Search:blasted

Lee X-plode is one of our artists from Vinyl Fanatiks who released an EP back in 1992 that was HUGE! Over the years this self-funded white label grew in popularity, with copies fetching over £200. He joined the family in 2020 when we re-released this monster, selling out instantly.

Lee is back on the hardcore hustle once again, bringing his 3rd EP onto Amen Brother, this time incorporating a more melodic piano vibe into his raw to the core 91 hardcore sounds. You will find yourself raising your hands in the breakdowns before going straight into the pumping 4/4 breakbeat roll outs. Music to move to!

Depth.Request sees a new hat being thrown into the techno ring. The hat in question is the label's first EP Anvil—a post-tech five-tracker, and the person throwing it is Blasted—an Italian producer with a number of solid EPs to his name. Having had previously shared release credits with him on a number of occasions, Berlin's renowned noisemaker Unhuman fits into the picture as well, being the one charged with remixing duties regarding the titular track.

Setting common tact aside for a moment, the opener showcases Blasted indulging in esoteric inclinations by the means of concentrating on slick, abrasive sound design, cutting the number of kicks in half and utilizing a vocal sample to add a pinch of EBM into the mix. Unhuman's slowed-down rework in turn evokes gears' incessant grind at the backdrop of steam pressurizers going up and down in alteration, producing arrays of heavily plodding, whamming kicks. Breaking free of esoterism and leftfield production, the EP continues with Jawbreaker—a peak-time affair wherein the lows are ravaged by constant sub-bass pressure and ruthlessly striking, syncopated kicks, laid under the neatly-synthesized, impenetrable hats, pertaining to Blasted's signature sound. On Filthy Goat, the assault continues with a renewed strength as anxious synths and panning hats gradually invade the scene shortly before the devastating kicks storm down in a hail of obliterating projectiles, creating a battlefield-evocative environment within this decimating, explosive stomper. Lastly, demonic closer Belial bids its fair digital-only-money's worth of adieu with magnificent ambiance interwoven within the spectrum alongside meticulously arranged drumwork presented through plethora of varied, carefully picked samples.

10 songs from No You - the debut, self-titled LP by Davy Kehoe (Wah Wah Wino, IE) and Diego Herrera (Suzanne Kraft, US). Sharing both vocal and instrumentation duties, D & D venture somewhat off of their respective musical paths - with the collab throwing up a big, small-studio sound. They are maybe at their most melodic on ‘Baby’ where their voices play off each other over bent feedback and crunching drum machine. There’s a real low slung swagger to ‘So Far Gone’ and ‘Miracle Mile’ met with a blown out and blasted approach on songs such as ‘Invisible’ and ‘Side Effect’. The song ‘Put Up A Dream’ exhibits the duo’s more unhinged side.

UILTY RAZORS, BONA FIDE PUNKS.



Writings on the topic that go off in all directions, mind-numbing lectures given by academics, and testimonies, most of them heavily doctored, from those who “lived through that era”: so many people today fantasize about the early days of punk in our country… This blessed moment when no one had yet thought of flaunting a ridiculous green mohawk, taking Sid Vicious as a hero, or – even worse – making the so-called alternative scene both festive and boorish. There was no such thing in 1976 or 1977, when it wasn’t easy to get hold of the first 45s by the Pistols or the Clash. Few people were aware of what was happening on the fringes of the fringes at the time. Malcolm McLaren was virtually unknown, and having short hair made you seem strange. Who knew then that rock music, which had taken a very bad turn since the early 1970s, would once again become an essential element of liberation? That, thanks to short and fast songs, it would once again rediscover that primitive, social side that was so hated by older generations? Who knew that, besides a few loners who read the music press (it was even better if they read it in English) and frequented the right record stores? Many of these formed bands, because it was impossible to do otherwise. We quickly went from listening to the Velvet Underground to trying to play the Stooges’ intros. It’s a somewhat collective story, even though there weren’t many people to start it.
The Guilty Razors were among those who took part in this initial upheaval in Paris. They were far from being the worst. They had something special and even released a single that was well above the national average. They also had enough songs to fill an album, the one you’re holding. In everyone’s opinion, they were definitely not among the punk impostors that followed in their wake. They were, at least, genuine and credible.

Guilty Razors, Parisian punk band (1975-1978). To understand something about their somewhat linear but very energetic sound, we might need to talk about the context in which it was born and, more broadly, recall the boredom (a theme that would become capital in punk songs) coupled with the desire to blow everything off, which were the basis for the formation of bands playing a rejuvenated rock music ; about the passion for a few records by the Kinks or the early Who, by the Stooges, by the Velvet mostly, which set you apart from the crowd.
And of course, we should remember this new wave, which was promoted by a few articles in the specialized press and some cutting-edge record stores, coming from New York or London, whose small but powerful influence could be felt in Paris and in a handful of isolated places in the provinces, lulled to sleep by so many appalling things, from Tangerine Dream to President Giscard d’Estaing...
In 1975-76, French music was, as almost always, in a sorry state ; it was still dominated by Johnny Hallyday and Sylvie Vartan. Local rock music was also rather bleak, apart from Bijou and Little Bob who tried to revive this small scene with poorly sound-engineered gigs played to almost no one.
In the working class suburbs at the time, it was mainly hard rock music played to 11 that helped people forget about their gruelling shifts at the factory. Here and there, on the outskirts of major cities, you still could find a few rockers with sideburns wearing black armbands since the death of Gene Vincent, but it wasn’t a proper mass movement, just a source of real danger to anyone they came across who wasn't like them. In August 1976, a festival unlike any other took place in Mont-de-Marsan – the First European Punk Festival as the poster said – with almost as many people on stage as in the audience. Yet, on that day, a quasi historical event happened, when, under the blazing afternoon sun, a band of unknowns called The Damned made an unprecedented noise in the arena, reminiscent of the chaotic Stooges in their early adolescence. They were the first genuine punk band to perform in our country: from then on, anything was possible, almost anything seemed permissible.

It makes sense that the four+1 members of Guilty Razors, who initially amplified acoustic guitars with crappy tape recorder microphones, would adopt punk music (pronounced paink in French) naturally and instinctively, since it combines liberating noise with speed of execution and – crucially – a very healthy sense of rebellion (the protesters of May 1968 proclaimed, and it was even a slogan, that they weren’t against old people, but against what had made them grow old. In the mid-1970s, it seemed normal and obvious that old people should now ALSO be targeted!!!).
At the time, the desire to fight back, and break down authority and apathy, was either red or black, often taking the form of leafleting, tumultuous general assemblies in the schoolyard, and massive or shabby demonstrations, most of the time overflowing with an exciting vitality that sometimes turned into fights with the riot police. Indeed, soon after the end of the Vietnam War and following Pinochet’s coup in Chile, all over France, Trotskyist and anarcho-libertarian fervour was firmly entrenched among parts of the educated youth population, who were equally rebellious and troublemakers whenever they had the chance. It should also be noted that when the single "Anarchy in the UK" was first heard, even though not many of us had access to it, both the title and its explosive sound immediately resonated with some of those troublemakers crying out for ANARCHY!!! Meanwhile, the left-wing majority still equated punks with reckless young neo-Nazis. Of course, the widely circulated photos in the mainstream press of Siouxsie Sioux with her swastikas didn’t necessarily help to win over the theorists of the Great Revolution. It took Joe Strummer to introduce The Clash as an anti-racist, anti-fascist and anti-ignorance band for the rejection of old-school revolutionaries to fade a little.

