Cerca:dissolve

An exclusive 7" re-release of this psychedelic funk ballad from Tulsa's "Outback" Band. As featured on Now-Again's 'More Loving On The Flipside' compilation, "Strangers (In Our Homeland)" epitomises the expression of social & political change during an era of psychedlia infused music. In partnership with the two surviving members of Outback, both Symphonical & Now-Again are proud to showcase the voice of independent artists.

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The origin of "Outback" dates back to the late 50s, a five-piece blues outfit named "Little Lo and the Rest of Us" included music educator & bass guitarist Edward "Cha-Cha" Cherry, saxophonists Eugene "Buggy" Roach & James "Flab" Farley whom, alongside drummer Roscoe J. Dabney III "Roach", Ronnie Wilson on trumpet, guitarists Roy "Rochester" Walker & Michael Collins, would form The Magnificent Seven, the house band for Tulsa's 'Rose Room'.


Alumni of Booker T. Washington High School, The Magnificent Seven influenced & set the standard for the Tulsa sound, as demonstrated through their only single, recorded in 1966, the two part 'Pluck-A-Pluck'. 'The Sevenettes', the groups' female vocal trio, included the rotation of Lena Luckey Wilson, Gwendolyn French, Rose Brewer Lewis, Jeanetta Williams & Maxayn. The Magnificent Seven, led by "Cha-Cha", toured nationally throughout the 60s with their infectious, raw R&B sound, and were the platform for many of Tulsa's talent including Ronnie & Charlie Wilson who would later create the GAP Band.


Roscoe J. Dabney III, the first Black Panther to establish the Tulsa chapter in 1969 known as the NCCF (National Committee to Combat Fascism), proposed the name change to "Outback" in the early 70s. Their sound & formation was changing from R&B to Psychedelic, from the grit to the phase, epitomised by their unique line-up of having two bassists playing simultaneously, both Reggie Cherry & "Chilly" Willie Lewis, the musical foundation to their only recorded single, "Strangers (In Our Homeland)" & "Reggie's Thang".


Song writer & band affiliate, Maurice Pope, produced the lyrics to "Strangers (In Our Homeland)" and handed over the musical attributes to Willie Lewis & Outback to convey his message, as sung by Lena Luckey Wilson. Dabney recalls the song is based on religious scriptures, whilst highlighting the parallel of Black slavery in the U.S.


"Reggie's Thang", written by Dabney's cousin, bassist Reggie Cherry, provides a psychedelic instrumental, a sound which Lena recalls is what set apart Outback from other Tulsa groups. As well as playing clubs, the seated shows provided an environment for the group to showcase their musicianship to those who wanted to be immersed & listen.


Their single, released on Empathy, was recorded in 1972, and are the only known recordings by Outback. Recorded live onto 8-track at a studio located at on East Pine St in the heart of Tulsa's Black community, an independent & unknown studio located on a strip mall.


The Outback members who recorded are:


Lena Luckey Wilson - Vocals

Roscoe J. Dabney III "Roach" - Drums

"Chilly" Willie Lewis - Bass

Reggie Cherry - Bass

Edward "Cha-Cha" Cherry - Keys

Joyce Daws - Trumpet

Roy Walker "Rochester" - Guitar

Robert Luckey "Uncle Bobby"- Percussion

Fredy Berry "Freddy" - Tenor Sax


Band leader & group manager: Edward "Cha-Cha" Cherry

Booking Agent: Ernie Fields Sr.

In 1973 whilst performing in Ft. Worth, TX, Buck Ram approached Willie Lewis backstage and invited him to join The Platters, Lewis accepted. Supposedly, a recording deal was offered to Outback in exchange, which never happened.


The group continued in various formations after Lewis left, however as an integral member, the feeling never equalled their original form and soon after dissolved.


Leon Russell approached Lena Lucky Wilson in 1974 to go on tour with the GAP Band as their backing singer, upon returning Tulsa Lena moved to Los Angeles to pursue her musical career with Leon & Mary Russell amongst various others.


Dabney continued music and became a TV producer & director in 1976.


The only surviving members of Outback today are Lena Luckey Wilson & Roscoe J. Dabney III.

Extirpated from the crepitating bowels of the surging Death / Grind scene of the early nineties and became cult with their frst platter of splatter released in 1991 by Wimp Records (LP) & Adipocere Records (CD), PUTRID OFFAL slowly dissolved in formaldehyde by the middle of the decade ..

But that is not dead what sleeps and the thing got alive again 25 years after its inception offering a brand new vision of its art with the release of the proper PUTRID OFFAL debut, Mature Necropsy in 2015 soon followed by countless Europe tours and festivals appearances like their 2017 gig at world famous HELLFEST captured alive for a DVD release as a bonus of second full-length, Sicknesses Obsessions in 2020 again followed by a slaughter campaign on all of Europe soiled grounds.

Now that their historical label KAOTOXIN / XENOKORP is left for dead, PUTRID OFFAL come back deadlier than ever and hungry for touring and gigging like a zombie for fesh ready to turn the crowd to pieces with their most brutal, to the point and mature album to date, Obliterated Life.

London-based vocal and electronic collective NYX have announced their long-anticipated eponymous debut album, to be released digitally and on vinyl on 28th March 2025 via their own label, NYX Collective Records.

Alongside today’s news, they’ve also shared the first single, “Daughters”: a hair-raising, untamed cry that surrenders to the intensity of the human experience. With the lead vocal recorded in a beach-side kitchen in New Zealand, cicadas bleed through the soaring chant and heavy, visceral drums. The track opens soft and earnest, expanding in their rage, resilience, and liberation, transforming pain into a re-wilding of the spirit, a celebration of their collective power.

NYX say of the track: "Daughters” is an initiation into the underworld - an invitation to come face to face with our losses. To look towards the shame, rage, and pain embedded in our bodies, and open through the fear that has closed down our throats. These are our wild voices that want to be heard and loved - by ourselves, by our pack."

NYX is the result of years of collaboration and transformation, reflecting the collective’s signature blend of experimental vocal techniques and electronic alchemy. NYX’s debut album pulses with primal energy and delicate introspection, weaving together the ancient and the futuristic. It’s a spellbinding journey through the human experience, crafted not just to be heard, but also deeply felt.

The album brings together the group's full evolution and experimentation, collaborators on the album include sound designer, composer and NYX string player Alicia Jane Turner, harpist Miriam Adefris, as well as additional drums and production by Memory Play and Sebastian Gainsbourgh (Vessel), artwork by NYX member Shireen Qureshi, co-produced by Marta Salogni and mastered by Heba Kadry.

NYX showcases the choir's far-reaching emotional breadth. The introduction, “Mother”, is inspired by the first chapter of the foundational work of Taoism, Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching. In this, NYX’s opening prayer, the listener finds themselves in a swelling crescendo of NYX’s all-encompassing vocals and synth drones. The album spirals through swirling loops of haunting voices and layered strings that come together like crashing waves, bursting through in feral upheaval. “Through Fire” and “Daughters” erupt into heart-wrenching post-apocalyptic chorus and pounding bass-heavy drums, then slip into a blissful sound bath, “Awe”, whose choir harmonies layered with lush harps radiate pure wonderment, and the closing track, a cover of Suicide’s 1979 “Dream Baby Dream”, dissolves into reverberating echoes. NYX leaves an indelible mark, reminding us of the radical potential of healing and love.

In Greek mythology, NYX is the primordial goddess of the night, born from chaos giving birth to light and day. Inspired by this duality, NYX’s music harnesses the voice as a limitless medium for profound emotion, capturing the vast spectrum of human experience with power and authenticity.

London-based vocal and electronic collective NYX have announced their long-anticipated eponymous debut album, to be released digitally and on vinyl on 28th March 2025 via their own label, NYX Collective Records.

Alongside today’s news, they’ve also shared the first single, “Daughters”: a hair-raising, untamed cry that surrenders to the intensity of the human experience. With the lead vocal recorded in a beach-side kitchen in New Zealand, cicadas bleed through the soaring chant and heavy, visceral drums. The track opens soft and earnest, expanding in their rage, resilience, and liberation, transforming pain into a re-wilding of the spirit, a celebration of their collective power.

NYX say of the track: "Daughters” is an initiation into the underworld - an invitation to come face to face with our losses. To look towards the shame, rage, and pain embedded in our bodies, and open through the fear that has closed down our throats. These are our wild voices that want to be heard and loved - by ourselves, by our pack."

NYX is the result of years of collaboration and transformation, reflecting the collective’s signature blend of experimental vocal techniques and electronic alchemy. NYX’s debut album pulses with primal energy and delicate introspection, weaving together the ancient and the futuristic. It’s a spellbinding journey through the human experience, crafted not just to be heard, but also deeply felt.

