verbanden. Sie trugen dazu bei, die Möglichkeiten des Indie-Rock neu zu definieren, indem sie Üppigkeit mit Lockerheit, technische Exzellenz mit emotionaler Offenheit in Einklang brachten. Ihre musikalischen Spuren sind nach wie vor allgegenwärtig, Teile ihrer unorthodoxen Sicht auf Klang und Textur sind heute fester Bestandteil des musikalischen Erbes. Diese Songs im Jahr 2025 live zu hören, wird sich also weniger wie ein Händedruck mit der Vergangenheit anfühlen, als vielmehr wie das erste Mal, ihre Fingerabdrücke in der Gegenwart zu sehen.

Begleitet werden diese Live-Shows von Neuauflagen der Alben Yellow House, Veckatimest, Shields und Painted Ruins auf farbigem Vinyl.

Drummer-composer Tom Skinner announces Kaleidoscopic Visions, his second solo album, out 26th September 2025 via Brownswood Recordings and International Anthem

Kaleidoscopic Visions unfolds across two distinct sonic landscapes. Side A presents entirely instrumental compositions performed by Skinner's live Bishara band—bassist Tom Herbert, cellist Kareem Dayes, and Robert Stillman and Chelsea Carmichael on various woodwinds and reeds—with electric guitar on two tracks courtesy of Portishead's Adrian Utley. A drummer-composer bringing his wealth of experience to bear on the role of bandleader, Skinner composed primarily on guitar, embracing the freedom that came with writing on his secondary instrument.
These compositions include "Auster," dedicated to late novelist Paul Auster, and "Margaret Anne," which honours Skinner's mother Anne Shasby, a former classical concert pianist prodigy who abandoned her own promising career in the face of systemic misogyny, only to impart on her son what Skinner calls "the gift of music."

Skinner’s musical world opens further on Side B, where a collection of poised vocal collaborations stretch out from jazz and improvisation towards a more dream-like, soulful sound. The centerpiece is "The Maxim," a ten-minute collaboration with Grammy Award-winning Meshell Ndegeocello, a dubby, spacious meditation on life and death, delivered with a free-spirited grace. For Skinner, working with Ndegeocello—whom he first saw at Glastonbury as a teenager in 1994—represents a full-circle moment, indicative of the indirect paths and inspirational detours that have shaped his life.
The album goes on to feature South Carolina-based singer Contour (Khari Lucas) who appears on the low-lit soul ballad ‘Logue’, and closes with ‘See How They Run’, featuring London keyboardist-vocalist Yaffra (Jonathan Geyevu). It is the album’s most overtly lyrical track, an articulate exposition of jazz-inflected spoken word that speaks not only to the genre-fluid nature of the music but the breadth of Skinner’s palette.
This should come as no surprise. On Kaleidoscopic Visions, one of London’s most vital musical figures gives us a sparkling glimpse of the multi-coloured lens through which his unique sound is now refracting.

Das neue Album "The Passionate Ones" von dem Singer-Songwriter und Produzent Nourished By Time aus Baltimore erscheint auf XL Recordings. "The Passionate Ones", das zwischen Baltimore, London und New York City entstand, beschreibt auf 12 Tracks auch die kaputten Seiten des American Dreams beschreibt. Nourished By Time entstand Ende 2019 in Los Angeles als eine Art Flucht aus dem Alltag. Marcus Brown drohte an der Monotonie seines Tagesjobs zu zerbrechen und suchte nach einem Ausweg. Browns einzigartige Klangwelt ist geprägt von dem musikalischen Erbe seiner Heimatstadt Baltimore, in der Jazz, Punk, Indie, Hip-Hop, Elektronik und R&B in rauer Harmonie aufeinandertreffen. Auf "The Passionate Ones" beschäftigt sich Brown mit Liebe, Arbeit, Existenzialismus, Träumen, Desillusion und Hoffnung durch die Brille der Metamoderne und dokumentiert die amerikanische Geschichte eines Künstlers, der seinen Leidenschaften und Träumen folgt. "The Passionate Ones" folgt seinem gefeierten Debüt. "Erotic Probiotic 2 (Scenic Route)" erschien 2023 und wurde von US-amerikanischen Plattformen wie Pitchfork zu einem der besten Alben des Jahres erklärt, ebenso stand es auf der Jahresendliste von Gorilla vs. Bear ganz oben und wurde von The Guardian, The FADER, Paste und anderen gelobt. Die EP "Catching Chickens" (XL) von 2024 führte Nourished By Time auch in Europ als Künstler ein: Das CRACK Magazine setzte ihn auf sein Cover und kürte "Hell of a Ride" zum Track des Jahres. Der Song tauchte auf den Listen von NPR, Resident Advisor, CLASH, The FACE, Mixmag, UPROXX und Spotify für die besten Songs des Jahres 2024 auf. "The Passionate Ones" erscheint als LP (Schwarz & Crystal), CD und sowie digital.