The Lycée Jean-Baptiste Say at Porte d’Auteuil, despite being located in the very posh and very exclusive 16th arrondissement of Paris, didn’t escape these "committed" upheavals, which doubled as the perfect outlet for the less timid members of this generation.
“Back then, politics were fun,” says Tristam Nada, who studied there and went on to become Guilty Razors’ frontman. “Jean-Baptiste was the leftist high-school in the neighbourhood. When the far right guys from the GUD came down there, the Communist League guys from elsewhere helped us fight them off.”
Anything that could challenge authority was fair game and of course, strikes for just about any reason would lead to increasingly frequent truancy (with a definitive farewell to education that would soon follow). Tristam Nada spent his 10th and 11th unfinished grades with José Perez, who had come from Spain, where his father, a janitor, had been sentenced to death by Franco. “José steered my tastes towards solid acts such as The Who. Like most teenagers, I had previously absorbed just about everything that came my way, from Yes to Led Zeppelin to Genesis. I was exploring… And then one day, he told me that he and his brother Carlos wanted to start a rock band.” The Perez brothers already played guitar. “Of course, they were Spanish!”, jokes their singer. “Then, somewhat reluctantly, José took up the bass and we were soon joined by Jano – who called himself Jano Homicid – who took up the rhythm guitar.” Several drummers would later join this core of not easily intimidated young guys who didn’t let adversity get the better of them.

The first rehearsals of the newly named Guilty Razors took place in the bedroom of a Perez aunt. There, the three rookies tried to cover a few standards, songs that often were an integral part of their lives. During a first, short gig, in front of a bewildered audience of tough old-school rockers, they launched into a clunky version of the Velvet Underground's “Heroin”. Challenge or recklessness? A bit of both, probably… And then, step by step, their limited repertoire expanded as they decided to write their own songs, sung in a not always very accurate or academic English, but who cared about proper grammar or the right vocabulary, since what truly mattered was to make the words sound as good as possible while playing very, very fast music? And spitting out those words in a language that left no doubt as to what it conveyed mattered as well.
Trying their hand a the kind of rock music disliked by most of the neighbourhood, making noise, being fiercely provocative: they still belonged to a tiny clique who, at this very moment, had chosen to impose this difference. And there were very few places in France or elsewhere, where one could witness the first stirrings of something that wasn’t a trend yet, let alone a movement.

In the provinces, in late 1976 or early 1977, there couldn’t be more than thirty record stores that were a bit more discerning than average, where you could hear this new kind of short-haired rock music called “punk”. The old clientele, who previously had no problem coming in to buy the latest McCartney or Aerosmith LP, now felt a little less comfortable there…
In Paris, these enlightened places were quite rare and often located nex to what would become the Forum des Halles, a big shopping mall. Between three aging sex workers, a couple of second-hand clothes shops, sellers of hippie paraphernalia and small fashion designers, the good word was loudly spread in two pioneering places – propagators of what was still only a new underground movement. Historically, the first one was the Open Market, a kind of poorly, but tastefully stocked cave. Speakers blasted out the sound of sixties garage bands from the Nuggets compilation (a crucial reference for José Perez) or the badly dressed English kids of Eddie and the Hot Rods. This black-painted den was opened a few years earlier by Marc Zermati, a character who wasn’t always in a sunny disposition, but always quite radical in his (good) choices and his opinions. He founded the independent label Skydog and was one of the promoters of the Mont-de-Marsan punk festivals. Not far from there was Harry Cover, another store more in tune with the new New York scene, which was amply covered in the house fanzine, Rock News (even though it was in it that the photos of the Sex Pistols were first published in France).
It was a favorite hang-out of the Perez brothers and Tristam Nada, as the latter explained. “It’s at Harry Cover’s that we first heard the Pistols and Clash’s 45s, and after that, we decided to start writing our first songs. If they could do it, so could we!”
The sonic shocks that were “Anarchy in the UK”, “White Riot” or the Buzzcocks’s EP, “Spiral Scratch” – which Guilty Razors' sound is reminiscent of – were soon to be amplified by an unparalleled visual shock. In April 1977, right after the release of their first LP, The Clash performed at the Palais des Glaces in Paris, during a punk night organised by Marc Zermati. For many who were there, it was the gig of a lifetime…
Of course, Guilty Razors and Tristam were in the audience: “That concert was fabulous… We Parisian punks were almost all dressed in black and white, with white shirts, skinny leather ties, bikers jackets or light jackets, etc. The Clash, on the other hand, wore colourful clothes. Well, the next day, at the Gibus, you’d spot everyone who had been at this concert, but they weren’t wearing anything black, they were all wearing colours.”

It makes sense to mention the Gibus club, as Guilty Razors often played there (sometimes in front of a hostile audience). It was also the only place in Paris that regularly scheduled new Parisian or Anglo-Saxon acts, such as Generation X, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Slits, and Johnny Thunders who would become a kind of messed-up mascot for the venue. A little later, in 1978, the Rose Bonbon – formerly the Nashville – also attracted nightly owls in search of electric thrills… In 1977, the iconic but not necessarily excellent Asphalt Jungle often played at the Gibus, sometimes sharing the bill with Metal Urbain, the only band whose aura would later transcend the French borders (“I saw them as the French Sex Pistols,” said Geoff Travis, head of their British label Rough Trade). Already established in this small scene, Metal Urbain helped the young and restless Guilty Razors who had just arrived. Guitarist for Metal Urbain Hermann Schwartz remembers it: “They were younger than us, we were a bit like their mentors even if it’s too strong a word… At least they were credible. We thought they were good, and they had good songs which reminded of the Buzzcocks that I liked a lot. But at some point, they started hanging out with the Hells Angels. That’s when we stopped following them.”

The break-up was mutual, since, Guilty Razors, for their part, were shocked when they saw a fringe element of the audience at Metal Urbain concerts who repeatedly shouted “Sieg Heil” and gave Nazi salutes. These provocations, even still minor (the bulk of the skinhead crowd would later make their presence felt during concerts), weren’t really to the liking of the Perez brothers, whose anti-fascist convictions were firmly rooted. Some things are non-negotiable.
A few months earlier (in July 1978), Guilty Razors had nevertheless opened very successfully for Metal Urbain at the Bus Palladium, a more traditonally old-school rock night-club. But, as was sometimes the case back then, the night turned into a mass brawl when suburban rockers came to “beat up punks”.

Back then, Parisian nights weren’t always sweet and serene.

