quête:cybernet systems

The year is 2025, 30 years on from the release of the original “We Are Borg”, Bass Junkie’s first vinyl release under his Cybernet Systems alias. This seminal Electro Bass track, originally featuring additional production from the legendary Dynamix II out of Florida, was the first release on the short lived Panic Trax label. Using the same sounds salvaged from the original SP1200 disc, Bass Junkie has remixed this classic for the next generation…

Next up is “Bass Force”, delivering a heavy assault on the senses with its soaring synths and deadly Bass, pushing the envelope and bringing forth a new take on the Electro Bass sound.

Flip to side 2 for “Electron Spin Resonance”, a DMX driven track of relentless pounding rhythms, tape style edits and a ferocious marching bassline.

Finally Bass Junkie takes us back to the old school with “Proceed”, a homage to the 80s sound and the early trax that broke boundaries and made Electro a force to be reckoned with.



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TIMEPOINT is the studio album distilled from Stéphane Bissières’ eponymous audiovisual performance, where modular synthesis meets generative real-time visuals. In the live show, sound and image are intertwined: each musical gesture informs a visual response, creating a dynamic, evolving environment where music and visuals interact organically.

Paris-based composer and new media artist Stéphane Bissières works at the intersection of electronic music, generative art, and cybernetics. He develops algorithmic systems that explore timbre, structure, and the interplay of energies, translating data into immersive sensory experiences.

For TIMEPOINT, Bissières transforms the live, algorithmic energy into a self-contained sonic journey. Using modular synthesis and generative composition, he builds intricate, evolving textures that balance chaos and structure — a sonic ecosystem reflecting movement, pattern, and organic order.

The music explores timbre as a central element, sculpting sounds that resonate with the visual patterns of the performance. Each track functions as a microcosm of the show: algorithmically generated sequences, cybernetic textures, and evolving layers converge to form a lush, immersive soundscape.

TIMEPOINT invites listeners to explore a world where technology, imagination, and organic structure coexist. It’s an intimate translation of a live audiovisual universe, now accessible as a focused listening experience.

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" 'Via Negativa (in the doorway light)'. Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo’s enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering – these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age.

The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band’s fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music’s polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals."

From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don’t see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" 'Via Negativa (in the doorway light)'. Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo’s enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering – these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age.

The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band’s fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music’s polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals."

From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don’t see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."

Much time has passed since the Queer Australian/Italian-Armenian, multifaceted artist, Kristian Bahoudian aka Kris Baha, swapped the parched red earth and searing midday sun of the Australian landscape for the brutalist communist-era apartment blocks and slate-grey skies of former East Berlin. Kris is now a fixture in Berlin’s club scene and has toured most of the world as a DJ & live artist with his own unique production style of cyber industrial, EBM, wave, post punk, and early ‘90s IDM mutations. Remixing some of the scene’s most notable artists such as Boy Harsher and techno pop lord Boys Noize, Kris has garnered respect and trust in the electronic music scene for the last 13 years. To respond to the current AI revolution, Kris uploads himself to the cyber ether through his latest project: GHOSTS IN THE MACHIИE.

Across Dual Timelines —
” GHOSTS IN THE MACHIИE ” unfolds as a sci-fi cyberpunk concept project inhabiting dual timelines. In one, we glimpse a trans-humanist future where human consciousness exists as intricate sequences of binary code, entwined and controlled by omnipresent AI systems. In this coded future, a profound awakening stirs among a select few who manage to mutate the code they were governed by, unlocking memories of their history that was erased by the AI. Through this discovery they realize they can traverse temporal boundaries and utilize this power to send warning messages back in time to their former fully human selves. These eerie missives carry a dire warning for humanity, urging them to rectify the course of society before the relentless march of artificial intelligence deprives humanity of its essence. In this terrifying future, humans are rendered mere specters within the digital expanse, stripped of their souls, to become Ghosts In The Machine.
Collaboration with the future self —
The cyber odyssey unfolds from a unique perspective— Kris’s very own future self (his future ghost): a spectral entity endeavoring to caution its present incarnation against the ominous path it treads, attempting to avert a dystopian future.Sonic Alchemy —
A fuse of cybernetic synth waves, hyper-punk, and pulsating drum and bass laid out against the dystopian, industrial sonic landscape of this grim future “civilization”. Each track recounts a new chapter in the gripping narrative, drawing listeners deeper into their own story and the role we all play as a collective society with the future possibilities of unregulated AI.Recorded in Berlin with software and hardware synthesisers. AI was used to assist me with lyric themes, concepts and ideas. I also used a trained AI model of my own voice as backing vocals in ‘Haunting Me’.ll music, words & concepts by Kristian Bahoudian aka Kris Baha and his future ghost,
GHOSTS IN THE MACHIИE

