Cerca:echo west

Madelyn Byrd returns to Glasgow’s Somewhere Press with a hazed set of weightless soundscapes. »Night Rider« opens in widescreen with the chirp of cicadas dancing across a desert landscape, before Shiroishi’s saxophone eventually cuts through the dark like neon. The story Byrd tells is close to their heart: they spent their teenage years in the Sonoran Desert, the vast subtropical expanse spanning parts of Arizona, California, and Mexico. Its seemingly alien landscape — pocked with giant, tree-like cacti and looming rocky outcrops — is lodged in the cultural memory, a quality Byrd draws on as they slowly reveal their poetic narrative.

The album plays like a road movie of sorts, moving through Byrd’s memories and setting them to very different rhythms. Clattering drums emerge on »Of Nature, Of Bodies, Of Dreams«, while Byrd’s soft tones, processed to sound almost otherworldly, glide gently across the metallic clangs. Each track highlights a form of movement: there is the microscopic, insectoid crunch of »Imprint«, where guitar prangs meet Shiroishi’s spirited runs, while »Into Sonoran Pool« creates motion from the atmosphere itself, recreating the thick desert air with shimmering electrical currents and psychedelic processes.

At this point, the album begins to echo Robert Ashley’s late-period theatrical work: compositions that broke with familiar formats, juxtaposing dialogue with knowingly experimental orchestral flourishes. Byrd strikes a similar note through a fusion of poetry, sound design, choral music, and chiming, listless ambient elements that also recall Harold Budd. Budd grew up in the Mojave Desert, which borders the Sonoran, creating an eerie parallel with the moods he conjured throughout his long career.

Byrd finds a similarly aesthetic link to the West Coast landscape, referencing the history of experimental music while establishing their own voice. As the album rides into the sunset with a roar of engines, they offer a distinct vision of pop: »What Is, What Was« integrates a chugging break and ketamised vocal hook, while the finale, »In Perfume, Remember«, lands as a James K-like heartmelter.

“I like to work with a variety of instruments and set ups,” says Mark Van Hoen, sometimes known as Locust or Autocreation but here working under his own name on the excellent Plan For A Miracle, his first physical release of solo music since 2018’s Invisible Threads. ”Sometimes it’s literally in my studio, with all the hardware electronics available. Sometimes the laptop, using software instruments. Some of the tracks on this record were recorded in the desert (Joshua Tree) using a 4-track tape machine and small modular synthesiser set up. Each track was recorded in different location using different instruments, which accounts for the distinction between each piece. It’s also about my own reaction to my environment, and what’s going on in my life at the time.”

The Croydon-born Van Hoen started musical life in the early 1990s, signing for R&S records in 1993 but developing his own, myriad and distinctive style across a range of releases on Touch, Editions Mego and other labels, using a battery of instruments, including analogue synthesizers and taking a number of different approaches to recording, rather than ploughing a single sonic furrow. He has worked on a number of collaborations, including with Nick Holton and Neil Halstead of Slowdive, under the moniker of Black Hearted Brother - their Stars Are Our Home was released in 2013. “I have known Neil Halstead since 1992,” says Van Hoen. “He shared a house with me for a couple of years, and the music I was making and listening to along with clubs I was attending had an influence particularly on Pygmalion, the final Slowdive album on Creation.”

Each track on Plan For A Miracle does indeed sound like a world unto itself, a mini-environment, a weather condition, an ecosystem created for the moment. It’s a collection of tracks recorded over the past few years, released on Bandcamp - despite his apparent absence, Van Hoen works constantly. Opener “Climates”, in its exquisite limpidity, feels like a homage to Brian Eno, one of his most formative influences in his teen years, commencing with Music For Films, which he bought in 1979. “This Is For Them”, feels like a ghostlike throwback to early drum & bass or electronica, reminiscent of his own, earliest outings. “There have been a number of requests from labels to make some more music like my very early releases on R&S,” says Van Hoen. “This is part of ‘letting go’ and realising that there’s nothing less creative about going back to those styles again.”

“Pencil Of Spheres” is something else again, a magnificent, imaginary glass structure, shimmering, refracting, without visible means of suspension, a thing of impossible beauty. “Electric Lights” evokes an abandoned fairground, its lights still pulsating, its music lingering. “The Underpass”, meanwhile, insofar as it reminds of anything at all, is faintly reminiscent of Cluster or Neu’s! West German ambience, the urban mundane rendered magical, the sodium lights, the whitewashed walls. The reverberant, faintly oriental chimes of “Insight” transport us yet again, burgeoning and intensifying.

The landscapes, the skyscapes rendered on Plan For A Miracle feel unpopulated as a rule - but when he does introduce vocal elements, Van Hoen has a history of doing so to spectacular effect - think of “Real Love” from 1998’s Playing With Time, the seductive intonation of its title recurring throughout like a series of massive holograms, echoing, stuttering, breaking up, surging. Here, there are just the faintest of vocals, barely distinct, disquieting. “There’s been a bit of a game changer in recent times,” explains Van Hoen. “AI software that enables you to extract vocals and instrument parts from virtually any recording. That means sampling individual parts from existing sources is no longer limited to the original mix exposing certain parts soloed. The vocal parts I use are from multiple sources and often pitch shifted altered rhythmically and melodically.“ There’s further vocal chatter on “I Really Do”, proceeding at a faster pace as if giving chase, or being pursued - distant, enigmatic. “The Music”, meanwhile, its beat tolling, lost in its own fog of static, features a curious intonation, like the ghost of a lost Walker Brother.

Sadly, the album’s title is in reference to a personal tragedy on Van Hoen’s part - the loss of his wife. Titles such as “I Won’t Give Up”, which faintly reminds of another Eno masterpiece, Another Green World, in its nautical hurly-bury, or the pastoral strains of “Mrs Who”, heavily clouded with sadness, seem to allude to this. “In fact the record was recorded entirely before she passed away,” says Van Hoen, “most of it before she even became very ill. The title was given to the album when it started to look like she wasn’t going to make it beyond a few months. It was something Osho said - “plan for a miracle” - so it was a statement of hope. Unfortunately it was not to be.” Although the album is non-thematic, non-specific in its atmospheres, sound paintings, elegant structures it most certainly stands as a magnificent monument to Osho’s memory.

-David Stubbs.

Manonmars’ 3rd album sees him at his most amorphous and psychedelic, at points sharper and laser focused, and at others more blurred and impressionistic than his previous records. Many of the core players remain the same, all of the production is once again handled by O$VMV$M (the duo of Neek and Amos Childs of Jabu) while Paulina Korobkiewicz (also of Young Echo) makes a return handling both the album’s cover artwork and contributing a series of diaristic field recordings and voice notes.

‘The project references movies, cartoons, fictional characters and video games, among other things. The album title is open to interpretation but all of these elements are forms of visual entertainment which have their own unique ability to transcend things like language barriers and cultural divides. The visual element is key because those details bridge the gap on a communicative level.’ - Manonmars

The album blends abstract, blurred braggadocio with more immediate personal details such as on ‘Volcanic Shield’ a posse cut of sorts featuring Bristol improv luminary Dali de Saint Paul and Franco Franco (½ of cyborg rap duo Kinlaw & Franco Franco) - where Mars recalls;

‘Memories of brighter days, happy meal hit the spot
Mum was spinning vinyl playing Super Ape or Pressure Drop
I would spend the weekend with the Turkish mandem on the block
single parent household, mum was studying or on the job
money came and went always was an on and off
made it back from school time to see what’s on the box’


The beat fades away to leave one of Korobkiewicz’s recordings of Mars’ mum talking about her life in London in the 80s, spending her money on reggae records as an ambient chord fades in like an echo of a jungle intro – stretching out as a link between generations of UK music.

The production by and large is brighter and more kinetic than earlier Manonmars records – with O$VMV$M drawing on everything from modern underground rap and drill through to jazz and acid ambient passages.

London is also a central character here, bustling and constantly shifting, either when bleeding in through field recordings, or as an ever-present backdrop in the lyrics;

‘I’m a fusion of Tippa Irie and Topper Harley
Hit the target like the black Atari
I dropped a tab now shit’s A Scanner Darkly
Got the munchies, Imma yam a sarnie
Pour the Wray and Ting like man at Carni
Exit Peckham Rye and turn left, walk past Hannah Barry
Get your (w)raps up like its January’

‘I've always considered London my home, despite spending some time in the South West of England too. My mum had been living in London for 25 years (...) That was a pretty big deal in some ways because it removed us from multicultural society during the period which overlapped with my teenage years. (...) I never got used to how quiet it was in the countryside (...) Bristol was the closest city to where we lived and it was through travelling there and making connections that I became involved in making music and playing gigs.’ - Manonmars

Mars’ practice as a painter (under his given name Jack Martyn Richardson) and photographer also loom heavy over the album, he cites Paul Verhoeven, Abdul Mati Klariwein and H.R Giger as influences – as well as Miles Davis, Drakeo the Ruler and DJ Rashad.

As with much of Richardson’s work the raps at times feel blurred to a point of almost inscrutability, creating a distance between the audience and himself. A process that ties into his visual work and the way he experiences the world as mainly abstract colour without his glasses. He explores this further in an ongoing visual collaboration with Korobkiewicz, ‘Fun and Games’ which serves as a visual archive of one of London's largest and oldest travelling fairgrounds.

‘I was diagnosed with very severe short-sightedness at the age of seven. I remember my early formative years as visually blurred. Some of my photography reflects this experience of partial vision and uncertainty, referencing memory and perception rather than fixed representation.’