The album brings together the group's full evolution and experimentation, collaborators on the album include sound designer, composer and NYX string player Alicia Jane Turner, harpist Miriam Adefris, as well as additional drums and production by Memory Play and Sebastian Gainsbourgh (Vessel), artwork by NYX member Shireen Qureshi, co-produced by Marta Salogni and mastered by Heba Kadry.

NYX showcases the choir's far-reaching emotional breadth. The introduction, “Mother”, is inspired by the first chapter of the foundational work of Taoism, Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching. In this, NYX’s opening prayer, the listener finds themselves in a swelling crescendo of NYX’s all-encompassing vocals and synth drones. The album spirals through swirling loops of haunting voices and layered strings that come together like crashing waves, bursting through in feral upheaval. “Through Fire” and “Daughters” erupt into heart-wrenching post-apocalyptic chorus and pounding bass-heavy drums, then slip into a blissful sound bath, “Awe”, whose choir harmonies layered with lush harps radiate pure wonderment, and the closing track, a cover of Suicide’s 1979 “Dream Baby Dream”, dissolves into reverberating echoes. NYX leaves an indelible mark, reminding us of the radical potential of healing and love.

In Greek mythology, NYX is the primordial goddess of the night, born from chaos giving birth to light and day. Inspired by this duality, NYX’s music harnesses the voice as a limitless medium for profound emotion, capturing the vast spectrum of human experience with power and authenticity.

Mit dem neuen Album verfolgt Tamino einen konzeptionelleren Ansatz beim Songwriting, denn er verspürte
nach eigenen Worten „einen enormen Drang, einen metaphysischen Altar für das zu errichten, was verloren
gegangen ist. Das Endergebnis, obwohl manchmal eklektisch, fühlt sich wie die harmonischste Platte an,
die ich bisher gemacht habe.“
Alle 10 Songs sind vom selben Gefühl des Loslassens durchdrungen. Aufgenommen wurden in Studios
in seiner Heimat Belgien und seinem neuen Zuhause in den USA, gemeinschaftlich mit seinem langjährigen musikalischen Wegbegleiter PJ Maertens. „Every Dawn’s A Mountain“ bildet eine Brücke zwischen
Taminos eigener musikalischen Sozialisierung und zeitgenössischen Einflüssen, dessen Songwriting vor allem
seinen transzendentalen Gesang in den Vordergrund stellt. Ein besonderes Highlight des Albums bildet der
Track „Sanctuary“, ein gemeinsames Stück mit Mitski.

Valuable vinyl reissue for this historic four-handed work by Gigi Masin and Giuseppe Caprioli. The concept of multitude combined with the figure/symbol of the labyrinth suggests orders of thought relating to the multiple states of being that inhabit the dark labyrinths of the soul, the hidden regions of the human psyche. All in Multitude In Labyrinth leads us to look for keys to understanding the ultimate meaning of a test as enigmatic as it is powerful. A congeries of paramusical phenomena in continuous evolution, expression of an internal feeling strongly concentrated on itself, disguised in the plastic flow of sound events that evolve on the gravitational maps of low-frequency drones, of the changing waveforms and of the elliptical-circular loops warped with scientific skill in the electronic workshop used for this purpose. A cinematic symphony in nine movements that direct the listening towards the frontiers of unexplored parallel worlds, ready to recreate the infinite maze of aural multitudes that materialize, dissolve and regenerate impulse after impulse for the duration of the work. Music whose remote echo makes us think of the harmony of the spheres that governs the mechanics of the cosmos and of being.

Ancient Japanese spirits meet contemporary electronic music in *Yokai Parade EP*, a mystical collaboration between Italian producer Volantis and Japanese artist Hiroko. Inspired by a psychedelic experience in Kobe where train sounds summoned supernatural visitors, this four-track journey merges folklore with modern dance music through a unique blend of hardware synthesis and haunting vocals.

The title track “Yokai Parade” leads listeners into a shadowy realm where Hiroko’s Italian narration intertwines with Japanese train announcements, calling forth ancient spirits. Eden Burns transforms this nocturnal tale into a hypnotic, percussion-driven remix that deepens its ceremonial essence. On “La Kappa,” Hiroko embodies a playful water spirit, her accented Italian dancing over dreamlike sequences. Fabrizio Mammarella’s Italorama Version injects classic Italo disco energy, creating a perfect bridge between Japanese mythology and Mediterranean dance floors.

Co-produced with Niccolò Barozzi, this vinyl and digital release captures a unique moment where East meets West, and traditional folklore dissolves into electronic rhythms.

Wellen.Brecher is an electronic band with punk attitude, which has been transcending and subverting electronic music genre boundaries for the past 6 years. After the release of Tierisch Verboten, which can confidently be described as the "soundtrack to inclusion", and a strong second release on our label Killekill, LIEBESERKLARUNG is the band's first full length album. Including a series of first-class remixes.
Refreshingly, the entire release is not based on the corny bad trance traditions loved by contemporary Buffalo shoe wearers. Instead - intentionally or not - it follows a series of almost historical musical quotations from over the last 40 years with each track on the album feeling like a new adventure.
The album opens with TUROFFNER, which has a kind of an Afrika Bambaataa intro, before turning into a wonderfully tresoresque/Detroit techno beast, always commented on or counteracted by the vocals - just like (almost) all the tracks on the album: a new round, a new crazy ride - bumper car lyrics on a powerful stomping reduction of a 90s track.
From here we leap backwards in time into grey West Berlin of the 80s with ROBOT GIRL which shifts and drifts like a bug in buttermilk somewhere between Grauzone and Alan Vega. Next track KAPUTT kicks in with a bang and smashes everything in the best EBM tradition - this could have been played in a techno club in Frankfurt, both in terms of lyrics and sound. Line up for Elektropogo please!
After all the stomping Wellen.Brecher bring in something completely different with VOICE OF A GENERATION: dramatic vocals over delicate breaks which gradually dissolve into arpeggios on a high-quality trance carpet. Challenge complete!
JULIA takes us back to the late eighties in the dark but fun Belgian-Detroit early trance with new beat appeal. TUNNEL TRANCE would have been a good fit for dancing around the Berlin Siegessaule in, let's say, 1998. Relentless 4/4 beats with a hook-line on speed surrounded by acidophilic bows and, on top, the vocal commentary arriving as if from the man behind the glass of the Ferris wheel. In
your mind's eye, you can see fur-shoed gym ravers in bright neon jumping through the Tiergarten like rubber balls. The cover version of the classic TECHNO DJ is an hommage to good old punk - torn apart and reassembled in true Wellen.Brecher style. The closer TIERISCH VERBOTEN brings all the emotion rushing back: fat beats beckon slowly from afar, before the curtain comes up for an epic synth finale.
The harsh, albeit true words really drive you in. It's not necessary, but perhaps it's good to point it out: Inclusion can easily be experienced with music like this. Fuck AfD!

Wellen.Brecher is an electronic band with punk attitude, which has been transcending and subverting electronic music genre boundaries for the past 6 years. After the release of Tierisch Verboten, which can confidently be described as the "soundtrack to inclusion", and a strong second release on our label Killekill, LIEBESERKLARUNG is the band's first full length album. Including a series of first-class remixes.
Refreshingly, the entire release is not based on the corny bad trance traditions loved by contemporary Buffalo shoe wearers. Instead - intentionally or not - it follows a series of almost historical musical quotations from over the last 40 years with each track on the album feeling like a new adventure.
The album opens with TUROFFNER, which has a kind of an Afrika Bambaataa intro, before turning into a wonderfully tresoresque/Detroit techno beast, always commented on or counteracted by the vocals - just like (almost) all the tracks on the album: a new round, a new crazy ride - bumper car lyrics on a powerful stomping reduction of a 90s track.
From here we leap backwards in time into grey West Berlin of the 80s with ROBOT GIRL which shifts and drifts like a bug in buttermilk somewhere between Grauzone and Alan Vega. Next track KAPUTT kicks in with a bang and smashes everything in the best EBM tradition - this could have been played in a techno club in Frankfurt, both in terms of lyrics and sound. Line up for Elektropogo please!
After all the stomping Wellen.Brecher bring in something completely different with VOICE OF A GENERATION: dramatic vocals over delicate breaks which gradually dissolve into arpeggios on a high-quality trance carpet. Challenge complete!
JULIA takes us back to the late eighties in the dark but fun Belgian-Detroit early trance with new beat appeal. TUNNEL TRANCE would have been a good fit for dancing around the Berlin Siegessaule in, let's say, 1998. Relentless 4/4 beats with a hook-line on speed surrounded by acidophilic bows and, on top, the vocal commentary arriving as if from the man behind the glass of the Ferris wheel. In
your mind's eye, you can see fur-shoed gym ravers in bright neon jumping through the Tiergarten like rubber balls. The cover version of the classic TECHNO DJ is an hommage to good old punk - torn apart and reassembled in true Wellen.Brecher style. The closer TIERISCH VERBOTEN brings all the emotion rushing back: fat beats beckon slowly from afar, before the curtain comes up for an epic synth finale.
The harsh, albeit true words really drive you in. It's not necessary, but perhaps it's good to point it out: Inclusion can easily be experienced with music like this. Fuck AfD!

