Cerca:dream city

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.

2025 Cream VINYL REPRESS.

When Alex Stephens (A.K.A. Strawberry Guy) self-released his debut single last year, he was merely doing it out of a love for songwriting. What he wasn't expecting was a million Youtube streams and an avid fanbase. Now, the South-Wales born, Liverpool-based songwriter is ready to release a full EP of his compelling, lushly produced dream-pop.

Born outside Cardiff, Strawberry Guy moved to Liverpool to study music and grow as a writer. 'I knew that it was a very artistic city with all it’s creative history, it seemed like the perfect place to move to.' he says. Whether it's playing keyboards in The Orielles or just being part of the city's growing musical scene, Alex plays music for the love of music, something that heavily translates into his adept songwriting.


The intense emotional feel of the tracks he writes is down to Alex's songwriting process, recording the entire EP in his bedroom & producing it himself. 'I feel that it’s important to me to only write/record when you’re channeling some kind of emotion, so I would only work on it when I was in the right mood to do so.' He answers when asked about the isolated environment into which he put himself for the recording process.

Much of the inspiration for Alex's work comes from experience rather than other artists. 'When something significant happens to me, all I want to do is make music.' In terms of musical touchstones however, there's the obvious dream-pop contemporaries such as Beach House and Weyes Blood, coupled with great songwriters of old like Nat King Cole or Harry Nillson. Sonically, a blend of orchestral & synthesized melodies layer together to act as a platform for his heartfelt lyrics.

Opener 'Without You' is a fine example of this, a break-up song of sorts, with an infectious keyboard melody and swirling synths over which Alex contemplates whether it's even possible to find lasting love. The lyrics 'Do you really have to talk about the things you do with him? Do you really have to talk about your love?' hit particularly heavily.

Contrast this with the final track, the titular 'Taking My Time To Be', a powerful song of self-discovery. Beginning with downtempo piano and drums, the song breaks out into a saxophone and synth solo that wouldn't go amiss on a Badalamenti soundtrack. 'The song is about me learning to be comfortable with myself, but then wondering if I'll be accepted for being myself' Alex imparts. It's a fitting closer to a EP driven by emotion and experience.

TERMINATor, the Seattle and New York based trio, are made up of albie, Lauren Rodriguez, and Veronica Dye. The group sits on the edge of no wave, punk, noise, and sweeping experimental.
TERMINATor united in 2017 under the mission of undermining traditional sound aesthetics and expectations. Consequently, part of the emergence of TERMINATor’s superbly unusual approach was the fact that each member learned their instruments as the project developed.
After releasing singles and the visual EP, “Rat (Hopefully the Boy),” TERMINATor has finally debuted their full length album. “Placate Boring Flesh” emphasizes musical texture over traditional melodies.
Even through growth and refinement of their sound, TERMINATor stays ever consistent in beginner’s mind within their idiosyncratic approach to composition. Discordant, angular, and atonal, TERMINATor weaves in and through itself. The group shines in their live performances, inviting their audience into a beautiful auditory disorientation of roaring textural bravado. TERMINATor sits on your temple in a balance of angular and sweeping shapes moving through coarse soundscapes.
Bottom line, TERMINATor is truly here to destroy.
“An instinctual curiosity guides their songs into unusual and interesting places, as is evident on Placate Boring Flesh. TERMINATor affectionately sucker-punch your expectations about how young modern women rock.” - The Stranger
“Placate Boring Flesh stands as one of the most exciting rock records to come out of the city in a while” - KEXP
“This Seattle-based trio’s record is an experimental, floating world of sound. Dreamlike (but not dreamy) in the most darkly surrealist way—like translating a Leonora Carrington or Miro painting to music.” - Maximum Rock N Roll"

15 Years Anniversary Edition of the debut full length from French producer/DJ Rone. Printed on Neon Pink Transparent bio-vinyl.

In 2009, Rone released Spanish Breakfast, an album that marked the first step of an extraordinary musical journey. Today, as we celebrate its 15th anniversary, we’re thrilled to announce a special edition reissue — sustainably crafted on vibrant neon pink vinyl, created as a tribute to the album that started it all. This limited release isn’t just a record; it’s a piece of history and a celebration of where it all began.

A record of simmering techno bubbles and gentle wells and releases swimming elegantly over its duration. A playful and woozy effort, Rone fills up the stereo field with widescreen synthscapes and dreamy bleeps popping from every audio crevice. In Spanish Breakfast the young Frenchman has crafted a player that is primed for hazy Spring afternoons bathed in sunshine. bleep like this alot...

Melbourne label ‘Felt Sense Recordings’ invites Detroit based Artist Bit-Map to join the roster for their 10th release.

6 tracks of Garage, IDM and breaks by way of the motor city with an acid heavy remix from Drip-133.

Although many a vibe has shifted since the days of dubbing NNF001 one at a time on the floor of a Koreatown bachelor apartment in February of 2004, using stolen photocopies and tie-dyeing J-cards with wine, the label’s essential premise has not. Then, as now, the vision was to elevate and enshrine outsiders, foragers, hidden gems, and hybrid sounds on cheap tapes or affordable records, to be savoured and shared in the here and now. 399 catalogue titles later, the centre still holds.

To toast the label’s 20th anniversary and 400th release, we commissioned a gold roll call of alumni and affiliates: Alley Of The Sun. Named in homage to the Malibu mystic music fountainhead, skewed through a smoggy sideways lens, the 16-song, 90-minute, double LP suite spans every shade of NNF’s Pacific palette: rainforest ceremony, skyway motorik, Tascam rapture, silhouette shoegaze, basement vapour, astral ascension, jazz shadows, 5th world tropics, lucid dream drone, desert quests, prophecy electronics, ritual wreckage.

