quête:bit machine

GATEFOLD DOUBLE VINYL WITH SPOT UV FRONT COVER

Following the skewed-unself-help-brilliance of ‘Sus Dog’ (which marked his first full foray into songs, abetted by Thom Yorke), and its companion piece ‘Cave Dog’, Chris Clark returns to the dancefloor’s simple, but no less affecting pleasures, with ‘Steep Stims’.
“I found it hard to pull away from listening to this record, hard to stop making it, I had to remove myself from the Stims and stop enjoying it at some point. The album feels like nature to me. I love it when electronic music feels more naturalistic than acoustic music, more potent, that’s the devil’s trick, the promise of electronic music.” comments Chris.
“I used an old synth - the Virus on all of the tracks. I used it at Mess in Melbourne - run by my friend Robin Fox - I loved it so much I had to buy one when I got back to the UK, it took a while to find. They’re a bit clunky to program but make some of my most favourite sounds.”
‘Steep Stims’ marks a back-to-basics approach, invoking the early years of gung-ho creativity enforced by limitations in technology at the time. “Most of the tracks on this album capture the spirit of making music on old samplers, which don’t have much memory time”, explains Clark. “It reminds me of making ‘Clarence Park’, my first album, where I would have to finish tunes in the session, as they would be saved on floppy disks and I couldn’t easily go between tracks. This new record is just a few synths and a few choice sounds; the writing is the important thing.”
Made quickly, ‘Steep Stims’ reflects the immediate rave energy of his live show, but that’s not to say it’s basic floor fodder, as it’s rife with personality, synth magic, and knack for melody. Although swift and impressionistically captured rather than laboured over, it’s still formidably deft, with plenty of oddball weirdness lurking beneath the dancefloor.
Soft, orange, scorched, brutal, the opening track ‘Gift and Wound’ captures the classic dance music dread / awe / euphoria combo perfectly, before ‘Infinite Roller’ merges sparkly-minimalism with snarling bass and soft sines, which turn more dense and metallic as it progresses.
The melancholic smoke belch of ‘No Pills U’ gives strong classic vibrations, which is belied by its creation, made in just 20 minutes. “I love working quickly sometimes”, comments Clark. “Inspiration hits, rough and ready. It’s off the cuff but also screams ‘don’t gild the lily with nonsense, keep it simple keep it clean’”. Segueing into its elder brother, the piece becomes bigger and beatier on ‘Janus Modal’, where it permutates for over 7 minutes of fluttering, beatific club majesty.
At ‘18EDO Bailiff’ you inexplicably find yourself at a clearing, things have suddenly got much quieter. You enter a decrepit and eerie old house, and as you move through its unsettling interior, you arrive at ‘Globecore Flats’. A real piano tuned to 18 notes per octave gives the pair of tracks a haunted, olde worlde feel, which promptly gets eaten by a huge tech step tearout monster, birthing a strange but exotic beast.
The white hot ‘Blowtorch Thimble’ is all hooktasm-rave-hyper-amen-energy, whilst acidic flute leaps around like Ian Anderson on pingers throughout the catchily simple jump-up lurch of ‘Civilians’.
“‘In Patient’s Day Out’ is like some sort of Morricone-does-kraut-rock-with-drum-machines, but that’s probably just in my head” says Clark. “I made several versions of this then went with the early mix but cranked through some choice outboard because it just had something.”
Drumless, yet still full of exhilarating-big-trance-drama, ‘Who Booed The Goose’ flashes by in stroboscopic fast forward, then ‘5 Millionth Cave Painting’ gives a palate cleanser, letting “the virus with its delicious broken, luxurious reverb have a moment”, before ‘Negation Loop’ swoops down in all its glory, with Clark’s tweaked vocals leading deconstructed trance breakdowns, tape edits and brutal noisebursts.
An antidote to the bombast of its predecessor is ‘Micro Lyf’, which closes the set on a poignant note, of sorts. Muted staccato gives way to field recordings “that gradually put it in this outside space; alien in a meadow somewhere nameless. It feels like a sinkhole. The record kinda swallows itself up and then is gone”, ends Chris.

If there is one thing we at Real Gone have learned during our rollicking ride of reissuing The Donnas’ catalog, it’s that they never did anything halfway. And we’ve tried to do the same in bringing their music back to their devout fanbase. Now, by popular demand, and after years of pursuing the rights, we are thrilled to announce that we are releasing their last studio album, Bitchin’, in an expanded, newly annotated, and newly remastered edition! This 2007 release was put out by The Donnas’ own Purple Feather label, and marks a return to the girls’ glam metal and punk roots after the classic rock leanings of Gold Medal…they’ve escaped the major label machine, and are ready to have a good time! Singalong songs like “What Do I Have to Do” and “Don’t Wait Up for Me” have definitely entered The Donnas’ canon, and tunes like “Save Me” confirm that this band’s ability to set a hook in a chorus remains unabated. For this first-ever reissue, we’ve rounded up an entire side of bonus tracks, including the two songs (“Randi” and a cover of “Safety Dance”) that were only available on the vinyl release, a track (“New Kid in School”) that was previously available only as a download, two outtakes (“We Own the Night” and “She’s Out of Control”) that showed up on the Greatest Hits Vol. 16 comp, and a track that only came out in Japan (“Can’t Keep It a Secret”). The whole thing’s been remastered for vinyl by Mike Milchner at Sonic Vision, and our gatefold-plus-insert once again includes fresh commentary by Brett Anderson aka Donna A. Bitchin’ comes in a double scoop of strawberry with black swirl vinyl…we’re here for the party!

Fin" is the fourth album by Spanish band Exnovios, a group that has been described as a blend of Spacemen 3 influences and the best of Spanish '60s pop. The new dozen songs that make up their fourth LP happily shifts away a bit from to the usual unbeatable formula of this Pamplona-based quartet (garage reverbcore as if sung by Spanish legends Juan y Junior) and add new and fascinating layers-at once fresh yet entirely logical in the evolution of such a unique band within the local scene. Exnovios' new collection of songs wasn't created in a rehearsal space or recorded in a single week in the studio. Rather, it was composed and rehearsed slowly in bedrooms and living rooms-songs that were later brought into the studio with the idea of finishing building them there. Over the course of nearly a year, the band approached each song one by one, in a handcrafted manner, alongside their trusted ally, producer Guillermo Mutiloa. The result is a treasure trove of songs, perhaps more psych-folk than ever, as acoustic pieces abound-full of exquisite melodies without abandoning the consciousness-expanding journeys that have made Exnovios a cult favorite: from the instant classic 'Nubes' (with its very Byrds-like harmonies and gorgeous twelve-string acoustic guitar), to the delightful Big Star-style fiction of 'El cine se queda en silencio', or even the fabulous cover of Stephin Merritt's 'Tú tú tú tú.' These are often drumless tracks, perhaps with some light percussion, always featuring detailed and exquisite arrangements of guitar, electronics, percussion, and even touches of strings. And despite the reduced presence of drums (which, along with the laid-back recording approach, makes this almost Exnovios' "White Album"), fans of the band's legendary fuzz-guitar reverbcore sound won't be disappointed: there's the psychedelic 'Viaje Alucinante', full of their classic riffs; their brutal cover of Psychic TV's 'Godstar' (drenched in echo and eccentric vocal effects); and the perfectly crafted 'Naves Misteriosas', which pulls off the impossible feat of sounding like 'Cerca de las Estrellas'-era Los Pekenikes in the verses, Phil Spector in the chorus, and the Ramones in the post-chorus. And there's much more: percussion reminiscent of the most 'baggy' Primal Scream on the brilliant 'Aún no es tarde'; love lyrics wrapped in an exquisite drum machine soaked in reverb and Suicide-style Farfisa on 'Ha venido a quedarse'; the beautiful two-chord electronic Christmas carol 'Ya es Navidad'; and that lysergic waltz that sings of the peace brought by karmic revenge, carried along by waves of fuzz and delay, titled 'El día del juicio final.' "Fin" reveals more sides and nuances of Exnovios than ever before-a festival of eclectic styles that all remain true to the musical vision that has defined them over the past decade, with their melodic powers at the peak of their talent.

Detroit, MI based label Harbonder brings you Strand's latest 12" vinyl release “You Have Been Warned” - a bar-raising blend of classic musical motifs and forward-looking electronic production that dares/invites the listener to embrace the unknown.

A1: “Astral Plainsman” - A 4/4 excursion into a landscape of percussive funk driven by a soulful bassline and elevated by cosmic chordsmanship.

A2: “Quantum Game Engine” - An epic homage to the video games Strand played as kids with an eye towards the future of immersive, seemingly boundless gameplay. Ethereal pads, a soaring topline, precision machine bass, and killer percussion combine to form a driving, yet funky, yet euphoric standout that goes from 8 bits to qubits.

B1: “A Path Forward” - Techno and Jazz Fusion are brought together to create an afro- futuristic trip through space, guided by an otherworldly melody that traverses expansive strings, exemplifying Strand’s knack for exploring unexpected trajectories.

B2: “Quantum Game Engine (Reprise)” - An entangled version that bounces to the essence of the original mix.

Jessica93, prodigal bastard of our glorious french squat scene, relocated on Born Bad : this is no picnic. Geoffroy Laporte, alone against all odds, alternates bass and guitar to build harsh loops with a drum machine spitting pre-Gulf War patterns. That’s where it gets tricky : every musical posse claims him. Grunge, sure, but Jessica doesn’t indulge in necrophilia. His circuit is punk, he doesn’t dress the part though. Cold wave, the atmosphere fits somehow, but the gear does not. The self-confident rock horde saw him playing with hair in his eyes… but he never joined the Party. Metal had something to say but sadly, nobody listened. Maybe it's time to give it a rest and let Jessica93 cook his great misery broth on her own, called « 666 tours de périph’ » (666 laps on the beltway). Witnessing Jessica93 live makes you dread that he'll get up the next morning, drive 200 miles and one nap later kick it again, when it takes us a good week to recover from the bad half of that same evening. Like so many other unknown soldiers during our very own world war of music, he patrols small venues relentlessly.