Manonmars’ first public outing as a rapper was at a Young Echo radio event, broadcast shambolically from a practice room just off Jamaica street, Bristol in 2011, as much as things have moved on both stylistically and in terms of focus - strong links back to the city remain a key foundation throughout the collaborations and guest appearances.

‘I have no problem with being an outsider looking in. One of the things I enjoy about London is the anonymity (...) it's easy to be a stranger here when so much is happening. I feel like thats more valuable than people may realise.’

When everything around is racing blindly toward ruin, change direction and spin as fast as you can until you defy gravity and rise above the ground into blissful madness. "K-drone", the debut album by three renegades—Jakub Šimanský, Michal Vaľko, and Ján Podracký—is like a hallucinatory Calvary with five stations. Each station is a time-loop capsule, a tiny utopia sneering at the phantom progress of the world outside.

The opening track, "Speedrone", is pure vertigo; for seven long minutes, there's nothing to hold onto. Šimanský’s banjo cuts through the air, Vaľko’s hurdy-gurdy sounds like someone scraping a rusted sheet of metal with a handful of nails, and Podracký’s bass recorder hums like a slowly intensifying migraine. "Sine" is like a train journey through a barren wasteland, where the images outside the window constantly repeat like a bad trip. "Pro DJ" starts like a gig in a bar at the end of the line—a gig that never actually goes anywhere. It’s as if all three are locked in a spasm, their repeated motifs turning into haunting earworms. "Alien Radigue" shifts into a strange idyll in a clearing in the middle of the forest, where an unknown bird species trills in the background. The end and definitive dissolution come in "Slush", where everything suddenly slows down. Šimanský plucks a simple guitar melody, Podracký’s harmonica drifts from side to side like a boat gently rocking by the shore, and Vaľko’s hurdy-gurdy drones like a drunken mosquito buzzing around.

"K-drone" sounds like an acid anti-western movie recorded in a tucked-away burrow, like smoke-soaked folk and experimental campfire songs echoing through a deep forest. It evokes Third Ear Band's "Alchemy", it screeches and repeats like some of Henry Flynt's experiments, and you could easily imagine hearing it drifting from one of the windows on the cover of Hala Strana's eponymous album.

Jakub Šimanský is the bard of Czechoslovak guitar primitivism, an earthy folk sommelier whose fingerpicking you may also know from the duo Šimanský Niesner. Michal Vaľko, aka Line Gate, needs no introduction to fans. He has released three albums on mappa, and his hurdy-gurdy meditations hold an important place in the drone and minimalist music scene. "Den", "Apex", and "Trap" have become essential listening. Ján Podracký is a self-taught composer and musician whom you might know from various participatory music projects, such as an orchestra where all the players play diatonic harmonicas. Besides harmonicas, he has long explored a wide range of flutes. In short, a pied piper who will guide you through other worlds.

Expanding beyond the West Coast with release number three, Goodtunes invites master of the craft Rob Pearson for a dark & moody EP.
Opener “Odd Job Mischief” bends itself over dubbed out low end pressure as echoic LFOs rip through the groove. A2 “Dodgy Brass” doubles down, forcing hazy horns through truncated rhythmic cracks split from beneath its own weight.

On side B, “The Right Speed” is all gas, no breaks. A moody, stripped back weapon with detailed texture & the dark, tripped out aesthetics of Jayson Walker’s murmurs over the top. “Beautifully Mangled” wraps up the EP with a dark minimal groove & lush atmosphere that slowly builds into a warm driving force.

Third time’s certainly the charm on GT003, with Pearson pushing his productions into new territory with meaningful intention.

The Holloway Echoes sing about very British subjects, with 50s-60s influences.

Reverie is the first full-length collaboration between Ori Kaplan and Lihu Melamed - a cinematic, soul-soaked LP that drifts between modal jazz, cinematic scores and psychedelic rock, released on Batov Records.
Saxophonist and producer Ori Kaplan is best known as a founding member of Balkan Beat Box, for his work with Gogol Bordello and more recently, Shotnez, while Melamed brings a deep studio craft honed over years as an engineer, producer and multi-instrumentalist. Together, they create a record that feels both ancient and immediate: music that evokes old biblical films, sun-bleached Western soundtracks and 70s jazz explorations, while remaining playful, spontaneous and deeply human.

There’s a strong cinematic undercurrent throughout Reverie. Think Charles Heston wandering through an Old Testament epic; Ennio Morricone soundtracking a desert horizon; Nino Rota scoring Fellini’s Rome; or Pasolini filming in Ethiopia. Minor-key strings, modal structures and unhurried grooves sit alongside echoes of Mingus and Yusef Lateef, with Ori’s baritone sax and flutes guiding the listener through shifting scenes and moods.

Brussels based pianist Giovanni Di Domenicowas born in Rome in 1977. Majoring in 'jazz piano' at music school - he further built on an encyclopaedic technique; rhythm, harmony and tone are informed by non-western traditions yet equally sensitive to Debussy's "Préludes", Luciano Berio's "Sequenzas", to the 'ambi-ideation' heard in Borah Bergman's Soul Note recordings, Cecil Taylor's polissemic density, Paul Bley's bruised transparency and of course, the most radical manifestations stemming from the underworld of pop music, invariably tied together by his own original praxis.
A distinction - one would call it generational - he shares with many of the musicians he has crossed paths with recently, of which we could enumerate Nate Wooley, Chris Corsano, ArveHenriksen, Jim O'Rourke, Alexandra Grimal, Tetuzi Akiyama, João Lobo or Toshimaru Nakamura.
At the request of W.E.R.F. Records, Giovanni created an entirely new repertoire, teaming up with saxophonist Alexandra Grimal and drummer Eric Thielemans. This collaboration resulted in Echolalia, a suite consisting of three parts: Aoede, Melete, and Mneme. The music is captivating, adventurous, and above all, fascinating.

From the windswept streets of Edinburgh comes a sound that gallops wild through the night — equal parts jungle heat and Highland haze. Los Chichanos, a fiercely multicultural collective formed in 2021 under the spirited direction of guitarist Sandino Borges. Never ones to wait for an invitation, the band have carved out a scene of their own in Edinburgh, a home for tropical rhythm and nocturnal joy amid Scotland’s long dark nights. Their devotion to the electrifying pulse of Peruvian tropical music, cumbia and chicha, intertwined with Afro-Latin rhythms and vintage psychedelia runs deep.
Add the soul Cuban son, the swing of Brazilian grooves and a hint of spaghetti western melodrama, and you begin to hear the distinct voice of Los Chichanos. Caballo Salvaje gallops forward with fuzzed- out guitar, echo-drenched organ, and the untamed spirit of the Andes. Cumbia de la Noche was written during a harsh winter season when daylight became a distant memory.

Parallel Universe – Volume 1 marks the latest collaboration between Natacha Atlas and Samy Bishai — a bold reimagining of the musical crossroads between East and West. While its textures echo retro-futurism and electronic lineage, the spirit of the record is unmistakably present-tense — rooted in a boldly contemporary vision of Arabic pop, refracted through experimental production.

Chins For Lefty is the debut album and first recording by Gichard, a new duo chronicling the absurdities of end-stage capitalism and mouldering social rituals from their vantage point in Glasgow, Scotland. Recorded primarily in the band’s home studio straight to tape, Chins For Lefty combines gorgeous, ramshackle melody, DIY kosmische punk, drum machine + synth and, in vocalist/lyricist Lisa Jones, an absurdist commentator on the human condition as it navigates the anxieties of the modern world. Instrumentalist Chas Lalli’s swirling music accompaniment stitches an evocative mix of musical styles, the ragged wind beneath the lyrics’ wings.

Although the duo first collaborated in their previous group Dragged Up, their disparate musical and artistic backgrounds make for an alluring mix in Gichard. Lalli has spent the last 20 years in the Glasgow underground, most notably in the noise rock group VOM, while Lisa Jones’s practice was in poetry and spoken word. Beginning as co vocalist in her previous band, in Gichard her lyrics are centre stage; the vision concocted alongside Lalli amounts to a total world-build.

Chins For Lefty scans almost like a novel, with each track elucidating a skewed universe that bears only some resemblance to the one you and I partake in. Like all works of fiction Gichard’s songs are rooted in reality and the lived experiences of its authors, but here characters are exaggerated, social mores and habits are pulled apart to reveal their inherent alienness. Universal emotions are laid bare, the bright light of anxious examination searching out every hairline fracture in our relationships. Distorted and cracked, the mirror that Gichard hold up to our world is also pretty damn funny.

Opener Cholesterol Test launches an expansive, cosmic guitar and synth intro that belies the Tascam-tape recorder it was recorded onto, like a Chromatics cut substituting anxiety for overt sexuality. Here Jones intones an apology to a non-responsive recipient, in the medium of a long voice note forensically deconstructing an interaction from the night before. Over punk guitars and shuffling, lo-fi drum machine splutters, the narrator in Asking The Apes “prefers things to people” before being taken hostage in the city zoo to confess an obsession which consumes the protagonist, ending with the immortal two liner “I sleep in a cocoon of old newspapers at the end of your street / And I think I have been fired from my job,” On album standout Posthumous Hologram, the narrator is faced with a human simulacra, in this case an undead pop star; the face of the encroaching technological singularity. Yes, it does requests, it can do My Way in 200 different language options. But what are the implications? While you’re left pondering, the alternating deadpan verse delivery and undeniably catchy chorus keep you company.