Equal parts snapshot, tapestry, and time capsule, the compilation reflects the breadth of NNF’s two-decade exploration and evolution, from simple soil to a sea of dunes. True undergrounds have no set sound or fixed polarity, only flashes of transient magic and forking paths, to be cherished and championed for as long as the candle lasts.

The War On Drugs, "one of the premier live bands of their generation" (Pitchfork), announce Live Drugs Again, via Super High Quality Records and Transgressive / Canvasback. In support of Live Drugs Again, the band will kick off their Zen Diagram North American co-headline tour with The National, with support from Lucius, on September 12th. Recorded on tour between February 2022 through December 2023 in America, UK, Europe and Australia, Live Drugs Again follows 2020's Live Drugs and represents The War On Drugs at their ragged, righteous best. Bandleader Adam Granduciel comments, "Live Drugs Again chronicles the evolution of these songs from the studio to stages all over the world; documenting our continued growth as a live band. This series ensures that these versions, and some of our favorite moments on stage, will live on." As Consequence so accurately hailed, "it's hard to imagine a musical experience that's more enveloping and uplifting." This is hearing a band at its peak.

Bill meets Mickey on the street of impossible, unstuck-in-time dreams - as the late Mickey sings his back in "73, while Bill sings his "today." Both these master songsters put their own inevitable brand on Mickey"s peerless original, but it"s a new thrill hearing Bill cover a tune, something he rarely does. When it comes to the great Mickey Newbury, the answer should always be "yes." Help your own heavenly inner child by picking up and playing the grooves of these two sides of the same story.

“My introduction to “noise” came from a record shop in Lake Worth, Florida ran by a musician named Kenny 5. Kenny had left Detroit sometime in the mid nineties and had begun selling used records and CD’s from the downtown strip of this tiny southern Florida city in a humble shop sandwiched between a deli and a dog grooming business. Kenny previously was on labels like Amphetamine Reptile and timeSTEREO, and the records and videotapes that would be on repeat at his shop were a vast sonic expanse that spoke to the eclecticism of his experience as a touring musician participating and adjacent to American noise culture through the early to late 90’s. In 1998, I was eleven years old and I would order a pizza with him and watch VHS tapes of Japanese noise and deathmatch bootlegs, as well as any other sonic and subcultural rarities that far outstripped my age to comprehend (notably the RRR “Journey Into Pain” compilation and various Vanilla Tapes videos). This widecast net of information formed an introduction to a reality that did not fall deaf on me, but it took many years later for me to reorient the specific freedoms of what this dense and cathartic sound culture had imparted on my life and would continue onward to.

What does this have to do with this selection of choice recordings from the Secret Boyfriend catalog for the enmossed label? For the uninitiated, Secret Boyfriend is the long running moniker of Ryan Martin, North Carolina musician and label proprietor of the Hot Releases imprint. For over a decade from this writing I have watched Secret Boyfriend, and Hot Releases by extension as a curatorial and archival effort, embodying the multiplanal capacity that noise loosely functions from as an umbrella ideology and formalist avenue for sound creation. For anecdotal purposes, from (before) 2006 until roughly 2023 the East Coast of the United States showcased a vibrant network of eclectic regional festivals that saw wide swaths of artists addressing and negotiating the notion of what qualified “noise” from a conceptual and ideological perspective. Some festivals honed in on particularities in aesthetics and tropes, and others had a kind of “catch-all” implementation that allowed for a salvation of the sort of alienated and singular artistry that was amassing throughout these territories. While clear guidelines had been set from regional predecessors as to how noise with a capital “N” should maneuver, Secret Boyfriend is emblematic in the spirit of fluidity that was either implicitly coupled to the notion of the genre, or grew to evolve towards or devolve from.

Within Secret Boyfriend performances, I have seen and admired a mirroring from a ravenous appreciator of this culture at large back towards itself. Typical of a Secret Boyfriend set is an interchangeable narrative arc wherein blistering feedback laden scrap metal improvisations are forayed into naive ambient or “pop” songs, or skipping CDs, or mixer feedback play, or delayed Roland 707 drum workouts all at once and in a unique hegemony. Secret Boyfriend's stylistic mastery of each endeavor is at once an homage to a history of loving listening and enacting, while a brave step into the realm of actualizing the unique fluidity of his own practice. In performance and the action of network engagement, Secret Boyfriend operates a survey of that which he sought to hear and that which he cultivates around his work. His operations are mirrors, and the project (alongside his other peers) is a reflection on the ethos of his time.

Conversely his recording practice narrows in on these moments and allows for a different kind of intimacy or alienation for the non live listener. This record of selected “pop songs” (let's call them that) is particularly poignant at a time when the culture Martin mirrors is at a strange crossroads with itself. The aforementioned festival networks necessarily change and shift. The onlookers become the artists, the artists find new horizons, and the spaces for these cycles fade into locales of a distant memory. It seems, from my perspective, that audiences currently yearn for a more bottlenecked experience, searching for some ontologically vetted manifestation of an idea, of a sound and less for an experience that functions in opposition to our collective banalities. This makes sense in the face of general global catastrophism that plagues us. We need certainty of what something is somewhere, don’t we? Noise as an idea has expanded and contracted to so many iterations of itself it is hard to tell what it even is, and it is particularly difficult to identify in the absence of solid network activations a moment to reflect on its own complexities and nuances. In the face of so much change, I argue that the language of noise culture at large has on one hand become increasingly didactic and predictable, and laughably inclusive and non linear on the other. Probably has always been this way, but now we are in the midst of a moment of extreme access and indexicality, which somehow cauterizes expansion and naivety and chance.