Much time has passed since the Queer Australian/Italian-Armenian, multifaceted artist, Kristian Bahoudian aka Kris Baha, swapped the parched red earth and searing midday sun of the Australian landscape for the brutalist communist-era apartment blocks and slate-grey skies of former East Berlin. Kris is now a fixture in Berlin’s club scene and has toured most of the world as a DJ & live artist with his own unique production style of cyber industrial, EBM, wave, post punk, and early ‘90s IDM mutations. Remixing some of the scene’s most notable artists such as Boy Harsher and techno pop lord Boys Noize, Kris has garnered respect and trust in the electronic music scene for the last 13 years. To respond to the current AI revolution, Kris uploads himself to the cyber ether through his latest project: GHOSTS IN THE MACHIИE.

Across Dual Timelines —
” GHOSTS IN THE MACHIИE ” unfolds as a sci-fi cyberpunk concept project inhabiting dual timelines. In one, we glimpse a trans-humanist future where human consciousness exists as intricate sequences of binary code, entwined and controlled by omnipresent AI systems. In this coded future, a profound awakening stirs among a select few who manage to mutate the code they were governed by, unlocking memories of their history that was erased by the AI. Through this discovery they realize they can traverse temporal boundaries and utilize this power to send warning messages back in time to their former fully human selves. These eerie missives carry a dire warning for humanity, urging them to rectify the course of society before the relentless march of artificial intelligence deprives humanity of its essence. In this terrifying future, humans are rendered mere specters within the digital expanse, stripped of their souls, to become Ghosts In The Machine.
Collaboration with the future self —
The cyber odyssey unfolds from a unique perspective— Kris’s very own future self (his future ghost): a spectral entity endeavoring to caution its present incarnation against the ominous path it treads, attempting to avert a dystopian future.Sonic Alchemy —
A fuse of cybernetic synth waves, hyper-punk, and pulsating drum and bass laid out against the dystopian, industrial sonic landscape of this grim future “civilization”. Each track recounts a new chapter in the gripping narrative, drawing listeners deeper into their own story and the role we all play as a collective society with the future possibilities of unregulated AI.Recorded in Berlin with software and hardware synthesisers. AI was used to assist me with lyric themes, concepts and ideas. I also used a trained AI model of my own voice as backing vocals in ‘Haunting Me’.ll music, words & concepts by Kristian Bahoudian aka Kris Baha and his future ghost,
GHOSTS IN THE MACHIИE

The Bass Junkie sound spans the old school beats and vibes of the Electro genre’s origins, to the borderline industrial. Phil is a battle hardened Bass Bot from the future armed with his trusty MPC.

The obsession with all things sci-fi continues with this 'Cruising The Bass Nebula' EP. Out this February on my Asking for Trouble label, this is testament to his non-stop love of the genre and keeps on evolving with this funky 10".

Phil Klein aka Bass Junkie has been part of the Bass furniture for decades. I first came across him at my local roller disco somewhere in the 80s where he would flex his early DJ skills. Phil was cutting and scratching on the decks way before anyone I knew.

His history is quite something. In the early 90s he contacted Dave Noller from Dynamix II in Florida and after sending demos (pre-Internet of course). He ended up going there to make some tunes under the name of Cybernet Systems.

Phil has had many monikers and worked with lots of people over the years. Model Citizens with Matt Whitehead, IBM, Gods of Technology and Kronos Device with Si Brown (Dexorcist) and myself both as The Brink and part of The Resonance Committee to name a few. 2021 saw the release of the album Sub Sonic Survivor on Bass Agenda. He's had releases on lots of labels over the years including Control Tower, Firewire, SMB, Ed DMX's Breakin records, Andrea Parker's Touchin Bass label, Billy Nasty's Electrix and his own Battle Trax label.

Throbullating throughout the galaxy since 1986!