By the time Break Up With Johnny Dogbirth rattles into view, the band are satirising a suburban inanity blown up to cartoon proportions, soundtracked with a drawled musicality that recalls Rowland S. Howard’s post-Birthday Party balladeering. This approach is furthered on Human Resources: over an angular guitar+bass track, Jones’s short story recalls Dry Cleaning’s erudite lyrical post punk. On Soft Face, Lalli’s guitar and drum machine are swathed in echo and delay, as Jones dissects dating rituals with a west of Scotland drollness. Hamming It Up brings a porcine perspective in a short story that begins with the line “I was breastfeeding discreetly in the service station. She didn’t mind.” What follows is a passage punctured with canned laughter and a narrative involving tribute acts, modern farming techniques.

Brilliant first single Your Private Hell closes the album, the closest the group get to earnest perhaps, filtered through a surreal central Scottishness. While Your Private Hell might seem like a sardonic take down of romance, perhaps it’s the very distillation of love in all its awkwardness, selflessness and weirdness. Here there’s a distinctive Glasgow-ness to this doomed romance: the protagonist falls for an outsider, offers them cheap jarred hot dogs and carbolic soap (the infamous, excoriating soap dished out in schools and government buildings throughout Scotland), offers to cover up a murder, stalks them in the all-night Spar. It’s a short story of intrigue, murder and the irresistible pull of self-sacrifice to share in someone else’s suffering. If that’s not love, what is it? You can see this vision mapped out in black and white on their video for 'Your Private Hell'.

“Dressed In Black” was curated and annotated by Cathi Unsworth, author of the book Season Of The Witch: The Book of Goth – a woman who considers herself fortunate to have had Siouxsie Sioux, Lydia Lunch and Diamanda Galàs for role models while she was growing up. For further illumination in Cathi’s own words, read on.

“The music gathered here is an aural manifestation of turbulent times, made by women possessed of supernatural abilities. The music I fell in love with emerged from the dark end of the 1970s: The Winter of Discontent of 1978-79, when intractable industrial action left the dead unburied and mountains of rubbish in the streets. All the promise of punk came to a brutal end with the deaths of Sid and Nancy in New York; IRA bombs exploded in central London and a seemingly uncatchable ripper roamed West Yorkshire with 13 murders under his belt. Ill omens that augured badly for the events of 3 May 1979, when Margaret Thatcher became our first woman prime minister. Dressed in blue and ready to whip the country to her heel.

“But at night, malcontent youth were united by forces of opposition, whose dissenting voices were aired across the land on John Peel’s Radio 1 show, set to the sound of slasher guitars, swirling fairground keyboards, loping basslines and percussion that recalled the echo of jackhammers or the march of insect feet. Here, punk’s unruly offspring distilled the dissonance of the times into a new kind of music. Flirting with the fetishist and taboo, drawing upon horror and science fiction imagery, they were the outlaw leaders of the greatest style tribe of the decade: the goths. Dressed in black, these kohl-eyed women voiced the alienation of their generation during the decade of the Cold War, the Miners’ Strike, privatisation and AIDS.

“To make sense of the absurd is genius enough. But to then cast the glamour of sublime music around those insights – I come back to my point about supernatural abilities. I hope you will find illumination within. You know the dress code.”

A guitar stands alone in Wedding, that metropolitan biotope in the western center of Berlin, caught in constant transformation between idyll and abyss. It lets its gaze wander, unsettled, almost shy, until it encounters a trumpet, with which it begins a cautious, then ever more intimate pas de deux.
Welcome to the second studio album by the Berlin-based band Conic Rose.
The album title Wedding is no coincidence. The story of Conic Rose is closely intertwined with the Berlin neighborhood that gives the record its name. The band's studio is located here, and both studio albums were created in the immediate vicinity of the small river Panke. This place settles over the music like a warming patina. The album feels as though the musicians and the neighborhood have invited one another to get to know each other. Not least because Wedding also means marriage. These marriages between a band and an urban landscape, a fading past and an emerging future, fear and hope - unfold in every single song on Wedding.
For their second album, Conic Rose repositioned themselves completely. Not in terms of personnel, but in the question of how to move forward. Conic Rose still sound like Conic Rose; their distinctive blend of cinematic jazz, ambient textures and guitar-led contemporary music remains untouched. And yet Wedding is, in many ways, the conceptual counterpart to their debut album Heller Tag. Where the debut documented movement within an urban setting, Wedding describes a state of being. Behind every piece seems to hover a large question mark.The group opens up its palette, allowing more influences, becoming at once more subtle, more profound, more filigree. It is less about definition than about the spaces in between. The most immediately striking difference from the previous album is the strong presence of the guitar. In Bertram Burkert's playing, many voices seem to converge. His yearning openness forms an equal counterpoint to Döben's trumpet and flugelhorn. Blurred and layered sounds occasionally make the ground seem to slip away beneath one's feet, while Döben's gliding lines create both closeness and distance. Together, the band express in a deeply subtle way a sense of life that corresponds precisely to our time. Something lurks in the background, omnipresent yet still unnameable. Conic Rose need no words to convey this feeling of uncertainty with remarkable eloquence. Perhaps this has something to do with Wedding being a place of confrontational introspection, but Conic Rose confront the escape from escape itself. With the recording and release of Wedding, this process is far from complete. The seed only begins to grow in the listener's ear. With every listen and the echo it leaves behind in memory, the studio bud continues to bloom. The album is merely the point of departure. What ultimately matters is what it sets in motion within those who encounter it.

Some grooves don’t rush to the dancefloor — they crawl there, slow and heavy, like smoke wrapping around a bassline. With Fragments of Reality, The Balek Band sculpt an electronic funk that lives between shadow and light — an end-of-the-world fever dream, a Barjavel-style Ravage where chaos turns nihilistic.

No sequencer grid here — just four musicians sharing the same room, shaping air and tension together: drums locked tight with a slap bass, a guitar dripping with echo and heat, and a one-man orchestra behind his machines, weaving acid lines and synth arpeggios while mixing the band live — drenching it in delay, reverb, and saturation, like a dub producer in a Kingston studio, Lee Scratch Perry or King Tubby conjuring ghosts through smoke.

This isn’t fusion — it’s friction. A living ritual where the TB-303 hums, and machines don’t dominate but converse with the human pulse. Each track feels like a night that refuses to end — that humid in-between where trance slips into languor, and the body starts to think for itself.

The record recalls the cosmic jazz of Alain Mion or Eddy Louiss meeting the fiery energy of West African afrobeat musicians freshly arrived in a smoky Belleville basement in the mid-’80s. When The Balek Band summon ghosts, it’s only to reshape them — bending the past into something futuristic, alive, and strangely refreshing. Both disciplined and delirious, Fragments of Reality feels like a promise at dawn: dark funk for the late hours, slow acid for warm blood.

This EP isn’t nostalgic, though it remembers. It’s a transmission from a parallel past — a moment when jazz players met drum machines and decided never to stop playing. Each note sweats, each rhythm breathes. You can almost see the light cutting through the haze, faces half-awake, half-possessed.

The Balek Band aren’t recreating a moment — they’re keeping it alive.
Flesh and cables. Impulse and patience.
A band, not a loop.
A trip, not a format.

BCUC – Bantu Continua Uhuru Consciousness – have been channeling the spirit of Soweto for over twenty years. Indigenous funk, hip-hop consciousness, and punk rock energy fused into something utterly original and deeply rooted. Their mantra: Music for the people, by the people, with the people. From humble beginnings rehearsing in a shipping container, a stone's throw from the church where Desmond Tutu organized the escape of the most wanted anti-Apartheid activists, they kept believing in their dream of self-empowerment. Today they command festival stages worldwide: Glastonbury West Holts, Roskilde, Afropunk Brooklyn, WOMAD, Fusion, Sziget, FMM Sines, Beaches Brew, Boomtown, Colours of Ostrava, Couleur Café – to name just a few. In 2023, BCUC were honoured with the prestigious WOMEX Artist Award, an accolade usually reserved for more established artists, in recognition of their fearless work and transcendent live performances.

THE ROAD IS NEVER EASY

The Road Is Never Easy is BCUC's fifth album and their debut on Outhere Records. On this new offering, BCUC take listeners on another Afro-psychedelic journey into the soul of Soweto. It feels like a gospel sermon colliding with a punk concert, "guaranteed to touch untapped corners of your soul" (OkayAfrica). BCUC's music is deeply rooted in history and echoes the voices of the ones who came before. The road was never easy for the people of Soweto who originally came to work in the mines of Egoli, the City of Gold, Johannesburg. When apartheid finally ended after a long struggle, it was hoped that life would improve. But more than 30 years later, many of those initial hopes and dreams are still waiting to be fulfilled. This album is about that struggle. The album contains 10 brand new songs – a record for BCUC, whose previous albums featured an average of 3 songs. It represents the culmination of more than two decades of performing together and building a reputation as a powerful live act. These ten songs encapsulate that same live energy, each one building gradually and drawing you into BCUC's Afro-psychedelic stream of consciousness. It's a seismic tour de force through life in Soweto today. Songs like Amakhandela (Breaking All the Chains) connect history to daily life: "How is this precious metal inflicting so much pain in us," sing BCUC, "this government has been telling us we are free, but we don't benefit from being free." The album also talks about all the hopes and dreams that remain: "I have too many wishes and dreams in my head," BCUC sing in Um duma khanda, "I think I am losing my mind". The album ends with the soothing Matla a rona ke Bophelo, "our strength is life", praising the spirits and thanking the elders for protection. The Road Is Never Easy is about the harsh reality of life in Soweto, where "people always carry heavy loads". BCUC are street poets trying to deal with that burden: sometimes revolutionary, sometimes soothing, but always hopeful and compassionate. "When you are from Soweto you can't retreat nor surrender." (Sebenzela)

RECORDING

The album was largely recorded in Munich, Germany during tour breaks over two sessions, each three days long. It took place in a small studio located in a German WW II bunker converted into rehearsal spaces. The songs were recorded in one take altogether in one room, with only a few overdubs added, mainly backing vocals, by BCUC at Fourways studio in Johannesburg. BCUC have created their own distinctive way of writing, or rather, finding and creating their songs. The recording process is like an improvised live performance. They bring their ideas into a zone where the music, the rhythm and the spirits take over until the song starts to form. In this Afro-psychedelic zone BCUC create their unique poetry that feeds on the dreams still dreamt, the hopes, the fears and the temptations lingering everywhere. BCUC's songs need to breathe and time to build. The right take was the one when the song took over, and just like their live performances, no one knew beforehand where the song would take them. During the recording, BCUC just let it all flow out: inner turmoil, cries of rebellion, but also resilience and a search for healing, love, unity and compassion. You don't have to be from Soweto to feel the deep meaning and impact of this music. In these times of so much hate and division, BCUC are like a campfire for people to gather around.