At the heart of this cultural pentacle painted by french weirdos Bryan's Magic Tears, and Carine Krinator, Jessica93 has built a sound validated by years of chosen vagrancy, birthing bands with joyously stupid monikers, in the humid jungle of small labels. Jessica93's debut album had a track celebrating Omar Little, HBO’s gay bandit from Baltimore. This story begins on the beltway, where Florence Rey, accidental copkiller turned to political icon of the 90’s. Geoffroy offers his brilliant analysis : " C’est la police qui nous tire d’ssus / C’est mon trou d’balle qui leur chie d’ssus « (Police shoots us down / my dripping asshole gets the job done).



A previous album was haunted by bedbugs, this one is essentially about love, a delicious scourge just as hard to eradicate. Two black diamonds peek out of the LP : ’’La colline du crack’’, heartbreak song about the ultimate temptation of violent delights, located on crackhead central in Paris. The brilliant chorus, ‘Take my hand and come with me to Crack Hill’ will put an end to the rumours, almost everything was really false. And Bébé Requin, alternative obituary that’ll make you shiver, where our nice couple states ‘’on kiffe la drogue dure et les ptits chiens’ (‘we love hard drugs and little dogs’). And that is the reason we face the wall of sound jostled by unnecessary shoulder thrusts: those nice fat chunks of charcoal poetry, hidden under light sarcasm.



The rest of the record demonstrates the know-how acquired in loop-by-loop construction of ruins that are pleasant to squat in together. There’s your classic doom delicatessen, with bits of heavy metal inside, crafted with the manic care typical of hard wankers. Arthur Satàn, who produced and mixed the album at home in Bordeaux, helped him get his head out of the reverb safe house. And Jessica93 took the opportunity to switch to the dark side of the language : french at last. Worth the wait ! Sing along : « nique sa mère / nique sa grosse mère » (translate that yourself).

Italian producer, musician, DJ, and groove architect Sam Ruffillo drops his long-awaited debut album Tipo Così on Toy Tonics – a sun-drenched, genre-blurring statement that blends classic house with Mediterranean flair, romantic funk, and tongue-in-cheek Italo vibes. Over 11 expertly crafted tracks, Ruffillo delivers a dancefloor-ready, emotionally rich LP that connects deep musicality with irresistible rhythm and light-hearted elegance.

After three acclaimed EPs and collaborations with revered artists such as Barbara Boeing, Kapote, and Fimiani, Ruffillo has firmly cemented himself as a core artist on the Berlin-based label. Known for his unmistakable signature sound — a warm mix of vintage disco, 90s house, and Italian vocals — Sam’s music has garnered widespread DJ support from tastemakers like Gerd Janson, Palms Trax, Seth Troxler, and DJ Tennis, while becoming a staple on Italian airwaves. His infectious summer anthems like Danza Organica and Perfetta Così have soundtracked countless club nights and festivals, creating a loyal following that eagerly awaited this full-length debut.

Tipo Così is the natural culmination of a musical journey that’s both playful and profound — a travel diary written in grooves, synth stabs, and melodies that feel like postcards from a parallel Mediterranean universe. The album expands and deepens Ruffillo’s world into a fully immersive experience: lush emotional chords meet tight syncopated grooves, vintage synth textures collide with irresistibly catchy pop refrains, and the boundary between sincerity and playful irony is exquisitely blurred.

Entirely written, produced, and recorded in Italy, in his beloved hometown of Bologna, the album finds Ruffillo at the helm on keys, drum machines, and production, supported by a talented cast of musicians contributing live bass, guitar, and other organic elements — further enriching his trademark fusion of electronic grooves and natural instrumentation. There’s a tactile warmth in these tracks, a hands-on feel that adds soul and depth to every beat.

This album also marks Ruffillo’s heartfelt return to singing in Italian, with standout tracks like House Tipo Così, Mi Fa Volare, Ancora, and Dentro Di Me, where romantic naïveté meets pulsing club energy in a way that feels both timeless and refreshingly new. The vocal performances add an intimate, human touch to the music, reinforcing the personal stories woven into each song. There’s poetry in the casual, a bittersweet elegance in the way the lyrics float over groove-heavy production.

Having toured extensively across Europe, Australia, Indonesia, New Zealand, and Mexico — with sets at iconic venues like Panorama Bar and festivals such as Sónar Barcelona — Ruffillo has fine-tuned much of this album in front of live audiences. The real-world testing ground infused the record with a dynamic energy and immediacy that only comes from genuine crowd interaction. These songs weren’t just made in the studio — they were lived on dancefloors around the world.

Tipo Così is not just a collection of tracks. It’s a philosophy — playful, stylish and unmistakably personal. A modern club album bursting with heartfelt emotion and sophistication. Music for dancers with taste; for lovers of beauty, rhythm, and the little imperfections that make things feel real.

But what exactly is Tipo Così? More than just a phrase, it’s a way of being. It’s about embracing elegance without effort, mixing irony with sincerity, and letting nostalgia slip into the room without taking over the party. It’s Sam Ruffillo’s signature language: relaxed, confident, meticulous yet never rigid — where a chord progression can say as much as a lyric, and every beat carries intention.

The album’s visual identity complements this vision perfectly. The artwork and promotional materials lovingly reference Italian design from the ’80s and ’90s, combining bold graphic elements with playful pop culture nods. This aesthetic mirrors Ruffillo’s music — a fusion of vintage warmth and contemporary freshness, delivered with authenticity and charm.

Sam Ruffillo belongs to a new generation of European artists who are reshaping electronic music by blending past and present, analog and digital, groove and emotion — without nostalgia or pose. His artistic universe is coherent, vibrant, and alive; a rich tapestry of sound, images, and stories that coexist with lightness, precision, and a distinctive voice.

Reflecting on his artistic journey, Sam describes music as a vital, deeply human impulse — a tribal connection to rhythm and body that has driven him since he was a teenager. His creative process balances meticulous planning with room for spontaneity, usually sparked by clear melodic ideas that evolve naturally. Collaborations with close friends, especially vocalists like Ninfa, add warmth and authenticity, exemplified in tracks like “House Tipo Così.” For Sam, music is honest self-expression — crafted for listeners who crave memorable melodies and rhythms imbued with genuine feeling.

While technical perfection is tempting, Sam prioritizes emotion, knowing that what truly resonates is the soul behind the sounds. His long-standing partnership with Toy Tonics has been key in nurturing his vision, offering a blend of creative freedom and professional support. Looking ahead, Sam Ruffillo is excited to broaden his live performances, and release new projects that continue to blend electronic grooves with organic, heartfelt sounds — maintaining the delicate balance between playful irony and sincere emotion that defines Tipo Così.




Kurzversion:
Italian DJ, producer and musician Sam Ruffillo drops his debut album Tipo Così on Toy Tonics - a sunny blend of house, funk, Italo and pop, full of groove and emotion. Written and recorded in Bologna with live instruments and Italian vocals, it’s a playful, elegant journey shaped on dancefloors worldwide. A stylish, sincere club album where nostalgia, irony and rhythm meet in perfect harmony.

- Mi Fa Volare
Road-tested across continents and now finally released, “Mi Fa Volare” channels 90s uplifting euphoria with big breakbeats, lush chords, and Italian vocals built to stick. Somewhere between balearic bliss and piano house nostalgia, it’s a feel-good club weapon made for peak-time moments - already sung back by crowds after just one listen.


- Ancora
“Ancora” is a vibrant hi-NRG track inspired by 80s Italo disco, sung entirely in Italian. It blends driving rhythms with dreamy melodies, capturing the radiant spirit of the decade. This fresh yet nostalgic song delivers euphoric vibes and timeless energy, making it a perfect fit for both dancefloors and reflective listening moments worldwide.


- Dentro Di Me
“Dentro Di Me” channels ‘90s sensuality through a fast-paced, UK house-inspired lens. Entirely in Italian, it’s a bold and contemporary dance track where hypnotic vocals meet high-energy grooves. Blending nostalgic textures with forward-thinking production, the result is a seductive and euphoric trip - equal parts emotional and club-ready.


- Amigo
“Amigo” blends Latin groove, acoustic guitar-driven rhythm, and Mediterranean flair into a warm, magnetic, cross-cultural dance anthem. Sung in Spanish and Italian, it celebrates connection, inclusivity, and the joy of moving together - whether stranger or friend. With its unstoppable rhythm and vibrant energy, it’s a feel-good track with a unifying spirit.


- Ma Sei Fuori
“Ma Sei Fuori” is a tongue-in-cheek dancefloor bomb blending raw house energy with catchy vocal phrases and a nod to classic French touch. Driven by hypnotic vocal lines and a playful attitude, it doesn’t take itself too seriously - while still proving serious club impact. Built for late-night moments, it’s bold, bouncy, and impossible to ignore.

With his first EP on Token, Phara conjures up four tracks detailing dancefloor impact with robust personality. In 'Second Skin', the Belgian artist is eager for resolution, keeping tension high with the bold analog sound he's known for. Coming eye to eye with the label's sound, Phara pays homage to Token while fiercely defending years of artistic direction - layering the label's astral ambiance with his unstoppable movement.

'Second Skin' sets Phara's intentions clear. The titletrack rolls forward like heavy machinery with what seems like shifting vocals breathing life into the stereo image. This first cut is a gold standard of peaktime production, creating a sense of purpose at the core of urgency. Claps and rides boom and whip around the track that lumbers on with chord stabs to add soul to flare. 'The Ring', however, takes the listener into another direction. Heavily centered on the drum sequence with a sharp slap-back delay, Phara plays with resonance, sparking psychosis amongst movement. Playful in the short term, 'The Ring' proves to be an ultra-hypnotic track reserved for a set's high intensity stretches on an already surrendered dancefloor. Taking this energy and pulling it in, 'Neon' comes to establish a bit more intimacy at first. Here, the producer diffuses his elements into themselves and, in turn, creates a thick ambiance that drives the record forward in space and dissonance. 'Neon' is inquisitive and almost spiritual in its effect, playing with the line between a unified dancefloor and an introspective journey. The conclusion to the EP is 'Blood', a return to dryer production - at least in the beginning. Ambient, almost psychedelic synth work sucks in the listener over unwavering energy to create a closing track worthy of its name. Rolling through to the end, 'Blood' delivers the final blow to an insatiable record on Token by Phara.