Experience the dramatic pulse of Italian crime cinema with the first-ever vinyl reissue of Bruno Nicolai’s iconic soundtrack for "L’Onorata Famiglia (Uccidere È Cosa Nostra)", the 1973 masterpiece directed by Tonino Ricci.

Renowned for his prolific work in Italian film scores, Nicolai blends atmospheric jazz-rock, brooding fusion, and haunting melodies to perfectly capture the tension and intrigue of the era’s mafia-centric storytelling.

This long-overdue release brings new life to the score with Luca Barcellona meticulous restoration of the original artwork, preserving its bold, cinematic aesthetic, along with vinyl mastering handled by Davide "Bassi Maestro" Bassi, lending his mastering expertise, ensuring the music resonates with modern audiophiles while maintaining its vintage warmth.

Whether you’re a collector of Italian soundtracks, a fan of dramatic jazz-rock fusion, or an appreciator of timeless cinematic artistry, this vinyl is a must-have for your collection. Dive into the world of suspense and style that defines "L’Onorata Famiglia", limited to 500 copies!

©℗ 1973 – Beat Records Company. Reissued by Holy Basil Records under license by Beat Records.

The new recording of The Book of Sounds is an intimate exploration of the piano by pianist Carlos Cipa - a way of looking into the sound, of listening into the moment when Cipa's fingers press down on the piano keys. The Book of Sounds, composed between 1979 and 1982 by composer and pianist Hans Otte, is a musical pendulum movement of one hour in twelve 'pieces', as the composer himself describes them. Chords and melodies repeat themselves, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly; they follow each other in harmonic cadences and yet never dissolve - a timeless back and forth.
The Book of Sounds is the European-German answer to the concert music of American minimalism. But it is also the essence of many questions about society and the human condition at that time. Inspired by Zen Buddhism, Otte was convinced that a return to simplicity, to the unagitated - a piano, harmonic cadences, a middle register - frees the listener to focus on what is really important in art: the human being. Introspection begins with listening. Seldom have simple chords and melodies been so selectively staged. It is a process of endless reduction - no wild sound dramaturgies, no climaxes, hardly any beginning or end. The interpreting pianist simply prepares a tableaux of perception for the listener. Cipa naturally sets accents; he recorded the 12 pieces on three different pianos - a Steinway grand piano, a Yamaha piano, and a Yamaha CP-70, an early electric piano - to help shape the tonal characteristics.
Carlos Cipa hits the nerve of the times with this new recording. What music can be as art is still up for debate today. The Book of Sounds is not 'art-proof' and in this it is still a provocation today; absolutely unspectacular and practising relaxation. It is a wonderful invitation to feel, experience, and perhaps even find oneself in the confrontation with the work - and for a moment not to fuel the discourse. Cipa, who otherwise appears as a composer himself, here carries out Otte's intended gesture of withdrawal in a double sense and steps into the background as creator but also interpreter, in order to bequeath The Book of Sounds to the loudspeakers and headphones at home in one step forward.

After two pandemically conditioned ‘reaction’ albums - Yay! (2023) and Neigh!! (2024) - a few non-album singles and a compilation album, a downsized and sleek Motorpsycho is back where we all know and love them, with an epic, sprawling double album, filled to the brim with inventive, organic and ecstatic rock-based music. Rejoyce Psychonaut! This eponymously titled, 11 song work, has exactly as much variety & diversity, accord and discord, as one expects from a band that has released a few albums before, and that these days must be regarded as an institution in European rock. From concise 3min-something pop-rockers, to 20mins plus progressive epics, via acoustic intimacies and psychedelic wig-outs, this is concentrated Motorpsychosis: commenced Rebis, countdown initiated. Ever closer. Ever sharper... Since the traditional 3 or 4 piece rock band seems to be a dying breed these days, and MP always was a band in flux anyway, a new pragmatic era has begun in the Psychoverse. The band has, in what one might call alchemical terms, been ‘dissolved and purified’, and is by now again reduced to the core two founding members HMR & BS. This is nothing new, it has happened a few times before, but these days they are also the owners and creators of the record company NFGS, which is now the hub of all recorded band activity, and Motorpsycho marks the final severance of existing ties to other labels for the first time in 35 years. If ‘freedom is free of the need to be free’, this is it. Yikes! The minimalist title of the album is then not just easy to remember, it’s also a statement: a new era has begun in the Psychoverse, a state of affairs reflected in execution and details as well as title, if not perhaps, in ambition or size: “Senex psittacus negligit ferulam” *. This is a time of new beginnings for a band that has spent two years consolidating and reseting before charging ahead anew on a new path, trumpets blaring (...and trumpets don’t come much more blaring in the Psychoverse than with this grandiloquent hyperbole. Good fun! ). New day rising indeed. The core band was adroitly helped by a gaggle of greats from all over the Scandinavian musical landscape on these recordings: drummers Ingvald Vassbø and Olaf Olsen, string arranger/violinist Mari Persen, vocalist Thea Grant, and - as usual - honorary psycho, brother Reine Fiske, were all fellow travellers on this musical journey. Motorpsycho was co-produced by the band and Deathprod, and mixed by Andrew Scheps. Motorpsycho are not the best at what they do, they’re the only ones that do what they do. NFGS2025 *: “Senex psittacus negligit ferulam,” or “An old parrot doesn’t mind the stick.”

DOVS are the duo of Vienna’s Johannes Auvinen, aka Tin Man, and Mexico City’s Gabo Barranco, aka AAAA. Psychic Geography is their second album together, but it differs considerably from both their respective solo work and their 2019 debut LP together, Silent Cities: Where that album’s hardware-based acid kept its gaze focused squarely on the dancefloor, Psychic Geography is a strictly ambient affair.

The album has its roots in a trio of beatless tracks that peppered Silent Cities; this time, the duo decided to try making an entire album with no drums. “It opened up the chance to make a different, more narrative style of music with more complex structures,” Auvinen says. Ambiguity and uncertainty are key watchwords for their music, which moves with eerie, liquid grace. Untethered from 4/4 kicks, their music drifts and morphs; familiar acid sequences give way to surprising shifts in tone and mood. And with no drums to distract the ear, the seeming simplicity of their silvery synth lines opens up to reveal remarkable depth and dynamism.

Barranco and Auvinen recorded the album together in the studio utilizing machines like the Roland TB-303, Juno G, Prophet 5, Elektron Octatrack MKII, Make Noise DPO and René, Mutable Clouds, Roland SH-101, Behringer TD3, and Sherman Filterbank. Listen on good speakers or headphones, and you can tell: Their gear yields a tonal richness that recalls the ambient and cosmic music of decades earlier. You can practically feel the heat from their circuits warming the air.

The meaning behind the name DOVS is as ambiguous as the duo’s music. (Dig, if you will, the picture of Picasso’s dove of peace—or, perhaps, the outline of a bird pressed into a small white pill.) But Psychic Geography needs little explanation. DOVS’ album is a collection of mental maps of imaginary places. Set your coordinates for the mirage on the horizon and prepare to dissolve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mysterious and unconventional, Hermeth is an valencian artist based in Switzerland. Known for wearing a striking Rorschach-patterned mask, his identity dissolves into his music a dynamic fusion of breakbeat, techno, house and dubstep.

This new five-tracks-EP, including a Ben Pest remix and a featuring with Stelmakh, is a pure dancefloor bangers collection, for those who like saturated breaks and ghetto vibes.

Play it loud, party animals !

While 1995's Washing Machine LP moniker was a thinly-veiled jab at the corporate aesthetic ("no, you cannot turn Sonic Youth into a household appliance brand", the band even considered changing its name to Washing Machine but settled on the album title instead), their major label relationship was indeed a curious buzzpoint of talk on the street after their intake to DGC in 1990. It wouldn't be fair to say that this state of existence propelled the band to reinforce its independent mindset by releasing a series of opaque-looking, French-language-dipping, highbrow-looking releases on their own that focused on the more abstract improv/compositional side of the band; in all truths they had been heavily steeped in self-releasing spillover material prior to that. But after a pressure pot of the early 90's indoctrination into a new operational mode for the band and its visibility, and the forces around it attempting to shape their direction, it seemed like a good time to create a strong show of radical concept.