PRODUCTION & ARTWORK

"BCUC have a unique magic," says Outhere's Jay Rutledge, who produced the album. "It blew our minds. It's like punk and pure gospel at the same time. Their music can make you dance and it can make you cry, all at the same time. And when the song is over, you feel you're not alone in this world anymore. We felt compelled to do this." The album cover is based on a matchbox design, matches being a common household item in South Africa even today. "These were the matches people used to burn government buildings and cars," explain BCUC. Little messages, addresses, or phone numbers used to be scribbled on the back of these boxes; each one a reminder of the strength, resilience, and resistance that once drove the struggle for freedom in Soweto. BCUC keep this flame burning. The Road Is Never Easy is a heavy spiritual road trip, a deep dive into the subconscious of Soweto and a quest for truth, justice and sanity in this crazy world. BCUC tackle the harsh realities of the voiceless, guided by the spirit world of their ancestors. Rather than reinforcing stereotypes of poverty, BCUC's portrayal of Africa is one rich in tradition, rituals and beliefs. "We bring fun and Afro-psychedelic fire from the hood," says vocalist Kgomotso Mokone.

Glasgow, Scotland duo Thomas + James deliver their silky-smooth dub laced sounds for Federsen’s Alt Dub with the four-track ‘Realtime’ EP.

Thomas + James are a Glasgow-based DJ and production duo whose sound reflects a deep immersion in electronic music. Raised in the city’s west end and shaped by early exposure to techno pioneers like Luke Slater, Slam and Jeff Mills alongside the atmospheric legacy of ’90s drum & bass, their productions lean into a dub infused, forward-looking aesthetic.

Drawing equally from house traditions via influences such as St Germainand Laurent Garnier, the pair blur the lines between dub techno, deep house, acid and minimal.

Their new EP onFedersen’s Alt Dub captures that hybrid vision with a maturity that belies their years, being born in 2006,marking them out as a quietly compelling new voice from Glasgow’s next generation.

Leading the release is the original title-track ‘Realtime’, setting the tone with a sturdy yet pared-back rhythm section, oscillating synth flutters, bouncy sub-bass and hazy textures that subtly shift across the arrangement.

Label boss Federsen steps in next with his interpretation, reducing the track to its deepest foundations and recasting it as a delicately drifting soundscape of evolving spatial echoes, weighty low-end pressure and restrained, muted drums.

On the flip, Thomas + James return with ‘Armonia’, an ethereal, dub-leaning deep house cut propelled by billowing pads, delayed vocal chants, fluid dub chords and a heavily swung, minimalist groove.

The EP closes with ‘X-Intense’, further highlighting the duo’s groove-driven signature sound as reverberant, airy stabs weave through breathy vocals and shuffled percussion to bring the release to a hypnotic conclusion.

Welcome to the world of Edward Blankman, a retired dentist who wrote elegant, minimalist jazz in obscurity circa 1970. At least that’s the story.

In truth, Edward Blankman’s Cape Cod Cottage is the 2021 concept album from Echo Park composer Brendan Eder.

A tender, wistful follow up to 2020’s To Mix With Time, the Cape Cod Cottage sound evokes the spirit of Erik Satie, Miles Davis with Gil Evans, and Stevie Wonder, balanced with the accessibility of 1960s lounge-exotica. Eder’s characteristic arrangements are crafted to reflect the past, without losing the innovative quality of his modern ear.

Eder created Blankman’s story to channel his own grief, with bittersweet tenderness. Read the liner notes, and you’ll be transported to the quiet shores of Cape Cod, where a lonely retiree mourns his late wife, Natalie, with walks in nature and evenings at his Wurlitzer.

The story is brought to life with a meticulously crafted package sporting classic liner notes, faux 1970s photographs documenting Edward with the musicians (taken during the actual session), a make-believe jazz label, and a commissioned oil painting of Edward’s cottage. Eder spent over a year rendering the compositions and charts according to his vision.

Eder brought together a dream line up with a ton of chemistry for the project; drummer Christian Euman (Jacob Collier), saxophonist Josh Johnson (Jeff Parker, Leon Bridges), and bassist Alex Boneham (Billy Childs), who all studied together at the Hancock Institute of Jazz. Rounding out the group is flutist Sarah Robinson, a recurring player in Eder’s ensemble, and Edward Blankman (Brendan) on the Wurlitzer.

The cast was booked for a single date with coveted engineer Michael Harris (Kamasi Washington, Angel Olsen, Fleet Foxes) at famed Electro-Vox Recording Studios. To create realism for Edward’s story, the charts were purposefully withheld from the musicians until they arrived at the studio. The result is an authentic and natural performance delivered by players at the top of their game, captured on pristine vintage equipment including the legendary Neve-8028 console.

After a long hiatus broken by their inclusion in Om Unit's final epic Acid Dub Versions set, Alter Echo & E3 step out once more with the four-track “No Peace EP.”

With past releases on storied labels including ZamZam Sounds, Moonshine, Scrub A Dub, Lion Charge, LavaLava, and Khaliphonic, the duo opted to forego labels for this one, instead dropping the first release on their own AEE3 imprint.

The main mix of the title tune is a pounding dystopian slow-stepper collab with old friend & sparring partner Ishan Sound, dusted off and rebuilt after years on dubplate. Shot-through with stinging percussion, swirling with leaden atmospherics and dread truths, this one’s an absolutely uncompromising piece of supremely heavy steppers.

RSD’s remix opts for crystal clarity, extra layers of percussion, an emotional mid-range melody, and of course the huge bassweight Rob Smith is known & loved the world over for.

Om Unit’s “Kaliuyga Verse” recenters the tune on deeply spiritual indigenous wisdom spoken by Floyd “Red Crow” Westerman. This long-form rework fleshes out the instrumentation with classic UK dub percussion and FX, plus flute and much more, transmuting the original’s darkness into something magisterial and hopeful while maintaining absolute heaviness.

AEE3’s "Southeast Rock" closes the EP with a slower tempo meditation powered by a melodic bassline, chopped drums, dub tech stabs and righteous horns, an introspective ganja tune that will stay with you long after the runout groove.

Here we find ourselves, among the Canadian miscreants Egregore whereupon they return from whence the wind howls like a damned choir and the Earth knows no master, to chart a broader sonic wilderness via ‘It Echoes In The Wild’. And much as sea-rogues and freebooters sought fortune upon blackened waters, so too does Egregore venture musically into diabolic and ungoverned lands. Presenting something more expansive, elemental and untamed on ‘It Echoes In The Wild’, the early occult Black Death Metal lunacy embraces atmospheric breadth equally alongside primitive force to delve deep into not only geographic wilds, but the psychological, esoteric and spiritual hinterlands at the edges of complete madness. Dark invocations and secret tongues draw forth echoes from forest and fen, cave and cliff, tempting the temporally tethered to receive the curse, all the while driven by a primal, unknowable sardonic menace. Though the voyage be perilous, to succumb to ‘It Echoes In The Wild’ is to become ensconced in a lawless dominion of the soul in service of a higher call. Mirroring nature’s unbridled forces and the hidden echoes that dwell within, Egregore’s second album takes the band’s mystical insanity and magickal perversion to the edge of the abyss and plunges forward.

West Mineral returns with lushly amorphous actions by Shiner, Pontiac Streator & Ben Bondy aka Shinetiac; together fused for an immersive flux of vapoured dub, chopped and droned Billie Eilish, and fidgety algorithmic jams.

There's not a single, specific sound you can peg to the West Mineral axis at this stage in the label’s evolution - it's rather a set of shared aesthetics that freely bend into various interconnected shapes. Shinetiac's contemptuous, critic-baiting gear is the ideal example; on their last album, 2023's 'Not All Who Wander Are Lost', skittery, ketamized IDM sparkled over Spice Girls samples and the Foo Fighters' 'Everlong' was transmuted into Sneaker Pimps-style trip-hop. 'Infiltrating Roku City' might be a little less blatant with its out-and-out poptimism, but it takes a similarly dim view of conservative "big ambient" snobbishness. Just a few minutes of 'Bluemosa' should be enough to let you know what's up; the overall character of the sound is hazed, with frozen pads and garbled, dubbed-out voices smudged into a mess of effects and samples. But it sups up different nuances as it wriggles, absorbing scampering breaks, dizzy acoustic guitar strums and half-heard wordless vocals, flipping in the third act to emerge from its shell as minimalist balearic folk-pop - something like Bon Iver doing 'Electric Counterpoint'.