Das neue Album "The Passionate Ones" von dem Singer-Songwriter und Produzent Nourished By Time aus Baltimore erscheint auf XL Recordings. "The Passionate Ones", das zwischen Baltimore, London und New York City entstand, beschreibt auf 12 Tracks auch die kaputten Seiten des American Dreams beschreibt. Nourished By Time entstand Ende 2019 in Los Angeles als eine Art Flucht aus dem Alltag. Marcus Brown drohte an der Monotonie seines Tagesjobs zu zerbrechen und suchte nach einem Ausweg. Browns einzigartige Klangwelt ist geprägt von dem musikalischen Erbe seiner Heimatstadt Baltimore, in der Jazz, Punk, Indie, Hip-Hop, Elektronik und R&B in rauer Harmonie aufeinandertreffen. Auf "The Passionate Ones" beschäftigt sich Brown mit Liebe, Arbeit, Existenzialismus, Träumen, Desillusion und Hoffnung durch die Brille der Metamoderne und dokumentiert die amerikanische Geschichte eines Künstlers, der seinen Leidenschaften und Träumen folgt. "The Passionate Ones" folgt seinem gefeierten Debüt. "Erotic Probiotic 2 (Scenic Route)" erschien 2023 und wurde von US-amerikanischen Plattformen wie Pitchfork zu einem der besten Alben des Jahres erklärt, ebenso stand es auf der Jahresendliste von Gorilla vs. Bear ganz oben und wurde von The Guardian, The FADER, Paste und anderen gelobt. Die EP "Catching Chickens" (XL) von 2024 führte Nourished By Time auch in Europ als Künstler ein: Das CRACK Magazine setzte ihn auf sein Cover und kürte "Hell of a Ride" zum Track des Jahres. Der Song tauchte auf den Listen von NPR, Resident Advisor, CLASH, The FACE, Mixmag, UPROXX und Spotify für die besten Songs des Jahres 2024 auf. "The Passionate Ones" erscheint als LP (Schwarz & Crystal), CD und sowie digital.

For All The World, the black watch's twenty-fifth (and first double) album is a darkly poppy, brightly moody, many-splendored take on a number of the great themes: Death and Sex, Memory and Lament and Hope and Love. And it is, arguably, this heralded Los Angeles band's most sonically ambitious and moving record yet, since front man/novelist/ex-English professor John Andrew Fredrick formed the group in 1988 in Santa Barbara after he'd seen a London-by-way-of-Canada band called The Lucy Show play to twelve-or-so people in his hometown.

Having recorded 2024's Weird Rooms with producer Misha Bullock and Fredrick's son Chandler at Bullock's studio in Austin, TX, the TBW founder was keen to repeat the experience with, he says, more straightforward, classic psych/jangle/shoegaze songs. The result, though artistically satisfying, spurred a yen in John to write more songs as a sort of reaction against the batch he'd carried with him from LA to Texas. "We had such a productive time recording ‘Weird Rooms’ that I wanted to repeat the experience... without repeating the experience. And once it was over and I left Misha to do what he pleased with respect to mixing and overdubbing, all I could think was 'I need to write another album now.'" So Fredrick brought longstanding producer/engineer and TBW-associate Scott Campbell (Stevie Nicks, Acetone) along this time to help out with engineering and good cheer.

Fredrick, who has been "accused" of being "astonishingly prolific," learned that bandmate Andy Creighton had recently become unemployed, seized the opportunity to have yet another multi-instrumentalist flesh out the new songs he quickly wrote after he came back from Austin. “Achilles Past,” the first single, is in fact a song that John wrote when the production team thought the album was done—and the front man avers that it’s often the case that a very strong song comes to him, as it were, in the eleventh hour. The same could be said for “Listen You Wait”—another number that came late to the Austin sessions.