So, after opening as best as they could for The Jam (their sound having been ruined by the PA system), our local heroes were – once again – met outside by a horde of greasers out to get them. “Thankfully,” says Tristam, “we were with our roadies, motorless bikers who acted as a protective barrier. We were chased in the neighbouring streets and the whole thing ended in front of a bar, with the owner coming out with a rifle…”
Although Tristam and the Perez brothers narrowly escaped various, potentially bloody, incidents, they weren’t completely innocent of wrongdoing either. They still find amusing their mugging of two strangers in the street for example (“We were broke and we simply wanted to buy tickets for the Heartbreakers concert that night,” says Tristam). It so happened that their victims were two key figures in the rock business at the time: radio presenter Alain Manneval and music publisher Philippe Constantin. They filed a complaint and sought monetary compensation, but somehow the band’s manager, the skilful but very controversial Alexis, managed to get the complaint withdrawn and Guilty Razors ended up signing with Constantin with a substantial advance.

They also signed with Polydor and the label released in 1978 their only three-track 45, featuring “I Don't Wanna be A Rich”, “Hurts and Noises” and “Provocate” (songs that exuded perpetual rebellion and an unquenchable desire for “class” confrontation). It was a very good record, but due to a lack of promotion (radio stations didn’t play French artists singing in English), it didn’t sell very well. Only 800 copies were allegedly sold and the rest of the stock was pulped… Initially, the three tracks were to be included on a LP that never came to be, since they were dropped by Polydor (“Let’s say we sometimes caused a ruckus in their offices!” laughs Tristam.) In order to perfect the long-awaited LP, the band recorded demos of other tracks. There was a cover of Pink Floyd's “Lucifer Sam” from the Syd Barrett era – proof of an enduring love for the sixties’ greats –, “Wake Up” a hangover tale and “Bad Heart” about the Baader-Meinhof gang, whose actions had a profound impact on the era and on a generation seeking extreme dissent... On the album you’re now discovering, you can also hear five previously unreleased tracks recorded a bit later during an extended and freezing stay in Madrid, in a makeshift studio with the invaluable help of a drummer also acting as sound engineer. He was both an enthusiastic old hippie and a proper whizz at sound engineering. Here too, certain influences from the fifties and sixties (Link Wray, the Troggs) are more than obvious in the band’s music.

Shortly after a final stormy and rather barbaric (on the audience’s side) “Punk night” at the Olympia in June 1978, Tristam left the band ; his bandmates continued without him for a short while.

But like most pioneering punk bands of the era, Guilty Razors eventually split up for good after three years (besides once in Spain, they’d only played in Paris). The reason for ceasing business activities were more or less the same for everyone: there were no venues outside one’s small circuit to play this kind of rock music, which was still frightening, unknown, or of little interest to most people. The chances of recording an LP were virtually null, since major labels were only signing unoriginal but reassuring sub-Téléphone clones, and the smaller ones were only interested in progressive rock or French chanson for youth clubs. And what about self-production? No one in our small safety-pinned world had thought about it yet. There wasn’t enough money to embark on that sort of venture anyway.

So yes, the early days of punk in France were truly No Future!

Continuing the VA series with different artists from around the globe the fourth instalment has landed. The 9 track LP features already familiar to the label artists as well as many new faces unified by the idea of the love for the non-standard audio frequencies. With the dystopian artwork by the label’s visual guru Gkoner and the music by the nine talented artists the disc has obtain its shape. With the vast range of sound being present but all tied in the concept of the label’s musical ideology, the “Untitled IV” is born and armed for different settings where electronic music can be blasted loud on huge sound systems or in complete solitude does not matter at all. What matters is the love of music the listener brings making it all come together with a complete and fulfilled sense.

Incoming, a massive EP from Anderson.

After his recent easter eggs EP, this four tracker is a blend of trance, breaks, drum & bass and experimental electronica.

Starting off the A side with the ‘Jelly Bean (Virus Outbreak Mix)’, this monster of tune will rattle your subs (and brain) with his crunchy kicks and trancey sequencing. This track will blast you off into oblivion eventually bringing you right into A2, ‘Level Quest’, a trancey chugging progressive tune building energy from the moment the first kick ignites.

After a much needed break, the B1 puts you in an immediate trancestate lasting just a few minutes and before you know it you will be blasted into drum and bass land with ‘Tasteful Nudes’ closing out the EP.

See you on the other side..

Pink Marbled

Limited 50 copy press

Incoming, a massive EP from Anderson.

After his recent easter eggs EP, this four tracker is a blend of trance, breaks, drum & bass and experimental electronica.

Starting off the A side with the ‘Jelly Bean (Virus Outbreak Mix)’, this monster of tune will rattle your subs (and brain) with his crunchy kicks and trancey sequencing. This track will blast you off into oblivion eventually bringing you right into A2, ‘Level Quest’, a trancey chugging progressive tune building energy from the moment the first kick ignites.

After a much needed break, the B1 puts you in an immediate trancestate lasting just a few minutes and before you know it you will be blasted into drum and bass land with ‘Tasteful Nudes’ closing out the EP.

See you on the other side..

Pink Marbled
Limited 50 copy press

Last Year's Altered Mind Opus, Sapa Inca Delirium, Showcased The Cyclist At His Most Eclectic, Spanning Ayahuasca Break-beat And Rave Jungle Pop, But His Latest Ep Returns To The Uniquely Kinetic And Shredded Mode Of Churning Electronic Rhythm He Both Named And Perfected: 'tape Throb.' Alabaster Thrones Collects Four Of Andrew Morrison's Recent And Most Vibrantly Blasted House Constructs, Tracked At His Home Studio In Birmingham, Uk During 'the Height Of Mania - A Time When I Had No Time.' The Context Translates: This Is Urgent, Accelerating Music, Shifting Gears At High Speed In Dim Twisting Tunnels. The Title Is 'a Deflation Of Grandiosity' Cribbed From Ulysses ('...a Noble Race, Rulers Of The Waves, Who Sit On Thrones Of Alabaster, Silent As The Deathless Gods'), Though Morrison's Meaning Is More Personal: 'it's A Reminder To Level Yourself And Think Of All Those Around You.' A Captivating Capsule Of Ravaged Forward Motion For A Ravaged Forward-moving Age. Mastered By Eric Hanson. Design By Britt Brown.

World Of Echo announces the reissue of two remastered albums by Japanese guitarist and songwriter Naoki Zushi, 1988’s Paradise, and 2005’s III. Two classics of Japanese psychedelia, both Paradise and III were originally released on Org Records, the imprint of Shinji Shibayama of acid-folk group Nagisa Ni Te, with whom Zushi has guested on second guitar for decades. Both intimate and expansive, rich with revelatory songwriting and blasted, sky-scouring guitar, these reissues return these albums to print for the first time since the 2000s. It’s the first time III has been officially released on vinyl, with an extra, previously unreleased track, “Under The June Moonlight.”

Recorded in Kyoto’s Townhouse Studios in mid 1987 and released in limited-to-500 vinyl pressing in 1988, Paradise emerged from a scene in Kansai, Japan that was embracing the idiosyncracies of 1970s singer-songwriters, the soaring solos of early seventies psychedelia, and the DIY impulse of 1980s post-punk. While Zushi’s musical history stretched back to the early eighties – he was a founding member of Jojo Hiroshige’s noise outfit Hijokaidan – he found his feet with groups like Hallelujahs, whose dream-pop collection Niku O Kuraite Chikai Wo Tateyo was recently reissued by Black Editions, and Idiot O’Clock.

