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Fan Club Orchestra (FCO) has its roots in collaborative performances and recordings that began taking place in the late nineties in Brussels. These continued into the second decade of the new millennium around Belgium and neighbouring countries. At a time when large contemporary arts spaces were less professionalised, less obedient to
funding and attendance numbers, and Still tuned to their founding DIY impulses, FCO were able to nurture their nebulous cast of players with their unconventional ensemble of instruments to their own ends. The apparent informality of their performances, mixed with the sheer spectacle of their unfolding, transplanted the experimentalism of New York's downtown scene of the 1960s into the cracked consumer electronics period of new media art at the turn of the century. A newly regrouped FCO now present their album 'VL_Stay' on 12th Isle. This literation of FCO sees Baudoux joined by Ann Appermans on guitar and bass, and Zéphyr Zijlstra on trumpet. Appermans is an original FCO member as well as a frequent collaborator with Baudoux. Zijlstra is a jazz student at the Royal Conservatoire of Brussels. Recorded in just two weeks, the trio invoke the pedigree with which FCO first toyed, while sketching a continuity with new references.

"Polymath artist, musician and iconoclast Raed Yassin releases Eternal Ghost, two long-form pieces of modular minimalism via Fourth Sounds. Drawing on influences of Terry Riley, Suicide, no wave and synth pop, the double A-side 12” reverberates with urgent, high-octane loops, repeating patterns and distorted vocal frequencies, each track unfurling over 15 frantic Minutes of maximalist electronics.

Born in Lebanon and based in Berlin, with a musical practice that spans free improvisation, Arabic pop and sample-based cultural archaeology, Yassin is an artist who refuses to be contained, working across disciplines to interrogate ideas of personal identity, collective memory and consumer culture.

Eternal Ghost is the latest addition to a shape-shifting body of work, released to accompany Yassin’s debut London exhibition of the same name at Cedric Bardawil in June 2025."

Repress!

N0!zy blighter Russell Haswell returns to Diagonal 5 years after his label debut with a spontaneously combusting follow-up to ’37 Minute Workout’ generated again from a mix of analog/digital synths and modular systems edited on a computer. It was inspired by a visit to CERN, The European Organisation for Nuclear Research, in Geneva; and dinner with Ted Nelson, whose theories of interwingularity and transclusion chimed with the direction recordings took.There are few artists who can genuinely make music that sounds like your needle and/or record is melting, but Russell Haswell is one of them. His 2nd volume of extremely kinky calisthenics is a potent example of daring to be different in a world where exponentially increasing production options are leading producers of all stripes to the exact same conclusions. But, with thanks to Russell’s iconoclastic intent, restless nature and ascetic aesthetics, he still sounds quite like nobody else, and, even better yet, doesn’t give a shit if you like it or not. For the record (this one in particular), we’re all over it like a hot rash.
Since reincorporating his early love of freestyle electro and Industrial dance music into his patented n0!ze matrices circa the 1st volume of ’37 Minute Workout’, Russell has steered that rhythm-driven style into a string of fizzy bangers for Diagonal and even applied it to his production for Consumer Electronics with typically radical results. Russell’s 2nd volume of ’37 Minute Workout’ is cut from similarly (but never the same) ragged material as the first batch, and spits, kicks and claws with equal amounts of eething, pent energy and rambunctiousness ready to jab the ‘floor in the eye or dissolve a party where needed.
Crowbarring cues ranging from the Latin Rascals to Incapacitants and Jeff Mills into 7 wickedly awkward designs, Haswell keeps his avant aerobics radically irregular as he hops from the tendon-twitching angularity of ‘The Wild Horses of the Revolution have arrived Without Knight’ to steel-hoofed clatter in ‘Central Crisis Management Cell’ and the lacquer-eating dynamics of ‘Painful
Memories From The Past Need To Be Acknowledged’, before toning a proper nasty acid special in the UR inversion ‘Dancing on the Head of an Eagle’, and seemingly sucking your brain out thru a straw with ‘Starting Something You’re Not Able To Finish’, with the dry witted, skeletal jazz-funk squirm of ‘Diplomatic Cocktail Circuit’ closing the party down in style.

Sound: An Exhibition of Sound Sculpture, Instrument Building and Acoustically Tuned Spaces opened at the Los Angeles Institute of Contemporary Art in the summer of 1979 (and was also on view later that year at PS1 in New York). Curated by Bob Wilhiteand Robert Smith, the exhibition surveyed the field of sound art. The forty-four participants were painters pivoted toward performance, conceptual artists attracted to time-based mediums, self-styled creators of environments, and musicians (formally trained and otherwise) fashioning new instruments from household items and consumer electronics. They were more or less object-oriented and, at the same time, more or less music-oriented. What brought them all together, as the exhibition catalog gamely asserted, was sculpting in three-dimensional space.