Nevertheless, the recording of the first half of For All The World has Creighton's signature indelibly stamped on it - especially on such tracks as “Fainting” and “Surely You Rally”- just as the latter half highlights Bullock's formidable talents. "They're both not just brilliant musicians and they understand my aesthetic and bring their own sensibilities to bear on my stuff. Our respective tastes meet in, you guessed it, The Beatles' realm - the great shadow that hangs over all I do, at least."

"There's A Place," the final song on side two, serves in fact as a distinct homage that's been a long time coming for a band that included a cover of "It's All Too Much" as a bonus track and that release a quite punkish, uptempo version of "Eleanor Rigby" on a 7".

Like a fine wine, Fu Manchu's 1999 classic, King Of The Road, gets better with age and fans continue to demand hearing these tunes the way the band intended - on wax. Out of print since 2019, the Joe Barresi (Tool, Avenged Sevenfold, Queens Of The Stone Age) helmed work is back and this time on yellow and black splatter vinyl in a limited edition. This is a repressing of the 2015 remaster done by Carl Saff, which includes 2 bonus tracks: "Breathing Fire" (originally on the German vinyl release) and "Hanglider" (which was previously unreleased). "After a bit of a break from albums, not counting the Return to Earth singles compilation, Fu Manchu fully fired up and took off again with King of the Road, an album that doesn't so much follow on from The Action Is Go as flat out continue it. Hill has a touch more bite to his vocals this time around, but otherwise there's little to differentiate the two records -- and that's very much meant as a compliment. With plenty of touring and other things under their belts, the lineup has fully jelled and sounds it, Bjork's bad-ass drumming (and occasional cowbells, of course) and Balch's insane lead guitar crunch possibly even better than ever. Together it's all one megariff and nasty, slamming rhythm after another, and face it, anyone expecting anything else from Fu Manchu really needs to find another band. Joe Barresi co-produces with the band, and while there's no extra keyboard/organ weirdness this time around, it hardly matters. In as much as there's a theme to King of the Road beyond the basics of driving, drugs, and that demon rock & roll, it's driving -- there's a reason why the cover and internal art features a slew of great '70s-era photos from a massive van rally. The one shot of the fully leather-covered interior of one mobile love nest, complete with black curtains, about says it all. Then there's the megachugging title track ("King of the road says you move too slow!"), "Hell on Wheels," "Boogie Van," and so forth -- call it a concept album that doesn't waste time with elves and yogis. As with the last album, a punk/new wave nugget gets the cover treatment here -- none other than Devo's "Freedom of Choice." Needless to say, now it sounds just like a Fu Manchu original." ALLMUSIC

Oxford band Low Island announce their new album, bird, produced by Grizzly Bear’s Chris Taylor on label Emotional Interference. Recorded at the legendary La Frette Studios, bird is an album as brash as it is tender, exploring the struggle to find freedom and presence in an increasingly automated world.

The result is an album where Jay’s guitars and synths screech with unhinged anger as much as they wail with anguish; Lively’s bass dances frantically whilst swimming underneath the songs with an effortless beauty; Higginbottom’s drums are as deft as they are punishing; Posada’s voice as frail as it is resilient.

These emotional polarities speak to the heart of bird: a coming to terms with the overwhelming breadth of experience in the modern world, trapped as we are in our own bodies. How do we act in the face of this? Do we try to reach beyond ourselves? Wish to be saved or transformed? Retreat inwards? Or embrace things as they are? These are the questions that haunt bird in its search for freedom and presence.