Amsterdam indie stalwarts Pip Blom and Willem Smit, respectively the songwriter & vocal force behind Pip Blom and the driving creative mind behind Personal Trainer, have come together after a decade of intermittent collaborations to launch a new project: Long Fling. The duo's self-titled debut album arrives 3rd of October, 2025, unveiling a collection of charming, offbeat guitar and drum machine, kraut-rock tinged anthems, touching on everyday oddities like socks, shoes, and the allure of staying home.

Unlike typical duets, Long Fling doesn’t focus on harmonies or traditional back-and-forth vocals. Instead, Pip and Willem trade lines over minimal, melodic arrangements that reflect their shared sensibilities. The songs are direct but often playful, shaped by a mix of guitars, drum machines, and off-the-cuff lyrics.

Over the course of ten years, Willem and Pip’s songwriting process evolved from tentative beginnings filled with creative tension to a natural, collaborative flow. Willem reflects: “Over the years, I feel we’ve grown more comfortable making music together... Assembling a record we have been accidentally making without the goal of making a record was fun, but also weird. It felt a bit like archaeology sometimes. We tried to change things... but found out quite quickly that it made most sense to stay true to the initial ideas we had.”

we each asked our dads whether the album sounded more like a Willem album or a Pip album, they both said the other’s name. I really feel like we made this album together - it’s a true blend of the both of us.

Opener “That’s Magic” features a magician talking us through a convoluted magic trick, to a mysterious synth theme that a celebrity conjurer might use to help the pyramids disappear. It’s probably one of the only pieces of music to draw influences from Paul Daniels. “Carpet Squares” is a hefty slab of squirming machine bass, acid squidges and clanking industrial drums, its samples extolling the virtues of fitting comfortable flooring, with a voiceover recorded on a Canadian golf course. “Vanja & Slavcho” tells the odd story of twins who have an extraordinary ability to a bustle of spiralling arpeggios and comedic sound effects, while “Tiktaalik” has a glam rock beat, guitar twangs, wild synth runs and dance music drum rolls that build to nowhere, plus processed dolphin noises and a vocal about evolution. Then there’s “Piccolo’s Travels”, a spellbinding mix of classical strings and... is that a malfunctioning Clanger?

“Album Titles” lists rejected names for the record to hilarious effect, with outlandish blips, accordion riffs and bubbling percussion setting the scene, “The 38th Parallel” is a wonky slab of electronica, while “Push It” has everything from rock guitar interjections to explosions and birdsong. If “Customer Services” imagines the bewildering experience of dealing with a sentient automated phone call, then the following “Nothing To Write Home About” is a waltz-time organ piece with a nostalgic, bittersweet air. “Ready?” lists practically every genre under the sun and gives you a burst of it, from drill to country & western, hardcore to Miami bass, and the final track, “The Void”, is an AutoTune-laced R&B track with a deep, emotional core.

That’s the genius of Wevie Stonder: their ability to make you laugh one minute, and the next transport you
to an atmospheric reverie.

‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is the latest collection selected by Mikey Young (Total Control, EddyCurrent Suppression Ring) and Keith Abrahamsson (Founder and Head of A&R at AnthologyRecordings), the mangled minds behind the beloved ‘Follow the Sun’, ‘Sad About the Times’,and ‘…Still Sad’ compilations. The twenty tracks of ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ make a conscious(and unconscious) detour from its predecessors, sourced entirely from private press releases,spanning new decades and production modes within homespun folk, soft rock and otherwise70s and 80s FM radio adjacent music.  The magic of ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is the untold story of the artists behind these songs; thosewho missed the big time, but whose song craft and unrequited care hit the right notes, bothhigh and low.
Where ‘Follow the Sun’ and ‘Sad About the Times’ introduced us to the fame chasing, ambitioncrashing crooners who missed their shot in the mainstream, ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ delvesdeeper into the isolated wilds - a private world where production quirks, late-night tape hiss andone-man studio dreams were not necessarily a choice but the hand that was dealt.
With the parameters set to ‘private press only’, Young and Abrahamsson follow a circuitous trailof invention and emotion, documenting a spirit that’s more homespun, sometimes lonelier andoften a little weirder. The guitars still strum, but the keyboards’ hum is more prevalent andprecious; wistful harmonies brush up against lo-fi drum machines; a bittersweet fog lingeringover even the brightest melodies.
As with their previous collaborations, Young and Abrahamsson weren’t interested inconstructing a museum or drafting a historical survey. ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is a sentimentalmixtape, assembled late at night when the mind wanders and old memories blur with imaginedfutures, those within reach and those far too mysterious to ever encounter. Songs wereunearthed in personal collections, deep YouTube burrows, dilapidated web archives and thedim corners of Discogs, with many selections tied not only to intuition but to personalconnection.  Some tracks arrived via friends - Kelley Stoltz, a frequent guide for Young, tipped him off toboth Peter Kraemer’s lost gem ‘Let the Light Slip’ and Awakening’s revelatory closer - addingan unseen but deeply felt thread of camaraderie to the compilation.
The journey takes in a wide, strange sweep: The Watson Brothers Band’s ‘Just Whistle’ opensthe collection with a sigh and a shrug, a song that feels like it’s been waiting for decades to beheard again. Jim Huxley’s ‘Tessa on a Magazine’, rediscovered after a long and winding searchby Young, shimmers with a distinctly Australian melancholia. The heartbreak of Rick Penta’s‘My Story Changes’ and Twice As Nice’s delicate ‘Thoughts of You’ float easily alongside themore buoyant, radio-dream sheen of Barracuda’s ‘Baby I Love You’ and MAK’s sunshinedappled ‘That’s Life’.
Widening the aperture to the late 1970s and early 1980s allows for a deeper exploration intoevolving production techniques and musical technologies. The Squad’s ‘D.L.M.H.I.M.A.’ andChristoph Spendel Group’s ‘Forever’ crackle with the kind of bedroom synth warmth that couldonly come from the analogue age, while the soulful, yearning undercurrent of Awakening’s‘Gotta Do Somethin / Might As Well Cultivate’ caps the collection with a call for action - ormaybe just acceptance - in an accidental Brian Eno ‘Here Come the Warm Jets’ parroting.
While ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ moves away from the ‘sad man with guitar’ archetype that hoveredover its predecessors, it remains tethered to a familiar emotional gravity - a balance of longingand lightness that defines this corner of the musical universe. Each track shuffles gentlybetween resignation and hope, sadness and serenity, as if the artists themselves were chasinga dream just beyond reach, recording not for fame but for the simple act of getting it, thatprimal, creative itch, out into the world.
Available on CD and 2LP, featuring the third eye-opening artwork of Dang Wayne Olsen. Thedouble LP set arrives in an outrageous double-wide spine jacket with printed inners and adream journal entry by Pacific Northwest artifactual authority Josh Lewellen.

‘Best tunes for your answering machine’ is the debut album of oblique, introspective electronic music by the mysterious solo artist Tekamolo.

Fusing melancholic synth pop and absurdist trip hop, ‘best tunes for your answering machine’ is a special assemblage of pitch-modified vocals, retrofuturist samples and freeform electronics that coalesces into music both outlandish and bittersweet, playful and profound.

Produced by a renowned artist, opting to conceal their identity under the guise of a new pseudonym, Tekamolo presents a series of curious, incognito confessionals with ‘best tunes for your answering machine’. An album led by a voice like a sentient, heavy-hearted android, the nine tracks collected here contend with themes of inertia, solitude and longing, revealing an inspired, affecting stream of messages from an unknown caller.

Without preconceptions tied to provenance, this is music liberated from the burdens of biographical detail. Music that eschews ego and the cult of the self. An album that can be heard purely for the strange, poignant sounds unfurled throughout.

For Tekamolo, the album signifies an attempt to navigate aesthetic reductionism, as well as an absolute sense of seclusion:

“An audio diary of a lonely soul. Broken, wounded mantra-songs. Memories of things that never happened. Dreams that never had the chance to be dreamed. Disassembled songs. As if testing the limits of emptiness — how much void can a song endure while still remaining a song? How much can be stripped away, how bare can it be, and still, the groove lingers, the melody pierces the memory, sinking into the listener's mind.

These are the skeletons of songs, an attempt to assemble music from the bare minimum — words, sounds, fragments of memory.

The songs are filled with desperate calm. They are not sung to the world, nor to anyone tangible, but solely to oneself and to the unseen. In a way, they could be considered songs of the end of the world: you wake up, and there is not a single person left in the world. At least, no one you can see. You wander through empty streets and deserted shopping malls, humming softly to yourself, hoping that someone — anyone — might hear you.”

‘best tunes for your answering machine’ is a sui generis conception of warped 21st century blues from an enigmatic figure, a work filled with surreal, indelible songs of modern isolation. Lost contemporary hymns, now recovered. Voicemails worth hearing.

The Gospel is back. “We have our pair of scissors. And we cut into the world.”

Label-owner Tro presents yet another diverse EP filled with hypnotic grooves straight from the patchbay.

“Sauna of Bitch” kicks things straight into high gear, weaving together hard-hitting drum machines with meandering acid lines and celestial pads. Next-up, “Maybe European” sees things take a darker turn, with a raw blend of electro and progressive elements, dilated with haunting spoken-word.

On the flip, Toronto veterans Cosmic JD and Aaron Santos deliver a lush, ethereal remix of “Lost in Tres Leches” under their ‘Los Primos’ alias, countering the original’s trippy minimalism with analogue warmth.

Returning to the Bordello, and the seven-inch, is Real Velour. This secretive figure reappears with two tracks of indie dance that bend and re-shape elements of italo disco, minimal pop and synth wave to create an utterly unique experience. Sleazy basslines and tropical percussion give way to heavily vocodered words in “Lover”, machine amor breaking to spoken human voice as melodies twirl. The romance described is one of passion, of friendship and of fidelity; but, with a hint of control. Clever and addictive, the composition cherry-picks bittersweet sounds to depict this relationship. The flip, “Look What You’ve Done”, maintains the candystore keys of the A-Side; the tone shifting as lyrics adopt a brazen and fortified vigour. It appears maybe that the promises of “Lover” have been shattered. While the love story turns to hurt feelings and regret, Real Velour keep the energy high to revel in the final break-up.