The debut from new splinter alias of Manchester producer, sequencer designer, and Cong Burn label boss John Howes was made entirely on a Nord Modular G2, Elektron Machinedrum, and Monomachine – a rig he characterizes as “an authentic 2006 studio, best listened to on Windows XP Media Player or Winamp.” Paperclip Minimiser’s self-titled full-length collects eight elusively multi-dimensional constructs of stereo panned synthetics and slithering ambient techno, born of a web of generative patches subjected to improvisational alterations. Taking things further, Howes’ process involves “planting ghosts in the machines,” instilling each element with “some self-correcting behavior in a cybernetic / lo-fi AI / semi-autonomous agent kinda way.” The result is an ambiguous and dynamic hybrid of accident and intention, chaos and control, shuffling through an innerspace wilderness of psychic circuitry.

The title alludes to a 2003 thought experiment about the existential risk of artificial intelligence; how even a mundane objective, algorithmically extrapolated, could culminate in catastrophe. Here the notion is inverted, demonstrating the sonic infinities to be mined by “pushing and pulling at the strings” of musical systems. Howes aptly samples a vintage interview with electronic music pioneer Bebe Barron – co-composer of the Forbidden Planet soundtrack – discussing the anthropomorphic potential of randomized audio generation: “We thought of our circuits as actors in a script.” Paperclip Minimiser descends from a similar family tree, coaxed as much as crafted, flickering rhythmic synchronicities glimpsed in a mirage of wires and glass.

Cabaret Voltaire co-founder Stephen Mallinder's second solo outing for Dais further distills his signature fusion of minimal synth, oblique wordplay, and "wonky disco" into a riveting rhythm suite ripe for our Age of Escalation: Tick Tick Tick. Channeling the temporal malaise of lockdown through a lusher palette of modular electronics and stereo strings, the songs embrace ambiguity and plasticity, loose systems of percolating circuitry and airless funk. Recorded across a handful of sessions at Meme Tune Studios in Cornwall with frequent collaborator Benge (aka Ben Edwards), Mallinder cites no guiding aesthetic premise for the collection beyond "cowbell on every track, and entirely no reverb." From the first coiled cybernetic groove of opener "Contact," the album's spatial dynamics are disorienting and asymmetrical, alternately cold and sensual, opiated and claustrophobic. But, throughout, "rhythm is the default, the bedrock, the building block-even the melodies are rhythmic." Across 40-plus years of electronic musicianship, Mallinder's sense of timing and tempo has honed into a rare tier of mastery, limber and fluid but knotted with strange frictions. Shades of Detroit technoid industrial ("ringdropp," "Shock To The Body") crossfade into now avy punk-funk ("Guernica Gallery," "Galaxy," "The Trial"), bad trip IDM ("Wasteland"), and jittery vapor house ("Hush"), at the threshold of modes both familiar and foreign. Lyrically the record is equally evasive, rich with allusions and associative linguistics, surveying liquid notions of societal noise, ecological ruin, art world pretension, and the trials of daily life. But the lack of fixed meaning remains Mallinder's main muse: "Music should draw you in; lyrics should make you think. Most interpretation is misinterpretation." This is music of countdowns and comedowns, fleeting pleasures and opaque futures, observing the great decline while dancing on its ashes. Flux is deathless and forever; the rest, illusion: "I will be a constant figure / Flickering a moving picture / Turning in your head forever / Split apart but held together."

Cabaret Voltaire co-founder Stephen Mallinder's second solo outing for Dais further distills his signature fusion of minimal synth, oblique wordplay, and "wonky disco" into a riveting rhythm suite ripe for our Age of Escalation: Tick Tick Tick. Channeling the temporal malaise of lockdown through a lusher palette of modular electronics and stereo strings, the songs embrace ambiguity and plasticity, loose systems of percolating circuitry and airless funk. Recorded across a handful of sessions at Meme Tune Studios in Cornwall with frequent collaborator Benge (aka Ben Edwards), Mallinder cites no guiding aesthetic premise for the collection beyond "cowbell on every track, and entirely no reverb." From the first coiled cybernetic groove of opener "Contact," the album's spatial dynamics are disorienting and asymmetrical, alternately cold and sensual, opiated and claustrophobic. But, throughout, "rhythm is the default, the bedrock, the building block-even the melodies are rhythmic." Across 40-plus years of electronic musicianship, Mallinder's sense of timing and tempo has honed into a rare tier of mastery, limber and fluid but knotted with strange frictions. Shades of Detroit technoid industrial ("ringdropp," "Shock To The Body") crossfade into now avy punk-funk ("Guernica Gallery," "Galaxy," "The Trial"), bad trip IDM ("Wasteland"), and jittery vapor house ("Hush"), at the threshold of modes both familiar and foreign. Lyrically the record is equally evasive, rich with allusions and associative linguistics, surveying liquid notions of societal noise, ecological ruin, art world pretension, and the trials of daily life. But the lack of fixed meaning remains Mallinder's main muse: "Music should draw you in; lyrics should make you think. Most interpretation is misinterpretation." This is music of countdowns and comedowns, fleeting pleasures and opaque futures, observing the great decline while dancing on its ashes. Flux is deathless and forever; the rest, illusion: "I will be a constant figure / Flickering a moving picture / Turning in your head forever / Split apart but held together."