This record highlights the Secret Boyfriend that obscures didacticism by highlighting output that opens up for more challenging catharsis and emotive signal processing. It provides an entry to the materialism of a cultural field full of ecstatic complexity and beautiful inconsistency. In these muted moments Secret Boyfriend has given us over his career we have an argument for evolving languages that further challenge our notions of what is supposed to happen and how it is supposed to be presented. In his more song oriented expansiveness, we can punctuate the ability to think in new modalities. Listening to these recordings reminds me of the polarity of sitting in the record store as a kid and understanding that His Name Is Alive is on 4AD and (gasp!) timeSTEREO. This trite early impression that nothing is really as different as our imaginations might want them to be, and that we can do whatever we want mostly within the creative realms we work through is an important filter to look through Secret Boyfriend as a project and a vessel. If we can achieve abandon and vulnerability through our artistic endeavors, then we have a sound model for, maybe, new potentialities. If that’s too much projection, or just complete liberal bullshit, I am fine with that. Secret Boyfriend's oeuvre at best offers us moments of reprieve to ponder these complexities, or at least a moment to zone out on a drive through North Carolina Highway 54.

You have one pocket of life that you must do whatever you want to inside of. Secret Boyfriend does it affectionately, in a variety of forms, and always with deep sentimentality. These recordings are a wonderful set of songs to begin further investigation from. Thank you Ryan for allowing as many avenues as possible to continue a broad cultural exchange and conversation that intersect and refract while being the kind of artist that is brave enough to not phone in the effort.”

- Nick Klein , May 2024

Village Of The Sun return today with the announcement of their highly anticipated debut LP “First Light”. Due out 4th November on heavyweight vinyl via London analogue specialists Gearbox Records, the record follows their widely acclaimed double A-side single “Village Of The Sun / “Ted”. Village Of The Sun is an enigmatic collaboration between UK jazz virtuosos Binker Golding & Moses Boyd and electronic music legend Simon Ratcliffe of Basement Jaxx fame. Born out of a shared passion for improvised instrumental music, the new project sees all three of the artists steps into relatively new territory, combining their respective sensibilities to create something all at once atmospheric and danceable. Evocative of some of Simon’s inspirations such as Alice Coltrane, Airto Moreira and Masters at Work, Village Of The Sun embodies a hybrid of electronic beats, heady jazz improvisation, and sheer, raw energy, breaking ground between pseudo-Samba rhythms, dreamy ambient textures, and explosive sax and percussion. The new single “The Spanish Master” is a total embodiment of what Village Of The Sun is at it’s heart. Combining atmospheric synth lines with percussive electronics, which gently ebb around Boyd’s intricate drumming and Golding’s expressive sax. With tension building around every element the track careens into a movement of frenetic drumming, electronic idiosyncrasies, and fervent sax breakouts, which find the trio performing at their energetic, adrenaline-fuelled best. The album is truly a project of passion and exploration, and one that refuses to follow just one path. Tracks such as “Cesca” and “Tigris” emphasise Ratcliffe’s ability to weave shapeshifting keys and electronics around Golding and Boyd’s interplay, changing the mood and direction of the track at a moment’s notice. Whereas the title track “First Light” channels the sound of the current UK jazz scene with Ratcliffe imbuing a sense of dramatic tension and release with electronic atmospherics and keys that ferment alongside the almost shamanic, semi-free sax lines and uncomprimising drums. As part of one of British dance music’s biggest ever acts, Basement Jaxx, Ratcliffe and collaborator Felix Buxton led the progressive house sound in the 90s/00s with ground-breaking albums Remedy and Rooty, and by releasing a string of Top 10 singles including Red Alert, Rendez-Vu, Romeo, and Where’s Your Head At?. Ratcliffe’s own solo work includes the 1995 EP City Dreams and the 2011 EP Dorus Rijkers - both releases prove his musical versatility and virtuosity. Speaking about the Village of the Sun collaboration, Simon says, “I’ve always liked improvised instrumental music. It has this intensity and eccentricity that takes me places.

Pope Adrian 37th Psychristiatric is the third LP by RUDIMENTARY PENI. Recorded in 1992 but not released until 1995, it was the first music the band recorded after their already leftfield Cacophony album. It is an underrated and difficult masterpiece of truly outsider music. Full of harrowing and morbid songs based on repetition, repetition and repetition, pushing the listener into a trance like mood. Pope Adrian 37th Psychristiatric shows the most experimental side of RUDIMENTARY PENI testing the punk song concept, turning it into a mantra chant at times while sounding like only RUDIMENTARY PENI could. The album opens with lead track 'Pogo Pope', which sets the tone, with Blinko repeatedly singing 'Pogo Pope' ad nauseam, and the whole of the album has a continual loop of the phrase 'Popus Adrianus' running through its entirety. At the time Nick Blinko was experiencing severe delusions and believed that he was Pope Adrian the 37th and was detained in a psychiatric hospital under Section 3 of the 1983 Mental Health Act. The album is unhinged and challenging but 100% pure and idiosyncratic. This official reissue comes on a single sleeve with printed inner and 16 page booklet with Nick Blinko artwork and has been remastered from the original tapes by Arthur Rizk. Genre: Alternative / Punk