Paradise appeared two years after that Hallelujahs album and share much the same membership – Zushi’s backing band on several of the songs includes Shibayama on drums and Ken-Ichi Takayama (aka Idiot) on electric guitar, though just as often, Zushi plays all the instruments himself. The coordinates here are wide-reaching – you can hear the volume and intensity of Neil Young & Crazy Horse (on “Hallelujah: Left Side” and “Paradise: Midday”), the slow-motion magic of Galaxie 500, the idiosyncratic spirit of The Only Ones, all mixed up with tender guitar miniatures and stumbling garage-psych-pop moves.

Seven years later, after the transitional album Phenomenal Luciferin, Zushi released III. Perhaps his masterpiece, it’s already been bootlegged on vinyl, but this reissue is the real deal. The album was recorded at Studio Nemu over seven years, and sees Zushi backed by Shibayama (bass) and Masako Takeda (drums), his erstwhile bandmates in Nagisa Ni Te. By this stage, Zushi had started to really stretch out, and many of the songs on III swoon languorously, taking their sweet time to say what they need to say. It’s rich with lovely, melancholy songs, in a similar realm to bandmates Nagisa Ni Te, of course, but you can also hear traces of everything from Syd Barrett’s The Madcap Laughs, through seventies private press loner folk, to the slow-burn meanderings of the likes of early Low or Damon & Naomi.

When interviewed by Shibayama in the mid-nineties, Zushi said of Paradise, “it was a sort of collection of songs that had meant something to me up to that point… it was my paradise. I wanted to create paradise.” That’s something Zushi achieves on both of these albums – visionary Japanese psychedelia, en route to paradise. - Jon Dale

In his own time, in his own tone and in his own company.

‘Win and lose without losing oneself’’ This line from French rapper Oxmo Puccino greatly accompanied David Walters while composing his fourth studio album. Over the eleven tracks on ‘Ti Love’, David took his time to find the right tone and in turn, tell his truth.

‘Ti Love’, is a French-Creole abbreviation for “petite love”, meaning ‘little love’, evoking that sweet fondness found in those small gestures and little acts of kindness.

Think of things like young kids' brotherly love or a stranger lending you a helping hand, while expecting nothing in return. It’s these motions that allow this album to feel full of real life, carried by beating drums that also pull at our heart strings.

Basing himself in a small village in Martinique, where David had not long since scattered the ashes of his late mother, the multi-instrumentalist decided to remain there and let the writing of Ti Love pour out from deep inside him. Taking influence from around the island, the energy from his makeshift studio set up in Fort de France, allowing a resilient yet grieving man to recount, let go and come to terms with his recent loss.

So embracing these new circumstances, on the rugged coastal Caribbean island of Martinique, David took up an artist’s residency in the island’s capital Fort de France, located near the town’s port is the ‘Manoir des Artistes’, a bustling recording studio space. A place where the walls shake as the latest sounds being created are blasted by locals and visitors alike. Most studio doors are wide open; as music here is a huge part of everyday life, feedback from encouraging neighbouring musicians is on hand and welcomed. A contrast to the isolation often assumed with working in more traditional music studios.

It was here in this stimulating environment that David recorded Ti Love’s initial demos.

With his first collaborator onboard, Neeweed, a 25-year-old producer and gospel expert who David met at the Martinique Jazz Festival.

Of the album’s initial versions of the record David recollects: ‘It took me three years to write it, then I rewrote it, reworked it. In the end I'm really glad I stepped back and listened to myself.’ I found a great ally in GUTS, who ended up being the artistic director of the record”

David surrounded himself with the right people who helped him express himself in the best possible way. He called on other friends and musical comrades; album opener and title track, ‘Ti Love’ features the incomparable Fatoumata Diawara (World Circuit Records / Africa Express) and further along additional production came in from; Izem, Art Of Tones, and GUTS himself, who all added just the right amount of ‘little love’ to this

project. Further helping hands came from Californian producer and DJ Captain Planet, who David was introduced to a few years ago. Closer to home, here in Europe, the German producer Bluestaeb appears on two tracks: the very catchy disco funk ‘Mr Maraboo’ and ‘Kite Koule’, the latter being the first single lifted from the album, where David invited Nigerian guitarist Keziah Jones.

Elsewhere on the album, fellow Heavenly Sweetness recording artist Blundetto contributed two tracks; the reggae ‘Voodoo Love’, which is David's tribute to Studio One, and the very sweet and resilient ‘Bon Voyage’, which closes the album... "It's gold, it doesn't need anything changing.” remarked David - ‘Bon Voyage’ is a goodbye to his mother, whose voice called him from the bottom of the sea one night while he was surfing during the full Moon.

Released almost 20 years after his debut album ‘AWA’ released on French imprint Ya Basta, home to Gotan Project and many others, David boasts a long list of radio supporters including; Gilles Peterson, Cerys Matthews and Don Letts at the BBC, while further field Cosmo Radio in Germany, and KCRW in Los Angeles.

On this new record, David has shown sincerity and vulnerability, while still honouring the infectious groove that he is known for the world over. Despite the upsets, a little love can indeed go a long way.

CREDITS:
Produced by Bluestaeb / Blundetto / Captain Planet / Izem / Art of Tones
A&R : Guts
Mixed by Mr Gib @ Onetwopassit
Except "Bon Voyage” and "Voodoo Love" mixed by Jerome “Blackjoy” Carron
Mastered by Benjamin Joubert @ Biduloscope
Art by Elliott Walters

The Dead 60s seminal self-titled album gets a timely Deluxe edition reissue on Vinyl for its 20th Anniversary, on Deltasonic Records



“Back in the day, punk and dub weren’t just sharing space—they were smashing into each other headfirst. Late '70s Britain was a pressure cooker, and for kids like me, growing up between Brixton’s bass bins and the chaos of King’s Road, that collision was everything. Jamaican sound system culture met punk’s raw spirit in a haze of smoke, sweat, and feedback. It wasn’t about genre—it was about energy. Identity. Defiance. so when The Dead 60s came along, post-Britpop and post-bullshit, it felt like someone had dusted off the blueprint and run it through a battered old tape echo. These weren’t just lads with good taste—they understood the assignment. They took the DNA of two rebel cultures and mutated it into something that could stand tall in the 21st century. Dub-soaked, punk-fuelled, dripping with that Liverpool attitude. I remember first hearing them and thinking—yeah, here we go again. Not in a retro way, but in a real way. Guitars that cut like sirens in the night. Basslines fat and warm, straight out the Channel One playbook. Lyrics that painted the grey corners of Britain like CCTV poetry. It was the sound of youth under pressure. The sound of not fitting in—and not wanting to.

Their debut album dropped in 2005, and it hit like a flare in the dark. “Riot Radio” was a pirate broadcast from the concrete frontlines. “Control This” swaggered with menace and reverb. It was like someone opened a time capsule from the punky-reggae party and rewired it for a new generation.

