Search:catharsis

Rot/Schwarzes Ink-Spot Vinyl, limitiert auf 300 Exemplare. Drei Buchstaben. Drei Musiker. Drei Instrumente. Drei Jahre. Graf Zahl hätte seine Freude an diesem Album_ HUM loten ihre dunklen Stoner-Klangwelten weiter aus. ,three" bringt sowohl druckvolle Post-Rock-Songs als auch psychedelische Klangexperimente. Jeder Track scheint eine Idee zu verfolgen; jeder eine 4-Minuten-Reise. Die Themen drehen sich um Umweltzerstörung, gesellschaftliche Irrwege und Spacetrips. ,three" ist das Album für die Apokalypse oder für einen Abend im Weltraum. Der Spaß kommt dabei nicht zu kurz: Die Dunkelheit wird auf fetten, langsamen Grooves präsentiert. Die Stücke sind kompakt und melodisch. Katharsis ist das Ziel: Wer mit offenen Ohren hört, dem könnte es nach den 11 Tracks und 41 min besser gehen_ Eine aufregende Reise durch musikalische Klangwelten (Surf, Gothic/Dark Wave, Kraut und Prog-Rock) mehrerer Jahrzehnte. Die HUM-typischen schweren Riffs (im Schatten von Godzilla) mit komplexen Rhythmen und Breaks werden erweitert durch neue Elemente wie Surfgitarre, Synthiesounds und gesangliche Experimente. Der meist mit Effekten verfremdete Gesang wird spärlich und gezielt eingesetzt mit oft kurzen Textfragmenten, welche die Stimmung der Songs textlich untermalen. Dazu kommen drei instrumentale Soundcollagen, die als düstere Überleitung zwischen den Songs dienen. Ein gewisser roter Faden scheint sich thematisch durch das Album zu ziehen. Red/black ink spot vinyl. Limited to 300 copies. Three letters. Three musicians. Three instruments. Three years. The Count would have loved this album...HUM continue to explore their dark stoner soundscapes. "three" features both powerful post-rock songs andpsychedelic sound experiments. Each track seems to pursue an idea; each one a 4-minute journey. The themesrevolve around environmental destruction, social aberrations, and space trips."three" is the album for the apocalypse or for an evening in space. But there's no shortage of fun: thedarkness is presented on fat, slow grooves. The pieces are compact and melodic. Catharsis is thegoal: if you listen with open ears, you might feel better after the 11 tracks and 41 minutes...An exciting journey through musical soundscapes (surf, gothic/dark wave, kraut and prog rock) spanning severaldecades. The heavy riffs typical of HUM (in the shadow of Godzilla) with complex rhythms and breaksare expanded by new elements such as surf guitar, synth sounds and vocal experiments. The vocals, mostlydistorted with effects, are used sparingly and purposefully, often with short text fragments that underscore the moodof the songs lyrically. In addition, there are three instrumental sound collages that serve as dark transitions betweenthe songs. A certain common thread seems to run through the album thematically.

Dr Sure's Blue & Bubble tapes compiled and pressed on vinyl for the first time.
Another fruitful collaboration between Swish Swash Records (France) & Marthouse Records (Aus) who bought us the unholy 'Scomo Goes To Hawaii/While Aus Burns' combination.
Dr Sure's in-between-albums tapes offer an intimate look at artist in perpetual purgatory; music as constant; comfort and catharsis; to protest or profess.

2LP, 9mm spine gatefold sleeve with silver hot foil & metallic inks. Printed inner sleeves. Engraving on Side D, the vinyl here is of silvery colour. Pelagic reissued THE OCEAN's 2010 albums "Heliocentric" and "Anthropocentric" on vinyl! "Heliocentric" was the first album with current vocalist Loïc Rossetti, a game changer in the band's history. The album is characterized by his shimmering cleans alongside abrasive, powerful screams. "Heliocentric" sees the band venture into calmer territories as compared to its predecessors: the album is defined not solely by walls of guitars, but also by careful orchestrations of piano, upright bass, strings and textural electronics. Conceptually "Heliocentric" is a comprehensive critique of the legacy of christianity: the iconic opening track "Firmament", still a fan's favourite, starts off with original text from the bible; while "Ptolemy Was Wrong" and "Catharsis of A Heretic" tackle Gallilei's and Copernicus' discoveries that Earth is not at the center of the universe, for which Giordano Bruno was burnt at the stake. The album concludes with Charles Darwin's theory of evolution, and considerations by Richard Dawkins', the spearhead of modern day's aetheism, in the epic 14 minutes closing track duality "The Origin Of Species" and "The Origin Of God". For fans of BREACH TOOL THRICE NINE INCH NAILS CULT OF LUNA ISIS KARNIVOOL ROSETTA RUSSIAN CIRCLES MONO MASTODON OPETH BETWEEN THE BURIED AND ME PINK FLOYD

French musician, producer, and live artist Contre Soirée aka Olivier Decodts makes a significant return to Veyl with 'Psychiatry', a four-track EP shaped by deeply personal experience and emotional intensity. Rooted in post-punk, the release blends electronics with guitar parts, everything performed by Olivier himself.
What may have initially sounded like a PR stunt quickly revealed itself as anything but: ’Psychiatry' was conceived, completed, and sent to the label during Olivier’s stay in a psychiatric hospital. The first three tracks form a raw and honest narrative, tracing the events and emotional journey leading up to his hospitalization and explore the boundaries between vulnerability and resilience.
Closing the release is a cover of the Pixies' 'Gauge Away', a long-time favorite of Olivier’s. His rendition pays tribute to the original while placing it firmly within the emotional and sonic context of the EP, a final note of reverence and catharsis.
'Psychiatry' is a fearless expression of personal truth, pushing beyond the dancefloor to uncover something more intimate and affecting.

With the grace of an ancient oracle speaking through a veil of mist, the album unfurls in movements both haunting and divine, carrying the listener into a realm where sorrow and splendor waltz as one. Orchestrated with exquisite precision and opulent depth, the ensemble breathes life into every measure. Strings sweep like celestial tides, choirs rise like prayers from cloistered ruins, and woodwinds whisper secrets from lost mythologies. The multimember orchestra does not merely accompany the compositions, it becomes the very vessel through which Autumn Tears channels their clairvoyant vision.

Rooted in the neoclassical tradition yet unbound by its walls, the album weaves baroque intricacies with cinematic grandeur, crafting soundscapes that feel both sacred and boundless. Every track is a portal: to forgotten dreams, to veiled futures, to the silent poetry that lingers in the spaces between. Crown of the Clairvoyant will be available as a digital download,a limited Leather CD Box, a limited CD jewel case package with a CD exclusive bonus track as well as a limited vinyl package with a 12 page illustrated lyric book and vinyl exclusive bonus track.