Fang Island's debut record, long out of print and back in stock as daisy pink splatter coloured vinyl in gatefold jacket LP via Joyful Noise, defined the sound of danc-y/math-y indie rock of the early 2010s alongside contemporaries Lightning Bolt, Titus Andronicus, and Japandroids. Fang Island described their music as the sound of "everyone high fiving everyone." No matter where they went, Fang Island's up-with-people approach made them a subversive art project by default. At a time when the belligerent noise-rock of Lightning Bolt and The Body defined Providence, Fang Island played major-key guitar harmonies and flashy tapping riffs. When people tried to call them "math-rock," they thought of themselves as "recess rock." Fang Island shared bills with uber-buzzy bands like Yeasayer and Chairlift at Cake Shop and Santos Party House, crucibles for Brooklyn hype at the turn of the aughts; but their most impactful co-sign came from Andrew WK. At least until Fang Island earned an unexpected Best New Music review at Pitchfork; in the style of the time, the group - now including drummer Marc St. Sauver and guitarist Nick Sadler - were thrust from playing "literally empty shows" at hot dog stands in Ohio to becoming the toast of SXSW and starting their North American tour with psych-rock idols the Flaming Lips in an Atlantic City casino. They would later play sprawling amphitheaters with Stone Temple Pilots, and in perhaps the best demonstration of their ability to wield pop smarts to guitar pyrotechnics, both Matt & Kim and Coheed & Cambria.

"This record explores the relationships between mid century architecture, consumerism and community. The gradual or sometimes brutal removal and change of places in the name of progress. These changes leave traces that people have to deal with on a psychological level but probably never really acknowledge. This record explores loss of community and loss or unsympathetic altering of shopping spaces. When something is unceremoniously knocked down or altered and something else replaces it then the thing before it becomes ghost like and is at risk of being forgotten. Not dissimilar to when the Christian faith built their buildings upon Pagan sites. It has a similar purpose (to pray or to shop in this case) but the older thing becomes dreamlike and is confined to folklore. The community is always fed the propaganda of progress but looking back, I certainly cannot deny the beauty of what has now gone. Maybe there is a sense of dissolution and denial about such matters. The record is also interested in the sense of community of these past spaces and how shopping centres have generally declined mainly due to the rise of neo liberalism and tech giants. When you see old footage of these spaces in their prime, you get a sense of a space age future, everything looks new but paradoxically the people look to be from an older time. Today I can see real poverty and complete disenfranchisement from being in these new spaces. It's not all doom and gloom though as spaces, especially the ones in Plymouth are not that much altered and could be brought back to the architects original dreams."

David A.

In the fall of 2022, celebrated UK chill-out institution Seahawks landed in Los Angeles for the first time in their 15-year history, with plans to record a sweeping new age downtempo "exploration of visionary California."

Instead, they immediately fell ill with flu (Fowler collapsed next to a taco truck; 911 was called), and were bedridden for the better part of a week. Upon recovering, they resituated at the synthesizer sanctuary of Brian Foote (Peak Oil, Kranky, Leech), channeling their post-sickness psychedelia into one of the band's lushest and most elevated creations to date: Time Enough For Love. Inspired by the "groove and mood" of Harry Nilsson demos, as well as its wider 70's wavelength - Rhodes, Wurlitzer, wood paneling - Seahawks transposed their classic post-rave ambient exotica onto a warm and woozy Golden State palette. Buoyed by the liquid touch of English maestro Kenny Dickenson on keys, the results rank high among the duo's smoothest and most multi-sensory voyages. "Sail Across The Moon" delivers on its title, a simmering, phaser-smeared cruise through the beauty of the night. "Messengers" echoes the cosmic lounge of Air's Moon Safari, shuffling, weightless, and ethereal, while "Falling Deep" reaches for the stars, pure cascading bliss, the ecstatic moment writ large.

The album skews steadily more astral as it progresses, drifting towards jazzy, galactic outer reaches. "Like A Grain Of Sand" opens with a spoken sample by the celebrated late American poet Rachel Sherwood ("The children watch, breathless / with the birds / They feel an emanation / from this shuddering place"), before taking flight on a Balearic trip through island house, PM Dawn gold dust, upright bass meditation, and kaleidoscopic light. A remix of the title track by Chicago trio Purelink closes the record in a suitably subdued and skittery state of mind. Time Enough For Love radiates color, complexity, and positivity, infused by the "life enhancing" nature of the band's time in Los Angeles - sunsets, sound systems, and sativa, framed by coastlines and cloudbanks, the city's mystic sprawl glittering beneath purple dusk.

Transparent Curacao Vinyl. Award-winning composer for video games and Scottish artist, Barry "Epoch" Topping (PARADISE KILLER, SENTRY, THATCHER'S TECHBASE, ENCOUNTERS) returns with "The Needs", 11 songs of lavish reflection in a modern city pop style. The album takes the listener through an emotional exploration of identity and change set against the backdrop of late summer. It fuses city pop, rock and dance music into a rich, dreamy blast of video game-tinged modern pop music. But "The Needs" is more than just an album title, like Barry explains: "It's a new ensemble built around a core of the musicians that worked with me on Paradise Killer: Fiona Lynch, Fabian Hernandez, Thomas Temple and Kyle Murray-Dickson. A new trio of horns Elin Andersson, Nicklas Dahlin and Simon Fransman round out the full lineup. Having such talented musicians involved in a much bigger way has allowed us to challenge ourselves and make the best, most over the top music we've made yet. 'The Needs' was created as a vehicle for my own reflections and is intended to help listeners reflect and find solace too. No album can be universal but if 'The Needs' can help people feel seen or understood then I'll feel like it's been a success. Getting to make the album has been an extremely rewarding experience."

Bliss, the latest release of french producer Cezaire is an 8 tracks project blending hip-hop, funk and soul sounds.