Brooklyn's Shiner, Philly's Pontiac Streator and Berlin-based Ben Bondy navigate the labyrinthine streaming landscape, guided by their own private experiences of mindless doom-scrolling and cruising the darkest corners of YouTube. They formulated 'Infiltrating Roku City' while they were rehearsing last year and spent the winter stitching together various recordings and jams into a layered, dry-witted commentary on our algorithmic reality. Laden with inside jokes and refried memes, it's surprisingly elegant gear; handling the most unseemly elements like sonic recyclers, earnestly repurposing pop and nostalgia to create an atmospheric echo of contemporary reality.

Screwing Chief Keef's enduring 'Citgo', 'Clublyfe (hulu)' emphasises the original's AFX-pilled euphoria with Robert Miles-style piano hits, replacing Young Ravisu's brittle 128kbps trap rhythm with a glitchy rattle that picks up dembow spikes as it rolls. 'I Hate Being Sober' vaporises the Chicago drill pioneer's 'Hate Bein' Sober', blocking out his voice with glitchy, downsampled interference and elasticated Rhodes. The trio team up with Orange Milk's goo age on the sublime 'Crisis Angel', catching a ray of Malibu's sunshine in the process, and reduce Billie Eilish's voice to a Romance-does-Celine cinder on 'Billie', stretching it to fit next to gassed Future ad-libs and swooping 808 Mafia sub womps. And although the album takes a murky diversion on 'Roku Axes Ultra’, and a cloud-stepping centrepiece ‘Purelink’ in homage to the eponymous dubbed ambient dynamos, it's back on course with 'Jiafei (NETFLIX)', taking aim at TikTok bot videos and welding screams from Florida metal band Underoath to AI-strength vocal curlicues.

On Hungry Animal, Luke Temple continues to trace the invisible lines between the personal and the cosmic _ between what we feel, what we observe, and what we inherit simply by being alive. The album reunites Temple with Doug Stuart (bass) and Kosta Galanopoulos (drums), the core of his Cascading Moms ensemble, whose instinctive chemistry anchors the record's balance of rhythmic precision and melodic drift. Together they shape a sound that feels handmade and fluid, delivering sharp observations in soft focus. The album opens with "Clean Living," a tenderly libidinous groove, unraveling purity myths and self-discipline _ less a confession than a celebration of the futility of striving for perfection in a flawed world. From there, "Echo Park Donut" shifts into the memory of an unsettling vignette drawn from a violent incident outside Temple's Los Angeles home. The band moves with a quiet pulse beneath the story, suggesting both detachment and the surreal intimacy of fear. The title track, "Hungry Animal," grounds the album's broader questions: how well can we really know one another, or ourselves? Temple's lyrics circle around the idea that we are animals among animals, driven by instinct and affection alike. It's both playful and philosophical, one of the record's emotional centers. Temple's bandmates bring an understated mastery to these pieces. Stuart's melodic, infectious grooves converse fluidly with Galanopoulos's drumming, which breathes life into each song even as it gently propels them forward. The trio's interplay feels both weightless and deeply rooted _ commanding the listener's attention and empathy without ever forcing it. With Hungry Animal, Luke Temple and the Cascading Moms create a world where reflection becomes rhythm and consciousness gains texture _ a record of quiet revelations and deliberate grace.

The late pedal-steel guitarist Susan Alcorn leaves a final surprise hinting at new directions left underexplored on her collaboration with Nomad War Machine, the improvising metal duo of drummer Julius Masri and guitarist James Reichard. Their death-metal-influenced pummel adds new fire to her molten flow across a suite of improvised tracks that show off the vast range and simpatico of the trio. Julius Masri and James Reichard of Nomad War Machine: “An unexpected opportunity arose out of a catching-up conversation where Susan had revealed a recent fascination with death metal, confessing, ‘I’m 70 years old—I think about death!’ She had learned a couple of Arch Enemy songs on her pedal steel, particularly compelled by their frontwoman’s intensity and vigor as a performer. Voicing an appreciation for the hook-oriented sound of Swedish death metal made sense for a melodic thinker whose roots as veteran pedal steel player reached into the Texan Western swing circuit in the ’60s and ’70s. For her, ever the explorer, metal was a new, appealing point of departure into fresh musical territory. When she expressed an interest in playing with Nomad War Machine, it felt like there was a whole world of shared or complementary interests to explore.” Though known for her fluency in jazz, country, and free improvisation, Alcorn had also studied Arabic, the oud, and maqam, with all holding a deep curiosity for her. Pre-’70s country & western music had also been a lifelong presence for both members Nomad War Machine. Masri, a Lebanese free-jazz and metal drummer, and devoted fan of Texas swing legends like Speedy West, Jimmy Bryant, Leon Rhodes, and Joe Maphis, was also steeped in Arabic music traditions. James Reichard, before coming to “freely” improvised metal, xenharmonic music, and non-Western tuning systems, had grown up being subjected to countless singalongs to numerous pre-’70s country records, entranced by the pedal steel.

Killer Groove Records proudly presents the debut 45 by Italian cinematic funk trio Atabasca. A syncopated journey where funk, psychedelia, and cinematic groove merge into a timeless narrative suspended between rhythm and vision.


"Cacopoulos" and "Kundela Mawedi" mark the birth of Atabasca's sonic universe: the first two singles from the upcoming self-titled debut album,which will be released on March 27 in limited-edition LP, CD digipack, and digital formats.

On the A-side, "Cacopoulos" is an impetuous, visionary ride that fuses the power of instrumental groove with the evocative imagery of library music and Italian golden-age soundtracks. From the first beat, listeners are drawn into a dry, dusty landscape driven by a primal drum groove and the acid twang of a guitar that evokes the spirit of classic Westerns. Indeed, "Cacopoulos" pays homage to I Quattro dell'Ave Maria (Ace High) and to the legendary Eli Wallach, the sly outlaw who turns deception into revenge, a subtle yet powerful nod that ties the trio's sound to imagery steeped in dust, dreams, and redemption.


On the flip side, the sound of an old lap steel guitar evokes the gentle waves of the sea, opening the doors to "Kundela Mawedi", a dreamy track with exotic tones and heavenly atmospheres. The sonic journey unfolds through hypnotic rhythms and echoes of ancient cultures, where ethereal voices and warm, entrancing bass lines intertwine with psychedelic riffs and evocative guitar melodies, merging into a soundscape rich in warmth and mystery. The chorus, with its unexpected choral chant, adds a spark of magic. An elegant twist that gently stirs the dreamlike mood and transports the listener into a new sonic dimension, steeped in mysticism and tribal vibrations. "Kundela Mawedi" is more than just a song: it's a sensory experience, a musical ritual where tradition meets psychedelia, sand meets sea, and the soul dances upon the waves of time.


Recorded in a single take, the session captures the raw energy and natural atmosphere of the performance. Artistic production was handled by the trio alongside Andrea Fabrizii (digger, musician, producer, and catalogue curator for CAM Sugar), while Riccardo Ricci mastered the tracks at Velvet Room Mastering Studio in Brighton.


A killer double-sider, blending psychedelic and funk moods with percussive, jazzy textures. A must-have gem for every groove-loving DJ.


Like a desert blooming within the evergreen forests of the planet's far north, a unique, alien, disruptive environment: this is the vision behind Atabasca, the project of Luca Mongia (guitars, lap steel, keyboards, vocals), Paolo Mazziotti (bass, keyboards, vocals), and Valerio Pompei (drums, percussion, vocals). Individually active for over twenty years on both national and international scenes, the three musicians came together in 2023 to create a project that merges experience, experimentation, and creative freedom. Their music is imaginative and at times dreamlike, blending the classic concept of the instrumental trio with the worlds of film scoring and sound design.


Atabasca's sound moves through jazz-funk, world, and cinematic territories, weaving together afrobeat, desert, and psychedelic influences into a personal and timeless language. Each piece is a scene; each sound, a fragment of a world, a journey between reality and imagination where groove, texture, and organic timbre merge into a singular sonic ecosystem: a perpetually shifting balance that generates new inner landscapes.


Fans of Khruangbin, Surprise Chef, and instrumental psych-funk, take note!