Over the course of a decade, Wata Igarashi has risen as one of techno's most accomplished DJs and producers. His highly aesthetic trademark sound is as heavily psychedelic as it's driven by its stern kinetic energy. It's often overlooked that Igarashi is much more than a torch bearer of the raw hypnotic techno he became known for. He's also a very accomplished and versatile musician with a deep understanding of the cause and effect of sound design. His skills are fully on display on 2023's full length "Agartha", a film score to a fictitious movie about the mythical underworld of planet Mars. It was a rather obvious idea to cross the bridge between this epic deep listening album and Wata Igarashi's techno persona by having him remix himself. As you might expect, the "Agartha Sorcery Acid Mix" has turned out to be a masterclass in psychedelic designer techno. It's slightly slower in BPM as the usual Igarashi fare but every bit as captivating. The "Floating Against Time Shimmering Mix" shows another intriguing facet of Wata's spectrum. Let's call it: Psychedelic Deep House. KOMPAKT's very own Michael Mayer couldn't resist to turn the Godzilla soundtrack-ish "Ceremony Of The Dead" into a positively hysterical minimal disco operette. And then there's the "Fusion Mix of Abyss x Darkness" by Philipp Stoffel, a fresh Cologne DJ producer whose AKTE club nights just spawned a label by the same name. He's definitely one to keep an eye on in 2025.
Im Laufe eines Jahrzehnts hat sich Wata Igarashi zu einem der versiertesten DJs und Produzenten im Bereich Techno entwickelt. Sein hochästhetischer, unverwechselbarer Sound ist ebenso stark psychedelisch entrückt wie von einer strengen kinetischen Energie angetrieben. Oft wird übersehen, dass Igarashi viel mehr ist als nur ein Fackelträger des rohen, hypnotischen Techno, für den er bekannt wurde. Er ist auch ein sehr versierter und vielseitiger Musiker mit einem tiefen Verständnis für Ursache und Wirkung von Sounddesign. Seine Fähigkeiten kommen auf dem Longplayer „Agartha“ von 2023 voll zum Ausdruck, einer Filmmusik zu einem fiktiven Film über die mythische Unterwelt des Planeten Mars. Es lag nahe, die Brücke zwischen diesem epischen Deep-Listening-Album und Wata Igarashis Techno-Persönlichkeit zu schlagen, indem man ihn sich selbst remixen ließ. Wie zu erwarten war, ist der „Agartha Sorcery Acid Mix“ eine Masterclass des psychedelischen Designer-Techno. Mit einer etwas geringeren BPM-Zahl als bei Igarashis üblicher Musik, aber genauso fesselnd. Der „Floating Against Time Shimmering Mix“ zeigt eine weitere faszinierende Facette von Watas Spektrum. Nennen wir es: Psychedelic Deep House. KOMPAKTs Michael Mayer konnte nicht widerstehen, den Godzilla-Soundtrack-ähnlichen Song „Ceremony Of The Dead“ in eine geradezu hysterische Minimal-Disco-Operette zu verwandeln. Und dann gibt es noch den „Fusion Mix of Abyss x Darkness“ von Philipp Stoffel, einem jungen Kölner DJ-Produzenten, aus dessen AKTE-Clubnächten gerade ein Label mit dem gleichen Namen hervorgegangen ist. Er ist definitiv einer, den man 2025 im Auge behalten sollte.

Singer, songwriter and composer Melike Şahin is set to releases her new album AKKOR via Gülbaba Records in partnership with Day Dreamer

An empowering assertion of survival that propels traditional Anatolian pop and folk influences into the future, AKKOR rises like a phoenix from the flames to reintroduce the Turkish superstar diva to an international audience. An expression of Şahin’s personal growth, the album is an affirmation of her growing status as the voice of a generation, and hose lyrics have been adopted as a callto rights for the women’s movement in Turkey.

Recorded live in London with producer Martin Terefe (London Brew, Buika, Jamie Cullum), AKKOR features a selection of the most talented and forward-thinking musicians on the scene, including guitarists Dave Okumu and violinist Raven Bush, as well as terling Campell (David Bowie) on drums, Glen Scott (Eric Bibb) and Nikolaj mTorp Larsen on keyboards. Bringing an international feel to her mheart-rending performances, the record represents the most focussed and complete expression of Şahin’s sound to date. Melike Şahin has made a career of facing down criticism and censorship to make sumptuous and provocative music that captures the defiant tone of progressive creativity in contemporary Turkey. Having performed around the world with Turkish psych legends BaBa ZuLa, Şahin released her debut album Merhem in 2021, gathering billions of streams and building a reputation for unforgettable live performances in the process. Influenced by the style of Sade, cutting an elegant and beguiling figure on the stage. Where Şahin describes Merhem as about healing, she says AKKOR is about survival, both on an emotional level, coming to terms with difficult relationships, childhood trauma and the pressures of newfound fame, and on a social level, in continuing the champion the rights of the oppressed in the face of state and media violence. Powerful and vulnerable in equal measure, AKKOR demonstrates an orchestral grandeur and a dramatic flair drawn from Şahin’s love for traditional Anatolian pop and folk music, injected with the urgency of contemporary production. Bound together by Şahin’s inimitable voice AKKOR skips between Middle Eastern melancholy and classic disco hedonism, for an album that is as stylistically open, pluralistic and affirmative as the messages the music carries.