The 4th full-length by Tokyo Metropolis electronica entity UNKNOWN ME, Bishintai, is a sublime synthetic suite of cosmic wellness transmissions exploring “the unknown beauty of your mind and body,” appropriately named for a kanji compound meaning “beauty, mind, body.” Crafted with software, synthesizer, steel drum, rhythm boxes, and robotic voice by the core quartet of Yakenohara, P-RUFF, H. Takahashi, and Osawa Yudai, the album unfolds like a holographic guided meditation, soothing but cybernetic, framed by subways and sky malls. Latticework electronics flicker with texture, glitch, wobble, and mirage, themed around sensory perception and body parts.

A diverse cast of collaborators assist in actualizing the collection's uniquely urban expression of new age ambient, from psychedelic footwork riddler foodman to multi-instrumentalist institution Jim O'Rourke to Japanese underground shape-shifters MC.Sirafu and Lisa Nakagawa. Although the group cites a therapeutic muse (“made for the maintenance of the minds of city dwellers”), Bishintai shimmers with an alien strangeness, too, like decentralized relaxation systems obeying sentient circuits. This is music of utopia and nowhere, channeling worlds within worlds, birthed from a sonic ethos as simple as it is sacred: “in pursuit of beautiful tones.”

An unheard production unit entirely geared towards hi-octane live explosiveness and spine-tingling studio hustle-and-bustle, Hysteria Temple Foundation step up with their anticipated debut platter, "Atrahasis EP" - a four-track EP by way of manifesto, due out for release on September 13 / 21.

Elusive and haunting by nature, skirting Shackleton-esque dub meanders, polyrhythmic folk instrumentation and further left-of-centre sonic divagations, the sound of Hysteria Temple Foundation is one that sheds skins when you expect it least. Scanning out a baroque timeline where no-holds-barred floor traction wildly clashes along deeper sound investigations, "Atrahasis" ushers us into a twirly pit of tribal drums and bow echoes.

Summoning the spirits of Muslimgauze and African Headcharge for a hectic ride in a sandstorm-caught bazaar of processed darbukkahs and further steely industrial tropes, "Annunaki" gets the ball rolling in sheer immersive fashion. Cranking the heat up a notch, "Gamesh" rushes us headlong into ruthless rapids of accelerated ritual drums and mind-expanding acid onslaughts breathing in some squelchy spaciousness into its intricately-woven web of sound.

Flip sides and here's the proper grime-steppish number "Ziuziu" taking over your brainwaves with a fierce unloading of harnessed machine rage and dystopian cybernetics turned into some club-optimised weaponry. Back to a dubby kind of vibe, "Chmanze" raises an army of louder-than-loud kicks, FX-laden percs, sizzling spurts and ankle-snapping breaks, all fit to breeze across the bulkiest sound systems with utmost sangfroid and nonpareil trenchancy.

Though synthesizers are the backbone of Shen’s music, while performing live, she plays self-made synths, invented instruments, and even acoustic objects like a bull whip.
Her live show vacillates between moments of restraint and swells of frenetic and confrontational movement. Her sound is dynamic with a sensitivity to texture and structure throughout. This sensitivity is maintained in her debut LP
Hair Birth, the result of several weekends locked in a studio creating cacophonous, wondrous synth noise with Harvard’s Buchla 100 and Serge modular systems.
She tracked hours of stems before cloistering herself in a painstaking editing process. Songs like ‘Under The Stall Door’ sound like a cybernetic rollercoaster with rumbles and shrieks that hurtle the listener through virtual space. Others, like ‘Bolete,’ are tense, dense mood pieces that move from the queasy to the tranquil to the surreal.