With this second record Shoko unveils a new genre called “Onsen Music”. Each track invites you on a relaxing journey, much like soaking away your troubles in the steamy hot waters of a traditional Japanese spa (Onsen). The variety of songs mimic the variety of onsens, some are salty and scorching, some are smooth and clear, some are bubbly and colorful, and others are a refreshing dip into crisp clear waters. In every instance, there's a sense of satisfaction as soothing and delightful as the tracks themselves. This ode to “relax”, while remaining irresistibly danceable, is filled with good vibrations, melodies and hooks that go straight to the heart, saxophone playing virtuosity, intricate electronic compositions, vocals that make us dream of new worlds, and beats that could keep us on a dancefloor all night long.

Shoko Igarashi was born in Yamagata Prefecture, Tsuruoka city, Japan. An accomplished tenor saxophonist, she is also a versatile flautist and plays alto and soprano saxophone fluently. She has already made her mark as both an arranger and a composer. Shoko grew up surrounded by dreamlike landscapes of abundant nature in the snowy countryside of Tsuruoka, a mysterious and surreal region renowned for producing the best quality rice in Japan, where she says, “the water and the air feel the purest," and where mountains and shrines overflow with ancient mysticism.

Jabu return with ‘A Soft and Gatherable Star’, an LP that sees the Bristol-based trio evolve from a uniquely spectral take on trip hop to proffer a singular vision between cloudy, downered dream-pop, off-kilter ambient, and the warm, low-end throb of sound system culture. This development is aligned with contemporaries like HTRK, Dean Blunt, Tarquin Manek, YL Hooi and Rat Heart Ensemble, whilst also harkening back to the likes of AR Kane (with whom they are set to play shows and release a collaborative single), the languorous drift of 'Victorialand' era Cocteau Twins or The Cure circa ‘Disintegration’. Comprising Jasmine Butt (vocals, guitar), Alex Rendall (vocals, keys) and Amos Childs (production, bass guitar), the trio’s method may have shifted but the feel remains consistent - slow, spatial, sensuous and gently melancholic. With a career arc unlike almost any other current guitar outfit, Jabu sit within a strong lineage of off-centre Bristolian music, and a very British strain of home-spun DIY bands. Self-recorded between Jas and Amos’ home in South Bristol and Amos’ mum’s house in rural North Somerset, the album came together via a process of trial and error - learning to play on borrowed instruments, using the equipment “wrong”, staying up late recording and slipping into strange, semi-conscious sleep deprived/inebriated headspaces. Having captured over 50 tracks, they honed in on those they liked most, shaping them further, whilst carving out space to allow input from people they love and admire - Daniela Dyson’s voice and Will Memotone's clarinet on ‘Ashes Over Shute Shelve’, Birthmark's synth on ‘Gently Fade’ and ‘Sea Mills’, Rakhi Singh (Manchester Collective) and Sebastian Gainsborough (Vessel)’s strings and arrangements on ‘All Night’, Josh Horsley’s cello on ‘If I Asked You, You'd Tell Me’, and Lorenzo Prati’s sax, again on ‘Sea Mills’. The album was mastered by Amir Shoat (HTRK, ML Buch, Dean Blunt, Carla Dal Forno). Influence-wise, the guitar-based material recalls the bands Amos listened to when younger, and Jas’ more folk-leaning inspirations. Deep-lying dub, hip hop and soul influences are also evident in both the way the LP was mixed, and the space ingrained in their subconscious. Tinged with melancholy, the songs cohere as a set of soliloquies and ruminations on love and tenderness. The album’s title comes from a poem by Amos’ late father which hangs on his wall and seeped into the record. ‘Ashes Over Shute Shelve’ is formed of lines from another poem of his. Recited by longtime collaborator Daniela Dyson and with Will Yates (Memotone) playing his mother’s clarinet, the track was imagined as a conversation between his parents. Geography and location also play a big part in the record, with several significant places name-checked in songs. Shute Shelve itself is a hill near Amos’ mum’s house, who explains “There’s a tree at the top with a 360° view of the Mendips, where my dad’s ashes were scattered. We used to go up there when we could first buy booze from the petrol station down the road, get drunk, light a fire, listen to music from my little battery powered CD player and sleep out without tents.” Titled after a Bristol suburb near where Amos’ grandparents lived and where Jas would spend time as a teenager, ‘Sea Mills’ references her being abandoned by friends on the Downs while high on mushrooms, stranded and missing the bus back. ‘Kosiše Flower’ references the city in Slovakia where Amos and Jas holidayed shortly after getting together and a flower he gave her, which she pressed in a book after an argument. ‘Oceanside Spider House’ is a location in Nintendo 64 game The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask, where someone seeks shelter from the falling moon. Genre: Electronic / Ambient / Dream-pop

Red Brut’s third album, "On Bare Ground", is a sonic tapestry woven from the final threads of her Rotterdam existence. Entirely composed of soundscapes captured during her last two years in the city, the album evolves into a poignant farewell as its creation mirrors the passage of time, culminating in a profound departure from her life there.

A Coherent States, Dead Mind Records and Econore co-release. 200 copies on white vinyl, comes with obi-strip.

“On Bare Ground” is a sculptural work blending its lo-fi with haunting melodies, field recordings, and ethereal soundscapes. Uncompromising in its approach, the album evokes the echoes of experimental music from a spectrum that ranges from dark bedroom pop to rhythmic noise, crafting a cloudy and dreamlike atmosphere. With meticulous attention, it unfolds as a strong hypnotic journey, where intricate sounds emerge from a hidden center, while, in a parallel narrative, they gradually expose On Bare Ground’s underlying deep melancholic core.