Although she does not describe herself as an activist, Şahin’s poignant lyrics have come to define the women’s movement in Turkey, with the words, “I deserve each and every inch of this smile,”adorning protest banners on International Women’s Day and celebratory posters at Pride.

“This is the moment that I told myself, Yes, I am an artist,” Şahin says. “I am bearing all of the other things because of this, because I am affecting people's lives, and I am giving some power.” AKKOR – which translates as candescent – finds Melike rising again and burning brighter than ever before.

Overall though, Şahin says AKKOR is her rebirth album – a statement of self-empowerment, through which she hopes tocontinue to raise up the voices of those around her. “You are seeinga woman who falls down, but who rises again and flies,” sheexplains. “Maybe she doesn't win, maybe she doesn't lose, but she's a survivor,” Şahin concludes. “She is a phoenix.”

LP + 7". Portland indie rock band charts novel sonic territory, exploring resilience of the human spirit in the aftermath of tragedy and trauma, over 5 years in the making. Conceived in the wake of a worldwide quarantine, the entire West Coast being on fire, and the horrific murder of one of the band's own - then recorded, finished, and now released in defiance of it all. Harnessing all that of chaotic change and catastrophe, the band took it all as an opportunity to boldly blaze some new trails for themselves, carving out new sonic territory by exploring everything from spacey Fusion-Funk bass Moogs and Hip-Hop drum machines, to New Wave-ish synths and flourishes of Samba, Blues, Soul, and Sunshine Pop - all while still delivering the goods that Aan fans have come to know them for: to-die-for melodies, inebriating primal belt-along therapy, and face-melting guitar solos. For Fans of Unknown Mortal Orchestra, STRFKR, Pixies, Dungen, Grizzly Bear, TV On The Radio, Stereolab and Modest Mouse.

Two new SUPRAWAX releases by Eduardo De La Calle.

The four tracks on offer here bear testimony to De La Calle's search for the perfect loop. They are hypnotic grooves, almost entirely devoid of arrangement in a classical sense. But the tracks are not static. They suck you in by means of constant modulations, build free flowing structures of their own, hints of peaks emerging at the mercy of the low frequency oscillators' cleverly set phase relationships. These tracks do not need the in-your-face kick drums and squashed dynamics of the Brickwall Generation. By leaving space, they work on a different level than solely sound pressure emanated. The simple, repetitive structure coupled with the unhasty development find their way into the dancer's brain. Moving your mind—your ass to follow suit.

No represses are planned at present.

As a key representative of French neo-soul with ambitious intentions, the singer, songwriter, and composer Enchantée Julia has truly made her mark on the French scene with her second EP LONGO MAÏ, released in 2022 and available on vinyl for the first time. On this cathartic yet hedonistic project, whose title is a nod to her southern origins, she collaborates with the Saint-Etienne duo Terrenoire and rapper Benjamin Epps.

Julia places even more emphasis on vocal harmonies and sophisticated arrangements, whether on upbeat, sunny tracks or delicate, intimate ballads like "MOUSSA" (produced by The Hop), a personal and sensitive ode to the one she shares her life with—a mix of cathartic song and a message of hope, referencing the tough challenges they’ve faced together. The fear of happiness and love slipping through her fingers is also present in "VÉNUS," composed and arranged by Bastien Cabezon and Oscar Emch. As the opening track of the EP, it showcases Julia’s mastery in blending the French language with neo-soul influences from across the Atlantic, laying the foundation for a unique universe that unfolds throughout the project. The second single, "PLUS FORT QUE MOI," breaks down genre barriers: Julia’s enchanting voice is wrapped in a pop-driven production with electronic hints, crafted by Terrenoire. She continues this pop momentum with "QUESTIONS," where she releases her torments—both trivial and profound—over a groove-laden production with sharp percussion, courtesy of the much sought-after Parisian producer Crayon. Julia's bewitching voice shines on the bittersweet "SOS," which bears the scars of a past relationship. On "LONGO MAÏ," a dreamy ballad with trap-inspired rhythms, Enchantée Julia invites rapper Benjamin Epps for an anthem about brighter days ahead, reminding us of the importance of familial love. To close this second EP, Julia reunites with long-time friends, brothers Théo and Raphaël Herrerias, who form the duo Terrenoire. "TOUCHER TOI" forms a diptych with the track "MOUSSA" and reveals Julia's full potential, as she shines here in a French chanson style that she has previously explored less.