A decade has passed since Infinity Night graced Bordello A Parigi with his wonderful Winter and Summer EPs. After too long a wait, the French producer returns with the aptly titled Le Temps Qui Passe. Six slices of select synthesizer music make up the 12”, tracks lovingly crafted with Frederic Bergamaschi’s trademark analogue warmth. A melancholic melody meanders through brightness in “Tu Ne Me Réponds Pas”, dulcet words hidden under the machine gauze of a vocoder. Skittish percussion gives way to the refrain of “It’s Full of Stars”. Hazy keys appear as an arpeggiator rumbles below a shimmering sky. “Les Souvenirs De Valerie” picks up where its predecessor left off. Astral notes are beamed into the heavens, echoing into the while crisp cymbals tether the piece. Infinity Night has always sought that point of balance in his music, a bittersweetness he accentuates and explores. This is true in the darker shades of “Nymphomania”. Beats are bolstered, key stabs piercing the tenderness of analogue trills. The title track is a rich patchwork. A burbling undercurrent supports forays into diverse tangents with lyrics surfacing through key shifts and sliding scales. Marching to militaristic rhythms, “I Comme Icare” is the curtain call. The stringent drums are broken by sailing synthlines, vocals masked in a familiar mesh to close. Le Temps Qui Passe, well worth the wait.

"Chasing the funky symphonies that filled my head and my dreams..."

December 25th, 2023 - an Instagram post. Stimulator Jones shared half a dozen FIRE tracks from his beat tape archive. We were immediately drawn to the rough hewn boom bap.

"I'd release that", Rob commented.

Hours of material was shared and the result is this: Cool Green Trees (1999-2005). A collection of beats and loops Stimulator Jones created between the ages of 14-20 at home in his basement, bedroom and computer room in Roanoke, Virginia.

You will not believe the profound soulful genius contained within these naive schoolboy melodies.

December 25th, 1998 - 25 years ago to the day and his much-coveted Yamaha SU10 sampler was finally bestowed upon young Stimmy AKA Sam Lunsford: "I immediately hooked up a CD Walkman to the input jack and looped the beginning two bars of Grover Washington Jr.'s "Mercy Mercy Me". I don't know what exactly was so thrilling about hearing two measures of music repeating over and over but it was so infectious and hypnotizing and enthralling to me. I'll never forget that ecstatic rush of making my first loop - an uncontrollable, gleeful smile plastered all over my face." When you hear the pocket breakbeat symphonies featured here on Cool Green Trees, you'll feel the same sense of frisson.

In the wake of his Stones Throw breakthrough - Exotic Worlds & Master Treasures - Stimulator Jones was pegged by many as a 90s throwback artist. However, he literally IS a 90s artist. He's been recording music most of his life and he's now 40. He created the bulk of Cool Green Trees as a teenager. Everything before 2004 was recorded when Sam was still in school. He was in 8th grade when he made the 1999 tracks - he didn't even have his learner's permit. This album is a snapshot of a young man in a simpler time. Things were still mysterious back then and he was flying blind, relying on his ears and having to figure things out for himself: "I had no road map for becoming a beatmaker. I have been collecting music since I was a kid, I am a lifelong digger and seeker of cool and interesting sounds. I was there in the golden age of Hip Hop, and while I may have been a suburban white kid in Roanoke, Virginia, I was tuned in and I bought so many classic albums when they came out. I was attracted to Hip Hop because of the musical and poetic quality. I was hypnotized by the rhythms, partially because I was a drummer. I didn't brag about collecting my breakbeat records or making beats - it was something I did in isolation. It wasn't something I generally wanted to bring attention to and it didn't really score me any cool points. I certainly wasn't flexing on social media about it."

Hell, he can do that now!

Opener "Pharoah Jones" was inspired by Yesterday's New Quintet and Madlib's ability to capture that classic 70s sound whilst playing all the instruments. Sam created this one stoned afternoon by laying down a 2 bar loop and a shaker loop on his Yamaha SU700 sampler. He hung a microphone from the ceiling and played his Yamaha Stage Custom drum kit over the top before adding ender Rhodes and playing his dad's Selmer tenor sax through an Electro Harmonix Memory Man echo pedal. Yes! Up next, "Ghost Gospel" utilises a dope loop from a gospel record and adds some soul-funk drums overtop, whilst working that filter knob. Says Sam: "The loop reminded me of something Ghostface would rap over. The sample was in 3/4 waltz time but I flipped it for a 4/4 groove, a technique I picked up from RZA. "Ill Feeling" uses sped-up pieces from a dusty old funk record and putting them over a classic NOLA drum loop; gain chopping up a slow, bluesy 3/4 time signature and bending it to a 4/4 groove. Classy shit. "Capital Punishment" features drums tapped in live, inspired by MF Doom's Special Herbs series. "Do Not Adjust" consists loops found on a compilation of 70s French music at Happy's Flea Market, a classic Roanoke digging spot.

The sublime, evocative title track, "Cool Green Trees" was created when Sam was still living at home. He dumped samples off his SU10 into the family desktop and arranged them in a demo version of Pro Tools: "This track was sort of my ode to the DJ Shadow style of sample based production. Super spacey, slow, and moody. The heavily filtered drums were inspired by Alec Empire's 'Low on Ice' album. I later added some scratches and sounds from a Spider Man storybook record." "Chill Scratch" snags the final bit of a bossanova record and pairs it with a drum loop before adding experimental scratching run through an Electro Harmonix Memory Man echo pedal. "Poisonous Fumes" was made using a sampler, mixer and a turntable; a kind of mixtape beat collage with added scratches and sounds from various records. Using dialogue from superhero records was a nod to Madlib. "Welcome Aboard The Starship" is dark, downtempo trip-hop with a spooky bent. Sam paired a slow, hard drum loop with a guitar sample grabbed off a psychedelic rock record. To finish, he added various backwards sounds and weird atmospheric effects and a little scratching. Swoon.

Side B opens with "Keep On Runnin", made on a borrowed Roland SP202 sampler. Having always loved the sound of the Lo-Fi filter on those machines, reminiscent of the Emu SP1200, Sam always imagined Del or another of the Hieroglyphics crew rapping over this beat. You can certainly hear why. "Sounds Impossible" sees Sam experimenting with layering multiple kick samples at different volumes to create patterns similar to those heard by Showbiz and Lord Finesse during their God-level 1995 period. "Painted Faces" was made by chopping up a REDACTED record which he had gotten from Happy's Flea Market and paired it with a REDACTED drum loop. By the time Sam recorded "The Knew Style", he had acquired a shitty old 1960s portable turntable off eBay. It didn't function properly when he bought it but his brother opened it up, cleaned it out and got it working: "I remember he told me that there was a bunch of sand inside of it when he opened it up, as if its previous owner had taken it to the beach. I would take that turntable on my Happy's Flea Market digs so I could preview records...that's how I found this loop."

"Chicken Wing Blues Sauce" loops up a classic blues joint and pairs it with some REDACTED drums. A bit of filtering and arranging et voilà! "Kool Breeze", from 1999, is one of Sam's oldest surviving beats, as is "Sexx Bullets". The Roots sampled the same record, leaving Sam frustrated yet vindicated. "Soul Child" was an early SU10 creation, looping a dusty old Soul Children 45 and pairing it with 70s rock drum loops to great effect. "Take Off Runnin" was another loop found digging with a portable turntable. Paired with some boom bap drums it makes for a hypnotic head-nod groove. "Centurian" was intended to be a little beat interlude a la Pete Rock. The sample is from a sun-dappled soft-psych record and it's paired with a Robin Trower drum loop that just happens to fit perfectly. Sometimes you slap things together kind of haphazardly and magic happens. "Bozack" was the first beat Sam made using Pro Tools, his first foray into using chopped sounds instead of loops, an exciting new world. "Church" is beat interlude using a Phil Upchurch loop with the "Long Red" drums - a favourite break of Dilla et al. Sam was really on a tear in late 2004, probably because he was unemployed and phoneless and able to just make beats all day. He made "Splash One" on a borrowed Yamaha SU700 and again was experimenting with tapping the drums in live with his fingers, instead of using a loop or sequenced pattern. Channeling 9th Wonder, Sam used a water splash sound effect from a Batman record as a percussive element, hence the title (also a 13th Floor Elevators reference). The main loop is a backwards portion of one of his favourite Roy Ayers songs.

"Hank" is another fun little beat interlude thing, created on a borrowed Roland SP202 sampler with the fantastic Lo-Fi effect that resembled the Emu SP1200 at a fraction of the price. "73 goatee", from 99, is another of his oldest surviving beats, created in his bedroom with his Yamaha SU10 and his brother's Vestax MR-300 4-track recorder: "This one will always feel special. I can remember having a feeling all the way back then on the night that I created it that this was a solid beat with a catchy loop. There was something in the Fender Rhodes melody that resonated with me emotionally, and I had never heard a producer sample that portion before. I felt like I had found my own unique sound, my own unique loop. It came from an Ahmad Jamal '73. I actually even recorded myself rapping and scratching over this beat way back then, I still have that version in all its imperfect sloppy glory."

Sam explains just how much these tracks mean to him: "They all have immense historical and sentimental value and I'm proud of them. These beats come from an innocent, simple time when I was just figuring out how to craft these sounds. They're something very personal to me. They are the initial part of a journey that I really was taking *alone*. There was no YouTube. I couldn't Google shit. I didn't even know any other beatmakers, producers or DJs in my town that could teach me anything. It was always just me, alone, in a room with some equipment - chasing the funky symphonies that filled my head and my dreams. What I was doing wasn't cool. Most of my peers thought I was a weirdo and couldn't care less. Creating these sounds was an anti-social endeavour. In a sense, I felt like it was me against the world, and all I had to instruct and assist me were the recordings produced by my heroes - RZA, DJ Premier, Erick Sermon, Beatminerz, Showbiz, Diamond D, Beatnuts, Prince Paul, The Bomb Squad, Pete Rock, Q-Tip, E-Swift, Mista Lawnge, DJ Shadow, Cut Chemist, Peanut Butter Wolf, El-P and so many more...I dedicate this collection to them, and to my older brother Joe who has always been a musical and technical guiding light for me.