Dread Spectre Council originated as Kenneth Amundsen"s solo-moniker compiling years of archival demos reimagined and re-recorded, first presented through this debut EP "Dystopia/Eons" feat. Dale Crover (Melvins/Nirvana/Redd Kross) on drums. On the pending album Kenneth plays all instruments, records and mixes himself in a solitary catharsis. A gang of co-conspirators is lurking to join for future releases and tours. A limited release of 300 ex hand numbered, with a bonus track only available on this physical copy. "Chiming guitar fuzz and earnest pop songwriting reminiscent of Sub Pop-era Sebadoh and Mary Timony"s solo material." - Ron Hart, SPIN MAGAZINE

Sugaring a Strawberry, the sophomore record from Julia, Julia, is a study in coming undone—on purpose. Recorded at COMA, Julia Kugel's home studio, and mixed through a custom Flickenger clone, the album drifts in and out of clarity like memory itself. It's emotionally retrospective, creatively unvarnished, and deeply human. You can hear it in the hiss, the warmth, in the vocals so raw they're like an open window. These songs weren't engineered for perfection. They were built to breathe. Her long-time collaborator and husband, Scott Montoya, mixes it all so loosely that you can hear the air between tracks— a space that makes the music feel inhabited rather than recorded.


"Bound" opens the album like a secret passed between sisters, solemn and unspeakably close. It begins with the softest of touches: hushed guitar, a near- whispered delivery that carries the intimacy of someone singing only for one other person. It's a love song, but not romantic, more ancestral in the way long bonds can be. All glow and undercurrent, "I Know," is like hearing someone hum through a wound. The track arrives as if it had been waiting, coiled and complete, to be sung. Its pulse is slow but insistent, anchored on a hypnotic loop and a vocal that's half-incantation, half-confession. One of the most outward-facing songs on the record, "Feeling Lucky," opens like a cigarette flicked in the dark– smoky and a little bit slick. Built on a skeletal beat and a nearly detached vocal, it leans into a sarcastic swagger that barely masks the ache beneath. The delivery is droll and glazed, the instrumentation is sparse and a little woozy, leaving space for her voice to sway—a shrug of a song, stylish in its sadness. "A Love That Hurts" drifts in on soft, fingerpicked guitar and a dry, close-mic vocal that feels both haunted and immediate. The mix is stripped down and analog-warm, letting tape hum and silence frame the emotion. Julia sings like she's remembering something she doesn't want to, each line a slight unraveling. Like the rest of the album, "A Love That Hurts" doesn't push toward resolution. It sits in the ache, sifts through it, makes it beautiful.

Sugaring a Strawberry doesn't seek catharsis so much as stumbles into it. There's a quiet volatility to these songs like they might fall apart if you press too hard. It moves in shadow and softness, asking questions it doesn't answer. It doesn’t end with closure. It ends with truth.

Pelican has always been a band that's not just from Chicago, but distinctly of Chicago. Formed in 2000 by guitarists Trevor Shelley de Brauw and Laurent Schroeder-Lebec alongside brothers Bryan and Larry Herweg on bass and drums respectively, Pelican's foundation was built upon the rule-free, genre-agnostic scene synonymous with the Fireside Bowl. "The `90s in Chicago was a free-for-all. Everyone was just coming from a place of pure creativity," says Shelley de Brauw. With Schroeder-Lebec returning to the band following Dallas Thomas' exit in 2022, this reunified version of Pelican allowed the band to tap back into those influences and build something distinctly new with Flickering Resonance. While longtime Pelican fans will find an updated version of the band's ethos_one that's been constantly evolving since their very first EP_their new partnership with Run For Cover Records emphasizes something that's always been implicit to the Pelican formula. These songs take as much inspiration from titanic `90s post-hardcore, space-rock, and emo as they do traditional metal, showing that though Godflesh and Goatsnake records occupied the shelves of Pelican's songwriters, so too did Quicksand, Christie Front Drive, and Hum. "A lot of people didn't hear it," says Schroeder-Lebec. "I was like, well, I guess the metal world is where we fit. But now, I'm willing to acknowledge all the suits we're wearing." On Flickering Resonance, Pelican allowed themselves to look at their music less as a means of hard-earned catharsis and more as an appreciation for the glimmers of joy that occur even in the bleakest landscapes.

Fiddlehead's debut LP Springtime and Blind is an exploration of grief both introspective and through the insight of others. Following the release of their Out of the Bloom EP on Lockin Out Records, the Boston-based band have created a debut LP that shares an anguishing, relatable story of love and loss through the catharsis of spirited, loud indie rock. Consisting of guitarist Alex Henery (also of Basement), vocalist Patrick Flynn and drummer Shawn Costa (both of Have Heart), Fiddlehead explore musical styles different from their other projects while bringing a familiar energetic and emotional core to the collaboration. Springtime and Blind stemmed from Pat's loss of his father. Flynn looks at how his mother coped with the situation- losing her spouse, her center of gravity -writing the lyrics as an emotional catharsis for both of them. While the process of writing and recording helped Flynn cope with his personal loss there's no doubt it carries a universal message that can help ease others' loneliness. A contrast to itself, Springtime and Blind is a multidimensional and relatable journey through its cathartic message and spirited instrumentals.

Nevertel, are set to release their Epitaph Records debut album, entitled Start Again. The Florida-based trio - comprised of vocalist Jeremy Michael, rapper/guitarist/producer Raul Lopez, and guitarist Alec Davis - are a rare breed in an era saturated with genre tags and algorithm-chasing playlists. Drawing on a cocktail of nu-metal nostalgia, hip-hop grit, and EDM adrenaline, their sound feels less like a blend and more like a carefully controlled detonation. It"s a vision honed through years of DIY hustle and an unshakable commitment to quality over trend. Bonded in adolescence over music and late-night gaming sessions, the trio turned those formative obsessions into a full-fledged project that has steadily built a digital groundswell. From self-releasing two fulllength albums and a pair of EPs to amassing over 1.5 million streams per week, Nevertel"s trajectory reflects a slow burn in a culture obsessed with instant virality. Citing touchstones like Linkin Park and Bring Me The Horizon, the band pays homage to the titans of their youth while shaping something unmistakably their own: emotionally raw lyricism, razor-edged riffs and breakdowns. It"s equal parts catharsis and chaos. Now signed to Epitaph Records as of 2023, Nevertel are poised to enter their next chapter with momentum at their backs.

Like sneaking an extra scoop (or two) of ice cream for dessert, what do you do when you know something’s bad for you, but its vice-like nature makes it all the more irresistible? Vega Records explores this conundrum in its latest release, “Can’t Let You Go” by the late, great Loleatta Holloway.