The Anagrama EP became the first in a series of the SYR label's Perspective Musicales releases seemingly cementing Sonic Youth's connectivity to an increasing public awareness in experimental composers of the 20th century (French or otherwise). The irony was that many of those original avant composers being rediscovered by the indie audience (Partch, Neuhaus, Reich, Messaien) often found themselves on major labels anyway! So, perhaps this reverse approach was a necessary concept/comment given the music biz climate of the 90's. Regardless of how apples and oranges fell in Xenakian probability/theory, it was clear that both Sonic Youth's stature in progressive music, aided by now unlimited taperoll time thanks to a home base studio downtown established after their Lollapalooza stint, gave the band plenty of trailblazing time for their self examination of untraveled avenues.

"Anagrama" unfolds into nine minutes of delicate textures, starting with thick drone segueing into moments reminiscent of the post-crescendo flutter/comedown of "Marquee Moon's" trail-out; Thurston, Lee and Kim's guitars all circling round each other taking delicate pokes and stabs before drifting into some post-rock rhythmic moves tapered with delicate percussive guidance from Steve Shelley. "Improvisation Ajoutée" reaches further out into dissolve with whirring oscillations, guitars hissing and clanking radiator-style in a short blast format that continues into "Tremens" and a spooked-out landscape of gelatinous notes snaking up slowly. The sparseness of attack is colorful, textures emit and linger, silent spots shine, all flanked by tasteful drumming that provides the thread to all the abstraction. Shelley's approach here is interestingly sideways to any kind of usual rock action, it's tempered, mutant and metronomic simultaneously. The finale track "Mieux: De Corrosion" is a real pedal-palatte showcase. Here, Plutonian guitar wash flanges upwards to buoy a myriad of colorful eruptions of amp-spuzz, chopped up tone blasts and general confusion. Out of the blue, some metallic one-note choogle kicks in and threatens to explode into some Judas Priestly motion, before it all sputters into aural glass showers, clang, and finally a ferocious wave of more flange hiss that crashes down on a dime.

This initial foray into SY's Perspectives Musicales series continued onward with releases featuring other co-conspirators, peaking with the ambitious 2CD Goodbye 20th Century that finally connects the band into full-on interpretations of other composers' pieces (as well as displaying their own new ones). The whole series is not so much an outlet for another "side" of the band, but a run that went hand in hand building new approaches of songcraft onto their own, more overground direction which included Jim O'Rourke (who hopped on during SYR3), adding additional density to A Thousand Leaves and other LPs of his era. Fans of the '86 Spinhead Sessions as well as the recently-exhumed later jams of In/Out/In will take in the sounds of SYR1 with glee.

Ein queerfeministischer Chor begeistert mit innovativen Performances und politischen Statements: der Wiener Schmusechor veröffentlicht Debüt-Live-Album mit 40-stimmigen Acapella-Versionen diverser Pop- und Indie-Hits

Info:

Der Wiener Schmusechor, der wohl aufregendste Chor seit Erfindung der Mehrstimmigkeit, bringt endlich und erstmals Live-Aufnahmen seiner fulminanten Konzerte auf Tonträger heraus. Auf diesem finden sich raffinierte und berührende Arrangements von Songs diverser Künstler*innen wie Radiohead, Miley Cyrus, Woodkid oder Billie Eilish. Der Chor hat es geschafft, Chormusik neu zu definieren und auf die großen Bühnen des Landes zu bringen - facettenreich, genreübergreifend und frei von Konventionen. Durch Kooperationen mit Künstler*innen wie Mira Lu Kovacs, Efterklang oder Violetta Parisini, Ausflüge in die Performance- und Theaterwelt sowie sein allererstes queerfeministisches, in minutenschnelle ausverkauftes Neujahrskonzert ist der Schmusechor aus der österreichischen Musikszene nicht mehr wegzudenken. Auch im Jänner 2025 wird der Schmusechor als Gegenentwurf zum elitär-exklusiven, weiterhin cis-männlich dirigierten Neujahrskonzert der Wiener Symphoniker wieder eine Alternative bieten.

Lara Sarkissian’s long-awaited debut full-length, ‘Remnants’ is an ornate patchwork of ancient and modern sonic shapes that uses the vernacular of electronic music to reformulate Armenian traditions and memories. Taking digitally modeled instruments (such as the kanun, a large zither, and the duduk, an ancient double reed woodwind instrument), vocals, davul and dhol drums, tenor saxophone (from acclaimed Paris-based player Adrien Soleiman) and myriad electronic elements and techniques, Sarkissian tangles the old and the new, creating an immersive, narrative-driven experience that’s powered by history, mythology and her own familial connection to the West Asian landscape. It’s an album that’s best absorbed like a film; only multiple encounters can reveal its layered themes and references to industrial music, noise, various club styles, ambient and traditional folk.

Born and raised in San Francisco and currently based in Los Angeles, Sarkissian has developed her unique approach to composition over years of relentless experimentation across various disciplines. Her interest in music production initially stemmed from her filmmaking and video editing work, when she began to sculpt her own sound collages and scores to accompany the visuals. Since then, she’s constantly blurred the boundary between dance and experimental music, DJing around the world, producing AV installations and scoring film and video projects that have been exhibited in Berlin’s Gropius Bau, Montréal’s Musée d’art contemporain, the Music Center Los Angeles and other prestigious institutions, and releasing music with labels such as Tresor, Knekelhuis, All Centre, Silva Electronics and CLUB CHAI, the label and event series she co-founded. In recent years, she’s also been able to advance the theory behind her art, publishing a conversation with ethnomusicologist Sylvia Alajaji in the Journal of the Society of Armenian Studies in 2021, and unveiling her methodology in Norient’s ‘This Track Contains Politics – The Culture of Sampling in Experimental Electronica’ a year later.

‘Remnants’ is a new stage in Sarkissian’s evolution as an artist; not only is it her first proper album, but it’s the inaugural release on her new platform btwn Earth+Sky. She sees the label as a place to encourage collaborations between musicians and producers and prioritize sound in visual arts realms, and ‘Remnants’ is the ideal proof of concept. It opens with ‘Heaven, or Paradise; and Hell’, a track that’s inspired by the layout of the Armenian sharakan (or hymn) ‘Aravot Luso’. Sarkissian imagines the original piece’s harmonies and melodies as parts of a dreamy electronic opera, using digital kanun sounds to punctuate her woozy, evocative synths. Soleimen joins on tenor sax in the third act, while Sarkissian repeats the chant and Jace Akira adds ghostly traces of electric guitar and bass. And on the rousing ‘Our Dead Can’t Rest (Old Jugha Flute Dance)’, Sarkissian chops urgent davul and dhol drum rhythms with spine-chilling shvi woodwind sounds lifted from a documentary about Old Jugha. The title is a reference to the moving of graves by Armenian families; the area initially housed over 10,000 elaborately carved khachkars (cross stones), one of which is pictured on the album’s cover, provided by historian Argam Aivazian’s archive.

On ‘Miracle’, Sarkissian samples atmospheres from the post-Soviet Armenian comedy film ‘Կիսանդրի’ (Kisandri). She takes this opportunity to lighten the mood a little, powdering her smudged samples with tightly edited breaks and bass thumps. It’s not until the album’s middle section that the duduk, perhaps Armenia’s best-known instrument, makes its appearance. Its familiar reedy tones, popularized by Djivan Gasparyan on his many Hollywood soundtrack appearances, emerge on ‘Unraveling (Interlude)’, weaving through the acidic ‘Zephyr’ and ‘Far from the eye far from the Heart’, a post-punk inspired stomper. Sarkissian mutates the instrument almost beyond recognition, pitching and layering it into a voice-like wail that creeps between her woody, dancefloor-primed percussion on the former, and turning it into a gentle, ghostly moan on the latter. And she brings ‘Remnants’ to a close with two of her most cryptic tracks, marrying digital kanun strings with Soleiman’s resonant tenor hums on ‘What Solace Can I Give’, and looping the same saxophone sounds until they dissolve into the air on the beatless closer ‘…nothing matters more than touching you although i haven’t touched you yet’.

It’s an album that ties up Sarkissian’s various interests and experiences, finding a romantic, poetic glimmer of light in history’s darkness. But most of all, ‘Remnants’ is about the optimism of starting anew, and rebuilding a life from the pieces of everything that’s been left behind.

Limitierte Neuauflage zum 20-jährigen Jubiläum des mit Gold ausgezeichneten Debütalbums von Hawthorne
Heights, The Silence in Black and White.

Dieses 2-LP-Set ist in einem Klappcover mit zwei bedruckten Innenhüllen und alternativem Artwork untergebracht. Die Band reflektiert das 20-jährige Jubiläum des Albums auch in erweiterten Liner Notes. Das elektrisierende Debütalbum der Hardcore-Giganten enthält den Gold-zertifizierten Track „Ohio is for Lovers“ und Fan-Favoriten wie „Niki FM“, „Silver Bullet“ und mehr.