Two-Piers bringt mit "Come To My World" eine kurze Geschichte und Tauchgang in die Welt des Indie-Pop, von seinen bescheidenen Anfängen in den 1980ern bis zu den vielen grossartigen Bands, die heute die Flagge hochhalten.

"Come To My World" beginnt mit coolen Bands wie Talulah Gosh, The Flatmates, Blueboy, Primal Scream, McCarthy, 14 Iced Bears und The Springfields auf bahnbrechenden DIY-Labels wie Sarah Records, The Subway Organization und Creation. Über die einflussreichen C86-Kassettenjahre gelangen wir zu den kommerzielleren Spät-1980er-Sounds von The Primitives, The Soup Dragons und The Darling Buds. Wir navigieren durch die 1990er mit der unterschätzten Brillianz von Heavenly, der florierenden schottischen Szene mit Acts wie BMX Bandits und The Vaselines, bis zum Durchbruch der Indie-Pop-Sounds von Velocity Girl und Blake Babies in den USA. In den 2000ern brachte die US-Szene exzellente Bands wie Dum Dum Girls und The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart hervor, neben Underground-Acts wie Joanna Gruesome, The Spook School und Veronica Falls. Die Zusammenstellung endet mit einem Blick in die glänzende Zukunft des Indie-Pop mit Künstlern wie The Goon Sax, The Lost Days und Ribbon Stage.

Für Indie-Pop-Liebhaber ist diese Underground-Musik seit fast 40 Jahren eine ständige Quelle der Freude. 2LP mit 34 Tracks. 2CD mit 40 Tracks.

Two-Piers bringt mit "Come To My World" eine kurze Geschichte und Tauchgang in die Welt des Indie-Pop, von seinen bescheidenen Anfängen in den 1980ern bis zu den vielen grossartigen Bands, die heute die Flagge hochhalten.

"Come To My World" beginnt mit coolen Bands wie Talulah Gosh, The Flatmates, Blueboy, Primal Scream, McCarthy, 14 Iced Bears und The Springfields auf bahnbrechenden DIY-Labels wie Sarah Records, The Subway Organization und Creation. Über die einflussreichen C86-Kassettenjahre gelangen wir zu den kommerzielleren Spät-1980er-Sounds von The Primitives, The Soup Dragons und The Darling Buds. Wir navigieren durch die 1990er mit der unterschätzten Brillianz von Heavenly, der florierenden schottischen Szene mit Acts wie BMX Bandits und The Vaselines, bis zum Durchbruch der Indie-Pop-Sounds von Velocity Girl und Blake Babies in den USA. In den 2000ern brachte die US-Szene exzellente Bands wie Dum Dum Girls und The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart hervor, neben Underground-Acts wie Joanna Gruesome, The Spook School und Veronica Falls. Die Zusammenstellung endet mit einem Blick in die glänzende Zukunft des Indie-Pop mit Künstlern wie The Goon Sax, The Lost Days und Ribbon Stage.

Für Indie-Pop-Liebhaber ist diese Underground-Musik seit fast 40 Jahren eine ständige Quelle der Freude. 2LP mit 34 Tracks. 2CD mit 40 Tracks.