“Can’t Let You Go” is one of the last unreleased recordings Loleatta completed before her passing in 2011. In the main mix, she addresses a relationship she knows she should end but can’t bring herself to leave because the lovin’ is just too good: “I keep coming back time and time again,” she ruminates with raw emotion. “We got to make things better or we got to do whatever to make it right… oh, let’s make it right, ‘cause I can’t let you go.”

For the unfamiliar, Loleatta Holloway, a.k.a. the “Queen of the Night,” is a bona fide disco and soul icon. The singer behind successful singles such as “Hit and Run” and “Love Sensation,” she is one of the most sampled artists from the disco era.

The posthumous single was written and produced by prolific artist Yvonne Turner, whose resume includes production and remix credits for music greats such as Whitney Houston, Willie Colon, and Jeffrey Osborne; as well as mixes for Lenny Kravitz, Lalah Hathaway, Mica Paris, and more. Providing subtle, smooth background vocals for the track, she allows Loleatta’s belting vocals to be the star of the percussive house groover; while Vega Records boss Louie Vega offers a “Roots” mix and emotion-charged “Soul House” mix. Louie Vega also invited his vocalist friends Tawatha Agee (of seminal R&B and soul group Mtume) and Cindy Mizelle (Louie Vega’s longtime collaborator) to add powerful hooks and new background arrangements, enhancing the track with some call and response to Loleatta's adlibs during the vamp. Gene Perez on Bass, Axel Tosca on Fender Rhodes, and Roberto Quintero on percussion. In all, the record is club-ready catharsis made for dancing all your troubles away.

“Loleatta Holloway was one of the most dynamic vocalists of our time,” says Yvonne Turner. “She was blessed with the gift of song and her energy was electric! Loleatta's passion and artistry is on full display as she masterfully interprets a lyric then delivers her signature adlibs, which never disappoint. To describe her in a few words, Loleatta Holloway was the truth... my friend... extraordinary!”

Adds Louie Vega, “Loleatta Holloway has had a huge impact in my life as a DJ, producer, and clubber. She touched me in many ways through my music-making and even style of DJing; to this day, I still play many of her songs and acapellas. This is just our little way of saying thank you so much for what you've done for so many lives with your beautiful voice, you've affected us all!!!”

The record’s cover artwork is a mural of Loleatta Holloway created by Richard Wilson, a London-based artist who takes inspiration from DJs and producers from the house music and disco scene. Last month, Louie traveled to Liverpool, England for the mural’s unveiling.

"Horizons/West" (2025) completes the thematic arc begun with "Horizons/East" (2021), pairing personal reflection with sweeping sonic ambition. Self-produced by the band, engineered by guitarist Teppei Teranishi, mixed by Scott Evans, and mastered by Matthew J. Barnhart, "Horizons/West"balances cinematic tones with spacious atmosphere. Teranishi calls it "less dense," while vocalist Dustin Kensrue sees it as their first sequel-two halves of a larger emotional and political panorama. Blending post-rock textures from their earlier albums "Beggars" and "Major/Minor", with rhythmic complexity from "Horizons/East", the band sharpens its edge without losing nuance. Kensrue"s vocals shift from whisper to roar, anchoring meditations on perception, memory, and social influence. "Horizons/West" looks inward while never ignoring the larger world - urging listeners not to adopt beliefs, but to interrogate them. After more than two decades, Thrice continues building catharsis from chaos, and clarity from noise.

"Horizons/West" (2025) completes the thematic arc begun with "Horizons/East" (2021), pairing personal reflection with sweeping sonic ambition. Self-produced by the band, engineered by guitarist Teppei Teranishi, mixed by Scott Evans, and mastered by Matthew J. Barnhart, "Horizons/West"balances cinematic tones with spacious atmosphere. Teranishi calls it "less dense," while vocalist Dustin Kensrue sees it as their first sequel-two halves of a larger emotional and political panorama. Blending post-rock textures from their earlier albums "Beggars" and "Major/Minor", with rhythmic complexity from "Horizons/East", the band sharpens its edge without losing nuance. Kensrue"s vocals shift from whisper to roar, anchoring meditations on perception, memory, and social influence. "Horizons/West" looks inward while never ignoring the larger world - urging listeners not to adopt beliefs, but to interrogate them. After more than two decades, Thrice continues building catharsis from chaos, and clarity from noise.

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”

Orange Crush Vinyl. GoldFord writes soul music rooted in truth. His raw, unvarnished songs — equal parts introspection and catharsis — grapple with heartbreak, healing, and the quiet revelations that come with growth and maturity. Raised in St. Louis and now based in L.A., he spent a decade mired in corporate America before a devastating loss cracked something open. Since then, GoldFord has built a devoted following with his emotionally charged vocals and timeless style. His breakout single “Upside Down” offered a first taste of virality, while “Orange Blossoms” — inspired by an illuminating moment of presence under a fruit tree — has surpassed 50 million streams on Spotify alone and earned co-signs from Sam Smith and SZA. Tracks like “Ride the Storm” (33M+ Spotify streams) and “Walk With Me” have found homes in major ad campaigns, film, and TV . But for GoldFord, it’s not about placement: it’s about connection. “This is how I sort through my shit,” he says. “The music reflects back who I am.” With a new record on the way and a festival debut at Austin City Limits looming, he’s stepping into the spotlight, one soul-baring song at a time.

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”

Hahaha _ Will Paquin's debut full-length album, out this September _ is the sound of Paquin breaking out of the bedroom. It's loud, raw, and full of life. Much of the album feels a time capsule _ a collection of ideas and sounds that Paquin has been quietly nurturing for years. Now, for the first time, they've come together in a cohesive whole, shaped by the passage of time and Paquin's current perspective. "This album is kind of like re-centering what I actually like and what I want to put out to the world," he explains. Hahaha is a celebration of shared energy, of chaos, of the kind of laughter that erupts when you're fully alive in the moment. It's a guitar-forward, psych-laced, garage-rock catharsis.

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.

Sticking a dirty thumb in the eye of fate, our third collaboration sees this marrow deep family malarky turn official as Pace Yourself teams up with YS’s own imprint ERF REC for a split release. As if our status as minor celebrities and footnotes of the underground could level off no further: the unification no one asked for is here. Sticking it to the man, handing your arse to ya on plate; cauterising infected suburban minds world over.

Burn is the second YS album and written as a direct follow-up album to Brutal Flowers. If their first album was an exercise in the incremental, a construction of poise and patience, Burn, should be taken way the fuck at it’s word: it quite literally finds catharsis in twisted reverse. Birthed out the malignant kick found in deconstruction and chaos. Evil twin, psychotic younger sibling, call it what the hell you like. It might take you a moment to get the lay of the land in this darkly mutated world. Like a bug eye’d native first confronted with a zippo, the hit is radical and instant: a new way for the world to go up in smoke.