Red Brut is the artistic alias of Dutch artist Marijn Verbiesen, who recently moved to Groningen and has been a vital force in Rotterdam's art scene. Her work reveals a particular sensitivity to everyday sounds, the soundscapes of cassette music, musique concrète, and spontaneous sound collage, combining these elements into a unique and truly personal avant-garde expression. This expression is present in various forms, in a wave of releases that began with limited-edition underground cassette releases in the mid-2010s and culminated in her two full-length albums, "Red Brut" (2018) on the Belgian label (K-RAA-K)³ and "Cloaked Travels" (2020) on the Finnish labels Lal Lal Lal and Ikuisuus. She has appeared at many important European festivals such as Rewire, KRAAK festival, Inversia, Colour Out Of Space and in numerous smaller venues worldwide. In addition to her career as Red Brut, Marijn is a member of the free improv/weirdo electronic pop duo Goldblum and before in the experimental no wave/noise trio Sweat Tongue.

“On bare Ground works as like an homage to self discovery amid urban malaise” The Wire

2024 Repress

“Live at Sound City” is an instrumental collaboration between bassist Pino Palladino, guitarist/multi-instrumentalist/producer Blake Mills, and LA-based saxophonist Sam Gendel. Recorded in one day at the legendary Sound City Studios in Van Nuys, the EP presents new versions of compositions from Palladino & Mills’ Grammy-nominated 2021 album “Notes with Attachments” in an intimate chamber trio setting. Across four tracks, the accomplished trio explores common musical vocabularies, then goes about the work of defamiliarizing them in search of something new, blending the sounds of West African and Cuban music, jazz, R&B, English folk, pop, and beyond.

Pino Palladino is a Grammy Award winning songwriter, producer and bassist who helped create the rhythm-section sound of D’Angelo’s Voodoo and Black Messiah, and over a four-decade career has worked with artists including Keith Richards, Erykah Badu, Eric Clapton, Nine Inch Nails, Questlove, John Mayer, Paul Simon, Jeff Beck, Herbie Hancock and Adele.

Blake Mills is a two-time Grammy Awards Producer of the Year nominee. He has released four solo albums and produced and recorded with artists such as Alabama Shakes, Fiona Apple, Bob Dylan, John Legend, Perfume Genius, Jim James, Moses Sumney, Laura Marling, Phoebe Bridgers, Cass McCombs, The Killers, Sara Bareilles, Weyes Blood and Randy Newman. His most recent album Mutable Set, released last year, was praised by Pitchfork as “a hushed collection that floats through the subconscious like a tender dream,” and earned their Best New Music title.

Sam Gendel is a musician living in Los Angeles, CA. He is most known for his work with the saxophone, though he is proficient on multiple instruments. His work is diverse and includes collaborations with a wide range of artists including Ry Cooder, Laurie Anderson, Mach-Hommy, Sam Amidon, Perfume Genius, Moses Sumney, Knower, Vampire Weekend, and inc. no world.

Direct follow up to OKC noise rock band’s 2022’s breakthrough album God’s Country. Mixed by Benjamin Green (Uniform, Portrayal of Guilt, Drab Majesty). Mastered by Matt Coloton (The Rolling Stones, Blur, Nick Cave, Sunn O)). Full US tour in 2024, EU early 2025, with more dates to come. Like the towering mounds of toxic waste from which it gets its namesake, the music of Oklahoma City noise rock quartet Chat Pile is a suffocating, grotesque embodiment of the existential anguish that has defined the 21st Century. It figures that a band with this abrasive, unrelenting, and outlandish of a sound has stuck as strong of a chord as it has. Dread has replaced the American dream, and Chat Pile’s music is a poignant reminder of that shift—a portrait of an American rock band molded by a society defined by its cold and cruel power systems. Though very much on-brand with Chat Pile’s signature flavor of cacophonous, sludgy noise rock, the band’s shift to a global thematic focus on Cool World not only compliments the broader experimentations it employs with their songwriting but also how they dissect the album’s core theme of violence. Melded into the band’s twisted foundational sound are traces of other eclectic genre stylings, with examples of gazy, goth-tinged dirges to abrasive yet anthemic alt/indie-esque hooks and off-kilter metal grooves only scratching the surface of what can be heard in the album’s ten tracks. Besides stylistically stretching the boundaries of the Chat Pile sound, Cool World is also the band’s first record to have someone else handle mixing duties, with Ben Greenberg (Uniform) capturing and further amplifying the quartet’s unmistakably outsider and folk-art edge. While Chat Pile’s debut album was plenty disturbing with its B-movie-inspired interpretation of a “real American horror story”, what the band depicts on Cool World is unsettling not just from its visceral noise rock onslaught, but from depicting how all sorts of atrocities are pretty much standard parts of modern existence. In film terms, think something like a Criterion arthouse film by way of schlocky grindhouse splatterfest: undeniably gratuitous and thrilling in the moment but leaving a looming dread in the back of one’s mind for how close the horrors depicted mirror reality.

In the fall of 1978, John Prine returned home to Chicago for a concert performance at the city's famed, Park West. This show, captured on the originally limited edition album September '78, features another side of John Prine - backed by an electric band. Oh Boy Records originally pressed only 2000 copies of this classic album for Record Store Day back in 2015, but now you can have your own copy of this legendary recording on vinyl!