Feiern Sie die Weihnachtszeit mit der beliebten Weihnachtssammlung von Sufjan Stevens, ,Silver & Gold: Songs for Christmas, Vols. 6-10", die jetzt zum ersten Mal seit ihrer ursprünglichen Veröffentlichung 2012 wieder auf Vinyl im Handel erhältlich ist. Dieses umfangreiche Set enthält fast drei Stunden festliche Musik, darunter 18 Eigenkompositionen und kreative Interpretationen von Weihnachtsklassikern. Die 6-LP-Kollektion (vier Einzel-LPs und eine Doppel-LP) im Schuber zeigt Stevens' einzigartige Herangehensweise an Weihnachtsmusik, die Folk, Indie-Rock und experimentelle Klänge miteinander verbindet. Von intimen Weihnachtsliedern bis hin zu ausgedehnten Orchesterarrangements zeigt ,Silver & Gold" Stevens' künstlerische Vielseitigkeit und seinen kollaborativen Geist, was es zu einer unverzichtbaren Ergänzung jeder Weihnachtsmusiksammlung macht.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Since first bonding over Slowdive at a Texas karaoke bar six years ago, musicians Uriel Avila and Jonathan Perez have grown trauma ray into Fort Worth's foremost flag bearer of crushing shoegaze. A five-piece rounded out by bassist Darren Baun, drummer Nicholas Bobotas, and guitarist Coleman Pruitt, the band's debut album, Chameleon, captures their evolving sound at an apex of majestic devastation. A fusion of downer hooks, gauzy melancholia, and bulldozer riffs, the album heaves and crashes across 50 minutes of stacked amplifier alchemy. Lyrically the songs trace similarly lofty and brooding terrain; Avila says "The theme is death. And a chameleon, like death, can shape-shift in and out our lives in different forms." Chameleon opens with "Ember," dreamy and distant, alternately anthemic and apocalyptic, defeated and deafening. Lead single "Bishop" perfectly encapsulates trauma ray's depth and dimension, ripping out of the gate with "the biggest, baddest, saddest wall of sound." Lyrics about being burnt at the stake and "tossed in the flame" float above a stop-start assault of precision distortion, eventually expanding into a lush, heavy, sorrowful end coda. "Spectre" is a mysterious, introspective dirge, envisioned as a "mellow, slowcore, Duster-thing," all feeling and heavy fuzz chords (with no lead guitar). Avila wrote it, "to be a hymnal" from the perspective of someone who won't let go - a ghost, an ex, a shadow self. Although the album is rich with subtleties, graceful lulls, and "breaths of air," the band's three guitar attack is its defining force, a power flexed to its peak on "Bardo." Perez's intentions were blunt: "I wanted to write a riff that was hard as fuck." The result is alternately mean and eerie, veering between noisy one string bends and surging headbang, mapping a middle ground between Unwound and early-Deftones. One of trauma ray's greatest gifts is their ability to make doomy, sledgehammer heaviness sound like an earworm, without production tricks or gimmicks: "Riff, verse, chorus, three guitar parts - that's all you need." This quality is particularly apparent on the title track, a churning slab of amplifier worship, swirling chords, and heavenly, defeated vocals about not belonging, shape-shifting, and death ("A twisted face / Void of attention / An empty space / In your reflection"). "U.S.D.D.O.S" closes the album, swaying across seven minutes of grey skied guitar and haunted voice, subtly thickening as it deepens. Feedback and shrapnel gradually begin raining down, like a satellite disintegrating in the atmosphere. Titled as an acronym after a poem by Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño that loosely translates to "a dream within a dream," the melody softens, smears, and then disappears, slowly swallowed by the gravity of eternal descent. Chameleon is a masterpiece of craft, balance, melody, lyricism, and gravity, flexing a fresh vision of loud-quiet-loud architectures and the vertigo depths of blasted harmonics. From Slowdive to Nothing, to Hum and beyond, the band absorb and expand on their influences into a rare and dedicated alchemy. trauma ray's cinematic tempest is a gathering storm only just taking flight.

Since first bonding over Slowdive at a Texas karaoke bar six years ago, musicians Uriel Avila and Jonathan Perez have grown trauma ray into Fort Worth's foremost flag bearer of crushing shoegaze. A five-piece rounded out by bassist Darren Baun, drummer Nicholas Bobotas, and guitarist Coleman Pruitt, the band's debut album, Chameleon, captures their evolving sound at an apex of majestic devastation. A fusion of downer hooks, gauzy melancholia, and bulldozer riffs, the album heaves and crashes across 50 minutes of stacked amplifier alchemy. Lyrically the songs trace similarly lofty and brooding terrain; Avila says "The theme is death. And a chameleon, like death, can shape-shift in and out our lives in different forms." Chameleon opens with "Ember," dreamy and distant, alternately anthemic and apocalyptic, defeated and deafening. Lead single "Bishop" perfectly encapsulates trauma ray's depth and dimension, ripping out of the gate with "the biggest, baddest, saddest wall of sound." Lyrics about being burnt at the stake and "tossed in the flame" float above a stop-start assault of precision distortion, eventually expanding into a lush, heavy, sorrowful end coda. "Spectre" is a mysterious, introspective dirge, envisioned as a "mellow, slowcore, Duster-thing," all feeling and heavy fuzz chords (with no lead guitar). Avila wrote it, "to be a hymnal" from the perspective of someone who won't let go - a ghost, an ex, a shadow self. Although the album is rich with subtleties, graceful lulls, and "breaths of air," the band's three guitar attack is its defining force, a power flexed to its peak on "Bardo." Perez's intentions were blunt: "I wanted to write a riff that was hard as fuck." The result is alternately mean and eerie, veering between noisy one string bends and surging headbang, mapping a middle ground between Unwound and early-Deftones. One of trauma ray's greatest gifts is their ability to make doomy, sledgehammer heaviness sound like an earworm, without production tricks or gimmicks: "Riff, verse, chorus, three guitar parts - that's all you need." This quality is particularly apparent on the title track, a churning slab of amplifier worship, swirling chords, and heavenly, defeated vocals about not belonging, shape-shifting, and death ("A twisted face / Void of attention / An empty space / In your reflection"). "U.S.D.D.O.S" closes the album, swaying across seven minutes of grey skied guitar and haunted voice, subtly thickening as it deepens. Feedback and shrapnel gradually begin raining down, like a satellite disintegrating in the atmosphere. Titled as an acronym after a poem by Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño that loosely translates to "a dream within a dream," the melody softens, smears, and then disappears, slowly swallowed by the gravity of eternal descent. Chameleon is a masterpiece of craft, balance, melody, lyricism, and gravity, flexing a fresh vision of loud-quiet-loud architectures and the vertigo depths of blasted harmonics. From Slowdive to Nothing, to Hum and beyond, the band absorb and expand on their influences into a rare and dedicated alchemy. trauma ray's cinematic tempest is a gathering storm only just taking flight.