Splice the Seattle slacker scene with the spliffhead soundsystem culture of the 90s Bristol trip-hop scene, then cross-breed that with the DIY optimism and glee in creation found in the cut-and-paste worlds of skate, graffiti and hiphop, now run that through the skitzo basement mind of John.T. Gast and you’re close to the kind of scorched earth and spiked suburbia that birthed Burn.

Dunno quite what YS have been ingesting of late but this massively twisted LP touches on a host of gloriously fucked totemic underground sources while not sounding much like any of them. It has the ballsy swagger and hard flipping of the script as Massive Attack’s seminal Blue Lines. Indeed, the eponymous album tracks sound similar - the opener ‘Burn’ is like a hard nosed jammed out redux of ‘Blue Lines’. Getting into a kind of slow-spinning overdubbed maximal euphoria ending with mumbled downer vocals, struggling to conceal their tongues in their cheeks there’s an air of paranoia and proto-conspiracy theory. It’ll leave you scratching your head, feeling like you’ve stepped into a New World Order governed by a cacophony of drop outs, dope fiends and apocalyptic stoners. A cracked out world somewhere between Richard Linklater’s movie Slacker (1990) and Marc Singer’s Dark Days (2001).

The rest of the album parts like a tongue on a wine glass: Smith and Mighty, Bandulu, ambient Luke Slater records, Wah Wah Wino, Nurse with Wound, Land of the Loops, Placid Angels, Adrian Sherwood, Urban Tribe and DJ Shadow can all be heard in momentary splatters - but Burn like other works by YS, is its own ritual beast. ‘Moth’, a track which has been knocking about the underground deejai circuit for many moons, is a real raw chopped and screwed slice of stoner erotica that reeks of obsession and unrequited desire. Elsewhere, on tracks like ‘Switch’, ‘Trying’ and ‘Drift’ the throughline from Brutal Flowers can be heard. Underneath the driving heavy gravity the trademark emotional intimacies of YS linger: eternal recurrence, ghosts of static and shortwave, worn memories of the playful and painful sort. The brief moments where flashes of orchestral ambience get out from underneath the swagger are so pure, personal and unguarded that for a moment they leave you completely lonesome. In the album’s closer ‘End’, you can hear the fleeting promise and DIY possibilities of an analogue world and embers of ash that flutter in its wake: where it seemed, for a brief moment, that collective of DJs, engineers, rappers, graffiti artists and skate crews were emerging from the streets, giving the middle fingers to the system, before just as quickly disappearing back to the doldrums of obscurity. ‘End’ is a bittersweet ode to early soundsystem culture, MCs and pirate radio - an out of step time where for a moment the underdogs and weirdos seemed to be kicking on the door of something bigger.

A veritable teenage doof suite dosed with desire, claustrophobia and deviance. Burn is a good old howl at the moon: lonely, raw, and out for blood; basement style exegesis at its best. A thump to the gut, a stud through your blood. A dubbed-to-death classic straight out of the annals of nowhere. A perfect post card from oblivion. A bleak, bold and personally ferocious vision of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

This is everything that record collectors skip dates for. Fuck the scene and keep that shit underground. That’s what it is all about. Know what I mean, if you do? You’re in…

Nu-hardcore quintet, Bodyweb, are the sound of someone’s nervous system on the verge of breakdown—hyperactive, tormented and unflinchingly vulnerable. Born out of the Leeds hardcore scene, they’re a shape-shifting alloy of jagged emotion and precision chaos. What began as late-night jams between Louis Hardy (Higher Power, Big Cheese, Fate) and Ben Jones (Pest Control) eventually mutated into train_wreck_simulation, a debut EP filled with frantic breakdowns and nu-metal swag that felt like the soundtrack to a digital exorcism. The final piece of the puzzle came from Hardy’s estranged childhood friend, pq. His twisted samples and synthetic textures are haunted and disturbed, injecting cyberpunk soul into hardcore flesh. Contorting through several iterations in the following years, the band absorbed Luke Thompson (Stiff Meds) on drums, filmmaker Tom Hobson on guitar and Naomi Macleod (Empire State Bastard) on bass, and laid down their first collective offering. deadwired is due out on Flatspot Records later this year. Bodyweb's second EP is a violent thesis on connection and pain that sends Hardy’s unfiltered vocals through heaven and hell. Four overstimulating tracks run a gamut of styles and influences from Slipknot to Björk, constantly lane-switching between dizzying heaviness, ambient soundscapes and brain-burrowing hooks. Entirely self-produced, deadwired upgrades the sonic formula laid down on the last record and raises the question: what else could exist in Bodyweb’s twisted roadmap? Nothing seems impossible. What seems important, however, is retaining the rawness in a style that can often turn sterile. “We still wanted it to sound very human. It had to be well produced but not cold and lifeless.” shares Hardy. “We didn’t use a click track. All guitars were real amps with microphones. We tried to make everything as real and raw as possible, we recorded using all the same gear we use when playing live too to really capture the energy of how it feels when we jam together." ‘Deadwired’ is a snapshot of violent implosion. Four ADHD-fuelled transmissions from the edge of spiritual collapse. It drags metallic hardcore through glitched-out ambience to confront ego death, generational trauma, and the violence of being alive. On stage, Bodyweb don’t just perform, they purge. Raucous live electronics meld with digitally contorted guitars. Breakbeats meet breakdowns—no backing track in sight. Bodyweb enable a collective catharsis. Mosh, dance, dive, scream, heal. A physical therapy session screamed into the void.

Seit ihrem ersten Demo 2013 haben INSTITUTE, die ursprünglich aus Austin stammen, ihren rauen Anarcho-Punk zu etwas Weitgreifenderem und Nuancierterem geschliffen. Die ,Salt EP" aus dem Jahr 2014 stellte den Beginn der Zusammenarbeit der Band mit Sacred Bones dar und ergründete längere, experimentellere Songstrukturen. ,Catharsis", das Debütalbum der Band, war ein weiterer großer Schritt vorwärts - mit einer etwas klareren Produktion und einigen Krautrock-Einflüssen. Weiter und weiter schieben sie sich selbst aus jeglichem Genre, indem sie Hard Rock und Glam mit in ihr Spektrum aufnehmen und so das bisher abwechslungsreichste Material ihrer Karriere auf Subordination veröffentlichen.