Malt, music and mars bars: Glasgow goes hard, fast and deep-fried. Dream Ticket is no stranger to a cheeky snack on the way home, so here's four morsels from the Scottish city's Modus to get down ye: hell-for-leather juke n jits on the A side; braindance and jelly legs footwork on the B. As the old adage goes, jack yer wee booty!

Exquisitely compiled by Discrepant head honcho Gonçalo F. Cardoso from three tapes released earlier this year by the tireless mind-body of Spencer Clark through his own Pacific City Sound Visions, 'This Year In Coconuts Vol. 2' is another revelation into the deeply personal soundworld of this true voyager of both ancient, present and forthcoming times. Coming from a truly singular artist, capable of conveying multiple visions into a labyrinthine-esque mythology all of his own, these seven tracks feel as much part of their original setting as connected pieces from this never ending and puzzling netherworld.

Dedicated to the Temple of Isis in Pompei and opening sides A and B, the two tracks from 'Tempio d'Iside' set up a scenario not far from a dream version of the Temple itself, made from crystal clear synth-lines and levitating ambiences, like drifting into ancient memories from days to come. Making up about half of the compilation, the four tracks from 'Kowloon Spider Temple' drip into a feverish mosaic of Clark's by now trademarked cascading rhythms, unhinged alien-vocal samples, phantasmic textures and sparkling synth harmonies projecting a catchy hypnotic oblivion filled with intrigue. The sole title track from 'From the Caves and Jungles of Apulia' tangentially reports back to some lower-fi recordings of the past, with its murkier sound inducing the feeling of willing confinement within such caves and jungles. A brilliant Year in Coconuts, indeed.
Mastered by Rasha

Rose Main Reading Room, the fourth full length by Peel Dream Magazine, is a lush, inviting headphones record; the kind of album made to accompany city bus rides and rainy-day solo trips to accidental destinations. The band, whose name nods to the BBC Radio 1 legend John Peel — arbiter of all things underground, quality, and (it must be said) "cool" — has since its inception been a genre-hopping experiment, jumping from motorik krautrock to shoegaze and space age pop, and their newest work is a perfect starting point for the uninitiated, beckoning toward a newfound romance and nostalgia with their catchiest collection of songs to date. Across its fifteen songs, Rose Main Reading Room ultimately proposes a world of marvels and compelling complexity: “Oblast” cheekily prods at mutually assured destruction; “Ocean Life” explores the infiniteness within ourselves; while “R.I.P. (Running in Place)” unpacks an all too familiar stagnation. It’s all part of, and crucial to, Rose Main Reading Room’s transportive power, ever reaching for the wonder and magic of the world we live in.

Die neuseeländische Künstlerin und Produzentin Fazerdaze (Amelia Murray) erforscht auf ihrem zweiten Album 'Soft Power' die Komplexität des Frauseins.

In den 11 Tracks, die sie selbst als 'Schlafzimmer-Stadion' bezeichnet, verschmilzt Amelia verträumte Synthies und elektronische Beats mit Rockband-Elementen und schafft so einen Sound, der die Balance zwischen düsterer Authentizität und raffinierter Pop-Brillanz hält. 'Soft Power' wurde von Amelia selbst aufgenommen und produziert und handelt von Themen wie Hingabe, starkem Selbstmitgefühl und reifer Selbsterkenntnis.

'Soft Power' folgt auf Fazerdaze's 2017er Debütalbum 'Morningside' und die 2022er 'Break!' EP.

- Ltd. Col. LP: (Silberfarbenes Vinyl)

The highly-anticipated sequel, Gladiator 2—directed by Ridley Scott and starring Paul Mescal, Pedro Pascal, and Denzel Washington—is an epic historical action film with a blockbuster original score by Harry Gregson-Williams. Gladiator II picks up in the years after Russell Crowe’s Maximus gave his life, upending the leadership of the decadent and corrupt society. The central character portrayed by Paul Mescal is Lucius, last seen as the young son of Lucilla, Connie Nielsen’s noblewoman from the original movie.

Die neuseeländische Künstlerin und Produzentin Fazerdaze (Amelia Murray) erforscht auf ihrem zweiten Album 'Soft Power' die Komplexität des Frauseins.

In den 11 Tracks, die sie selbst als 'Schlafzimmer-Stadion' bezeichnet, verschmilzt Amelia verträumte Synthies und elektronische Beats mit Rockband-Elementen und schafft so einen Sound, der die Balance zwischen düsterer Authentizität und raffinierter Pop-Brillanz hält. 'Soft Power' wurde von Amelia selbst aufgenommen und produziert und handelt von Themen wie Hingabe, starkem Selbstmitgefühl und reifer Selbsterkenntnis.

'Soft Power' folgt auf Fazerdaze's 2017er Debütalbum 'Morningside' und die 2022er 'Break!' EP.

Shock Room it’s a double vinyl release who takes the name from the main room of the discoteque.

ULTIMO IMPERO DI Torino; an historic temple of the techno music from the ‘90s. in this compila)on are all included the most iconic and an)cipated “techno, trance & progressive” grooves that have made dance en)re genera)ons of people, nowadays again on track and well
spinned up by djs all arounf the world.

Skylax Records Proudly Introduces the "Cold Summer Ep" by Peter Lc, an Electrifying Collection of Five Tracks That Showcase the Artist's Mastery in the European House Music Scene. Emerging From the Enchanting Landscapes of Apulia, Italy, Peter Lc's Sonic Expedition Begins With "Hasta La Playa." This Track, Reminiscent of Rhythmic Tides Against the Shore, Captures the Essence of Carefree Summer Days With Its Sun-Soaked Vibes and Lively Percussion, Setting the Stage for an Energetic Dance Floor Filled With Joy. as the Journey Continues, "Piano Ipnotico" Unfolds, Revealing a Hypnotic Dance Between Rhythmic Piano Chords and Pulsating Beats.