Now, with this 20th anniversary vinyl reissue—complete with the full dub companion produced by Central Nervous System—we get to hear the bones and blood of it all. The dub versions pull the tracks apart and let the ghosts speak. Reverb, delay, space—it’s not just production, it’s meditation. Revolution slowed down to a heartbeat. It’s music that makes you move and think. What they’ve done here is more than remix a record—they’ve revealed its soul. That’s what dub does when it’s done right. And The Dead 60s, they got that. They weren’t tourists in the culture—they were students of it, shaped by it, and ultimately, contributors to the legacy. Liverpool’s long had a love affair with Jamaican music—you can hear it in the streets if you’re really listening. The Dead 60s tapped into that lineage, but they brought their own thing to the table. Punk's fire. Dub’s depth. Ska’s bounce. All filtered through a Northern lens and blasted out like protest graffiti. This 20th anniversary reissue ain’t about nostalgia. It’s a reminder. A celebration. A call to arms. Music like this doesn’t belong in a museum—it belongs on a system, shaking walls and waking minds. Crate diggers, completists, young punks, old heads—this one's for all of you.

So put it on and turn it up. Let the punk edge sharpen your thoughts, and the dub shake your bones ‘cos this isn’t just a reissue - it’s resistance on wax.....”

Ukrainian artist Georgy Potopalskyi aka Ujif_notfound presents a new album of raw, expressive electronic music. An unfiltered work of blasted soundscapes, hyperkinetic breaks & bristling guitar noise responding to the continuing conflict in Ukraine. A defiant maelstrom of personal catharsis, velocity & dissonance.

The latest by Andrew Clinco's acid punk alias VR SEX takes its title from an architectural phrase but more importantly refers to the warped, wicked underworld the songs both chronicle and condemn. Donning the moniker Noel Skum - an acerbic anagram of Elon Musk - Clinco vents his scorn for and fascination with the seedy, surreal margins of low-life Los Angeles, doomed to dead ends of vanity, lust, and technology. Although initially launched as an outlet for "heavier sounds" beyond Clinco's duties in new wave fantasists Drab Majesty, the project has ripened into a compelling exercise in world building, weaving themes of gritty city neofuturist sleaze within a framework of driving, distorted guitars and cathode-blasted synths. Echoes of Chrome, Wire, Minimal Man, and Sisters Of Mercy ripple through the collection but ultimately Rough Dimension charts its own twisted vision of "our unforgiving reality." Written and demoed across two weeks alone in a Marseille flat using his prized 1980's Gibson "Invader" and a laptop, Clinco then took the tracks to Strange Weather studios in Brooklyn to record with Ben Greenberg (Uniform, The Men) who helmed 2019's debut, Human Traffic Jam. The results are notably ripping, refined, and riveting. Riffs in alternate tunings chug and churn over mid-tempo drums punctuated by spikes of sci-fi electronics while the vocals swagger and spit venom ("where we walk is also where we shit / but if we bark at our reflections are we hypocrites? / impulses bleed right into our seed / where hate culminates the apple rotted on the tree"). It's a bristling mix of the melodic and the macabre, absurdist observations of fast living and desperate measures, the clock of youth ticking towards midnight as dreams unravel in Babylon. VR SEX's specialty is making these cautionary tales of psychic decay and tainted love a thrill rather than a drag. There's a sunglasses at night glamor to Clinco's choruses and solos, a wit to his black leather judgements ("what is the answer / to cancerous people / walking in my line of sight?"). The music's milieu tends towards parasites and predators but its mood skews refreshingly accelerated and amused, cruising the strip with a cigarette, watching goths and limousines crawl in gridlock beneath digital billboards. The Rough Dimension may be a cesspool, but it's home.

World Of Echo announces the reissue of two remastered albums by Japanese guitarist and songwriter Naoki Zushi, 1988’s Paradise, and 2005’s III. Two classics of Japanese psychedelia, both Paradise and III were originally released on Org Records, the imprint of Shinji Shibayama of acid-folk group Nagisa Ni Te, with whom Zushi has guested on second guitar for decades. Both intimate and expansive, rich with revelatory songwriting and blasted, sky-scouring guitar, these reissues return these albums to print for the first time since the 2000s. It’s the first time III has been officially released on vinyl, with an extra, previously unreleased track, “Under The June Moonlight.”

Recorded in Kyoto’s Townhouse Studios in mid 1987 and released in limited-to-500 vinyl pressing in 1988, Paradise emerged from a scene in Kansai, Japan that was embracing the idiosyncracies of 1970s singer-songwriters, the soaring solos of early seventies psychedelia, and the DIY impulse of 1980s post-punk. While Zushi’s musical history stretched back to the early eighties – he was a founding member of Jojo Hiroshige’s noise outfit Hijokaidan – he found his feet with groups like Hallelujahs, whose dream-pop collection Niku O Kuraite Chikai Wo Tateyo was recently reissued by Black Editions, and Idiot O’Clock.

Paradise appeared two years after that Hallelujahs album and share much the same membership – Zushi’s backing band on several of the songs includes Shibayama on drums and Ken-Ichi Takayama (aka Idiot) on electric guitar, though just as often, Zushi plays all the instruments himself. The coordinates here are wide-reaching – you can hear the volume and intensity of Neil Young & Crazy Horse (on “Hallelujah: Left Side” and “Paradise: Midday”), the slow-motion magic of Galaxie 500, the idiosyncratic spirit of The Only Ones, all mixed up with tender guitar miniatures and stumbling garage-psych-pop moves.

Seven years later, after the transitional album Phenomenal Luciferin, Zushi released III. Perhaps his masterpiece, it’s already been bootlegged on vinyl, but this reissue is the real deal. The album was recorded at Studio Nemu over seven years, and sees Zushi backed by Shibayama (bass) and Masako Takeda (drums), his erstwhile bandmates in Nagisa Ni Te. By this stage, Zushi had started to really stretch out, and many of the songs on III swoon languorously, taking their sweet time to say what they need to say. It’s rich with lovely, melancholy songs, in a similar realm to bandmates Nagisa Ni Te, of course, but you can also hear traces of everything from Syd Barrett’s The Madcap Laughs, through seventies private press loner folk, to the slow-burn meanderings of the likes of early Low or Damon & Naomi.

When interviewed by Shibayama in the mid-nineties, Zushi said of Paradise, “it was a sort of collection of songs that had meant something to me up to that point… it was my paradise. I wanted to create paradise.” That’s something Zushi achieves on both of these albums – visionary Japanese psychedelia, en route to paradise. - Jon Dale







g Under The June Moonlight vinyl only bonus track

'exclusive tour tapes' limited quantity available for distribution

Limited split tape collaboration between like-minded pranksters Lagoss & Babau. Co-released by Sucata tapes & Artetetra in July 2025.

‘’The chars were emerging as some chunk of makeshift swamp coolers blasted the soil surrounding our motorbikes. Sunburn vapours floating grey all around, licking our necks with heavy hazy tongues. Just oppressive and gross. Blah.

Someone says heat waves are among the most dangerous natural hazards. I guess that the magnetic tides did not help at all. For sure, recreational sleep deprivation aside, it was days of relentlessly documented tipsy headaches, thermometric cicada noises and weird-ass hallucinations. It is what it is. The age of earthquakes. We drink from our black plastic bags with a straw pushing a bit of oxygen thru our reptile brains. Just half a pack of synthetic tobacco for the ride. No internet. Whatever.