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

In a culture of instant gratification, patience is a subversive virtue. This attitude is precisely what lies at the heart of Farron's debut 12" on the Mojuba sublabel, a.r.t.less. The "Patience EP" is a convergence of two distinctive musical forces. Here, the architect behind the Shaw Cuts imprint, whose rhythmic complexity is influenced by a personal music taste ranging from hip-hop to punk via breakbeat, meets the emotional Detroit and dub-infused techno coordinates of a.r.t.less. The result is a record that embodies this tension. Farron's characteristic, subtly broken percussion merges with warm, floating pads and stabs to form a unique, seductive whole. It's not techno for pure escalation at peak time, but rather, music for the hours before and after with a sound that challenges and rewards the body and mind equally. The EP's four tracks tell a coherent story of maturation and catharsis that goes far beyond functional club tools. Following early releases as LaChriz on labels such as Ilian Tape and the consistent refinement of his vision through Shaw Cuts, this release is both a natural progression for Farron as an artist and an exciting new addition to the sound palette of a.r.t.less. Some things are worth waiting for!

Originally conceived as a compilation of outtakes and live recordings from The Shadow Ring's 1995 stateside tour, Wax-Work Echoes takes its name from the first line of "Put the Music in Its Coffin," the title track of the group's breakthrough release. Lambkin abandons the bitsand- bobs approach, advancing the Shadow Ring concept with entirely original material that builds on the unit's self-mythologizing lyrics, celebrates the clicking of horse hooves, ponders on the sociability of rats and mice, and warns of the dangers of poultry. The first Shadow Ring album to officially include Tim Goss in the main lineup, Wax- Work Echoes reveals the group in its final and lasting form, awash in the outer bounds of atmospheric exploration, with Lambkin's familiar wry and morbid lyricism and the stripped-down angularity of amateurishly detuned guitars fully intact. While Klaus Canterbury and Tony Clark seem all but forgotten, and the shrugged off S. Fritz is listed on the liner notes as performing only "when required," Lambkin did solicit contributions from outside the inner circle. A bit of "Mambo Twist," lifted from a tape of unreleased Vitamin B12 material sent to Lambkin by Alasdair Willis, found its way into "V.E.R.M.I.N.," while an extended epistle contribution from Richard Youngs (and, technically, Brian Lavelle) would be employed in the second half of "Catching Sight/Of Passing Things." Released on CD in 1996 for Bruce Russell's newly minted Corpus Hermeticum, Wax-Work Echoes was recorded concurrently with intense rehearsal periods, in anticipation of the forthcoming "Rose Watson Tour," and was supported by a celebratory fanzine media blitz. The album seemingly absorbs the frenetic excess of the band's transatlantic travels; Wax-Work Echoes channels the trio's wilder instincts into an unresolved catharsis, not yet free of frustration or restlessness. Out of print for almost three decades and available here for the first time ever on long-playing disc, Wax-Work Echoes is a classic from the outer eddies of The Shadow Ring's sound, a must-have for any aficionado's collection: "A window slides, glass slips from frame / And canvas carcass breathes again." Throughout their legendary, decade-long run, the Shadow Ring were an enigmatic force on the international musical sub-underground. Before their disbandment in 2002, this shambolic rock outfit, formed by a group of rowdy teenagers in southeast England, left behind a mighty run of eight LPs, a handful of 7"s, and a spate of raucous live shows and cryptic zine appearances on both sides of the Atlantic, all which have bolstered their enduring word-of-mouth mystique. Beginning in 2023 with the first-ever vinyl pressing of the self-released pre-Shadow Ring tape The Cat & Bells Club (1992), Blank Forms Editions has been conducting a systematic retrospective of the storied group. Wax-Work Echoes and Hold Onto I.D. are the latest releases in a multiyear reissue effort that includes several LPs, a comprehensive CD box set, and a nearly five-hundred-page book.

DJ Haram's debut album “Beside Myself” is about the survival of the spirit in day to day struggle. Following on from her collaboration with Moor Mother as 700 Bliss on “Nothing to Declare”, here she is joined by a swarm of collaborators, collectively navigating pain and rage, and in occasional moments of joyful respite, mocking the strife. Haram describes herself as a “multidisciplinary propagandist, contemporary anti-authoritarian Arab, gendered labor class, god fearing atheist” who makes “anti-format, audio propaganda, anti-lifestyle, immersive sonics”. Her music attests to this, as she brings in friends and collaborators, from MC's Armand Hammer, Bbymutha, SHA RAY, Moor Mother, and Dakn, through to co-producers August Fanon, Egyptian producer El Kontessa, and Jersey Club producer Kay Drizz, trumpeter Aquiles Navarro, and guitarist Abdul Hakim Bilal. It's immediately identifiable as her work, but simultaneously unclassifiable, finding equal space in its dusty live production for Jersey Club, punk noise, Central Asian and Middle Eastern Percussion, synths, 808's and lurking, rumbling bass. Often central to this is her own performance of unflinching sorrowful verses, comparable to the poets Audrey Lorde or Ai in tone and Kim Gordon in context, examining the material and the abstract in equal measure. Her grungy futurism offers no easy resolutions, yet the drama and catharsis it presents is rarely so defiantly delivered.

'Mei Semones' sweetly evocative blend of jazz, bossa nova and math-y indie rock is not only a way for her to find solace in her favorite genres, but is an intuitive means of catharsis. "Blending everything that I like together and trying to make something new - that's what feels most natural to me," says the 23-year-old Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter and guitarist. "It's what feels most true to who I am as an artist." Plinking guitar tones and asymmetrical time shnatures exemplify her forays into angular indie rock more now than ever before, especially on her debut Bayonet Records single "Wakare no Kotoba"-its wide-interval arpeggios in odd meters being some of the most technically difficult guitar work Mei has ever implemented in her songwriting. Translated to "parting words" in English, the self-described "anti-love song" serves as a farewell to a toxic friendship, complete with orchestral swells and crashing guitars. Originally from Ann Arbor, Michigan, Semones began playing music at a young age, starting out on piano at age four before moving to electric guitar at age eleven. After playing jazz guitar in high school, she went on to study guitar performance with a jazz focus at Berklee College of Music. College is where she met her current bandmates, including string players Noah Leong and Claudius Agrippa, whose respective viola and violin add softness and multidimensionality to Mei's intricate guitar work. After releasing a slew of singles and an EP in 2022, coinciding with her move to New York City, Mei and her band have since gone on to collaborate with post-bossa balladeer John Roseboro and embark on their first-ever tour with the melodic rock outfit Ravi, Semones chronicles infatuation, devotion, and vulnerability in her songs, complete with sweeping strings, virtuosic guitar-playing and heartfelt lyrics sung in both English and Japanese, that have all become part of her sonic trademark: ornately catchy, genre-fusing compositions serving as the backdrop to tender lyrics touching on the universalities of human emotion.