Cloudy Baby Blue Vinyl. with you in spirit, the fourth Balance and Composure LP, is an arresting, atmospheric collection of melodic post-punk and towering rock. Due out October 4 on long-time collaborator and Grammy-nominated producer Will Yip's Memory Music, it's the band's first LP in eight years, and a thrilling full-length comeback after their four-year hiatus. It thunders and stirs, dipping between beautiful, crystalline arrangements and punishing, earth-shaking climaxes; in between all, a gripping, near-physical tension crackles and growls and grooves, waiting to rip open. It's an intensely self-reflective record for vocalist and guitarist Jon Simmons, an uprooting and examination of the supports on which a life is built. Preemptive grief, wrestling with god and faith, familial responsibility, familial mortality_these are the things Simmons was carrying while writing this material. They're also things he was trying, for better and worse, to avoid_ hence the record's title. with you in spirit feels like the work of songwriters reaching new heights, exploring new depths. Sometimes, the record itself feels like a band grappling with its own avoidance, its own mortality, and deciding to face these things the only way they know how. Balance and Composure are with us in spirit, yes, but in the flesh, too, for now.

with you in spirit, the fourth Balance and Composure LP, is an arresting, atmospheric collection of melodic post-punk and towering rock. Due out October 4 on long-time collaborator and Grammy-nominated producer Will Yip's Memory Music, it's the band's first LP in eight years, and a thrilling full-length comeback after their four-year hiatus. It thunders and stirs, dipping between beautiful, crystalline arrangements and punishing, earth-shaking climaxes; in between all, a gripping, near-physical tension crackles and growls and grooves, waiting to rip open.It's an intensely self-reflective record for vocalist and guitarist Jon Simmons, an uprooting and examination of the supports on which a life is built. Preemptive grief, wrestling with god and faith, familial responsibility, familial mortality_these are the things Simmons was carrying while writing this material. They're also things he was trying, for better and worse, to avoid_hence the record's title.with you in spirit feels like the work of songwriters reaching new heights, exploring new depths. Sometimes, the record itself feels like a band grappling with its own avoidance, its own mortality, and deciding to face these things the only way they know how. Balance and Composure are with us in spirit, yes, but in the flesh, too, for now.

The first thing that strikes you is the rhythm. The Gossip have been making punks dance since they debuted 5 years ago, long before dance punk existed. Soulful and jagged, you can hear everything from Dischord to Motown in Brace's playing. Now, with the addition of new drummer Hannah Blilie (Shoplifting, ex-Chromatics) they have a new thundering beat for the kids to dance to on the corners and in the clubs. The next thing that smacks you is Beth's voice, all the guttural blues of the South is in that inimitable instrument. It resonates with the confidence that is in her lyrics asking people to hold on just a little bit longer, re-assuring the youth that there are others out there, and spitting in the face of all who say otherwise! "Standing in the Way of Control", their third album, was recorded by Guy Picciotto (Fugazi) at Seattle's Bear Creek. From heartbreakers like "Coal to Diamonds" to the anthemic title track, released as a single with a Le Tigre remix, the band is unafraid to put it all out there and take their audience to new places. This is the sound of a band destroying and surpassing all expectations placed on them.