She looks at me behind the war metal glasses and the silicone frog mask high on desert dust. Sweaty pools on her shoulders. Eyes purple with adrenaline. Map on the scratched screen. “It says that at this point we should be hearing that fucking flute”. We stop amidst the geysers. We can see the monoliths and stone gods ready to eat up all the solar storms and the thunder. Towards the horizon, second moon is up. Damn. Water rises to our knees, green with bloating sounds. Just what we needed. We’re stuck. "Turn up the radio. Let’s hope it lasts five minutes." After trashing a bunch of fake subtropical signals, the radio plays a flute. She takes off the mask and explodes in a grin: “This is it man, we made it! No man’s land. The real fucking thing.” I light one up and let the sight get blurred: “You betcha.”’’

Das in der schottischen Stadt Edinburgh gegründete Doom-Rock Trio KING WITCH engagierte für die Produktion von "III" den eigenen Gitarristen Jamie Gilchrist, der das neue Album auch in seinem Nameless City Sound Studio mischte. Am Schlagzeug saß Andrew Scott. Das Cover-Artwork gestaltete Blasted Heathen. Die Scheibe beschäftigt sich mit dem Status Quo der Menschheit und unserem scheinbar vorhandenen Wunsch, uns selbst zu zerstören, sowie dem mentalen Kampf, damit umzugehen und dennoch ein positives Leben zu führen.

New Generation Carnival Riddims from St. Lucia and Dominica A hurricane of turbo-charged, body-buzzing tracks collide on Road Fever, a compilation of razor-produced, road-tested instrumental riddims from St. Lucia, Dominica & Guadeloupe that showcases the producers forging the future of Caribbean music in 2025. Road Fever draws together instrumental Dennery Segment and Bouyon riddims originally made for vocalists, presented for the first time as stand alone pieces of music. Distilling carnival riddims down to the bare bones, producers push minimal 150+bpms, FL-percussion packs, DJ/vox samples & synth riffs, bridging trap, drill, dancehall, sped-up Haitian konpa & Angolan kuduro. Ricocheting at the intersection of TikTok culture, best heard blasted through walls of speakers travelled by stage-sized carnival trucks or via bluetooth car speakers, St.Lucia"s "Dennery Segment" sound, (as iconic producer, G6 described in an interview), "sparks your inside; a sound you can"t hear and not move". Amsterdam-based, Curaçao-raised compiler Rozaly echoes G6: "Once you hear it, you can"t unhear or unfeel it. This is a musical movement with an entire history with so many relevant reasons why it still exists, and why it exists the way it exists right now". Rozaly concludes, "there is nothing more simple, let the artists speak."

It’s always fun to let our audience peer through the party peephole with some hot behind-the-scenes info. For months, Black Light Smoke’s Control EP has supplied several of label head Tiga’s secret DJ weapons. In fact, he’s been sneaking out constantly after 9pm to play it out anywhere they’ll have him. And it’s little wonder to those who wonder why, as the Chicago-born producer’s top-flight mix of EBM, electro and Benadryl-soaked vocals has all the right people dancing.

Leadoff track "New York Is Dead” eulogizes the famous Big Apple Dance Party Scene in a way that will confuse the many who have embraced the city’s thriving “Groove With the Avengers” day rave series in Times Square. But the nihilism-liking doesn’t stop there, with the Friday-Til-I-Die attitude of “Black Hole at the Disco,” the pleather-dreaded post-cyberpunk of “Last Song Before Sunrise”, and the oxygen-deprived acid of “Break Your Back” culminating in the 11:45am-peak-time industrial trance of closer “Mind Control.”

Because we want this to be available to as many inhabitants of the blasted apocalyptic landscape we have pencilled in for 2034 or so, we have decided to make this release available both digitally and on vinyl. So whether you’ve managed to jack in illegally to a Spotify Wind Farm or you’re relegated to the hand-cranked misery of a Victrola while living in a barn or something, we’ve got you covered!

LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY has had more than its share of out-of-nowhere bands following from the second big bang that was punk rock. The Babylon Dance Band, Circle X, Your Food, Squirrel Bait, Bastro...these are but some of the exceptional music acts originating in Louisville after 1977. Now it"s time for the great secret of the Louisville first-wave punk scene to be revealed: The Endtables. The Endtables were the crazed brainchild of guitarist Alex Durig, brooding chess-master of the amplified freak-out, and singer Steve Rigot, a flamboyant transgender giant from the shores of southern Indiana who reinvented himself as a Warhol Factory superstar. Like Scarlett O"Hara wrapped in a green velvet curtain, Rigot crafted his own glamorous reality from what was available in the blasted cultural landscape of 1970"s Kentucky. Gold spray paint, duct tape, Ace bandages ... a spectacularly other trailblazer who caused folks to toss their received ideas of beauty and go with the new thing instead. The band first took the stage in late 1978 and was finished by the summer of 1980. In the fall of 1979 they recorded six tracks at a Louisville studio, four of which came out on a 7" EP on their own Tuesday Records. The two remaining tracks ("White Glove Test" and "Trick or Treat") were issued as a single on Self Destruct records in 1991. Both records are among the rarest of any American punk release - more sought after than seen, passed on disintegrating cassette tapes and shouted over upon impact. The music of The Endtables is another chapter in pure American weirdness, as jaw-locking today as the day it was recorded. The scent of modern can be detected in Steve Rigot"s remote vocalese, set against Alex Durig"s guitar outbursts, while drummer Steven Jan Humphrey and bassist Albert Durig (age fifteen!) supply frenzied rhythm. The band rocks its fevered vision to a ferocious degree while Rigot grimly rhymes the truths that remained locked out of the public"s pop tastes in "79-"80. Thirty years of rap and roll later, The Endtables seem inevitable.

The Poison Touch delves deeper into atmosphere while maintaining the gritty undertone that defines us. From start to finish, the listener is blasted with in-your-face raw energy while simultaneously feeling like a hauntingly beautiful experience. This record captures the essence of our live sound while exploring new realms, serving as both a continuation and evolution of our style.

The Poison Touch delves deeper into atmosphere while maintaining the gritty undertone that defines us. From start to finish, the listener is blasted with in-your-face raw energy while simultaneously feeling like a hauntingly beautiful experience. This record captures the essence of our live sound while exploring new realms, serving as both a continuation and evolution of our style.

New York psych-pop band Crumb return with AMAMA, their most carefree and open-hearted album to date. A soundscape full of playful and patchwork experimentation _ glitchy pitch-shifted vocals, cell phone recordings, nautical blips, sax mouthpiece solos, blasted drum samples, and piano strings dampened with Silly Putty _ AMAMA continues to deepen the band's hypnotic sound in a cohesive line back through 2021's Ice Melt, 2019's Jinx, and breakout EPs Locket and Crumb. Without a doubt, AMAMA is Crumb _ singer and multi-instrumentalist Lila Ramani, keyboardist and saxophonist Bri Aronow, bassist Jesse Brotter, and drummer Jonathan Gilad _ at their most animated.AMAMA exists at the crossroads of psychedelia, pop, jazz, and rock, and cements Crumb as a band uniquely their own. Released independently on Crumb Records and produced alongside Johnscott Sanford and Jonathan Rado in Los Angeles, AMAMA is an incandescent statement about searching for solid ground, connection, and clarity in a life of nomadic upheaval.