'Mei Semones' sweetly evocative blend of jazz, bossa nova and math-y indie rock is not only a way for her to find solace in her favorite genres, but is an intuitive means of catharsis. "Blending everything that I like together and trying to make something new - that's what feels most natural to me," says the 23-year-old Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter and guitarist. "It's what feels most true to who I am as an artist." Plinking guitar tones and asymmetrical time shnatures exemplify her forays into angular indie rock more now than ever before, especially on her debut Bayonet Records single "Wakare no Kotoba"-its wide-interval arpeggios in odd meters being some of the most technically difficult guitar work Mei has ever implemented in her songwriting. Translated to "parting words" in English, the self-described "anti-love song" serves as a farewell to a toxic friendship, complete with orchestral swells and crashing guitars. Originally from Ann Arbor, Michigan, Semones began playing music at a young age, starting out on piano at age four before moving to electric guitar at age eleven. After playing jazz guitar in high school, she went on to study guitar performance with a jazz focus at Berklee College of Music. College is where she met her current bandmates, including string players Noah Leong and Claudius Agrippa, whose respective viola and violin add softness and multidimensionality to Mei's intricate guitar work. After releasing a slew of singles and an EP in 2022, coinciding with her move to New York City, Mei and her band have since gone on to collaborate with post-bossa balladeer John Roseboro and embark on their first-ever tour with the melodic rock outfit Ravi, Semones chronicles infatuation, devotion, and vulnerability in her songs, complete with sweeping strings, virtuosic guitar-playing and heartfelt lyrics sung in both English and Japanese, that have all become part of her sonic trademark: ornately catchy, genre-fusing compositions serving as the backdrop to tender lyrics touching on the universalities of human emotion.

"I Became Birds feels like emo once again flipping the switch on its eternal energy source." - PITCHFORK // "One of the most arresting and interesting rock albums in recent memory." - SPIN // "Composed of self-deprecating wails, crashing guitar riffs, and a flicker of lyrical hope that almost feels naive _ in other words, the perfect foundation for classic emo catharsis." - STEREOGUM //// With I Became Birds, Florida's Home Is Where push their unique blend of whirlwind hardcore aggression and warm, open-hearted folksy melancholy to even further heights. Frontperson Brandon MacDonald's Dylan-esque eccentricities are on full display here, from the occasional blast of harmonica (like on early standout "Long Distance Conjoined Twins" or the disaffected, despondency-soaked closer "The Old Country") to their knack for abstractly evocative neurosis-as-poetry. But far from being a copycat act, Home Is Where's wearily raw-throated aesthetic and dynamically vivid compositions feel idiosyncratic and vital. The bittersweet folk melodies seep deeply into the band's DNA, adding an element of accessibility and immediate nostalgia to otherwise churning and angular song structures and sonic assaults. Vocals range from an intimate, gentle, and disarming croon to a full-bodied expectoration of the soul, oftentimes in the same song (like "Sewn Together from the Membrane of the Great Sea Cucumber," which splits the difference between mournful, gothic post-punk and staccato-heeled screamo with aplomb). A devastating rhythm section and nimble, versatile, yet powerful guitar work assist with the record's genre-bending, which ranges from maniacal chemical mixtures to gymnastic flips, twists, and turns. And yet, even amid the din, Home Is Where find ample time for hooks-- the oddball effervescence of lead single "Scientific Classification of Stingrays" and the shimmering, propulsive, delightfully off-kilter late-album stunner "Assisted Harakiri" are more than proof of that. Ultimately, I Became Birds shows Home Is Where hitting an early high-water mark. A brisk record-- six songs in roughly 17 minutes-- it never takes a dip in enthusiasm and inventiveness. Home Is Where's inexhaustible creativity and restless energy is bound to serve them well, and I Became Birds is all the proof anyone needs.

Pelican has always been a band that's not just from Chicago, but distinctly of Chicago. Formed in 2000 by guitarists Trevor Shelley de Brauw and Laurent Schroeder-Lebec alongside brothers Bryan and Larry Herweg on bass and drums respectively, Pelican's foundation was built upon the rule-free, genre-agnostic scene synonymous with the Fireside Bowl. "The `90s in Chicago was a free-for-all. Everyone was just coming from a place of pure creativity," says Shelley de Brauw. With Schroeder-Lebec returning to the band following Dallas Thomas' departure in 2022, this reunified version of Pelican allowed the band to tap back into the spirit of their formative era and build something distinctly new with Flickering Resonance. While longtime Pelican fans will recognize the album as an update to the band's ethos_one that's been constantly evolving since their very first EP_their new partnership with Run For Cover Records emphasizes something that's always been implicit to the Pelican formula. These songs take as much inspiration from titanic `90s post-hardcore, space-rock, and emo as they do traditional metal, showing that though Godflesh and Goatsnake records occupied the shelves of Pelican's songwriters, so too did Quicksand, Christie Front Drive, and Hum. "A lot of people didn't hear it at first," says Schroeder-Lebec. "I was like, well, I guess the metal world is where we fit. But now, we're more willing to acknowledge all the suits we're wearing."On Flickering Resonance, Pelican doesn't attempt to reinvent itself as much as emphasize the elements that were so often overlooked. Though Pelican's thick sonic backbone remains intact, the songs on Flickering Resonance show a more humanistic side of the band. Tracks like "Evergreen" and "Indelible" tease Pelican's doom-metal roots, but these songs feel equally, ebullient and truthful, playing like Texas Is The Reason songs transmuted into a post-rock landscape. Recorded with longtime musical compatriot Sanford Parker, who recorded their first EP, Pelican begins this new chapter of their career with an album that's neither full reinvention nor back-to-roots revivalism. After so much time apart, and with so much life having been lived between the original Pelican lineup's last recording sessions together, the band approached it with renewed vigor and a more communal spirit."There was more room for openness and critique with the understanding that we're all trying to craft the best song possible and that every suggestion is valid until it's proven invalid," says Shelley de Brauw. That process allowed everyone to embrace the material with a shared vision. "We didn't move forward unless we all wanted to move forward, and that felt like real community building," says Schroeder-Lebec of this unified approach. "I went from seeing it as my art and my craft to our craft that we were shaping together."In doing so, Pelican allowed themselves to look at their music less as a means of hard-earned catharsis and more as an appreciation for the glimmers of joy that occur even in the bleakest landscapes. Songs like "Cascading Crescent" and "Indelible" don't languish in what's been lost, these tracks see the band embracing what remains in their hands instead of lamenting what's slipped through their fingers. It's a concept that's mirrored in the artwork of Christian Degn that graces the cover of Flickering Resonance. It's a piece built off the concept of flame meditation, and how the smallest flames can often bring about the biggest transformations. A song like "Flickering Stillness" exemplifies this feeling through its sonic expanse, putting the band's sonic density and hyper-focused clarity on display, but with an emphasis on the profound human connections that have kept Pelican going all these years. "When Laurent left and we were able to carry it through, there became a real sense of gratitude for the fact we still have this artistic outlet and a community of people who want to be a part of it" That feeling of deep, grounded appreciation isn't just one that's within the band members, it's expressed in every track on Flickering Resonance. Because at the very core of Pelican, are four individuals who have grown both separately and together, and always will.Like a distant light faintly glowing in the darkest night, Flickering Resonance is a reminder of all that has passed us by, but also all that is still to come.