Lonely Planets Rec. is thrilled to announce label co-pilot Caim with his luring new EP Medusa Hunter. A deep dive into a sonic realm where ancient myth intertwines with futuristic soundscapes, Medusa Hunter invites listeners on a seductive journey through hypnotising layers of hissing rhythm and smouldering, Goa-inspired techno. This EP pulses with energy, as Caim masterfully blends trance-inducing melodies with venemous driving bass-lines, creating an atmosphere of ancient mystery and suspense. Each track coils and twists like the mythic Gorgo, luring us deeper into her sonic gaze where time dissolves and consciousness drifts. Rhythm and warmth and whisper seamlessly through the mesmeric soundscapes, igniting a primal sense of movement where sound and myth collide.

Jan Anderzén - living in Tampere, Finland - is a collage artist making music, quilts, drawings, mosaics, videos and other things. From him, among a few others, sprang the The River of Finland. A stream that shook the European underground for infinity, back from the years 2005 and up. Jan is/was involved in acts like Kemialliset Ystävät, Avarus, Tomutonttu and The Anaksimandros. When in the past some of that River of Finland tasted like a fermented ocean of mycelia - today it tastes different, like sparkling water.

Halki pilvien - transl. Trough the clouds - brings exactly what one expects from the clouds. It is a collection of soft and gentle movements, as playful as a ‘Jan Anderzén type of music’ is always. A collection of patterns that solidify for just a brief moment in time, before sublimating in the back of the mind. This album is in constant motion.

Push play. A warped piano and cartoonish SFX’s might foretell a hyperreal approach to music. Yet while the champion of hyperrealism, Noah Creshevsky, describes his music as being written in a language we already understand (realism) yet in an exaggerated manner (hyper) - I have to add that things on this album do not sound exaggerated at all. Moreover, i have the feeling that somehow on this work, Jan is trying to underwhelm us. In the best possible way. Because clouds float trough and dissolve. Thus instead of hyperrealism, is Jan maybe speaking to us in a certain Serenerealism? Or Mildrealism?

What Jan’s music does have in common with Creshevsky’s is the no rush part. Listening to Halki pilvien makes time non-directional. The music seems to be designed to be played over and over again. This music has no direct impact like one can experience at a punk show, or at a classical music concert. This music is not that one gigantic raincloud covering the world dark. Quite the opposite, it is a pattern of clouds and clearings, floating over the lands. Trough this music a shadow play appears. This music is durable.

And it is when the sounds are at its faintest, that Jan touches the core: in the smallest detail, we find the fullest musical information.

Lily Seabird is a perceptive songwriter who can channel moments when everything feels raw and overwhelming into something healing and galvanizing. With Alas, the Burlington, VT-based artist's sophomore album, she confronts grief with palpable clarity on tracks that careen from delicate folk to blistering indie rock. While it's her second LP, it serves as a proper introduction to an undeniable and idiosyncratic voice. "Alas, sounds way more like me," she says. "This is the album I wanted to make in the first place." Though Seabird is now known as a solo artist and collaborator in Burlington's vibrant music community as the bassist for Greg Freeman and other acts, her journey started in Pennsylvania when she picked up the saxophone as a kid. At 14, she learned guitar and started performing as Lily Seabird. After a brief stint in New York City playing in bands, she moved to Vermont, which has been her home since 2018. "When I came to Vermont, I was playing solo a lot but then I started a band with Greg Freeman," she says. "Since 2018, it's been me and Greg and a bunch of different casts of characters have been in the band since then it's an ever-evolving thing. It's just us playing my songs."The songs on Alas, came from a particularly unmoored period for Seabird. "I wrote this album in 2021 and 2022 on the road, trying to figure out who I am," she says. "A lot of them also deal with the time when my close friend passed away. The title Alas, meant a lot to her." Even if the songs don't always directly tackle this specific loss, there's a sense of mourning in how relationships change and dissolve. Take "Grace," a reflection on female friendship, which features the lines, "I hope she's happy now she should be 25 / She taught me something that I thought I'd always hide." Elsewhere, the knotty and unpredictable "Dirge" finds her singing, "I don't know if I believe in god / I don't know if I know how to go on." Seabird and Benny Yurco produced Alas, which was recorded at Burlington's Little Jamaica Studios with Freeman and drummer Zack James (Benny Yurco). It's a quietly expansive album full of subdued, organic textures and moods. Songs like "Cavity" are lush and inviting with silky guitar and Seabird's expressive saxophone playing. The 10 songs on Alas, stretch out and leave space for introspection and deep listening with some tracks taking nearly seven minutes to mesmerizingly unfold. It's a remarkably assured and vital statement from one of the most promising new songwriters alongside peers Merce Lemon, Squirrel Flower, and Allegra Krieger."The album is about loss, coming of age, and sadness but there are also all these moments where happiness takes over," says Seabird. "It can be two things at once: life isn't just pain and sadness, there's also joy. They can all exist at the same time. Alas, is an expression of grief but it's also for letting go."

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

2024 Repress

Errol and Alex Rita’s Touching Bass are proud to present Soon Come; a landmark compilation celebrating the talents of their now intercontinental musical community and an introduction to the wide-spanning sound and feeling of their growing label. 22 original tracks spread across double 12” vinyl and split between 'day' and 'night' moods, creating exciting connections between music for both the home and the eclectic sounds of their much-loved dancefloor.

Over the past six years, Touching Bass have steadily established themselves as one of London’s most important musical incubators. More than just a club night, concert series, NTS Radio mainstay and a label, Touching Bass has become something of a movement: a community meeting grounds for music lovers and some of the most exciting contemporary music-makers both in the capital and beyond.

The tracklist is a reflection of that, curated by TB’s Errol, Alex Rita and Sammseed over the course of two years. Among the list of contributors are Chicago/New York’s keiyaA, Stones Throw’s DJ Harrison, Ben Hauke, Ego Ella May, recent WARP signee Nala Sinephro, Melo-Zed, Hiatus Kaiyote’s Clever Austin and many more (see below for tracklist). Artwork for the project comes from Alex Rita, combining moments caught at Touching Bass’ own gatherings over the years.

Since launching properly in 2019, Touching Bass has quickly established itself as one of the UK’s most exciting new labels. The young imprint has championed critically respected and refreshingly innovative works with little genre restriction, receiving recognition from both musical and cultural bil. From the electrifying grooves of Danish trio, Athletic Progression, to the modern classical of South London’s CKTRL (featuring Duval Timothy).

Along the way, Errol and Alex have also been tapped up for collaborations/ commissions with some of the world’s most forward-thinking creatives and institutions; from the world-renowned White Cube gallery for Frieze Week 2021 and fashion designers Nicholas Daley and Azura Lovisa to film music supervision for Ronan McKenzie and Joy Yamasungie’s WATA and multi-award winning director, Jenn Nkiru’s (Beyonce, Kamasi Washington, Neneh Cherry) Black To Techno, the experimental documentary which premiered at Frieze Los Angeles and was nominated for ‘Best Short’ at the IDA Awards.

For newcomers, Soon Come acts as a vital introduction to the label’s wide-spanning DNA. For those already acquainted, it’s a glimpse at its exciting future.

Introducing Airways, Alpha Tracks’ new record label, crafted to be an ultra-inclusive platform that celebrates the full spectrum of electronic music.

Airways is a space for experimentation, where fresh and unexplored visions can thrive. It’s an auditory stage for musical ideas in all forms—a place where genre boundaries dissolve, and connections emerge between diverse musical tastes.

Kicking off this new era, the label debuts with a stunning masterpiece from Scandinavian trance artist and avant-gardist Mikkel Rev.

THE DYNAMICS • DRAG’N'FLY
by VINCENT HELLO.

Jamaica, 1960s. Ska artists, rock steady and reggae take back some soul songs of the United States, thus giving their versions that will in turn become future classics. The hits of the moment are also seasoned with Jamaican sauce, no matter where it comes from Original, pop, country, jazz... The rhythms of the island permanently transform the tracks of origin. In 2024, with their third album called Dragn'fly and decorated with a beautiful dragonfly (a "dragonfly" so in the language of King Tubby) the Dynamics honour Jamaican tradition and dynamite 10 versions of hits from yesterday and today. The Dragonfly spread his wings reggae, soul, funk to land in all headsets at the heart of good stereos and on spicy dancefloors. Because this dragonfly is a true superfly that speaks to the heart... and legs.

After two albums whose success led them to walk the globe of Glastonbury in Tokyo, honoured by the large elders (the first part of Lee Perry here, a regular dj support of Don Letts over there) the Dynamics are alive so their 'soul reggae vocal sound system” in front of audiences specializing in Jamaican or to those who are who were lucky enough to meet them by chance in Chemical Brothers... or Lady Gaga.