This was a time before every kid was a self-described producer and beatmaker, before everyone had a DAW, before Kanye and "chipmunk soul", before Red Bull beat battles, before there was any social media beyond chat rooms and AOL Instant Messenger, before Soundcloud, before SP-404 mania, before lo-fi beats to study to, before Splice, before targeted ads for MIDI chord packs, etc. In 99 when I told people that I had a sampler and made beats I was mostly met with bewildered confusion and indifference. Kids and adults alike would wonder why I got this weird machine for Christmas instead of something worthwhile like a Playstation or a mountain bike or even a guitar for that matter because at least that could be used to make "real music". Back then, sampling was still not widely respected as an art form - it was seen as lazy, talentless and unoriginal at best and outright criminal theft at worst. I had gotten respect for playing drums and guitar and things of that nature but this was a step in the wrong direction in the eyes of many."

The cover photo is a picture of Sam standing on his back porch in the latter part of 1998, just before he got his first sampler. He was 13 years old, in 8th grade. His dad took the picture with his 35mm film camera: "I actually wanted to be pointing my dad's .22 pistol at the camera lens but he wouldn't let me. He gave me an old walking cane to use instead. The Tommy Hilfiger puffer jacket came from the lost and found at William Fleming High School where my mom worked as a secretary. I was thrilled when she brought it home because we never spent money on expensive name brand clothing like that - we were for the most part strictly a sale rack, bargain bin, thrift store, yard sale, flea market kind of family when it came to clothes. My watch is some cheap off-brand fake gold department store watch." Mastering for this vinyl edition was overseen by Be With regular Simon Francis and it was cut by the esteemed Cicely Balston at Abbey Road Studios to be pressed in the Netherlands by Record Industry.

Corrosiv, the sophomore album from Orchestroll, reveals the duo at their most mature and vulnerable. Originally conceived as a reflection on hybridity and bastardization, the album deploys New Age and ambient compositional tropes as a launchpad, exposing their trite sanctity to the realities of corrosion. Having come of age in the 1970s and 1980s, the New Age movement perdures today as a domain of contradictions; its promise of transcendence riddled with the very commercialized dogma from which its adherents claim to flee. Healing modalities such as reiki, crystal therapy, and sound baths are simultaneously pathways to solace and sites of exploitation; their sonic counterparts—ethereal synth pads, shimmering textures, celestial drones—claim to facilitate meditation and enlightenment while devolving into empty signifiers of vitality. With Corrosiv, Orchestroll displays neither reverence nor disdain toward New Age: they exhume it instead, revealing the saccharine effervescence and commodified murk undergirding its aesthetics. The result is intoxicating—disquieting.

Born from a two-week residency at EMS Studios and expanded through a performance at MUTEK Montreal’s 25th anniversary, Corrosiv has since outgrown its original conceptual nucleus, taking on a broader scope. Its inquiry into New Age ideology’s voided rhetoric and aesthetic mysticism now informs a broader interrogation of cultural mediocrity, anti-authoritarianism, gatekeeping, music industry toxicity, and the crumbling edifice of late capitalism and techno-feudalism—all the mechanisms by which meaning is stripped from ceremony, and once-potent forms of knowledge are subsumed into the machinery of economic extraction, severed from their original essence, and transformed into hollow simulacra. Corrosiv distills these themes through a loose narrative: a soul, fixated on wellness as dictated by cosmetic economism, becomes ensnared in an endless afterlife, unable to transcend and shed its dilapidated consciousness.

Framed as an act of audio dissolution, the album thus engages in an alchemical process, whereby complex waveshaping, morphing synthesis, and distortion enact a ritual of fragmentation. There is also friction: between the rigid, mechanical imposition of systematized order and the untamed, chaotic force of organic metamorphosis. Here corrosion and confinement are not solely conceptual motifs; they are enacted in real time, sculpting the album’s terrain. Scraping, tarnishing, degradation—the languid wear of form and substance—become instruments in their own right: buffing as abrasion, entrapment as transformation, corrosion as a means of reconfiguration. The ‘protagonist,’ if there must be one, is the listener, caught within the throes of structural determinism and the potential for emancipation, unable to pass into something greater as the specters of collapsed futures accumulate in the margins.

Corrosiv extends its reach through collaborations with familiar voices: Heith (PAN), VISIO (Haunter), Femminielli (Drowned by Locals), Habib Bardi (Interzone), and Jiyoung Wi (Enmossed, Psychic Liberation, Doyenne) each leave their imprint on its sprawling landscape. At 1h16m, it is a procession, dense with earworms that burrow into the listener’s unconscious.

Misshapen, broken-down metals leach copper into blood, acid reflux burning through the core. Psyche disaggregates into cosmic turmoil, drifting between planes—tongue on rustline, gullet laced with solvent hymns, molars unlatching, bitcrushed to marrowspill. A spasm of brine, ferrous scripture, venomtext blooming in leaden rivulets, cartilage smoldering in phosphor decomposition, synapses drowning in a quicksilver choir. Crest of bile, churning ore, breath clotting into arsenic mist, vein-thread cinched, a corrosive gospel, limb by limb, oxidized to silence.

Ultimately, as the music exhales its final breath, its residue refuses to dissipate—and stillness alone remains. There are no conclusions here—no resolution, no collapse—only the slow drift outward of a vessel unmoored, lost in the sea of symbolic souring. Corrosiv sings the song of a world barren of prophecy, littered with aesthetic detritus. Whether this magic has been transfigured or simply worn away is unclear: the last breath dissipates, but the oxidation does not stop. The silence, too, will decay.

Conceptualized, composed, performed, recorded, mixed, engineered and produced by Jesse Osborne-Lanthier, and Asaël Richard-Robitaille in 2023 and 2024 at Elektron Musik Studion (EMS) - Stockholm, Sweden and Landsc8pe Studio - Montréal, QC, Canada.
Artwork by Jesse Osborne-Lanthier.
Mastered by Stephan Mathieu @ Schwebung Mastering.

Following the epic and potent album 'Blood' recently released on Infinite Machine; Shanghai-based producer Laughing Ears alights on Hemlock with a killer three track EP.

Losing Track
Dense with pin-sharp atmospherics and gentle intertwined melodies, this lush piece evokes 90's IDM breakbeat and trance and propels them into far away realms.

Bite the Bullet
Bleeps and homespun breakbeats dance into the night on this quirky workout, keeping us on our toes with unhinged edits and a twisted breakdown.

Breakaway The rudest cut on the EP, Breakaway lamps up the pressure for a full sub bass rinse out riding on loose but fully loaded drums.

File under: IDM, grime, breakbeat
RIYL: rRoxymore, Autechre, Dj Crystl, Bruce, Musical Mob

This reissue of ENV001 "Premise EP" is remastered from the original tapes and features the original artwork by Todd Sines. Featuring a remix from The Connection Machine, the 1995 EP was recorded in Ohio and originally mastered inDetroit by the legendary Ron Murphy. The release marked the end of four years of Geist living the midwest and his return to the metro area of New York City, a dramatic shift that would soon be reflected in Environ's sound.

In 1994, with only a single 12" in his discography, Morgan Geist decided to start his own record label. His debut on Dan Curtin's Metamorphic label was inspired by the sounds of Detroit techno and Chicago house. But Geist was equally fascinated by UK imports from labels like Warp, B12, and ART. He sought to combine these inspirations on the first release of his new label, Environ. Featuring a remix from The Connection Machine, whose unique "Bitflower" was released the year before on Carl Craig's Planet E, "Premise EP" (1995) was recorded in Ohio and mastered in Detroit by the legendary Ron Murphy. The release also marked the end of four years of Geist living the midwest and his return to the metro area of New York City, a dramatic shift that would soon be reflected in Environ's sound. This reissue of ENV001 "Premise EP" is remastered from the original tapes and features the original artwork by Todd Sines.

Every so often an album of such deceptive genius, of such aesthetic clarity, comes across our desk and transfixes us. Thought Leadership's III Of Pentacles is one such work of art. It's an instant classic and glides into the pantheon of timeless guitar-soul totems. Originally out on cassette only, we present the first ever vinyl issue. It's a hideously limited pressing of 300 for the world, so don't sleep on this.

Thought Leadership has already garnered big support from such tastemakers as Ruf Dug, Jason Boardman, Nathan Gregory Wilkins, J Walk, Evan Woodward, Justin Robertson and Heavenly's Jeff Barrett. The first time we heard III Of Pentacles, we nearly wept at the thought that something so beautiful, so bursting with real hope, could even exist in this brutal world. To quote the Quietus, "imagine if Stockport was situated somewhere along the Pacific Coast Highway rather than the M60, and you’ll have some idea of the coordinates to the post-industrial, sunburnt dream space opened up here."

So, who is Thought Leadership? What do we know about them? They reside in Stockport and are obsessed with ethereal guitar records. That’s about it. That and these X ideas shared with you, the listener.

Captured on a multitrack recorder in a terraced house in Stockport, this is as DIY as it gets. Glaringly obvious is a love for classic Factory and early 4AD. Perhaps it is the proximity to the River Mersey where the ideas arrived, and there being but three miles between where this and the Durutti Column’s classic “LC” was recorded, as the two operate across a familiar aural plain. Be it geographic or otherwise, limited by a true economy of means, namely guitar, pedals and drum machine, the fruit borne from these humble tools has been indelibly shaped by the perma-gloom that hangs low over the Manchester and Stockport environs.

Ushered in on 808 kicks, “I” opens the record as a beautiful Sketch for Stockport; a chiming maj7 chord dripping in chorus and delay sets us on our way. The Vini Reilly comparisons are unavoidable. “II” is all John McGeoch, with its trippy goth-psyche arpeggiated pattern cascading across the stereo image. Do those drums swing? But goths don’t swing?! They do here. We’re treated to a bit of crunch on the lead guitar part and some really lush reverb. We even step forth into shoegaze territory, albeit briefly, for the middle eight. “III”, a firm Be With favourite, continues the dreamy psyche leanings of the previous track, with an even bigger melody this time. We’re hearing The Teardrop Explodes on quaaludes here. A proto-dream pop cut soaked in melancholy. But watch out! The coda finds Johnny Marr has gotten into the ‘ludes and gatecrashed the final bars with some incredibly ignorant B minor pentatonic noodling.