The Sound exhibit included installations, recordings played in the exhibition space and a series of live performances, demonstrating instruments that otherwise rested inert in the gallery. For a broader sense of the show than a single visit provided, the curators also produced a compilation album featuring short pieces, or excerpts from longer works, by many of the participants. (Artists in the exhibition, but not on the LP include Alvin Lucier and Mike Kelley.) Selections from bright lights of the 20th century avant-garde – such as composers Bill Fontana, Yoshi Wada and Paul DeMarinis; conceptual artists and performance artists Terry Fox, Tom Marioni and Jim Pomeroy; experimental vocalist Joan La Barbara; and Los Angeles Free Music Society members Tom Recchion and John Duncan – feature alongside the sounds of Jim Hobart's tuned jars, Ivor Darreg's fretless banjo, Doug Hollis' aeolian harp and Richard Dunlap's rubber bands.

This first-time reissue is limited to 500 numbered copies. Comes with poster.

Collaboration between Broken English Club and Autumns exploring dub, post-punk atmospheres and political unrest. Debut EP is a bold and eclectic taster of this duo. Vacant Heads is the duo of Christian Donaghey (Autumns) and Oliver Ho (Broken English Club). Anyone familiar with their work, or underground electronic music in the last two decades, probably needs no further introduction. Having worked together (Autumns' album ‘Shortly After Nothing’ was released on Oliver’s ‘Death and Leisure’ label) and shared stages over the years. Vacant Heads was borne from a desire to collaborate on tracks and form a live unit.
Their debut self-titled EP is a bold taster of where Vacant Heads are at and where Vacant Heads are headed. These four tracks reek of a brutal and busted city - after-hours prowls with fuck all to do and nowhere to go. In “Crawling Up The Pisser”, Ho’s world-weary treatise on consumerism drools over the nag, nag, nag of the tightest and tautest post-punk electronics. “Heavy Rain Dub” is a ten-minute low-end cruiser. A deep, Digi-dub riddim underpins clarinet squalls, jaw harp twang and screwed vocals that feel like a nocturnal trip into Chris Morris’ ‘Blue Jam’…On Side B, “Street Toucher’s” rowdy snare hits, new wave synths and trademark distorted howl from Donagheyhint at the potential ferocity of their upcoming live shows. “Swan Dive” rounds off the EP - slowing down the tempo and pulling influence from the renegade sound of Adrian Sherwood’s revered production work with the likes of Tackhead and Keith LeBlanc. The heaviest breakbeats meet industrial churn and clipped vocal samples. Vacant Heads. Nothing up top. Pure body music.

On textstar+ Jan Jelinek brings together the material from the CMYK series, four EPs he released between 1999 and 2002 under the pseudonym farben (the German word for both colours and paints), on a vinyl double LP for the first time. The selection of tracks has been remastered from the original tapes, joined by two additional pieces that appeared on compilations during the same period.

A Polaroid. Still life with tangled leads and consumer electronics, late twentieth century. Black and various shades of dirty white are the dominant non-colours. The image’s spatial depth remains diffuse, the links between its elements speculative. A note stuck to the wall (a legend, perhaps, or an all-explaining blueprint in text form?) is impossible to decipher. You can’t see what connects the picture’s signs. You have to hear it.

farben says: Every sound is a text. A bearer of meaning in search of a reader. Hoping the ideas inscribed in its autonomous existence will be understood as intended. While its beauty lies precisely in misunderstanding, in reading the coded message a new way every time. A thousand colours of sound, a thousand different ways to hear, to see, to understand.

On textstar+ Jan Jelinek brings together the material from the CMYK series, four EPs he released between 1999 and 2002 under the pseudonym farben (the German word for both colours and paints), on a vinyl double LP for the first time. The selection of tracks has been remastered from the original tapes, joined by two additional pieces that appeared on compilations during the same period. Another new element is the Polaroid, showing the origins of a world: Jelinek’s home studio in Berlin at the time.

farben says: Move your body! The project has its roots in Jelinek’s love of house as a reductionist vision of soul. Of four to the floor as a proposition that can be accessed anywhere. Of electronic dance music as a realm of possibility that can be continually expanded. farben was written as contemporary house music. As a text about excitement and euphoria. The arrangements were made directly while recording to DAT, on a twelve-channel mixing desk. Several track titles suggest a link to live concerts, coupled with the context of machine music and bedroom recording. Others affirm pop music’s most extravagant stock phrases about various states of love.