The Dynamics have forgotten the weight of ancestors to make their own recipe. They proclaim it, they are Sound System! The voices of Mounam, Steve Levi and Mr Day are in the front row, so making lovers, preachers, crooners and crooners to Turns of Duty, while Fab Master Flab all in one of the roots and futuristic echos. But if the mind is a sound system, the dynamics sounds also as a group through instruments live performances that plunge the tracks into a fervor unique. And then there are the hits, so, from all times and of all styles.
The low rider becomes toaster and leaves the road a American carried by these vocal harmonies Sky to take the exit Kingston. On the roadside, the joker delivers his lovers soft rock after a small detour to Muscle Shoal, The time to borrow a guitar from Duane Allman. In the south again, Mounam “Mrs Dynamics” meets the spirit of «Mr Dynamite» and tells him his radical, soul version. “ man’s world...” inna digital style! The spiritual anthem “you got to have freedom” by Master Pharoah Sanders becomes a universal skank, pop and dub who sends resounding high its universal message Dance! The dynamics are mutating the classic of ESG into a small, minimal pop bomb that is not without resemblance to the Neptunes of Mr Pharell Williams. On the edge of the track, Peter Gabriel sees his “Sledgehammer” groover as he does could imagine it and dissolve into sublime soul scrolls. Later, “After laughter...” soul classic celebrated and sampled Born into a rock steady air promised also to eternity. JJ Cale’s "cocaine," leaves its on the dancefloor for a reggae disco version, necessarily! And then, we must conclude. So it’s time to send an original title. It will be "Rubba Sub", to the aromas of sleng teng, which proves that far from the hits, the Dynamics deploys same layouts to deliver fresh and authentic sounds. And when the dub echoes evaporated, that the riddims have been silent, only remains an album majestic, in turn a future classic, full of unique Dynamics sound that mixes with instinct the echoes of yesterday to its own voices today.

A new double LP compilation, Melt Away, cataloging late-"90s rarities and outtakes from a creative apex in the band"s career, and released together on vinyl for the first time. Of these, album highlight "The Trail", originally recorded for the 1997 compilation What"s Up Matador, dissolves six minutes into a moment. Blink once and you"ll miss it. Blink twice and the wallpaper might begin to move. Pre-order "Melt Away".

Nap Eyes' metamorpher fünfter Longplayer versammelt neun faszinierende Songs, die in den vier Jahren seit "Snapshot of a Beginner" aufgenommen wurden. "The Neon Gate" enthält klassische Themen (das unruhige Zusammenspiel von Physik und Philosophie, umherwandernde Meditationen, Selbstbefragungen, Öffnungen der Surrealität, Videospiele), aber auch Anzeichen für abweichende Impulse in Richtung nichtlinearer Abstraktion und improvisierter Komposition in Langform (was zu ihren bisher diskursivsten, dekonstruiertesten und delikatesten Liedern führt) und erzählerischer und lyrischer Formalität (einschließlich der Adaptionen von dornigen Gedichten von Alexander Puschkin und W. B. Yeats), die den Eindruck vermitteln, dass sich Nap Eyes ebenso gewandelt haben wie ihr Verständnis davon, was ein Lied ist, was es kann und wohin es gehen könnte.

When Naked Giants formed in 2014, the Seattle trio were all eighteen years old, and full of the reckless, restless energy of youth. A decade on, both they and the world have changed immensely. Shine Away, the band"s third full-length, following on from 2018"s SLUFF and 2020"s The Shadow, is very much an acknowledgement of that. It"s an album that doesn"t just reflect on the personal life and times of the three of them and the world at large, but casts a discerning, self-reflective eye on what it"s like to be in, and be, Naked Giants. It"s the sound of a band coming into, and becoming, themselves.

2024 Repress
For Frenzy's third release, and the first solo release, the Uruguay-based William Arist is introducing us to his world of 'tribal techno'. Hailing from the city of Montevideo, this Southern-American-born artist already is a talent to watch overseas. Through their like-minded vision of electronic music, William bonded strongly with our Amsterdam-based Frenzy crew over the last couple of years. This warm connection evolved into Frenzy 03 - showcasing pure dance floor eclecticism that only William can deliver, including two remixes by no other than VIL and rising star Kenji Hina aka Alarico.

The A side instantly kicks off at full good vibe-throttle with two productions that reminisce about those iconic Love Parade moments during the very first days of rave culture. Balancing on the edge of house and techno, 'Chaka Chaka' loops the listener into a straight sense of movement. With rhythmic drums and uplifting vocals, 'Days' feels like stepping into an after hour dance-floor at the beach while the morning sun rises through the exotic vegetation. On the B side, William leans towards a more hypnotic sound. With a great tempo and a dark yet subtle mood, 'Tero' sets the tone for those murky clubbing moments where the boundaries dissolve and bodies merge. Slowly climbing out of the deep, 'Gultural' stays on the same energy level while adding dubby hints and a taste of freshness.

To top it off, the release is provided with two remixes that leave no room for interpretation. Portuguese producer VIL turned 'Chaka Chaka' into a true peak-hour beast while Italian multi-talent Alarico shows his versatile skill set with a speedy house remix of 'Gultural' under his Kenji Hina alias.

(Physical release only, Limited edition of 300 hand numbered copies + insert) Psyched Out Grooves from Hungary compiles ten of the most outstanding singles recorded by the underdogs of this period.



The psychedelic scene that never was – the perfect subtitle to this compilation. There were barely any drugs in Hungary to begin with. In this era, alcohol, music, and imagination have served as the primary means of mind alteration among the youth. The Communist party had a firm grip on culture through monopole control over venues, the media, and the recording industry, western records were not available, clubs enforced a strict dress code of suits, shirts, and longer skirts, and the police harassed young men for not more than having long hair or wearing blue jeans.



There was, however, an undercurrent of smaller semi-professional bands striving to succeed in the shadow of the very few stars privileged by the sole state owned record company. Given their chances to release music were at best limited to a few 7“ singles at the mercy of said record company powers. Psyched Out Grooves from Hungary compiles ten of the most outstanding singles recorded by the underdogs of this period. Some of the bands featured on here have eventually reached wider success by switching to more commercial styles, like Bergendy, Neoton, and Apostol. Most, like Echo, Meteor, Kék Csillag, Non-Stop, were temporal formations that dissolved after a few years due to personal conflicts, lack of success, or both. Others, like Scampolo or Juventus, lasted a longer time without an actual break through. Most of these bands never had a consistent, lasting ’psychedelic’ repertoire or identity at any point. These tracks were the exception, not the norm. That coherence - the illusion of a scene - comes from the curation and sequencing of Budabeats head honchos Von Yodi and Gandharva. It is the arrangement of these puzzle pieces that makes them fit together.



Limited edition of 300 hand numbered copies. Edited excerpt from the liner notes written by Gábor Vályi (Dj Shuriken)

Coming out on September 6th on Sharptone Records, Sundiver is Boston Manor’s fifth album and one that represents a glimmering dawn for the Blackpool five-piece. Grown from a seedbed of optimism and sobriety, the LP celebrates new beginnings, second chances and rebirth. With two members recently stepping into fatherhood, hope is baked into every note. “Datura came out of these really dark few years over the hangover of the pandemic,” Henry reflects. “I'd been struggling a lot with drinking and not taking care of myself and bad mental health and stuff. We wanted Sundiver to be the next morning of the following day.” He explains that it feels good this time round to write through the lens of positivity. “The themes began to emerge, of rebirth, spring, dawn, sunshine and then other elements just started to fit into that.” It was during the making of Sundiver that Henry found out he was going to be a dad. This album is a significant one for the band. Originally coming out of the emo and pop punk scene, they’ve explored sonics and genres throughout their career, taken risks and achieved more than they could ever had dreamed of. They’ve grown up as Boston Manor – their lives and the world changing around them. They’re now taking stock, at a crossroads of the band they were and the band they could be.
While writing the album, they revisited the bands that shaped them in the late 90s and early 00s. “I was listening to the music I loved when I was a teenager and I just thought, why don't we make music like our favourite bands?”, guitarist Mike Cuniff remembers with a smile. “So we brought our interests to the table that way. Y2K kind of vibe. There are elements of Deftones, there are elements of Portishead in there, some Garbage, The Cardigans.” He laughs and adds NSYNC to the list of inspirations. From this cocktail of classics comes a dynamic and ambitious record, rich with depth, groove and more hooks than Peter Pan’s nightmares. Lyrics that foxtrot from parallel universes to personal growth, vivid dreamscapes to raw grief. Individually they’re single strokes full of meaning and magic. Together they’re a landscape.
Container (out Feb 15th) is the first single and it’s them at their best – impassioned and infectious. “This song is about the stagnancy of life creeping up on you & how that can bring about change.,” Henry explains, citing Ocean Song by US band Daughters as an inspiration.