'In 2023, sound artist and composer Weston Olencki toured across the American South. Beginning in their hometown in South Carolina, they snaked a circuitous path from the mountains of West Virginia to the banks of the Mississippi River. As the miles accumulated, so did the initial seeds of new work.
'Instruments and artifacts they acquired hitched a ride in the backseat, while songs and sounds filled their portable recorder: water in its various states, the familiar insectoid buzz of those summer nights, trains cutting through the landscape, the traditional music that lived alongside the communities that kept it. Olencki took it all in, and over time, found ways that these experiences coalesced into a bramble-like perspective of time, where past, present, and future intersect in ways both barbed and beautiful.
'Broadsides, Olencki’s newest solo full-length is the multilayered result of this journey. The album follows their landmark release Old Time Music from 2022, which presented radical interpretations of traditional tunes from Appalachia and throughout the South alongside original compositions that drew significantly on archival recordings. On Broadsides, Olencki rejects delineations between the unmoored avant-garde and the rootedness of one’s cultural heritage, revealing their porous and intertwined nature. “My mother was a quilter. Her mother before that,” they write in the album’s liner notes. “Quilting, like music, is a practice of embedding knowledge and remembrance into the very core of the thing you are making. It’s not just about the materials, but how they’re reassembled, recontextualized, stitched, woven to form new patterns - the minutiae of craft holding significance to those looking to find it. Stories woven from stories, never told the same way twice.”
'Like all great road trips, Broadsides unfolds slowly and continuously, with moments of dramatic reverie punctuating the endless melt of highway in the rearview. We’re immediately confronted by the uncanniness of revisiting old haunts, as Southern storms break through the initial churn of the freight locomotives of Alabama. Olencki’s interpretation of the bluegrass standard “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” captures the euphoria of melancholy in motion. The permutational plucks of banjo are bounced around the frame by a computer, its pitches determined within algorithmic sequences and transcriptions of classic three-finger licks. The tonalities of old-time are smeared and stretched until all that’s audible is the insistence that Heaven might be real.
'In the album’s second half, “Omie Wise,” a murder ballad made famous by Doc Watson, follows an interlude recorded on the river in North Carolina in which the titular character’s body was laid. Ghostly echoes of a dozen other renditions float through the substrata as Tongue Depressor’s Henry Birdsey accompanies them on the pedal steel guitar. The album’s central composition, “all my father’s clocks,” is a profound meditation on entropy and impermanence. The sound of their father’s extensive clock collection ticks away as Olencki pulls a bow across the length of an autoharp sourced from a rural strip mall. The instrument was left as detuned as it was found, the resonance of its deep bass drone and clanging high-end the result of years of neglect and the warping effects of Southern humidity.
'Historically, broadsides were an early form of broadcasting, an often- musicalized telling of current news pasted in the public square. The name was later taken up by Sis Cunningham and Gordon Friesen in the 1960s, whose Broadside magazine published songs and social commentary when American folk music resurfaced as an urgent way of communicating the multifaceted politics of its time.
'Olencki borrows the phrase to recall both this old form of songmaking and that later prominent reexamination of traditional music’s role in modern life, but also to draw attention to the fragmented and machine- mediated way heritage is diffused in this very different, but no less pivotal, moment.
'As a sanitized past is used as justification for current violence and domination, we can turn to these artifacts to better understand the history of ourselves, but only if they are consciously pushed to evolve. Broadsides represents one personal, striking vision of what far-flung futurisms could be respun from = these high, lonesome sounds: a reflection of the unbridled joy and deep sorrow inherent to living together through time, and a desire to push further into the untold and unknown.'

Waiting is the essence of travel. Patience is its own reward.

Two people. A Telecaster guitar with a few effect pedals. A drum machine. An audio interface is connected to a laptop. The ingredients are simple yet effective.

But any suggestion of four-track cassette machines and vintage bedsit productions is quickly dispelled by digital dubbiness and refined arrangements. A tail of reversed echos. The crystalline flourish of octave-pitched delays. Riddled hi-hats tickle and taunt. A bass drum asserts its space.

Winkler's guitar patterns have a fragmented, almost haphazard connotation. Searching in a shimmer of reverb. Until the beat, the framework, sets in to reveal structure. Intentionality. Reihse's programmed rhythms go just to the point of a groove, holding the moment of tension, knowingly delaying the gratification. Beats that have scratchy patina anda subtly playful edge; their crispness stands in contrast to the contemplative drift of the guitar. Is it a trance? Or a dance? Yes.

There are some apparent references here: a good portion of Les Disques du Crépuscule, some kraut-esque electronica, even a smidgen of Morricone / Spaghetti Western, blending into a kind of Musique Noir – yet these serve as a set of orientational coordinates, rather than quotations.

This is so far the most assured release by Periode, perhaps eschewing some of the naiveté that was wilfully cultivated in earlier output – there is no cheeky cover version this time. And no singing either. The nine pieces have the quality of a series, a variation on a mood, or a subset of moods. What emerges is an inviting swagger in the face of bleakness. There is a profound melancholy, but it is not the darker kind, and does not exclude humour.

First impressions may suggest that this is purely nocturnal music. Yet it equally evokes the harsh sunlight and baking summer heat. Or a rainy day. And transportation: the music suggests the motion of travel, even if that travel only happens within the mind. And waiting. Waiting while doing nothing much. Because that's all you can do. (Alexander Paulick)

Futura Resistenza is pleased to present the latest release from the prolific, restlessly creative composer-performer Anthony Pateras, two side-long pieces - one performed by Callum G'Froerer on double-bell trumpet, the other sung by Clara La Licata - in which soloists are accompanied by numerous pre-recorded tracks of their own instrument or voice, creating acoustic halls of mirrors where the distinction between live performer and recorded accompaniment becomes difficult to perceive. Palimpsest Geometry (2020) for double-bell trumpet & tape works with rapidly pulsed single trumpet notes, at brisk tempos that hover at the perceptual threshold between rhythm and tremolo. The interaction between different rates of pulse produces skittering echoes, as if G'Froerer's layers of trumpets were really a single sound bouncing around the sonic space. There Is A Danger Only Our Mistakes Are New (2021) for voice & tape goes to work on a see-sawing two-note melodic cell, insistently transposed and transposed again, hummed or sung with open vowels, contracting to a semitone and expanding to a minor third. More than anything in the canon of Western art music, the piece calls up the criss-crossing repeated figures of Inuit vocal games or the interlocking repetitions of Banda-Linda music, where rhythmic and harmonic displacements of repeated motifs fuse together individual parts into the illusion of an impossibly rich and multi-faceted unitary sonic organism. Essentially homogeneous in texture yet built up from constantly changing details, broadly static yet always moving and shifting, these pieces exemplify Pateras' recent work while also pushing it into a new, strikingly immediate direction. Here, form grows organically out of the material itself; the results are sparkling, immersive, and quietly uncompromising. (Francis Plagne)

Known to fans simply as The Blue Album, Adolescents' self-titled debut album captured the raw pulse of Southern California's teenage rebellion at a time when hardcore was beginning to take shape yet still holding onto the infectious urgency of punk's first wave. Few records from the American punk underground have echoed as far and wide-or as enduringly-as the Adolescents' self-titled debut, first released by Frontier Records in 1981. Formed in Fullerton, California, Adolescents brought together members of earlier OC punk outfits like Social Distortion and Agent Orange, fusing their varied influences into something uniquely their own. With songs like 'Amoeba,' 'Kids of the Black Hole,' and 'No Way,' the album offered more than just speed and volume-it spoke directly to suburban alienation, youthful frustration, and the search for identity in a world that felt increasingly hostile and conformist. This new edition offers longtime listeners and new fans alike a chance to revisit-or discover-an album that helped define the West Coast punk sound. From its striking blue cover to its mix of melody, defiance, and urgency, "Adolescents" remains a vital listen, as relevant today as it was over four decades ago. It's an album that didn't just reflect its moment-it shaped what punk could be: loud, smart, emotional, and unflinchingly real. Reissued with care and respect for its original spirit, The Blue Album stands not only as a milestone in punk history, but as a testament to the enduring power of youth in revolt. This reissue includes a repro of the original insert and poster.

Sam Robson continues to reissue gems from the vaults of his initially short-lived Pacific Coast House Recordings imprint, which released a string of superb West Coast house singles between 1999 and 2003. This split 12” originally landed way back in 2001 and has become something of an in-demand rarity in recent years. The now-familiar Teflon Dons handle side A, wrapping jaunty, spaced-out stabs, intergalactic pads, echo-laden vocal snippets and TB-303 style moody electronics around a hybrid acid house/tech-house groove on the swirling and immersive early morning delights of ‘Vice’. Over on side B, Robson dons his The Coastal Commission guise for a deeper, dub-flecked and breakbeat-enhanced house workout that adds cosmic spoken word snippets and effects-laden ambient chords to the San Fran deep house template drawn up by Dubtribe Soundsystem and Charles Webster.

When Chuck D proclaimed "Bass, how low can you go?" on Public Enemy's anthemic 'Bring the Noise,' maybe he was pre-empting or inciting the 10,000 fathoms-deep, spine-bending basslines and sub-quake tremors of 'Implosion.'

Implosion is a crushing split album, appropriately released on The Bug's own PRESSURE label. Mapping out a new form of spectral dub, the sound is deliberately immersive, introverted, and yes, definitely implosive. In pursuit of heavy lids, blurred vision, and merciless bass bin punishment, it’s one part meditation, two parts low-end theory, and essentially a confession of devoted sound system addiction.

As expected from a tag team featuring British soundlab explorer and 'London Zoo' composer Kevin Martin, aka The Bug, and Michael Fiedler, aka Jah Schulz—a long-time graduate of Germany's new school of sound system reggae culture—the duo approaches their target differently yet share the goal of keeping their sound "raw" (Fiedler) and "brutally minimal" (Martin). This proves that opposites can attract, even if their tools are different and their methods sometimes diverge.

From such a disparate combo, hailing from different geographical and aesthetic backgrounds, contrasts are certainly on display, even within each artist's own contributions. From the melancholia and transcendence of 'Alien Virus (West Indian Centre, Leeds),' to the duality of ascension and descension on 'Hope,' or the Sunn 0))) in dub, visceral drone of 'Dread (The End, London),' to the tripped-out repetitions of 'Midnight,' which reinvents Chain Reaction for post-millennials, the result is both sacred and narcotic. Each track illuminates the emotional impact and atmospheric pressure being explored across this deceptively sparse album—a mastery of tone and texture.