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

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

Maelstrom returns to Central Processing Unit for the fourth time, and it's the one born Joan-Mael Péneau's lengthiest drop on the Sheffield label yet. The French artist has been a mainstay in the European electro game since the 2000s, and Malestrom brings that experience to bear on new LP The FM Tapes. He goes about this album with the assurance of a seasoned pro, combining his mastery of electro production techniques with a trademark guile to craft an expertly-paced eleven-track affair.

The first section of The FM Tapes sets out the album's stall with style and aplomb - listeners are in store for a rich feast of off-kilter machine-funk which will feature no shortage of intriguing detours. On opener 'Ondes Courtes' the mix throbs with all manner of strange electronic gristle: a distorted bass hum rattles the monitors; wisps of distortion float across the mix; eerily pretty keys wax and wane before giving way to a radar pulse.

'Ondes Courtes' is an ominous slouch of a scene-setter, and it lines things up perfectly for following cut 'Alt50ser' to lock in. This track's churning, gurgling mid-tempo rattle brings to mind the wacky insistence of Modeselektor. Maelstrom repeats the slow-fast one-two again directly afterwards - 'La Vie Sociale Des', a strange nugget that sounds like an early Eski instrumental stripped for parts and blasted into the cosmos, is an ideal prelude to the twitchy space-funk of 'My Digitone'.

Maelstrom's staying power in the electro world comes, in no small part, from his ability to apply his delightfully idiosyncratic choices to some of the genre's staple production tropes. On The FM Tapes, he marks himself out once more as a pleasingly unorthodox talent by taking tracks in unexpected directions to produce surprising - and often rather moving - results.

There are multiple cuts here which channel the more cerebral end of Richard D. James' AFX/Analord output: 'My Digitone' may be a quicksilver techno-electro number, but there's still something cinematic about the synth treatment here which softens the edges; 'Suede's minor-key oscillations bring other CPU veterans like Cygnus and Bochum Welt into view; 'Res 06', one of two Fasme collaborations on the record, is full of pathos even as the beat programming bangs and whirrs throughout.

While there's a deep emotional undercurrent to The FM Tapes, though, Maelstrom's commitment to bringing the thrills surfaces time and again. If 'Res 06' had Maelstrom and Fasme getting wistful, the album's other Fasme link-up 'Trempo' is one of the hardest club joints here, a piece of old-school Detroit energy replete with some great cascading drum production. Indeed, 'Trempo' comes in the middle of a run towards the album's end where Maelstrom takes the handbrake off - there's a wild-eyed sense of fun to 'The Operator' and 'Upside Down DX7' which has one thinking of the zany cut-and-thrust of KiNK's best work.

Maelstrom's latest drop for Sheffield's Central Processing Unit label is an album of leftfield electro numbers that bring both pounding beats and poignant production.

RIYL: KiNK, Modeselektor, Cygnus, Bochum Welt, AFX

Ever been hit in the face with a wooden plank stuffed with rusty nails? Me neither, but I imagine the effect would be something like the sensation of having Montreal five-piece Puffer blasted into your eardrums. Put simply, this is the midpoint between hardcore and dirty ol’ rock’n’roll - part Poison Idea going dumpster-diving outside the garages of Melbourne’s punk scene, part Fucked Up playing their X records on a rotary sander. They’re equally at home with a pacy blur of riffs as they are going for a four-to-the-floor stomp; either way, the ragged larynx sits perfectly astride the roar, while the guitars go full Bob Stinson at his too-drunk-to-fuck-up best. You can practically hear the leather jackets creaking between phrases. This is music to move to. So what better place to start with this band than an LP compiling their must-have demo from 2022 and the remarkably excellent self-titled EP that followed in 2023? Originally released by New York’s increasingly-essential hc label Roachleg Records, these two highly digestible bursts of punk’n’roll complement each other perfectly. Whether you get your giddy thrills from the raw-as-hell likes of opener ‘Suffering’, or from the non-more-anthemic, holy-shit-I-need-to-bang-my-skull-against-the-wall double whammy of ‘Sister Marie’ and ‘Hard Way To Go’, you are guaranteed to find something to love here. You could always try hitting yourself with that plank, but you’ll probably find you return to this more often. Drunken Sailor delivers the goods again. Get the fuck involved.

Reissue of late-’80s release by lovably manly Australian punk rock trio! Sometime in the winter of 1989-90, I wandered into New York City’s Midnight Records, a store famous for its deep catalog of ’60s garage and psychedelic music, as well as a strong selection of classic punk rock and a cantankerous French owner with ridiculous hair. On this visit, instead of hearing a puny French bootleg of The Standells or the Seeds, as I opened the door I was enveloped in the massive opening chords to the first song on the Cosmic Psychos’ then-new album Go the Hack. “She’s a lost cause / She’s a lost, lost cause!” blasted into the air at maximum volume. In a perfect cinematic moment, the drums announced my entry, the bass dictated my walk, the air became thick with guitar fuzz and wah-wah, and snarled vocals described perfectly a girl’s descent into a cause which was lost. Instead of record shopping, I felt like I’d stepped into a biker movie and was motoring down a long, straight Outback road on a Harley. This was my introduction to the Cosmic Psychos, and I was hooked. I loved that a band could be so powerful, sound so big and unapologetically simple, and incorporate so much of what I loved about music—well, basically the attitudes and sounds of The Stooges and Ramones: setting up songs with a good title or idea, matching it with a massive riff, then running it out with squeals of wah-wah and manly disregard for cleverness or adornment. And they called themselves the Cosmic Psychos! They obviously had no regard for “makin’ it” in those days, when an alternative rock band at least had a chance to sell some records. I was an instant fan. Earlier records proved to be the same formula with even less refinement, and that was definitely a good thing. These were lovably manly Aussies singing about what they knew best: farm equipment, lusting after Elle Macpherson, wishing they were in Van Halen (for the ladies), drinking at the pub, and even more drinking at the pub. Trivia question: In what indie rock song does the lead singer bellow “I love my tractor!”? Answer: None! No scarves or looking like Stevie Nicks straight out of the hairstylist’s for these fellows. They were the real deal before the deal was dealt. And they couldn’t care less. The Psychos enjoyed a long run through the ’80s and ’90s on such Australian labels as What Goes On, Mr Spaceman, Survival and Rattlesnake, as well as American stalwarts Sub Pop and Amphetamine Reptile. Many bands from that era no longer seem vital today, lost in a murk of crisp drums, loud guitars, flannel shirts and shallow aspirations. These first Cosmic Psychos releases are as timeless and necessary as ever—still a bullshit bulldozer, a blurry loud night at the bar, a rollicking time hanging with the guys. The time has come for a new generation to be uplifted by these initial blasts from the Cosmic Psychos. Goner is proud to partner with Melbourne’s esteemed Aarght! Records to bring these platters of primal perfection back into a world that definitely needs them. — Eric Friedl, Oblivians / Goner Records 40th Anniversary tour about to hit UK / EU! Go the Hack!! Essential!!