The concept of the butterfly effect is present on Sundiver – how small actions can lead to big changes. This is no clearer than on their second single, Sliding Doors (out April 5th). It has the golden sound of late 90s Lollapalooza rock – think Smashing Pumpkins - rebooted with crisp 2024 production and a potent heaviness. In the lyrics Henry wonders, what if?, pondering on what could be. The idea that there are infinite versions of you whose lives splinter off in different directions at every decision you make. That there’s another you out there somewhere right now reading this sentence, and another me writing it. “So much is down to chance and circumstance,” Henry says. “You might catch that train and your life totally changes. Or you might miss it and things stay the way they are.”
Heat Me Up (out May 30th) is defiant and victorious, the audio equivalent of quitting your shit job and driving into the hot summer sun with a head full of dreams. “The lyrics are about love and gratitude,” Henry shares. “Another theme on the record is just appreciating what you have. It’s about not taking for granted the things that you've been afforded.”
There was some natural magic in the creation of Sundiver. They worked with their usual producer, Larry Hibbitt, and engineer, Alex O’Donovan, but instead of recording in London again they ended up in the green pastures of Welwyn Garden City. “Because Larry lives out in the countryside now, it was a way different environment and way different experience recording this time,” Mike remembers. “That contributed a lot to the brighter sound of the record.” The daily barbecues they had during their recording sessions imbued the process with harmony – five old friends spending quality time together and making quality music.
However, the album is by no means one-note. Birthing this new world they’ve created wasn’t without it’s pain, and that can be heard in the heavier moments on Sundiver. What Is Taken Will Never Be Lost is the most-stripped back on the album, a slow rock number seasoned with the downtempo Portishead influence. The heartfelt lyrics are Henry’s way of processing the loss of his grandfather, who died in a hospice last year(?). “It was just fucking horrible. It was always cold when I went there and they were always trying to get rid of me. The song title, What Was Taken Can Ever Be Lost, is the idea of his memory fading at the time because of dementia.” Henry goes onto explain that shoeboxes of photographs, diaries and a legacy is what he’s left behind. “He lived a really rich life and it has really impacted me and my father. His legacy is etched into the fabric of history in a very small way.” This song continues the connection between his grandfather and the band, as his painted face is emblazoned on the cover of the very first Boston Manor EP, Driftwood. As well as emotionally heavy themes, there’s heaviness in the music of Sundiver too. The closing song, Oil In My Blood, descends into an intense shoegaze outro with Debbie Gough from Heriot screaming hellfire. It’s in moments like this that the band show us aggression and fury can be as much a part of positive change as quiet introspection. The last lyrics of the song, “It resets and starts again,” leaves us in contemplation as the final chord rings out.
Touring the US, Europe and Japan over the years makes for an impressive CV, but if you know anything about Boston Manor you’ll know that they’re all about their hometown. Their choice to work with Blackpool-based photographer Nick Barkworth is testament to that. They’ve been working with him since the pandemic. “He captures Blackpool in a light that really reflects the weirdness and quirkiness of the town,” Henry says.” He's got a really good way of presenting that.” For the Sundiver cover, Nick photographed a 30ft tall abstract glass sculpture made by the local artist John Ditchfield. A striking and bewitching monolith that’s familiar to them but unusual to most people. “It has such kind of a gravity and power to it,” Henry describes the sculpture which stands in a field just outside of the seaside town. “It reminds me of either an explosion or a star or a supernova. To me it represents new life, power and radiance.” Boston Manor have got a knack for that - connecting the otherworldly and the everyday, the stars and the streets.
They’re a band known for using their music to make bigger statements about society. This time round they’re harnessing the uplifting power of music, and the communion it creates, as an antidote to the daily doom and isolation. “It seems like absolute chaos out there at the moment,” Henry says. “You’ve got Gaza and Israel, you've got Russia, you've got the fact that 40% of the world is going to have an election this year and increasingly most governments are leaning very far to the Right. The internet is dividing everybody, people are getting poorer and more desperate. It's really, really scary.” They considered trying to tackle the weight of it all in their music. “We could’ve written Welcome to the Neighbourhood on steroids, where it's just absolute darkness and misery”. He’s referring to their 2018 concept album that deals with class, inequality and the bleaker side of Blackpool. “But I think it's really important to write something that people can be immersed in and find some sort of solace in. Somewhere they can escape to from the modern day pressures and everything that’s going on. We’re all in this together.”

Dive into the pulsating depths of the electronic cosmos with "Star Travel," the groundbreaking double album vinyl release from the visionary techno maestro Orlando Voorn. Renowned for his innovative soundscapes and masterful command of the genre, Voorn takes listeners on an electrifying journey through the uncharted realms of techno music. Across two meticulously crafted vinyl records, "Star Travel" delivers an immersive sonic experience that transcends boundaries and defies expectations. Each track is a sonic odyssey, meticulously designed to ignite the senses and propel listeners into a state of euphoria. From the hypnotic rhythms of "Aerosol Waveforms" to the relentless energy of "Extraterrestrial" Voorn's mastery is on full display as he seamlessly blends intricate melodies with driving basslines and hypnotic beats. With a keen sense of experimentation, he pushes the boundaries of the genre, infusing elements of ambient, acid, and industrial techno to create a truly immersive sonic tapestry. As the needle glides across the vinyl grooves, listeners are transported to a dimension where time and space dissolve, and the only thing that matters is the pulsating rhythm of the music. Each track unfolds like a sonic revelation, inviting listeners to lose themselves in the hypnotic vibrations of Voorn's musical universe. With its lush artwork and meticulous attention to detail, "Star Travel" is not just an album, but a testament to the enduring power of techno music to inspire, uplift, and transcend. Whether experienced on the dancefloor or in the solitude of a dimly lit room, this double vinyl release is sure to leave a lasting impression on all who dare to embark on its exhilarating journey. Experience the future of techno music with "Star Travel" - a testament to Orlando Voorn's boundless creativity and unwavering commitment to pushing the boundaries of electronic music.

There are ghosts all across AVANTI, the debut album from Malice K. At points it's howling and unhinged, a grungy layer atop a lush foundation of melodic capital-s Songwriting, but in other moments it dissolves into a gentle, wistful haunting. Malice K's songs are blunt, uncomplicated and unflinching as he probes the interiority of memories, of mistakes - saturated with an innate intensity that sucks you into his gnarled and visceral world, so barbed it could draw blood. Malice K is helmed by visual artist and songwriter Alex Konschuh, New York-based but born and raised in Olympia, Washington. Following a stint living in Los Angeles, where he became a member of the artist collective Death Proof Inc., a trip to New York resulted in him simply never leaving the city. A period of chaos ensued, Malice K exhausted and unmoored and ultimately, unwell. The record is unpredictable across its 11 songs. The album opens with a jarring scream on "Halloween," Malice K's breathless vocals buried beneath a grungy, roving Nineties riff. The track emanates a manic energy, enveloping. It's a fitting entrypoint for the record, and for the vividness of Malice K. The snarling and obsessive "You're My Girl" has a swaggering paranoia: "I got so high I thought my hand touching my hand was your hand." But AVANTI exists in quieter moments too; "Radio," with its fluttering morose cello, moves at an almost glacial pace comparatively. The aching wistfulness of "The Old House" is an album stand-out, anchored in an acoustic guitar, an uneasy lullaby that never quite settles into itself: "I think to myself I got the things that I wanted, but I can't help think there's something else that I forgot to do." A recent press interview called Malice K a shapeshifter, but he's not amorphous in that way. He's decisive and intense, more concerned with carving his own path, and building his own world. Every part of Malice K is distinctly himself: from his sweaty high-octane shows to the high-flash high-contrast photos; from his gnarled and unsettling illustrations to the studio recordings that vacillate between grief and tenderness, there's an exceptional ferocity across everything Malice K touches. AVANTI feels lived in, like peering into an abandoned house through a window smeared with grimy fingerprints, relics of a life well-lived scattered inside - despite being a debut, there's the sense that Malice K arrived fully-realized, imperfections and all.