This collection might be as reduced, minimal, and deep as The Bug has ever gone, perhaps echoing the solemnity of his recent Kevin Richard Martin Black release and invoking the futurist steppas self-pioneered on his previous Pressure album. Alternatively, Fiedler‘s Ghost Dubs project ventures into his most heavyweight direction yet, which is no mean feat considering his previous, the critically acclaimed album Damaged, was a monstrously massive triumph of analogue weight and enviable sound design.

Implosion is ice-cool, a stark contrast to the warmth and sociability of traditional Jamaican roots and the current trends in digi-dub. Instead, the mood is soaked in tension and intense dread, finding an unexpected melting point where classic dub's stark rhythm attack, isolationist ambience's eerie drift, dub techno's floatation strategies, and even the relentless riffs of doom metal collide. As the bass-obsessed pair drop what is arguably the heaviest ambient dub album to emerge from any electronic sector—a moody counterpoint to The Orb's fluffy clouds, etc, Martin has cited The Roots Radics, Black Jade, and On U Sound's Pounding System as heavily influencing his approach to the album, while Fiedler has expressed his admiration for Adrian Sherwood's productions and Rhythm & Sound's enchanting soundscape. Yet, the super heavyweight pulsations, emotive resonances, and bone-rattling vibrations detonated here effortlessly go far beyond these influences.

Shadowy and elusive, there’s a mysteriousness at this record's core. A haunting moodiness oscillating between nostalgia and future shock. Despite the deadly fixation with SLOW and HEAVY, the album maintains a totally hypnotic swing throughout. Implosion and its lead single 'Imploded Versions' are testaments to being enveloped in bass, seduced by bass, submerged in bass, and utterly crushed by bass, as The Bug and Ghost Dubs seek to craft a new form of dub for zonal headz and Babylon seekers.

Mastered by Stefan Betke (a.k.a. POLE) at Scape Mastering studio, this record is heavy as f-ck without resorting to continuous distortion. It’s low-end worship taken to an absolute extreme, yet remains highly listenable and definitely danceable, albeit at the slowest of paces. Sacred and narcotic, this is low-end worship amplified to the max. Dive in if you dare.

When people think of Yacht Rock-those smooth, sun-drenched sounds that once drifted from Californian radio stations in the late '70s and early '80s-they rarely imagine it echoing through rehearsal rooms in Hamburg or Linz. Yet even far from the Pacific coastline, the appeal of shimmering chords, laid-back grooves, and polished production found fertile ground.
This compilation gathers rare and overlooked tracks from Germany and Austria. These artists embraced West Coast aesthetics with sincerity and subtle twists, resulting in music that feels both familiar and refreshingly new-smooth sounds for cloudy skies. So drop anchor, pour something cool, and enjoy this unexpected cruise through the lesser-charted waters of Euro Yacht Rock.

Our journey begins in Austria, where Reflection's Because (1981) set the tone with blue-eyed soul and analogue warmth-a sunlit blend of Doobie Brothers polish and local charm. Its creator, Dieter Heyduk, reappears with Austrian Sky, a heartfelt nod to his homeland that fuses mountain calm with oceanic longing.
From the North Sea island of Föhr, Ara Pacis dreamed of California on their 1979 self-release To the Westcoast. Inspired by Steely Dan and Lake, they turned German rock precision into breezy, melodic sophistication. Meanwhile, in Düsseldorf, Mainpoint fused funk and jazz-rock on Frisbee, their 1980 single bursting with rhythmic drive and optimism before the tide of the Neue Deutsche Welle swept such grooves aside.
Bremerhaven's Nuages offered the compilation's only instrumental gem, Strange Weekend (1985)-a gentle blend of jazz-funk and rock and largely lost to time. Its cool restraint captures the European interpretation of Californian ease.
Around the same period, British traveler Gavin James recorded River of Laughter in southern Germany, backed by the blues-rock band Black Cat Bone. His acoustic reflections on water and flow mirrored the soft, meditative pulse at Yacht Rock's core.
Berlin's Top Spin kept things playful with Bikin (1985), a funk-fusion snapshot of urban joy that showcased the city's finest session players. From the Ruhr area, the Jan Pack Band is up next. While not a typical Yacht Rock track, Cable Dance is driven by an effortless, groovy '80s vibe.
Peter Seiler's Goldfinger project reimagined Walkin' in the Sand as a relaxed reggae-tinged track, while Munich's Major Seven closed the voyage with Silverboat, a wistful soft rock ballad gliding between melancholy and light.

Across these hidden harbors of German and Austrian pop, the West Coast dream took on new forms-reflected in rivers, skies, and studio lights half a world away from L.A. Under and Above the Clouds celebrates that spirit: the enduring pull of smooth music, wherever it's made.

London-based Aketi Ray are all-acoustic dub-jazz dons that blend double bass, drums, upright piano, horns and percussion into original compositions rooted in post-independence Jamaican instrumental traditions. Their sound also weaves in Ethiopian jazz, West African percussion, US jazz influences and UK Steppas vibes. Here they join up with K�ln, Germany duo Hidden Sequence, regulars on the likes of Mosaic and Lempuyang. 'Call On His Name' is flute lead and liquid dub, 'Time Is Now' has a mystic quality and moody sax lead, then 'Sinai' brings slowly unfurling melodies and lovely woodblock hits that echo away to infinity. Alternate versions on the flip make this a timeless excursions into endless dub depths.

Due to demand (and that we zero copies of their vinyl studio album left, and only a few of their live vinyl album), we've compiled all the tracks from both (and more - see below), we're reissuing them both on a 2xCD with a 24-page booklet. Before Suicide had really made it to the West Coast, Grey Factor were working in a similar realm - early post-punk, a little before punk (as such) and proto-industrial music. Here's what the band has to say: The future is tricky - and while we may have been left behind, this is our attempt to catch up with it. We offer a double CD capturing everything we've ever recorded. The Future Arrives Without You includes the previously released vinyl LPs - 1979-1980 A.D. Complete Studio Recordings and A Peak In The Signal: Live 1979-1980_plus a few surprises, including our first new studio tracks in 45 years. Both songs are covers, Wire's 12XU and Campag Velocet's Sauntry Sly Chic, and nine more lost studio tracks. 12XU was a jolt of pure adrenaline_two minutes of perfection from one of the era's best bands, a huge influence on us. Sauntry Sly Chic, from a group few remember but we never forgot, had one of the most infectious grooves we had ever heard. We also loved their lead singer's live getup: a cycling helmet and fencing gear. Perfection. These tracks inspired us to head back into the studio after four decades away. On A Peak In The Signal, we've added nine unreleased pieces we call the In-Betweens. Created out of necessity in 1979-1980, pre-recorded and played between our live performances, these sonic interludes filled the dead space while we reprogrammed our temperamental analogue synths between songs. Absurd, experimental, audience favourites.

“sitting in the terminal at Barcelona airport, health safety warnings echo through empty architecture. feeling slow, and fast, out of sync with rituals and routines. structure and rhythm disintegrate into micro gestures appearing in random order, a daily psychedelia... amid all of the chaos and distraction in the last few years, it’s only through letting go that I've found solid ground to stand on.”

These are some of the experiences and reflections that gave shape to Slipstream, a hallucinatory mini-album by the artist PVAS and the fourth release on Objekt's label, Kapsela. Slipstream is an aural document of PVAS's interior life, conceived not as a grab-bag of DJ-friendly tracks (although it’s clearly inspired by the club) but as a single, delicately crafted artistic statement. The entire record is shrouded in a flickering haze, worn through by smudged breakbeats and wiry drum machines. “Wetland”, with its swampy percussion and crystalline arps, echoes T++ and Kraftwerk. The radiant incandescence of “Gathering Drift” recalls GAS or Monolake's “Hong Kong.” Sampled breakbeats dip and swerve asymmetrically through “Boba” and “Terminal”. Across the record, textures and voices are reshaped by PVAS's homemade algo-software, UMT, which, in PVAS’ own words, “reconstructs one audio file by sampling another, resulting in output that merges their aesthetic qualities, creating rhythm with non-rhythmic sound files and abusing the stereo field.” But the most striking union of technology and poetic self-exploration comes at the end of the record, in the title track, from words murmured through a classic vocoder:



“when i stop framing myself as a boundaried stone

immovable, and powerful, and heavy

when i stop figuring my deepest space as my own

something which i am solely responsible

i surrender, i surrender”



PVAS is Jordan Juras, a Berlin-based artist who grew up outside of Windsor, Ontario. He has released solo EPs on Isla and xpq?, and is half the duo NUG (3XL, West Mineral Ltd.). In addition to developing music software professionally, he has used his UMT software on records by Lyra Pramuk and Dylan Kerr. Slipstream was recorded from 2022 to 2025.

Written and produced by PVAS

Mixed by TJ Hertz

Mastered by Anne Taegert at D&M

Artwork and design by Brodie Kaman

A Place In My Memory Is All I Have To Claim is the new album by Australian atmospheric pop trio Hydroplane, the storied 'offshoot' formed by three quarters of independent pop group, The Cat's Miaow. On this, their first music after two decades plus of radio silence, Andrew Withycombe, Kerrie Bolton and Bart Cummings return to the gentle, close-quarters musical world they shared around the turn of the century.

Recorded during 2024 in Melbourne and Ballarat, A Place In My Memory… picks up the thread Hydroplane set down with its precursor, 2001's The Sound Of Changing Places, though you can hear echoes of their other releases, too, with Withycombe noting a through-line from the group's 1998 "Failed Adventure" single. There's little quite like A Place In My Memory…, then or now, though. Maybe you can draw some connections between Hydroplane and their sister group, The Cat's Miaow, while fellow travellers might include Empress, The Ah Club, and further back, Young Marble Giants, Veronique Vincent (the muffled, ticking drum machine also makes me think of Robin Gibb's Robin's Reign).