“IV” ditches the drum machine for the first in a suite of three beatless electric guitar duets. The first of these semi-improvised rubato ideas is a striking departure from the earlier playful pieces, coming over emo and moody. Greyscale sulking for Stratocaster. Sign us up. “V” contains some really lyrical phrasing; a gorgeous conversation between two guitars. Real Stopfordian Primitive; meditative, crude, rain-soaked. We cycle through the same feels, then end on an alluring chord that breaks the pattern. Sometimes thoughts are like this. “VI” creeps in all plaintive, then a huge reverberating descending guitar line comes tumbling in like something off those classic Dif Juz 12”s. There’s some Maurice Deebank in there too, for sure, and the coda nods to early Meat Puppets.

“VII” rounds out the A Side, and succinctly presents a summary of all ideas explored thus far on our journey. The drum machine is back, this time with some wispy delay, before both guitars enter together playing interlocking lines. As we start, we end, with the delayed 808 guiding us out.

Opening Side B, “VIII” sees us embark on the other side of our journey as we slow down and space out. The drum machine is here, but the guitars are different now. Think Sensations Fix or Göttsching at his most peeled out. Drones, ambient drifts of broken chords and distorted lead lines all swirl round the mix. Side B is one for headphones for sure. “IX” is almost too exquisite for words. A New Age Mixolydian voyage through the cosmos. If you’re unmoved by the end you’ve probably got no pulse. We were left blunted ineffable by this one, such is the smudged elegance radiating from this idea. All hail the Thought Leader.

“X” is a full circle moment, and a fitting end. If you’ve not already elsewhere across the platter, you will be getting heavy Robin Guthrie vibes from this piece. Like the rest of Side B, this improvised jam sticks within a framework of related chords but the celestial energies channelled might invite us to wander “outside”, especially when the Tubescreamer is engaged.

RIYL Durutti Coulmn, Cocteau Twins, Dif Juz, Sensations Fix, Spike and adjacent guitar musicks – but, ultimately, this is just its own thing; such is the strength of ideas presented. "It’s good music to chill out to." (??)

Be With is honoured to present the first ever vinyl release of III Of Pentacles, carefully remastered by Be With's engineer Simon Francisco to ensure it sounds better than ever after its initial tape release. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry, in Holland. The original tape cover artwork, so crucial to Thought Leadership's striking visual aesthetic, has been rejigged for vinyl issue here at Be With. Its stark presentation befits the music contained within. They inform us that they shuffled their tarot deck to ask what the album should be called and the card you see on the cover popped out. The III Of Pentacles tarot card represents teamwork, shared vision and the ability to achieve goals through collaboration. We like to think Thought Leadership and Be With have nailed this one.

Long and intermittent running duo of Discrepant head honcho Gonçalo F Cardoso and Angela Valid's Alex Jones, with sometime collaborator Phil Laney aka Kenny Hosepipe joining in somewhere along the way, Hair & Treasure crossover from Sucata Tapes to Discrepant wax via 'Disc Rot'. Described by the duo, in their cryptic and scatological fashion, as "a fetid spread from the buttery catacombs of Hair & Treasure", one can only speculate on the mindset, if not for the scenario, for these file swap recording sessions. As if decaying throughout this back & forth process, the synthscapes, field recordings, voices from who knows where? and subliminal pulses assembled in these 11 pieces all coalesce into this out-there murk where invocations of "a" real are mangled into unhinged, squinting eyes moments of near- consciousness.

Compared to previous Hair & Treasure ventures like 'Two Fucking Tapes' or 'Forked Piss Blues', 'Disc Rot' forgoes side-long tapestries by focusing on shorter and clearer transmissions from the netherworld. Still, the feeling of pieces of discarded hardware and sound hubris lying around and turned music of the duo remains unscathed, filtered through a newfound precision. After the opening feverish threat of 'Warm Night', the suspended synth pads and working machinery of 'Byzantine Turd Skirt' actually comes as a relief, pulling away (a bit) of the dread to resurface with the Texas Chainsaw Massacre OST ambience of 'Amateur Depravity' and 2004-ish Midwest noise stylings of 'Busy Hubby's Flight to Gstaad' and 'Tit Ale'. 'Roads Gonad Today' and 'Just Jerkers' are not that far removed from a lower fidelity take on Black Dice circa 'Creature Comforts', while -'Professional Babies' goes back a couple of years to their collabs with Wolf Eyes, bust mostly, all of this sounds like nothing but Hair & Treasure themselves. If you know, you know.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."

"Daft Punk brought me here, he brought me Daft Punk"

Just knowing that this slice of hyper-rare disco dynamite was crafted by Thomas Bangalter's dad should be enough for you to buy this on sight, if only to understand a little bit more about Thomas and Daft Punk's background. But this is so much more than a Daft Punk family curio.

Born Bangalter in 1947, Daniel Vangarde is a French songwriter and producer. In 1975, Vangarde founded his label, Zagora Records, who we have worked closely with on this lovingly curated reissue. For years, Vangarde wrote and produced songs that remained underground, under several pseudonyms and for various artists. Dubbed "the secret father of French disco" this here groove-fulled firecracker - using his Who’s Who moniker - is for disco-funk, library music and cosmic beat lovers.

The intense, evocative opener "Palace Palace" positively throbs with raw energy and sounds, honestly, like something off Daft Punk's Discovery. The title refers to the fashionable Parisian club Le Palace, essentially the Parisian Studio 54. "I’d been to a nightclub in New York, a big ring where people were roller skating with a whistle. The atmosphere was great. The music was all disco. I made this song when I came back. A vocoder transformed my voice. Back then, it wasn’t used much." The track rides a killer groove and is deceptively complex, with layers of fantastic percussion and ace synth work going on all over it. Listed to on repeat, it's brilliance is simply undeniable.

The louche, slo-mo heater "Hypno Dance" is, in Be With's opinion, *the* deadly dancefloor track. A svelte slice of ace space disco again geared towards the roller skating dance mania of the day. So deep, so disco, so instrumental. An unreal track and, as the title hints at, totally hypnotic. The side closes with the somewhat throwaway "Popeden" - it's a jaunty number that you're probably best skipping, in all honesty. Have we ever steered you wrong?

The B-Side opens with the frankly enormous "Roll Jacky Roll" is another thrilling, high class roller-rink jam with beautiful melodies that's adored the world over. The wonky, abstract "Ad Libitum 80" is a super dope, swirling, staccato electro-funk bounce which sounds light years ahead of its time. This might be the real lowkey sleeper gem on this record. CHECK! This remarkable LP rounds out with the huge "Dancin' Machine". It's got sleek drums that emit an absolutely ace swagger and elements of Italo synth funk feels. A relaxed, slow rhythm throughout ensures you can't help but get your funk on when this crashes soundsystems. We'll leave the final word on this to Daniel: "It amuses me to think that my son Thomas was influenced by "Dancin’ Machine" for "Around The World", he says. Both songs being based on an hypnotic repetitive refrain. Both songs being, of course, timeless pieces of Euro genius.

Who's Who really is a fantastic late-70s-early 80s roller disco-funk essential. The audio has been carefully remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring it sounds better than ever. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry in Holland.

When it came to the sleeve for this we were presented with an unusual problem: we usually have to rely on an original sleeve as the starting point for the restoration, but instead we were able to scan the original 35mm transparency of the front cover photo. The problem is that with a modern scanner the results were far sharper than when they made the original sleeve. We’ve played around with the exposure and the colour grading but we’re sorry to say that our version of the front cover still ended up looking too good! Don’t hate us.

Capturing phantom drones behind dusty beats and haunted twangs, Ellis Swan and James Schimpl return for their third album as Dead Bandit. Locked into a musical language unique to their collaboration, the duo once again put us out to pasture across broad sonic plains, drums flapping like loose fence panels in the prairie breeze and bass rumbling like distant thunder. True to their previous two records, Swan and Schimpl keep the strung out guitars at the front of what they do, whether playing a naked, desolate strum or running six strings through disruptive effects processing until they're barely recognisable.
But while there are details of disturbance when listening to Dead Bandit's self-titled record up close, the wider impression is a smoother, more direct affair that toys with post-rock complexity and matches it with the emotional weight of melodic simplicity, gentle grooves and conscious arrangements. 'Weeds' offsets its languid fuzz guitar with shimmering sustained notes before settling into a patient, heavy-hearted composition charged with heartbreak leads pealing out in the middle distance.
By comparison, 'Glass' has a smoky, half-hidden backroom quality. Its brushed whisper of a beat, lingering guitar drones and subtle sub bass come on like a dub wise flip of a sad-eyed country ballad. The mood maintains on 'Half Smoked Cigarette', which captures the grey sky sullenness of post-punk and reframes it in the seductive isolation of rural America. While there's a thickness to the sound on these most direct of tracks on the album, there's also fragility inherent to the sound world Dead Bandit have been shaping out over these past few years.
'Buttercup' swaps sadness for sinister undercurrents, once more drawing on fulsome low end to fill out the sparse threads of instrumentation up top. 'Pink' finds a steady momentum for its own brand of brooding mystery, the sharp end of the beat bringing focus to the many-layered approaches to the guitar which roundly define the Dead Bandit sound. There's an even clearer direction mapped out in the vintage drum machine pulse of 'Koyo', all the better to carry swirling effects treatments and moody melodic figures. Even in these ominous climes there's space for plaintive, endearing hooks which land as the most direct phrases in Dead Bandit's musical lexicon to date.
The fundamental sound across this album holds true, but Dead Bandit are never bound to a singular practice. 'Lucien's Bitters' strikes up a pronounced drum machine beat which comes on like 90s downtempo, and it feels like a natural vessel for the heavy, shoegaze tinted lament of the guitars. At every turn, Swan and Schimpl prove their affinity for all kinds of approaches, and yet the end product is a deeply cohesive, immediate listen that shows just how clear their creative vision really is.

LP with printed inner sleeve

Mitte der 80er Jahre konnten The Loft eine beeindruckende Liste von Premieren für Künstler von Creation Records vorweisen. Die erste Creation-Band im Fernsehen, die erste, die die Spitze der Indie-Singles-Charts erreichte, die erste, die zu einer großen UK-Tournee eingeladen wurde und die erste Creation-Band, die eine begehrte BBC-Radiosession aufnahm - für Janice Longs Radio One-Show im Jahr 1984. Dann lösten sie sich auf. Seit dem berüchtigten Bühnendrama, bei der sie sich mitten im Song im Hammersmith Palais vor 3.000 Zuschauern trennten, als sie auf dem Sprung zur Big-Time-Indie-Größe waren, hat sich die Band wieder zusammengefunden. Während ihr Status als eine der einflussreichsten britischen Gitarrenbands der 80er Jahre weiter wächst und eine Vielzahl jüngerer Künstler:innen beeinflusst, schien es 39 Jahre nach der bitteren Trennung an der Zeit zu sein, ihr Debütalbum aufzunehmen.