There are ghosts all across AVANTI, the debut album from Malice K. At points it's howling and unhinged, a grungy layer atop a lush foundation of melodic capital-s Songwriting, but in other moments it dissolves into a gentle, wistful haunting. Malice K's songs are blunt, uncomplicated and unflinching as he probes the interiority of memories, of mistakes - saturated with an innate intensity that sucks you into his gnarled and visceral world, so barbed it could draw blood. Malice K is helmed by visual artist and songwriter Alex Konschuh, New York-based but born and raised in Olympia, Washington. Following a stint living in Los Angeles, where he became a member of the artist collective Death Proof Inc., a trip to New York resulted in him simply never leaving the city. A period of chaos ensued, Malice K exhausted and unmoored and ultimately, unwell. The record is unpredictable across its 11 songs. The album opens with a jarring scream on "Halloween," Malice K's breathless vocals buried beneath a grungy, roving Nineties riff. The track emanates a manic energy, enveloping. It's a fitting entrypoint for the record, and for the vividness of Malice K. The snarling and obsessive "You're My Girl" has a swaggering paranoia: "I got so high I thought my hand touching my hand was your hand." But AVANTI exists in quieter moments too; "Radio," with its fluttering morose cello, moves at an almost glacial pace comparatively. The aching wistfulness of "The Old House" is an album stand-out, anchored in an acoustic guitar, an uneasy lullaby that never quite settles into itself: "I think to myself I got the things that I wanted, but I can't help think there's something else that I forgot to do." A recent press interview called Malice K a shapeshifter, but he's not amorphous in that way. He's decisive and intense, more concerned with carving his own path, and building his own world. Every part of Malice K is distinctly himself: from his sweaty high-octane shows to the high-flash high-contrast photos; from his gnarled and unsettling illustrations to the studio recordings that vacillate between grief and tenderness, there's an exceptional ferocity across everything Malice K touches. AVANTI feels lived in, like peering into an abandoned house through a window smeared with grimy fingerprints, relics of a life well-lived scattered inside - despite being a debut, there's the sense that Malice K arrived fully-realized, imperfections and all.

Sumer Is Icumen In is Quentin Thirionet's (Dhavali Giri, Pairi Daeza) debut album. Still, his musical escapades are vast and varied, based almost entirely on improvisation and live recordings, of which he occasionally distributes tapes without further information. Elusive to categorization and identification, unwilling to fix his musical activity under a stable pseudonym, his projects have ranged from gypsy jazz guitar swings, French traditional songs from Auvergne, and various experimental collaborations. Increasingly closer to electronic instrumentation, he crafted what Belgian label KRAAK presents here as Maibaum, his first ever solo output. As the title goes, this may be a maypole on which his multicolored sonic visions spring about.

Former rope access worker and currently a farmer of organic greens, Thirionet lives up to these lines of work as a musician. He assembles precisely what seems like a subtle balance between high manmade structures and soft fertilized soils; a high voltage pylon placed in a biotic landscape. It's all an even blend, spontaneous and steady, but this contraption comes from profound considerations. "I chose these tracks among many others," says Quentin, "because I heard the melodies all the time in my mind, and because I cried while playing them without really understanding why."
Armed with nothing more than a blackbox, a sequencer, a freeze pedal, and a tape player, Thirionet orchestrates a vivid rite of polished futures. At times reminiscent of Hans-Joachim Roedelius' enveloping arrangements, Maibaum's ambiances rely on mild repetitive patterns subsequently textured by prickling sprouts, mechanic dislocations and revamps that stoke and brighten the stirring motions. Jim O'Rourke's I'm Happy and I'm Singing comes to mind in terms of its detailed and prismatic nature, but Sumer Is Incumen In has its particular narrative. It's a tale of regeneration, of spring's delicate procedures and allure, a celebration of gracious and fortunate junctions between nature and machinery.

The album unfolds like a massive engine being made flesh to drift along the ether of a sultry land. The terrain turns pleasant and fertile in the title track; the colors and melodies of May start to unravel. Chromatic columns rise and define the scenery's depth of field breeding a synesthetic stream between crystal lights and warbling organisms. Grande Albero Buono Magico Uoma's brisk kaleidoscopic arpeggios sound like scanning a tree's litmus foliage. Then Ciguri takes us back to the foggy swamp of the beginning but is suddenly lit by an insect’s labyrinthine roundabout. The Jeweled Grid is a poem Quanta Qualia's lustrous metallic voice recites as a report of the album's phenomena. "Shiny revelations jump out. Pearls of thought flicker about." Images from within that distill to swirl around among us. The thicket dissolves as the album concludes calmly in Le Concept De Chien N'aboie Pas. Swaying under sieved solar light, leaves and branches tingle until the winds grow weak. All the warm creatures gathered along the way, and all those who danced around the maypole's splendid equilibrium now withdraw, folding up small to foster rebirth once again.

José Badía Berner

I was sent an unfinished version of Dose Your Dreams so that I might contribute string parts. I couldn’t stop listening to the rough mixes I received. A friend asked me how the record was. I replied, “My God, Fucked Up have made their Screamadelica.” And psych-rock-groove it is. The drums mixed wide, propensity for drones, for delay pedal, for repetition, groove. The politics and aesthetics of hardcore married to an “open format” approach to genre. Elements of doo-wop, krautrock, groove, digital hardcore. “None of Your Business Man” opens the album in familiar enough territory, a sax assisted exit from an office space. But things get psychedelic very quickly. By the time the title track arrives, Mike Haliechuk is whispering, wah pedals are in full effect, and we’re wearing oversized t-shirts and pinwheeling. “Accelerate,” the lyrical centrepiece of the album, storms in like Boredoms on a bullet train and dissolves into a digital nightmare. The album closer, “Joy Stops Time,” finds Fucked Up at their most Düsseldorfian, nearly eight minutes of blissful motorik. At the center of it all is Damian Abraham’s scream a man chained, a man tortured, a true protagonist. The effect is one of an epic, every chapter attempting its own narrative devices, its own genre hybridization and it works, it works so insanely well. The drama unfolds like a miniature world of many parts being explored, a map being illuminated, location by location. As with David Comes to Life, there is a story here. David who once came to life is now indentured to a desk job. David meets the elderly Joyce who closes his eyes, opens his mind, and sends him on a spiritual journey. David embarks on his own metaphysical odyssey. He sees a stage adaptation of his own life. He speaks to an angel in a lightbulb. He sees an infinite series of universes as simulations within simulations. Meanwhile, Lloyd Joyce’s lover was sent, decades ago, by Joyce on the same odyssey, but was lost in the void. Lloyd seeks to be found and reunited with his lover. Where will David end up? Will Joyce and Lloyd be reunited? Dose Your Dreams meaning: treat your dreams as you would a dream, allow yourself to be lost within them, allow them to open your heart and your mind, enjoy them as you would a drug. Reach out for my hand and pull me close. Owen Pallett.

Scottish experimental/electronic musician Drew McDowall's lifelong interest in an elegiac solo bagpipe style called pibroch (ceòl mòr in Gaelic) has been an inspiration for much of his previous work (including Coil's legendary Time Machines). This form, often traditionally used for laments and for tributes to the dead, fuses modal drones with flickering dissonance and plaintive melody evoking an ancient, solemn mood. His latest work, A Thread, Silvered and Trembling, both incorporates and transforms these elements via exploratory electronic processing, weaving an electro-acoustic tapestry of strings, shudders, voids, and voices, alternately disembodied and displaced. Co-produced with engineer Randall Dunn at Circular Ruin Studios in Brooklyn, the collection's four pieces capture McDowall at his most elevated and elusive, in thrall to "the ineffable - that which refuses to be spoken." McDowall's palette here is unusually eclectic, sourced from a dynamic orchestral ensemble arranged by Brent Arnold and comprised of cello, viola, violin, harp (Marilu Donovan of LEYA), and french horn. Ebbing between shrouded electronics and enigmatic, sometimes spectralist orchestration, the album moves with a seething, simmering energy, surging into elegant, uneasy crescendos. The first two pieces are inspired by a liberatory hijacking and inversion of a grim biblical story (and by a cryptic and strange UK simple syrup branding). Opener "Out of Strength Comes Sweetness" shivers with short echo and resonant pads, before shifting into the album's centerpiece: the 14-minute saga "And Lions Will Sing with Joy." A murmuring electrical storm of keening strings and disorienting drones gradually grows darker and denser, until suddenly there's a crack in the clouds, revealing mutated choral voices and sparkling harp. McDowall describes the track as "an incantation to help usher in a break, and a new beginning." The record's latter half evokes a deep untamed animism shot through with spiraling radiance. "In Wound and Water" sways with harp, plucked strings and eerie cello undertows while lush layers of disorientated electronics hang in the dusk. There is no resolution, only a faint gradient of fragile dissipation, leading into the album's harrowing and climactic closer, "A Dream of a Cartographic Membrane Dissolves." Processed voices (credited on the liner notes to "The Ghosts Who Refuse to Rest") contort, whisper, and gather as the rest of the ensemble sharpens, poising to strike. Then it does - grand, tragic stabs of strings and horns lashing the sky, storming heaven by force. The fallout is poetic and inevitable, raining embers into a dark sea. But the journey and catharsis of A Thread linger long after it goes silent. Like so much of McDowall's multifaceted catalog, this is music of immanence and alchemy, attuned equally to the sacred and the profane, to the tile and the mosaic.