Jelinek produced the tracks with the aim of making music for dancefloors. An idea that failed very productively. In the locations to which it was originally addressed, the project barely figured. But people did listen, and they listened all the more closely to this music that opened up new acoustic and associative scope for house. farben is the opposite of genre: a music spawning new terms (clicks & cuts, micro-house) that never manage to fully capture it.

farben says: Signifiers. The four CMYK EPs are designed as a network of references that cannot be missed but that can also never be precisely deciphered. The vectors of sound, word and image point to Isaac Hayes and Ornette Coleman, to Detroit and the first generation of the Red Army Faction, to Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels. So multifarious that they are distorted to the point of recognition. Overall we hear sonic docufictions whose appealing vagueness derives precisely from this oscillation between clarity and ambiguity, which is also the source of their poetry: the lyricism of the pure circulation of signs.

The artwork is based on photographs of former Red Army Faction members, broken down into the four colours of the CMYK model. The motifs dissolve into individual dots of a single colour, so close to the faces that their expressions are only hinted at. Taken together, the individual colours compose a new whole out of fragmentary material, defying definition and thus maintaining their vibrancy. The same occurs on the level of sound. The sampler Jelinek used for these tracks had to be fed with floppy disks, imposing a memory limit of 1.44 megabytes per audio quotation from soul or jazz records. As a necessary consequence of this, the individual references, like the dots of colour, are dissolved into details and abstractions. They appear as splinters that recombine in new ways to create new meanings. The joy of collapsing metaphors.

farben says: New departures. Even two decades after its original release, textstar+ does not come across as an epitaph to the modern era. Instead, it appears as a euphoric affirmation of the utopias of the twentieth century, translated into new sound texts via the aesthetic strategies of abstraction, collage, networking and speculation. 1.44 megabytes of history, one thousand signifiers, one album. From “Live ...” to “... Love”.

Arno Raffeiner, 2021

Escapist Eschaton may be used as background music for the following:

Building a refuge for exiled planets.
Conscious absorption of rare elements.
Cloudlike observations of evaporated landmasses.
A wistful emulation of escape.
Preparing food for the moon.
Strange situation test for non-terrestrial officers.
Counterfeiting consumer electronics.
Retuning GABAergic interneurons.
Accompaniment for affective picture systems.
Rituals of self-decompression.
Inquiries into trace minerals.

Orange Vinyl

WRWTFWW Records is very happy to announce the release of the new album from legendary Deee-Lite member Towa Tei, celebrating the 30th year of his career. It is available on (orange) vinyl for the first time outside of Japan.
The album, simply titled LP features Japanese music icons Haruomi Hosono and Yukihiro Takahashi (Yellow Magic Orchestra), Yasuaki Shimizu (Kakashi), fellow METAFIVE colleagues Tomohiko Gondo and Yoshinori Sunahara, HANA, Wataru Iga, Shunji Mori, Hidefumi Ino and more.
It was mixed by famed engineer Goh Hotoda and the artwork comes from painter Tomoo Gokita.
Poppy, catchy, dancy, and very funky, Towa Tei’s 10th solo album is 100% delirious ride and a testament to the Deee-Lite member’s ever-expanding creativity, combining simplicity and experimentalism in the most feel-good ways. Indoor, outdoor, and every day of the year, this one will make you dance and smile!
This release is a collaboration between legendary Japanese label Nippon Columbia/Better Days and WRWTFWW Records.

LTD. COLORED VINYL

Somewhere Between: Mutant Pop, Electronic Minimalism & Shadow Sounds of Japan 1980–1988 hovers vibe–wise between two distinct poles within Light In The Attic’s acclaimed Japan Archival Series—Kankyō Ongaku: Japanese Ambient, Environmental & New Age Music 1980–1990 and Pacific Breeze: Japanese City Pop, AOR & Boogie 1976–1986. All three albums showcase recordings produced during Japan’s soaring bubble economy of the 1980s, an era in which aesthetic visions and consumerism merged. Music echoed the nation’s prosperity and with financial abundance came the luxury to dream.

Sonically, Somewhere Between mines the midpoint between Kankyō Ongaku’s sparkling atmospherics and Pacific Breeze’s metropolitan boogie. The compilation encompasses ambient pop, underground electronics, liminal minimalism and shadow sounds—all descriptors emphasizing the hazy nature of the nebula. Out–of–focus rhythms wear ethereal accoutrements, ballads are shrouded in static, and angular drums snake skyward on transcendent tones. From the Avant–minimalism of Mkwaju Ensemble and Yoshio Ojima, to the leftfield techno-pop of Mishio Ogawa and Noriko Miyamoto (featuring members of YMO), and highlights from the groundbreaking Osaka underground label Vanity Records, these are blurry constellations defying collective categorization.

These tracks also exist in a space of transition when the major label grip on the Japanese recording market began to give way to the escalation of independents. Thanks to the idyllic economic climate and innovations in domestically–manufactured music gear, creators on the edges were empowered to focus on satisfying their artistic visions in the open headspace of home studios. While labels like Warner Music and Nippon Columbia explored new sounds through traditional channels, it was possible for Vanity, Balcony and other indie labels, not to mention self–released artists like Ojima and Naoki Asai, to publish their work via affordable media such as cassettes, 7" vinyl, and flexi–discs.