Limited vinyl edition of 300 copies on 180g white vinyl with download card. Deleted Scene, the 8th studio album from UK producer Stumbleine, overflows with beautiful nostalgia-tinged electronica. The album is steeped with cloud-like beauty, with opener I Can Stop Anytime I Like fusing addictive sampled vocals with soft, glassy guitars, as if a reflecting pool of the listeners' memories. Cinderhaze ripples that pool with a more driving, magnetic force, shifting and pulling its emotional weight in cyclic waves. Ursa Minor Sleeps Forever is fittingly sleepy, circling soft slow synth arpeggios in a dreamy haze, a sound built upon by Somnia to an epiphany-like string bed, never straying too far from Stumbleine's serene haven of melodic grace. On Catastrophette Stumbleine crafts a more dramatic and poignant web of sound, as if running through the memories created by the rest of Deleted Scene. The album as a whole is an escape to a dream-state of Stumbleine's making, captivating, yet familiar, and completely enveloping. According to Peter, "Deleted scene refers to the memories that play over and over inside your own head, replaying hazy copies of hazy copies that evolve into a bittersweet fever dream. Everybody has their own unique collection of deleted scenes slowly distorting and fading away." 'Stumbleine is the alias of Peter Cooper. With roots in the UK post rock scene, the reclusive producer began blending slow dream-like pop with fractured lo-fi beats as Stumbleine in 2012. Melancholic rnb vocals ebb and flow above submerged guitar ballads. Sand blasted samples intertwine with broken beats to create music with a nostalgic fragile warmth. Stumbleine is known for a DIY ethic, releasing music directly to fans or via the independent label Monotreme Records.'

Italian group The Gluts are today announcing their new full-length‘Bang!, out May 31st on Fuzz Club. Arriving following 2021’s ‘Ungrateful Heart’ LP, ‘Bang!’ is the fifth studio album from the
Milan-based band. “Like the sound of a single gunshot, straight to the heart”, the record is balanced between punchy, fast-paced punk songs and noisy experimentalism, perfectly distilling the strength and
energy of their notoriously wild, feedback-blasted live shows. INDIE ONLY! 180g Yellow Vinyl.

One of the greatest, heaviest, and most sought-after guitar records from 1970s West Africa, available on vinyl for the first time in over a decade!!!

Bamako, Mali, 1973: Rail Band, the official orchestra of the Malian state railway, drops their self-titled LP. It’s a relentlessly soulful and hypnotic blend of American funk, jazz horns, and Afro-Cuban music, reflected through centuries-old Mandé tradition and blasted at top volume by some of the continent’s greatest artists.

Led by legendary trumpet and saxman Tidiani Koné and held aloft by the intricate web of Djelimady Tounkara’s rumbling, reverb-soaked guitar, Rail Band’s sprawling compositions embody West African storytelling traditions while exulting in the technology and modernity of a newly independent Mali. Vocalists Salif Keita and Mory Kanté, two heroes of African music who would achieve global fame as soloists, are endlessly emotive, oscillating between silky ballads and funk screams. The band’s sound is filled out by layers of percussion, rolling guitars, and melodic horns filtered through the Caribbean.

Starting in 1970, Rail Band played five nights a week, from 2 pm til the early hours, at the Buffet Hotel de la Gare. Their audience was an international array of businessmen, young partiers, and people of the Bamako night. The band was incredibly versatile, switching genres, rhythms, and styles to meet their crowd. It was a volatile mix, one that would fall apart soon after these recordings were made, with Salif Keita’s departure to start the rival Les Ambassadeurs. Though Rail Band continued in many distinguished forms, the eight songs on this album reveal one of the greatest bands to ever exist, at the height of their creative powers.

On “Duga”, a composition dating back to the 13th century and passed on through oral tradition by the jelis (griots), the Rail Band replace balafon with the interplay of Cheick Tidiane’s speaker-rattling bass and Alfred Coulibaly’s tasteful organ. “Marabayasa,” with its iconic sax intro and Mory Kanté channeling James Brown, is a deep-cut favorite of DJs around the world. Part of a long and regal lineage of Malian guitar orchestras initially tasked with translating the region’s traditional music to modern instrumentation, Rail Band morphed and reenvisioned those traditions with a style and energy that has never been matched.

Ryan Kaiser has already made a name for himself creating daydreamy, sun-blasted, Polaroid-pop as Yot Club. With his second full-length, Rufus, Kaiser is expanding his sonic palette and challenging his own established modes of music making by letting collaborators in. The record includes co-writes with the likes of Tommy English (Carly Rae Jepsen, Kacey Musgraves), and singer Charli Adams, with Patrick Wimberly (formerly one-half of Chairlift) on mixing duties, and the result is a collection of songs that sounds bolder and brighter. From the shimmering surf-pop of opener “Stuntman,” to the minor chord angst and quiet-loud-quiet pulse of “New Day,” to The Strokesian swoon of album closer “Lazy Eyes,” Kaiser lo-fi hooks have a new cinematic scope. It continues Kaiser’s coming of age — looking back, picking it all apart, trying to work it all out, and constantly pushing forward.

Hailing from Brittany, historical center of France's industrial scene and in close proximity to Belgium's infamous rave and EBM innovations, Ekors set out to deliberately blacken and burn the sophisticated sounds emanating from Paris. With releases on Amsterdam's harsh Leyla imprint, fellow French hardcore iconoclast Umwelt's Flesh or Die, and JoeFarr's User Experience, the trio undoubtedly made their name in their lonely redoubt in the timberland, and Rant & Rave is honored to host their theme EP, Forest Killers, as our fifth release.

'Woodchip' conjures nightmares of dead bodies run through a woodchipper rather than more pastoral scenes, its distorted kicks, bone-crushing bass and blasted-apart leads chopping air and anyone unlucky enough to stand in its way. Title track 'Forest Killers' is murderous, the lurching breakbeat and shrapnel percussion approaching like axe falls ever closer until the horror score melody enters, then accelerating frantically as the killers close in. 'Evil Sapp' only seems subdued in comparison, its hammering techno pulse providing scant breathing room as industrial machinery fells nearby trees. Self-explanatory 'Chainsaw Requiem' ups the discomfort as the titular tool buzzes overhead, more Texas Chainsaw Massacre than weekend warrior woodpile work. Amidst squalling leads, ricocheting percussion, fearful blasts of noise, and pounding bass and kicks, Ekors escort us out of the haunted wood, sighs of relief and evil laughs joining in chorus.

Limited edition 300 copies all pressed on mandarin orange coloured vinyl, and housed in a gloss finished full colour outer sleeve with insert, polylined inner bag and download code. Non-Returnable.

Recorded in Finland & the United Kingdom. Winter/Spring 2023

Finnish space travellers Nolla join forces with psychedelic guitar maestro Mike Vest (Bong, Blown Out, Modoki, Artifacts & Uranium, Drunk In Hell)

Inspired by classic space rock, driving hypnotic krautrock and bleak synth soundscapes, the Kaliyuga Express debut album is a story of ends and beginnings, light and darkness, dystopian worlds beyond and their warriors and masters.

Prepare to be blasted into endless black space!

‘Ultra Delays & Octave Hawkwind Guitar Compositions. At the Edge Of Time & The Universe.’

For fans of: Hawkwind, Can, Sun Dial, Bevis Frond, Space Rock, Kosmische Musik etc