Being Dead knows how to make an entrance - within the first several seconds of EELS, the duo's new record, the bright, hard-strummed guitar line on "Godzilla Rises" conjures cinematic immediacy, a creature emerging from the depths of the ocean in campy, freaky stop motion, fittingly so. Being Dead's records are mosaics, technicolor incantations, each song its own self-contained little universe. And while the dreamlike EELS probes further into the depths of the duo Being Dead's psyche, it is, most importantly, in the year of our lord 2024, a 16-track record that is genuinely unpredictable from one track to the next: a joyous and unexpected trip helmed by two true-blue freak bitch besties holed up in a lil' house in the heart of Austin, Texas. They decamped to Los Angeles for two weeks to record with GRAMMY-winning producer John Congleton, writing songs for the record until days before they left. The radical shift in process was welcome - a good balance and a challenge, Congleton helping them find new ways to work and helping peel back the layers on the core of their songwriting. Being Dead has grown from a duo to a trio live, including bassist Ricky Motto (who is immortalized finally on record here, particularly in the giggles on "Rock n' Roll Hurts") The resulting EELS is a darker record, tapped more into the devilishness within, but it's also a more raucous, rougher ride sonically. There's heartbreak, excitement, enchantment, dancing - we move through it all at a high-octane pace. Falcon Bitch and Smoofy never want to do the same thing twice on any song, and they don't. From the pummeling garage rock distortion of "Firefighters" to "Dragons II," which appears in its demo form taped on a hand recorder, it's unexpected but intuitive, and, most importantly, singularly Being Dead. Like its animal namesake suggests, the songs on EELS are malleable, the record like slithering through murky waters or strange half dreams, mysterious and beautiful in how it moves, reflective in a wavering sheen. Dipping into each song feels like uncovering a new cavern, plunging into depths unknown but fully open to what will be revealed. On the album artwork, an illustration by the artist Julia Soboleva, there are some weird disparate spectral creatures, a stark glimmer against a cloudy darkness. It's a fitting encapsulation of Being Dead, exuding a welcoming, playful energy even if something foreboding lurks just beyond the pale - more out of frame that's left to uncover, no path unexplored, strange and beautiful in the light.

Purple Tree Fog Vinyl. Being Dead knows how to make an entrance - within the first several seconds of EELS, the duo's new record, the bright, hard-strummed guitar line on "Godzilla Rises" conjures cinematic immediacy, a creature emerging from the depths of the ocean in campy, freaky stop motion, fittingly so. Being Dead's records are mosaics, technicolor incantations, each song its own self-contained little universe. And while the dreamlike EELS probes further into the depths of the duo Being Dead's psyche, it is, most importantly, in the year of our lord 2024, a 16-track record that is genuinely unpredictable from one track to the next: a joyous and unexpected trip helmed by two true-blue freak bitch besties holed up in a lil' house in the heart of Austin, Texas. They decamped to Los Angeles for two weeks to record with GRAMMY-winning producer John Congleton, writing songs for the record until days before they left. The radical shift in process was welcome - a good balance and a challenge, Congleton helping them find new ways to work and helping peel back the layers on the core of their songwriting. Being Dead has grown from a duo to a trio live, including bassist Ricky Motto (who is immortalized finally on record here, particularly in the giggles on "Rock n' Roll Hurts") The resulting EELS is a darker record, tapped more into the devilishness within, but it's also a more raucous, rougher ride sonically. There's heartbreak, excitement, enchantment, dancing - we move through it all at a high-octane pace. Falcon Bitch and Smoofy never want to do the same thing twice on any song, and they don't. From the pummeling garage rock distortion of "Firefighters" to "Dragons II," which appears in its demo form taped on a hand recorder, it's unexpected but intuitive, and, most importantly, singularly Being Dead. Like its animal namesake suggests, the songs on EELS are malleable, the record like slithering through murky waters or strange half dreams, mysterious and beautiful in how it moves, reflective in a wavering sheen. Dipping into each song feels like uncovering a new cavern, plunging into depths unknown but fully open to what will be revealed. On the album artwork, an illustration by the artist Julia Soboleva, there are some weird disparate spectral creatures, a stark glimmer against a cloudy darkness. It's a fitting encapsulation of Being Dead, exuding a welcoming, playful energy even if something foreboding lurks just beyond the pale - more out of frame that's left to uncover, no path unexplored, strange and beautiful in the light.

Quinoa Cuts proudly presents its 4th release: Marvin's 'Sweet Analog Memories' EP

This record is a sonic journey that bridges past and present, blending nostalgic analog warmth with a modern edge. A message that resonates loud and clear as you dive into both sides of this vinyl opus.

Side A opens with two tracks that deliver a lush, analog-driven soundscape, evocative of the iconic synth-wave movement of the ‘80s. These compositions are delicately interwoven with electro-inspired nuances, creating a bittersweet atmosphere that dances between melancholy and romance. It’s music that strikes deep emotional chords while transporting you to a dreamlike, neon-lit past.

Side B takes a darker turn, shifting the narrative entirely. While the golden-era analog textures remain present, these tracks explore a more progressive, shadowy, and haunting realm. They generate an intense sense of entropy, awakening the psyche and stirring emotions in unexpected ways. This side is a deep dive into a more introspective and visceral space, one that challenges the listener to confront their inner world.

Marvin’s EP is a record that demands to be felt as much as it is heard. Whether you’re a synth-wave enthusiast, an electro explorer, or simply a lover of forward-thinking electronic music, this release will resonate with you.

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

Mike Dunn is a pivotal house artist who brought his own famously raw and stripped-back style combined with infectious hip hop elements. He is behind plenty of well-known anthems, most famously 'Dance You Mutha' and 'God Made Me Phunky', and founded Dance Mutha in 1988. It released music by MD Connection, Gershon Jackson and I-ROC-T, while Dunn also co-founded seminal acid labels Warehouse Records and Muzique Records which played a key role in the development of Chicago and acid house. Dunn has continued to produce over the ensuing four decades and has landed on the likes of Defected, Nu-Groove, Classic, Trax and many more. The relaunch of the Dance Mutha label has been inspired in part by Dunn's discovery of a raft of 'lost' unreleased masters from the late '80s and early '90s. It's these tracks that provide the jumping-off point with this new release. '43:31' is the first out of the blocks and brings prickly acid texture to raw analogue drums. Slapping hits add extra bite to this most stripped-back and effective slice of pure warehouse music. Then come the snappy snares and deep bass of 'Acid Feet (Phaze 1)'. This spare, impactful cut is riddled with shapeshifting acid and caustic synth textures that bring the rugged drums to life. Last of all, the excellent Time Machine' will indeed take you all the way back to the dark, delirious and delicious days of the earliest acid house with its wonky 303s burrowing deep into the night next to coarse claps and ice-cold hits.

Following up on the Hayal EP in 2023, Dutch techno refractor Konduku makes a welcome return to Bitta with another four cuts of prismatic club fuel. Throughout his consistent output Ruben Uvez applies non-standard ideas to the techno formula, toying with rhythm and eliciting transcendental atmospheres from unusual patterns. This mode of exploration continues unabated on Gazoz, with the title track in particular leaning on a full-frequency, one-note synth pulse which dominates the mix and becomes truly hypnotic in its relentless presence. In the wrong hands it would come off garish, but ?vez knows how to weave subtlety around such forthright sonics to create a sublime sonic experience. 'Mikros' aligns with Konduku's more recognisable palette -- taut, bell-like rhythmic threads that balance delicacy and impact while tunnelling into mysterious, introspective zones. Aimed squarely at the heads-down section of the night, 'Luna' strides forth with a decisive dub techno palette and finds space for expression and progression in the most linear of arrangements. In true B2 style, 'Inici' rounds the EP out with a more fractured approach centred on reversed kicks and psychoactive arps riding wide and slow pitch bends for a mind-melting finish running at a formidable pace. As well as showcasing Konduku at his best, the sound on Gazoz serves as an extension of Bitta boss DJ Nobu's own particular tastes in techno -- brain-tweaking machine music crafted from supple parts, honed for the club without being limited by it.

First EP for this Massaïl sound system... Lets check in detail ! The first tune, Snakecharmer, is a superb oriental hardfloor tune, that could be place in a hardcore mix as well... Superb massive kick with a full ambiance oriental obsessing vocal backward... Then comes Phantasia, a bit faster and in the same kind of structure, with guitar larsen obsessing sound and a solid dynamic kick. B side opens on a Gaz-Gaz remix, happy hardfloor style. Record ends on a good pumpin tribe electro punk beating tune, with a full electronik bugging sounds. A very interesting song for all kind of mixes actually... All-in-one we got here a good record, very tribe but offering a good variety of style to bring some storytelling in the mixes. Mastered at EMS studio :) FAT !

Like the morning sun penetrating a Winter sky, a shimmering frost flecks the brightness of “Message to Nowhere”.

The four tracker showcases the sound of Ruben Benabou’s Hyperstellar nom de plume, a sound that draws inspiration from sci-fi soundtracks and the warmer currents of electro. Refracted bleeps introduce the title piece, shorn beats cutting through glowing synthlines as the EP takes flight. Tight terse drum patterns are the launchpad from which melodies sail and swoop in “Words in a Void”, bittersweet strings and warbling pads bending and shifting above juddering basslines. Fellow Frenchman, and all-round electro virtuoso, The Hacker remixes “Message to Nowhere”. Pulling the track toward the centre of the floor, scissoring snares slice through echoing notes and silken shrouds in this machine funk remake. Temperatures rise for the close. Bold key changes and snapping rhythms gather in “A Thousand Nights”, a lively late evening close to a quartet of sheer quality.

On December 6, 2024, Randomer will return with a new EP titled MTY-012: Everything Happens for No Reason, released via Anetha’s label, Mama Told Ya.