Peter Lc's Enchanting Melodies Create an Immersive Atmosphere, Guiding Listeners Through a Spellbinding Journey That Seamlessly Blends Classic Elements With a Modern, Entrancing Flair. "Time in Cologne" Marks a Temporal Shift, Resonating With Echoes of the City's Historic Charm. the Track Weaves Intricate Sonic Tapestries, Capturing the Unfolding Essence of Time in Each Beat.

Layers of Sound Interlace, Creating a Rich and Immersive Experience That Stands as a Sonic Exploration, Evoking Both Nostalgia and Forward Momentum Simultaneously. "Dive Into the Ethereal Realm of "Your Dreams," Where Dreamlike Melodies Intertwine With Pulsating Rhythms. This Nocturnal Odyssey Invites Listeners Into a World of Introspection and Reverie, Transcending Boundaries With a Seamless Blend of Atmospheric Elements and Rhythmic Patterns.

"Your Dreams" Becomes a Musical Voyage That Resonates Deeply With the subconscious.The Ep Concludes With "With Nobody," a Venture Into Darker Territories That Maintains an Undeniable Energy. Pronounced Beats Create a Driving Force That Propels the Listener Forward, With Mysterious Undertones and Intricate Arrangements Unfolding Like a Narrative. "With Nobody" Encapsulates a Perfect Balance Between Intensity and Allure, Leaving an Indelible Mark as the Grand Finale of the Ep.

Peter Lc's "Cold Summer Ep" Is a Testament to His Boundless Creativity and Mastery, Poised to Carve an Indelible Mark on the Global House Music Landscape. Each Track Is a Testament to His Unique Style—a Captivating Blend Reminiscent of Dj Sneak, Coupled With a Nod to the Golden Era of Italian Dream House From the Early '90s, but Elevated in Production Quality. Whether Basking in Sunny Vibes or Venturing Into Darker Territories, Every Composition Stands as a Bona Fide Banger....

Having spent their formative years in São Paulo Brazil, as a teenager, Lau Ro found themself uprooted from their home. Moving with their family to Europe in search of a better quality of life, their story was like that of many immigrants in the same position. Lau Ro's parents found work in factories and cleaning jobs, for the first few years in the North of Italy and then in Brighton on England's Southern coast. "We never managed to visit back home, so my connection to Brazil became largely made up of childhood memories and my fascination with all the 60s and 70s music I could find from there."

In Brighton, the young non-binary singer and composer would immerse themself amongst the city's vanguard of free-thinking artists and musicians. Lau Ro formed Wax Machine whose prefigurative, psychedelic community provided a glimmer of countercultural hope amid a backdrop of national political decline. From 2020-23, Wax Machine birthed three cult-favourite albums in as many years; indebted in part to their British psychedelic forebears from progressive folk, rock and jazz yore. But the kernel of Lau's Brazilian sound was already beginning to blossom across Wax Machine's releases. Now, taking root deeper still, Lau Ro steps forward with their debut album: Cabana.

Named after the small wood cabin at the bottom of their garden where the album was recorded, Cabana is a deeply personal record of memory, self-discovery and imagination. Melancholy and hope combine across ten tracks of dreamy bossa, ambient folk, fuzzy tropicalia and majestic MPB. The music is swathed in masterful string arrangements and trippy electronics in equal part, while Lau Ro's delicate, yet quietly confident voice takes acerbic aim (in both English and Portuguese) at polluted city life, while dreaming of a utopia, rich with nature and wildlife.

Like the musical equivalent of semantic drift, Lau Ro's displacement led to the creation of another Brazil. A mythic place in Lau's soul, as they put it, "where the sunshine and joy of my childhood remained untapped." Lau continues: "It's music that might sound as if it came out of a parallel universe Brazil, rather than its modern day landscape. I am nowadays rediscovering Brazil, going back as often as I can and trying to stay connected to these different parts of the world and myself."

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Collapsing new rhythms and industrial visions meet restless melodic vocals on Gateway, the debut album from San Francisco duo YANTRA on Swiss label Subject To Restrictions Discs. This isn’t dance music, but you will dance to it. It isn’t ritual music, but it will channel spirits.

The dreamer is still asleep. She awakens to heed the call. Curious downtempo drums, spartan and potent, animate the body. Running through the city, shadows dance on walls, and alluring voices, whispered, sung, and soaring, possess the mind. At the end of the path, gazing at the mirror’s edge, she finds the source of the voice—and realizes it’s her own.

YANTRA are artist-producer Yaniv de Ridder, also known by the alias YNV, and lyricist-vocalist-instrumentalist Janina Angel Bath. The pair have worked together for some time, beginning with YNV’s 2021 LP Golden Hour Ritual. On Western Paradox, a YNV EP released last year on Subject To Restrictions Discs, Bath contributed vocals—and so YANTRA, the project and the concept, was born. Working together, the pair craft new forms of transcendent sound, timeless and familiar all at once

LOOSE CATTLE, the five-piece roots rock outfit declared "favorite Americana cowpunks in New Orleans" by OffBeat Magazine. work to make music that matters, aligning themselves with, and advocating for, people at the margins of our society. In the band's mind, if "Americana" is to mean anything, it should mean inclusion and a diverse music scene populated by the people the American Dream crushed. The misfits and outcasts are who they sing for, and choose to dance with. On "Someone's Monster", two-time TONY and GRAMMY Award winner Michael Cerveris turns up the volume and the urgency.