Eagerly awaited debut album from oft-cited UK's most out-there band, features in the works with The Quietus and Wire already.

180GM PRESSING - 500 COPIES ONLY.

Difficult times required difficult music, my Yarns, that's why we had Guttersnipe; with its own sort of energy-kind there then.Reiner: A singular yield, a singular yield now.Barns: A whot
Reiner: A singular yield mate! Rich guitar strang, flow motive pounding underneath.Vox like Death come winding through the fields. Barns:  Hell of a way to describe a vocal style.
Me: Nah but for real my Donny, Have you read a presser 1 sheet lately It's the most

They say the PR era, circa late 80's killed the golden age of music journalism:
They say Guttersnipe have continuously melted all the forms that they come up against. They are right.  Because Guttersnipe is not part of a tradition we know well. You will identify the departure from it though, immediately, upon hearing My Mother The Vent. This LP, the promotional version of which, likely sits in your hands (disk, whatever). The innovation here is a FIRM commitment to the flowmotive polyrhythm underwriting the seared, nay fried, tonal rainbow and de-reasoned vox.

Not Nate Nelson, nor John the masseuse dude from Sightings but TIPULA CONFUSA.  Don't want to put the captain obvious pants on so tight I can't jump around the yard because why waste a good yard hang. I'll put on my blighty nighty instead. UROCERAS GIGAS has bridged so many gaps, finally unlocked the AxeWeld CODE and is really playing the thing. Not to mention bringing forth a world-view so utterly unique.  Good luck finding anything like it.

Finally some REAL disjunction in the music; clear and intended. In an age when most computer music composers use stochastic systems and still manage to drop some linear pathground shit, the brawler drums and slanky guitar constructions on My Mother The Vent are a genuine treat.  I've spent too much of my adult life so far hearing too much of this shit to not recognize REAL GAME. And here it crawls out of the grey shadows of ol' BLIGHTY.

Our post-music age: after the fine human endeavour known as music, the result of letting the cybernetic run ITS horrible game on us. I'm not waxing confusingly in a rarefied tone here. Nor running the boring sci-fi script. I really think that is were we is.  We left the human-music-on-a-human-scale behind and much to our detriment. Here we sit in our crumbling reality. But Guttersnipe come paleo, like the rhapsodes with long ass memories rattling off Homeric verse well into the age of manuscript culture, but here, with future tones.  Luckily. Otherwise, me and the record label here wouldn't be wasting our time and yours with a 1 sheet for My Mother The Vent.

So a proper first time on wax for these amazing creatures is a welcome addition to the world of things.  These drums and these guit-lines are so cranké, as they say here in my odd neighborhood.  These voices are so utterly expressive without even the damn language at hand ; like the great horns. We'll rinse this record out, I'll put on my old blighty nighty and go dance in the street.  Alex Moskos, Montreal, August 2018Guttersnipe is:UROCERAS GIGAS - Guitar, Analog Synth, VoxTIPULA CONFUSA - Drums, Drum Synth, Vox

Minialbum EP + Insert CD
An Ardent Heart is a focused techno mini album that brings forward Stefan Goldmann's most dancefloor-centered material in a decade. The tracks push and pull relentlessly. Despite their linear appeal, there is an intricately balanced interplay between the heavy-handed kicks, the bouncy bass accents and the sizzling, yet clear-cut details whipped up by the rallying drums. The peculiar, seemingly 'vocalised' mode of synthesis is maybe the most unifying sonic characteristic of the six tracks and one coda. Formant shaping, vowel filters and airstream perturbations let a wide range of sounding elements speak in the tongues of a cybernetic Babylon. Layered polymetric patterns perforate the aural plane with alien scripts. Clearly structured, yet opaque messages that seem to have traveled for aeons emanate from the red-hot circuitry. They spill into a network of delays, channeled down into labyrinthine corridors, enveloped in electrostatic noise. Most tracks build on chance patterns evoked with hardware sequencers and freeform modulation sources. The resulting synthetic systems are as cohesive as they exhibit vast internal variation and range. Thus balancing simplicity and complexity right in the middle, the results are just as immediately gripping as they can feed sustained attention. A wide palette of distortion and overtones mark the contours of individual elements that seem to have near-physical qualities - as if there were metallic strings, thick membranes, a resonating sphere, all struck by electric mallets, caused to vibrate by mechanical bows and sung by silicone lips.