After a reflective hiatus, the UK prodigy is highly anticipated and ready to deliver meaningful music. The EP features five emotionally charged tracks—four produced by Randomer and one co-produced by Randomer and Anetha. Presented on a single vinyl, the release conveys a deeper message: life’s unpredictability can be embraced, reminding us that we can find our way even in chaos and randomness.

Torn between the meaningful and the meaningless, Randomer channeled his time into crafting music shaped by his extensive study of melodies, subconsciously

seeking to bring harmony to the world. The result is a cathartic journey across five tracks, each evoking a broad spectrum of emotions and inviting listeners to explore the depth of their feelings. Drawing from the music that deeply influenced him, Randomer traverses various genres and moods, seamlessly blending techno, trance, techstep, and sacred choral music in a perpetual act of personal reinvention.

Let the choir sing I Saw the World Melt (A1) right before my eyes, and let the people chant my melancholic melody. Nervous Breakdown. Lost in the riffs with dis ting from London, DHM Jam (A2) fuels me with adrenaline, I’m flying through memories, urged to move on. Yet, I’m still trapped : the clock shows Home Invasion (A3)—better start running. We will survive. But where’s my harmony? I Can’t Believe (B1) it. Why me? Why us? In this trance state of mind, I have so many questions, but those voices on the other side won’t answer. We’re doomed anyway, so why not plug in like the Two Perfect Machines (B2) we are, until the end.

For this new EP, Australian visual artist Nic Hamilton has been commissioned to create a poignant artwork alongside two melting teasers for MTY-012. As always, the design is expertly crafted by Diplomatie Studio, while the mastering is entrusted to Six Bit Deep, ensuring a polished and immersive listening experience.

Composer and performer Stina Stjern have for over 25 years been a steady presence in the Norwegian music scene – starting out as a vocalist in the rock band Supervixen while studying jazz in Trondheim, Stjern’s road has been anything but predictable, and has over the years shown a will to experiment and explore new areas in her music making. Her new album ”Vivid Peace Restored” is perhaps her most radical musical statement yet, as the entire album is made using cassette tape. The sound sources vary from found sounds, various instruments and Stjern’s own voice, but there is no hierarchy, the different elements are given equal importance, and through considerate looping, layering, cut-ups, re-arranging the bits and pieces it forms a rich tapestry of sound. This blurring is intentional, Stjern wants us to get lost in her sound world, a place where nothing is forced or overstated. Tape hiss, subtle melody lines, distant location recordings, gentle waves of noise, and voices melt together creating lush soundscapes

In this next installment of Token, Brussels' own Border One steps in to showcase 'Echoes from the Abyss', another swinging, modular-driven project destined for controlled sound systems. In these four tracks, the seasoned producer does what he knows best: engaging the dancefloor through his signature sound design and use of space.

'Echoes from the Abyss' the track, like the EP, is a collection of sound associations that are synonymous with Border One's sound. Resonant and cerebral yet bouncy and full of groove, the A1 presents a shimmering veil of synthwork that gives off a truly hypnotic effect. The follow up is much more sequence-based, focusing on the elements' interactions. The producer plays along freely with his drum machine, responding to a classically loopy and dissonant main synth that insists its way from beginning to end. Tension is everything, especially when met with a sustained chord in the second half, turning the record into a weapon of suspense. 'Celestial Observer' comes back straight and center with a focused tone and a progressive arrangement. With a thick low end and shrill highs, Border One flicks through percussion patterns and filter sweeps to make an intense, at times close eyed dancefloor experience. Ducking back into obscurity for the last track, 'Escaping the Void' takes on a more minimally produced style that breathes a bit after its previous, denser productions. Concluding with a question mark is always very appropriate, and here we're faced with a record caught between ethereal soundscapes and tense implications. With 'Escaping the Void', Border One closes with his latest contribution to Token with class as always, appealing to genre veterans and newcomers alike.

PRESENTED FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER ON VINYL AS A DOUBLE LP IN A GOLD VINYL PRESSING WITH A FOLD-OUT INSERT

As music fans know, James Brown wasn't just the greatest funk and soul singer the world has ever seen - he was also a musical visionary and businessman, who surrounded himself with geniuses who made him better and pushed him further. From horn masters Maceo Parker and Pee Wee Ellis to vocalists Lyn Collins and Bobby Byrd, Brown was a musical A & R master, restless and always looking for the next big thing. Most times, that would manifest in the latest James Brown smash under his own name. But not always. His stable of talent was overflowing in the 60s and 70s, and, thankfully, the tape machine in his studio was always rolling. Originally released in 1988, during the era of hip-hop's golden age of sampling, it's no surprise that just about every note heard in this incredible collection has been used on not one, but multiple rap classics. Which, at the time, was proof of Brown's (and his crew's) staying power. But we are over three decades beyond those days now, and it has lost none of its musical potency. Diving deeper into the vaults than the also-incredible Part 1 of the Funky People series, there is not a weak track in the bunch. Moving beyond well-known JBs cuts, things get interesting from the get-go with Bobby Byrd's monumental groove "I Know You Got Soul". Hank Ballard and Marva Whitney also enter the fray, leading the way to Myra Barnes's emotional and powerful "Message From The Soul Sisters (Parts 1 & 2)" and Lyn Collins's slow, smoldering cover of Isaac Haye's "Do Your Thing." Politics even get the funky soul treatment, with Fred Wesley & The JBs "You Can Have Watergate But Gimme Some Bucks And I'll Be Straight" and "I'm Paying Taxes, But What Am I Buying?" And it should not be overlooked that Maceo & The Macks instrumental workout "Soul Power ‘74" even features a proto-sampling snippet from MLK’s I’ve Been To The Mountaintop speech from 1968. This is another amazing collection of James Brown's funky friends, without one second of filler, brought to you as a glorious 2-LP gatefold by your friends at Get On Down.

Amandra, half head honcho behind Ahrpe Records, goes for subtly evolving and droning atmospheres. With releases spanning electronic genres and record labels: Nous klaer Audio, AD 93, Tikita or Semantica, just to name a few; the French producer ba with coherence his own vision of acid and tribal rhythms that can be presented with either bright and soft feelings or through a
Brera Som Som EP

As always with Amandra, there is a blend of poetic and soft hidden touch given to the music through carefully crafted personal Som is a 4 tracker EP, recorded back when he lived in Warsaw Poland, showcasing the artists ability to navigate through nich double 12 package cherry topped with four intelligent and eclectic remixes from artists with their own unique identity: Shieldin Brainwaltzera.

Amandra on disc 1
Brera Som Som
I want my music to breathe dirty so its alive to my ears, trying to stay away from surgical, clean, electronic music. The Prophet recorded by hand, with assumed offbeat imperfections, as always. I wanted to get a naive Asian mood out of it, just to try and c track. I tend to think a lot about my tracks and their meaning more in terms of feelings, art and techniques than in terms of dee
dance floors or whatever. Brera Som Som is a try at using the chiaroscuro technique depicted in classical paintings for instance interesting focus on some very specific elements.

Cyborg Pelikana
Recorded out of a jam on a Soma Pulsar 23 and some heavy distorted synths, it ended up sounding like no other recordings bit different as I wanted to have a more composed like approach here.

Fanfaron
Here is a try at going jungle... with a Moog DFAM and a 303 processed through a Sherman Filterbank.

Prorokini
This one belongs to a phase where I was exploring the sampling side of electronic music. Until that moment I was building 100 based on raw drum machines and some processing, then started feeling how it would feel to sample some raw external beats and process them my way. I didnt pursue that sampling lead much afterward because it felt like a boring approach to me that
stood out anyway, like this one, which Im very proud of. The synths are clearly programmed on the Prophet 08, it cant go any Instruments than that, if you like them, go grab that synth

Remixers on disc 2
Cyborg Pelikana Shielding Remix
I liked the dry and direct qualities of the original track and wanted to maintain that feeling while collaging it using my own proc Recorded in my old home studio in Stockholm.

Brera Som Som Brainwaltzera Remix
no comment.
Fanfaron Whylie Remix
The remix was made using resampling techniques, the rhythmic noises were transformed into driving percussive layers pushi character. A more emotional overlay was added to the track based on the sentimental and personal approach I built through.

Brera Som Som Martinou Remix
Interpreting Amandras work has been on my bucket list for a while. Theres something in it that is innately humanizing and raw capture in my remix. The melody line from the remix is just a snapshot of a small part of the full original track, but it stuck with my improvisation to what you see before you today. With this remix I wanted to make something that would swell slowly and ring o
All original tracks written and produced by Amandra.
Remixes written and produced by Brainwaltzera, Whylie, Martinou and Shielding.
Mastered by Amandra.
Artwork by Neurotypique.

The Stripp sind eine energiegeladene Rock'n'Roll-Maschine aus der Underground-Rockszene Melbournes. Angeführt wird die Band von Bek Taylor, die als perfekte Mischung von Joan Jett und Lemmy Kilmister beschrieben werden kann. Die fesselnden Live-Shows und ausgedehnten Tourneen haben ihnen den Ruf als eine der besten, energiegeladenen Rock'n'Roll-Bands Australiens eingebracht. The Stripp gingen 2022 erneut ins Studio und veröffentlichten ihr Debütalbum ,Ain't no crime to Rock ' Roll", das der Band sofort in ganz Australien und international weitere Aufmerksamkeit verschaffte. 2024 bringt The Stripp ihr Debütalbum endlich nach Europa, welches zwei zusätzliche Titel ,Bad News" und ,Rock Machine" enthält. Auf nur 250 Exemplare limitiert!

Autumn Lady’ was the name of a project started in 1973 but was waylaid and forgotten about and was later replaced by the 1974 album ‘As I See it Now’. This album represents the songs that were intended to become that album - some became singles (‘Bitter Bad’ and the Goffin & King classic ‘Will you love me Tomorrow?’)…but most remained unheard • Limited pressing LP of 700, pressed on deep red vinyl • CD version gives the customer a wider range of material considered for this album in 1973 across 2 discs, crammed with rare tracks. Including the controversial 27-minute version of ‘Hearing The News’ • Packaged in deluxe card gatefold sleeve with colour booklet and liner notes by Melanie’s manager and UK music journalist Dave Thompson