Smut is the project of lyricist Tay Roebuck, guitarists Andie Min and Sam Ruschman, drummer Aidan O’Connor, and bassist John Steiner. Roebuck, Ruschman and Min started the band a decade ago in Cincinnati, Ohio. Since then, they’ve played alongside Bully, Wavves, and Nothing. After years in the Cincinnati DIY scene, they made their Bayonet Records full-length debut, How the Light Felt. The record was a revelation. Pitchfork called it “a rigorous, decade-spanning study,” and a “well-oiled spin on late-’80s guitar pop.” Under the Radar called it “pop perfection,” that “blends subtle hooks with wistful lyrics.” It was a record that explored grief through the lens of melancholic dreampop, using drum machines and layered, intricate melodies.
Tomorrow Comes Crashing, Smut's first record with O'Connor and Steiner, sees the band re-energized and trained on the limitless potential that comes with making music with people you love. Galvanized with a new lineup, Smut focused on creating a record that possessed the same towering intensity as the records that first got them into music: Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, Relationship of Command. The outcome is ten of their most intense, bombastic, and focused songs to date.
Catharsis bursts through the seams throughout Tomorrow Comes Crashing. “Syd Sweeney, ”inspired by the actress, is the record's centerpiece. It's about how profoundly strange it can be to be a woman, to be misunderstood by people who don’t even know you. The song is driven by chugging guitars and big, rolling drums. In other words: stadium rock about perception. Paramore meets Dookie. “She connects to the youth and the girls in the water/All she amounts to is someone’s daughter,” sings Roebuck in one particularly poetic moment. The song comes to a thrashing metal-inspired breakdown. It’s ecstatic.
To make the record, Smut recorded “as live as they could,” alongside Aron Kobayashi-Ritch(Momma) in a studio in Red Hook, Brooklyn, over the course of ten days. “We have so much energy right now,” says Roebuck. Right before they went off to New York, Roebuck and Min got married, with the rest of the band by their side. The recording was a true labor of love — driving from Chicago with all their equipment, returning from 12 hour studio days to sleep on friends' couches and floors, Roebuck completely blowing her voice by the end. Smut has always been DIY. Because they love it. Because they have to do it–there’s no other option. Tomorrow Comes Crashing is the culmination of that DIY spirit: making a record that completely encompasses the intensity, moodiness, and emotion of their journey so far.

Kali’s artistry has always felt otherworldly, ethereal, and elusive. ‘Sincerely,’ represents her most vulnerable and intimate work to date, offering an existential glimpse into the way she romanticizes life and her inner world. The album is a sanctuary, an escape from the chaos, a search for peace, and an act of catharsis. ‘Sincerely,’ is a collection of letters to the world, allowing her fans to witness her at her most exposed as she invites them into her emotional journey.

When Alanis Morissette took direct aim at an ex who wronged her on the eviscerating “You Oughta Know” in 1995, everything about the Top 10 song communicated it wasn’t the usual narrative about love gone south. Or the typical wounded singer wallowing in self pity. Morissette, and both the lead single from and her entire American major-label debut — the profoundly personal Jagged Little Pill — represented a sea change. They kickstarted a movement, one whose impact continues to echo throughout the mainstream nearly three decades later.

Ranked the 69th Greatest Album of All Time by Rolling Stone, included on the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s list of 200 Definitive Albums, and featured in several books about essential albums, Jagged Little Pill remains more than a blockbuster that has sold more than 17 million copies in the U.S. and 33 million units worldwide. It’s a statement, an attitude, a soundtrack for anyone seeking inspiration, an outlet, or permission to be themselves.

Sourced from the original master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing on MoFi SuperVinyl, and strictly limited to 4,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity’s UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP box set of Jagged Little Pill presents the landmark effort in audiophile-grade sound for the first time. A key part of the record’s appeal and accessibility — Glen Ballard’s smooth production, touches that help Morissette’s exposed-nerve fare seem more accessible and melodic — comes through on this special 30th anniversary edition with an openness, presence, and dynamic explosiveness that make the vocalist’s songs that much more real and visceral.

The singer’s distinctive mezzo-soprano deliveries — the octave-rippling highs, dark-hued lows, dramatic crescendos, belted choruses, wispy reflections, occasional yodels — resonate with full-range ardor and depth. As crucial as anything on the record, Morissette’s confessional words take center stage like never before. Ditto the instrumentation and atmospherics that form the magnetic backgrounds of the songs. Key in on the contributions from Red Hot Chili Peppers Dave Navarro and Flea on “You Oughta Know” to Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers' co-founder Benmont Tench’s organ playing on six tracks.

The deluxe packaging of Mobile Fidelity’s Jagged Little Pill UD1S set underscores the work’s distinguished status. Housed in a slipcase, the LPs come in special foil-stamped jackets with faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendor of the recording. Benefitting from an ultra-low noise floor, superior groove definition, and dead-quiet surfaces, this UD1S reissue is for listeners who prize sound quality and desire to engage themselves in everything involved with the album, including the now-iconic cover art that juxtaposes two portraits of the then-21-year-old singer-songwriter and features typewriter font.

That script — which suggests a raw, blood-on-the-floor document created without modern aids like spell check or language correction — hints at the heightened level of unvarnished intimacy, honesty, and catharsis Morissette offers throughout Jagged Little Pill. Named after a phrase uttered on the astute “You Learn,” the album explores the frank emotions, inherent contradictions, and wishful desires people feel everyday but are often too afraid to express. Morissette displays no such fear or shyness.

Akin to a woman reading from a diary, Morissette leaves nothing to the imagination as she skewers hypocrisy during the poignant “Forgiven,” seeks recompense on the vengeful “You Oughta Know,” and spills her guts on the soul-purging “All I Really Want.” For all the anger and bile ascribed to the singer and record, Jagged Little Pill is incredibly healthy and upbeat. Morissette uses the catchy pop-rock frameworks and moody ambience to suss out situations, to learn, to give hope. There’s the clever yearning of “Hand in My Pocket”; wry contrarianism of “Ironic”; kind-heartedness of “Hand over Feet”; the live-and-let-live spirit of “You Learn” – all positive and amiable.

Throughout Jagged Little Pill, the ever-approachable Morissette connects with listeners who recognize themselves in her — and has an intelligent conversation with anyone who wants to participate. It seemed almost everyone did. In addition to the mammoth sales that make the effort the 17th-best-selling album in American history, Jagged Little Pill collected four Grammy Awards, two American Music Awards, three Billboard Music Awards, and eight Juno Awards. In 2018, the record became the basis for a musical that netted 15 Tony nominations on Broadway.