Expertly curated by Yosuke Kitazawa and Mark “Frosty” McNeill (dublab), Somewhere Between is a collection of music, much of it released for the first time outside Japan, that is bound more by energetic vibration than shared history, genre or scene. They are the sounds of transition and searching—a celebration of the freedom found in floating.

Note: The track “Days Man” by Yoshio Ojima is only available on the LP and Cassette versions.

Somewhere Between: Mutant Pop, Electronic Minimalism & Shadow Sounds of Japan 1980–1988 hovers vibe–wise between two distinct poles within Light In The Attic’s acclaimed Japan Archival Series—Kankyō Ongaku: Japanese Ambient, Environmental & New Age Music 1980–1990 and Pacific Breeze: Japanese City Pop, AOR & Boogie 1976–1986. All three albums showcase recordings produced during Japan’s soaring bubble economy of the 1980s, an era in which aesthetic visions and consumerism merged. Music echoed the nation’s prosperity and with financial abundance came the luxury to dream.

Sonically, Somewhere Between mines the midpoint between Kankyō Ongaku’s sparkling atmospherics and Pacific Breeze’s metropolitan boogie. The compilation encompasses ambient pop, underground electronics, liminal minimalism and shadow sounds—all descriptors emphasizing the hazy nature of the nebula. Out–of–focus rhythms wear ethereal accoutrements, ballads are shrouded in static, and angular drums snake skyward on transcendent tones. From the Avant–minimalism of Mkwaju Ensemble and Yoshio Ojima, to the leftfield techno-pop of Mishio Ogawa and Noriko Miyamoto (featuring members of YMO), and highlights from the groundbreaking Osaka underground label Vanity Records, these are blurry constellations defying collective categorization.

These tracks also exist in a space of transition when the major label grip on the Japanese recording market began to give way to the escalation of independents. Thanks to the idyllic economic climate and innovations in domestically–manufactured music gear, creators on the edges were empowered to focus on satisfying their artistic visions in the open headspace of home studios. While labels like Warner Music and Nippon Columbia explored new sounds through traditional channels, it was possible for Vanity, Balcony and other indie labels, not to mention self–released artists like Ojima and Naoki Asai, to publish their work via affordable media such as cassettes, 7" vinyl, and flexi–discs.

Expertly curated by Yosuke Kitazawa and Mark “Frosty” McNeill (dublab), Somewhere Between is a collection of music, much of it released for the first time outside Japan, that is bound more by energetic vibration than shared history, genre or scene. They are the sounds of transition and searching—a celebration of the freedom found in floating.

Note: The track “Days Man” by Yoshio Ojima is only available on the LP and Cassette versions.

Experimental A/V duo. It's live-sets are pure dark distorsion and deconstruction sound. Avant-Garde, non-art, chaos and tension are the main references of this project. Broken rhythms, sharp sounds, dissonances make up the main musical spectrum of this band.

Influenced by Electro and Industrial music, inspired by artists such as Ultradyne, Hijokaidan, Merzbow, Drexciya, Consumer Electronics, Throbbing Gristle, Dopplereffekt or Esplendor Geometrico. They just realised their first EP called math.random() in Rator Mute label.

A new piece by Australian artist Tarquin Manek, devised in collaboration with poet Martina Quake of Canvey Island, UK and recorded at M.E.S.S. (Melbourne Electronic Sound Studio), utilising EMS VCS3, Oberheim OB-Xa and ARP 2600 in combination with cheap, contemporary consumer electronics. It is, to all intents and purposes, a short, cautionary story about love. It is also a folk-tale, a science fiction, a suicide note. Unusually for a long-form spoken word piece, it is immediate in its impact, and lasting in its effect. Our narrator is damaged and unreliable: Quake's voice, digitally processed into a flat, AI affectlessness, conveys this all too well. Is this the vernacular poetry of the Uncanny Valley, or is it just that loss makes robots - numb and listless not-quite-humans - of us all Locks revels in the space between the spontaneous and the programmed (what is a poem if not a programme). It's part Tales Of The Unexpected, part Susan Howe, part Ruth Rendell, part HAL (or Holly). Manek's music is widescreen but understated...a becalmed landscape populated by distant drones, just-out-of-focus field recordings, and phased, minimalistic, Rhodes-style keys. A sort of sombre, lunar jazz. Space-age bachelor pad music, maybe, for a bachelor at the edge of space and the end of his tether. Just as Quake's words are cumulative in their tragedy, so the music grows more agitated and turbulent, at certain points harking back to the smoked-out psycho-acoustics of Manek's 2015 Blackest Ever Black LP, Tarquin Magnet, and his work in F ingers with Samuel Karmel and Carla dal Forno.