Ironic? Anything but. Jagged Little Pill transcends generations, gender, and trends. As Morissette sings on the opening “All I Really Want,”, the album represents “deliverance” — “a place to find common ground.”

The Isle Of Lewis is the largest such of the Outer Hebrides archipelago, and a place where myth and folklore are abundant, The Callanish Stones, a cruciform circle reckoned by tradition to be the forms of petrified giants who would not convert to Christianity, once prompted notable chronicler of the ancient Julian Cope to pronounce himself “Lashed by wind and rain but surrounded by vibe”.

This was where Holy Scum decided to take a pilgrimage for the recording of their second album proper for Rocket Recordings, All We Have Is Never. Frustrated by the physical and logistical challenges keeping the band members from collaborating, they decided the best way forward was at the residential Black Bay Studios on Great Bernera, a two hour plus ferry ride from anywhere. “The isolation of Black Bay was our salvation, a much-needed cleanse after a year of relentless misfortune” reckons the band’s Peter Taylor. Taylor describes the Holy Scum approach jokingly as ‘No riffs’ yet this belies an ability to carve abstraction and minimalism into monolithic and ominous shapes. Whilst the band are as handy as ever with excoriating and ear-splitting experimentation - as on the feverish guitar scree that underpins the taut‘Thieves’ - they also excel in a grittily vital charge as analogous to the ballsy kinetics of Fugazi and The Ex (the primal ‘I Am The Land’) as the overcast catharsis of Killing Joke and Voivod (the infectious ‘Witches’). “The title is a nod to the fact that everything ends - good, bad, ugly, beautiful “ reflects vocalist Mike Mare (Dälek) of their most focused work to date. “That is not a bad thing - it is a rebirth every time. We can spend a lifetime 24/7 together having shared experiences but living separate realities”. “I don’t think it is nihilistic,” he adds. “The despair turns into hope for sure”.

VERY LIMITED 2025 REPRESS ON BEAM OF LIGHT VINYL .

Everything changed for The Beths when they released their debut album, Future Me Hates Me, in 2018. The indie rock band had long been nurtured within Auckland, New Zealand’s tight-knit music scene, working full-time during the day and playing music with friends after hours. Full of uptempo pop rock songs with bright, indelible hooks, the LP garnered them critical acclaim from outlets like Pitchfork and Rolling Stone, and they set out for their first string of shows overseas. They quit their jobs, said goodbye to their home town, and devoted themselves entirely to performing across North America and Europe. They found themselves playing to crowds of devoted fans and opening for acts like Pixies and Death Cab for Cutie. Almost instantly, The Beths turned from a passion project into a full-time career in music.

Songwriter and lead vocalist Elizabeth Stokes worked on what would become The Beths’ second LP, Jump Rope Gazers, in between these intense periods of touring. Like the group’s earlier music, the album tackles themes of anxiety and self-doubt with effervescent power pop choruses and rousing backup vocals, zeroing in on the communality and catharsis that can come from sharing stressful situations with some of your best friends. Stokes’s writing on Jump Rope Gazers grapples with the uneasy proposition of leaving everything and everyone you know behind on another continent, chasing your dreams while struggling to stay close with loved ones back home.

"If you're at a certain age, all your friends scatter to the four winds,” Stokes says. “We did the same thing. When you're home, you miss everybody, and when you're away, you miss everybody. We were just missing people all the time.”

With songs like the rambunctious “Dying To Believe” and the tender, shoegazey “Out of Sight,” The Beths reckon with the distance that life necessarily drives between people over time. People who love each other inevitably fail each other. “I’m sorry for the way that I can’t hold conversations/They’re such a fragile thing to try to support the weight of,” Stokes sings on “Dying to Believe.” The best way to repair that failure, in The Beths’ view, is with abundant and unconditional love, no matter how far it has to travel. On “Out of Sight,” she pledges devotion to a dearly missed friend: “If your world collapses/I’ll be down in the rubble/I’d build you another,” she sings.

“It was a rough year in general, and I found myself saying the words, 'wish you were here, wish I was there,’ over and over again,” she says of the time period in which the album was written. Touring far from home, The Beths committed themselves to taking care of each other as they were trying at the same time to take care of friends living thousands of miles away. They encouraged each other to communicate whenever things got hard, and to pay forward acts of kindness whenever they could. That care and attention shines through on Jump Rope Gazers, where the quartet sounds more locked in than ever. Their most emotive and heartfelt work to date, Jump Rope Gazers stares down all the hard parts of living in communion with other people, even at a distance, while celebrating the ferocious joy that makes it all worth it -- a sentiment we need now more than ever.

Prism Shores are Montreal janglers with one foot planted in ramshackle C86-indebted indie pop and the other in the shimmer of early English shoegaze. While their sound is reminiscent of perennial genre reference points (Sarah, Creation, Flying Nun), the band leaves their own idiosyncratic stamp. Out From Underneath, their new record due out January 17, 2025, on Meritorio Records, tackles young adult ennui and the adjustment of settling in an unfamiliar city, its lyrics dealing with the growing pains experienced during a time of upheaval. It is contemplative and chock-full of emotional depth; a nighttime album that channels self-reflexive melancholy into some form of catharsis.

Sneaker Social Club welcome a veritable supergroup of bass heavyweights in the form of Legion. Made up of Trends, Boylan, P Jam and D.O.K., this four strong collective first came to light with the We Are Many 12" on Artikal Music in 2021, and now they regroup for another four-strong payload of soundsystem pressure that embraces the darkness in devastating fashion.

The Sister Abigail EP leads with 'Rastaman', an ice-cold half-step drop that summons the spirit of early dubstep in its raw minimalism, eerie atmospherics and snarling low-end wobble. Without an ounce of fat, it's a lean workout of drums and bass that finds catharsis in simplicity without compromising on high definition detail. 'Souls' locks into a jerky groove to set the dance off at acute angles, nudging the textures up a notch without disturbing the spartan mood of the release. 'Sister Abigail' pushes the underlying malevolence of the Legion sound to the forefront with dissonant sheet-metal tones while packing the rhythm section into a tight, vicious formation of gnashing, chrome-plated teeth. 'Play That Vibe' seals the deal on the EP with a hard-thumping, propulsive groove that calls to mind the techy development of dubstep in the 2010s — a taut, tracky throwdown to keep the intensity on a rolling boil.

Drawing on the grounding principles of OG dubstep with a sharp line in crisp, modernist production and a ruthless economy of arrangement on display, Legion prove many cooks can still result in a potent, brutally focused broth.