There's also an umbilical to the bedroom-crafted electronica doing the rounds in the late nineties and early noughties. Hydroplane hint at this through their approach to songwriting, which often builds creatively around loops as structural devices. Through all this, the trio achieve an effortless, organic weightlessness across these nine lovely songs. Many feature Bolton's clear singing voice, drifting along, while guitars, keyboards, drum machines and loops tickertape away. The constituent parts fit together, but they also have a curiously detached quality - think of abstract cloud formations sharing the same sky.

Hydroplane and The Cat's Miaow often dealt in emotional ambiguity and uncertainty, and the uncertainty of the nostalgic. This was always one of the most appealing facets of their music, and A Place In My Memory… is thus named perfectly. I couldn't dream up a better title for the album and its reflections on history, lived experience, and the inevitable tangle between these two phenomena. These reflections variously address such concerns as human cruelty, flight, space travel, adventurism and spiritualism. There's also "To the Lighthouse", not a direct reference to the Virginia Woolf book, but a great title, nonetheless. (They've always had excellent titles, often borrowed, for songs and albums.)

A beautiful collection of drowsy, sleepy pop, humble and quiet, but resolute in its craft, A Place In My Memory Is All I Have To Claim is dream work in practice; a lovely reintroduction. Welcome back, then.

"The Bad Seeds and Zakary Thaks were mid ‘60s Texas garage rock bands formed in the wake of the British Invasion, influenced by The Rolling Stones, Kinks, Yardbirds and others, becoming top local live attractions at a time when the 13th Floor Elevators and Moving Sidewalks were leading the way into psychedelia. In late 1966 Rod Prince on guitar and Roy Cox on bass from Bad Seeds joined up with David Fore from Zakary Thaks on drums to create a new band out of San Antonio featuring two lead guitarists. Todd Potter filled out the quartet on second guitar and they chose the name Bubble Puppy, taken from Aldous Huxley’s 1932 dystopian novel Brave New World. Huxley was an early advocate of LSD, appropriately. In 1969 Bubble Puppy scored a top 20 hit single with “Hot Smoke & Sasafrass” which led to their LP “A Gathering Of Promises”. International Artists, the legendary Texas label that previously had unleashed mind expanding classics by the Elevators, Red Crayola, Golden Dawn and others was a perfect fit. After the LP and additional 45s didn’t repeat the success of “Hot Smoke & Sasafrass” the band hooked up with Nick St. Nicholas of Steppenwolf as their new manager and moved to Los Angeles. A new band name was in order, Nick St. Nicholas chose Demian, title of the 1919 novel by Herman Hesse. His books were popular with the counterculture at the time and had provided Steppenwolf with their new name after they changed it from the Sparrow and hit it big. Demian recorded the LP live in the studio at the Record Plant in one midnight to six session. They had their arrangements fully realized, allowing them to combine live show energy and economy with to-the-point delivery suitable for repeated listening. No doubt they were aiming for pop hit success, using proto hard rock skills in a radio friendly way without compromising the heavy guitar moves. The vocals have echoes of the earlier Bubble Puppy style in spots but are more melodic with vibrant harmonies reminiscent of Moby Grape, Buffalo Springfield, James Gang… at times flashing on Steve Stills/Richie Furay westcoast without being too sweet about it. It works terrifically when the radio friendly voices top off killer hard guitar ensemble action. Early hard rock that is too bluesy flashy can get tiresome with repeat listening, especially if overdosing on guitar solos with the band relegated to the background… Demian keep it interesting with inventive song structures allowing all four players to integrate constantly into an ever changing but focused whole. This LP is a grower, despite the basic two guitars, bass and drums lineup and no frills production you reach a lot of different places during the ride. Demian is deadly hard rock, a perfectly organized vibe straddling live energy and crafted itinerary, amongst the first obscure major label killers that commanded premium $$ with collectors even way back in the late ‘70s. It gets you there every time, even half a century later!"

"Imagine More is the follow-up to Lophae's acclaimed debut Perfect Strangers (January 2025).
Recorded live to 2-inch,16-track analogue tape with the band all in one room, engineered and mixed by Benedic Lamdin (Nostalgia 77), and mastered by Caspar Sutton-Jones (Gearbox Studios), this second offering from guitarist and composer Greg Sanders' quartet ventures deeper into their distinctive blend of modern jazz, psychedelic exploration, and world music flourishes.
Four gifted improvisers navigate Sanders' compositions with mercurial dialogue and musical communion, weaving melodic elegance with rhythmic complexity, creating sound-worlds that echo Jeff Parker, Joao Gilberto, and Blake Mills while channeling the sophistication of Stan Getz, Bill Frisell, and Edu Lobo.
Fizzing electric guitar, flowing saxophone lines, and skittering rhythmic interplay transport listeners from north-west London's Fish Factory recording studio to the musical capitals of New York, New Orleans, Rio De Janeiro, Bamako, and Johannesburg - anchored by Sanders' unmistakable compositional voice and the quartet's intuitive sensitivity."

The Sator Arepo, or Sator Square, is an ancient word puzzle comprising five palindromes that's etched on various historical sites throughout the Western world. Its origins are unknown, but the square has long been thought to hold magical properties, used as a charm against illness and evil, to cure insanity or to determine whether someone was guilty of witchcraft. Self-styled "punk ethnomusicologist", acoustician and musician Julien Hairon uses this mystical symbol as the starting point for his debut Judgitzu album in an attempt to reconnect with his Celtic heritage, exploring how its hallowed messages might harmonize with contemporary Tanzanian dance music.Hairon has been traveling across the world for over a decade, collecting field recordings from countries such as Indonesia, Australia, Cambodia, China and Bangladesh, and presenting them on his Les Cartes Postales Sonores label, re-issuing any curious cassettes and CDs he came across on the PetPets' TAPES imprint. It was during this time that he became fascinated by rituals that involved spirits, prompting him to examine his own ancestry when he returned to Brittany. "Many artifacts in the landscape remain," Hairon explains, "and the power of spirits is still palpable." He represents this Celtic mysticism on 'Sator Arepo' with murky drones and magickal synth tones, using xenharmonic scales (tuning outside of standard 12-tone equal temperament) that reach back to the ancient world. These sounds are augmented with fast-paced, sci-fi rhythms informed by his time in Tanzania; "Singeli has contaminated me," admits the producer.The most astonishing example of this is 'Miracle', a thrusting soundsystem experiment that layers serpentine, bagpipe-esque electronic wails over extravagant clusters of blocky percussion. Driven by the frenetic 175BPM pulse that echoes through the streets of Dar Es Salaam - popularized globally by forward-thinking producers like Sisso, Duke and Jay Mitta - Hairon opens up a rare conversation, seeking to draw parallels between today's most urgent dance forms and the archaic rituals of antiquity. On 'Vitalimetre', Hairon drives his sonic palette into the red, harmonizing with Dutch hardstyle and gabber, and splaying distorted drones over maddeningly blown-out kicks and ratcheting percussion. 'L'or Des Fous' takes a more meditative route, prioritizing Hairon's eccentric tonality with expressive sheets of pitch-warped sound that ghost walk across energized, rattling beats.If you heard Hairon's last Judgitzu release 'Umeme / Kelele', described by Boomkat as "one of 2019's deadliest dancefloor sessions," then you'll know how mindboggling this material can be. And with 'Sator Arepo', the French producer deepens his reach, grasping a world that we've almost forgotten and juxtaposing it with a landscape most of us barely comprehend.

Clear Vinyl. Mit ihrem Debüt The Empty Space Between A Seamount And Shock Headed Julia hinterließen The Black Cat's Eye 2023 ein bemerkenswertes Echo in der Szene - ein energetisches und atmosphärisches Werk, das Psychedelic- und Postrock-Elemente auf einzigartige Weise vereinte und schnell vergriffen war. Nun, zweieinhalb Jahre später, präsentiert das Frankfurter Quintett sein neues Album Decrypting Dreams Of Weird Animals And Strange Objects. Auch diesmal lotet die Band die Grenzbereiche zwischen Psychedelic-, Kraut- und Post-Rock aus. Die Musik oszilliert zwischen hypnotischem Drive, verträumten Gitarrenflächen und dynamischen Spannungsbögen. Das Album umfasst sechs Songs, deren Spannweite von fünf- bis zehnminütigen Klangreisen reicht. Neu ist, dass diesmal zwei Bandmitglieder Kompositionen beisteuerten: Neben Gitarrist und Bandgründer Christian Blaser stammt die Hälfte des Materials von Bassist Jens Cappel. Sein kraftvoller, direkter Stil ergänzt Blasers atmosphärischen Ansatz ideal. Blaser: ,Auf dem Debütalbum stammten alle Stücke von mir. Als Gründer der Band lag mein Fokus zunächst darauf, eine musikalische Vision und Richtung vorzugeben. Jens war zu diesem Zeitpunkt noch nicht so in die kreativen Prozesse eingebunden, obwohl er ein außerordentlich talentierter und umtriebiger Musiker ist. Er veröffentlicht regelmäßig großartige neue Musik auf den Bandcamp-Seiten seiner eigenen Projekte, zum Beispiel The Black Black Paint. Als es dann an das Schreiben neuer Songs für das zweite Album ging, brachte Jens einige wirklich tolle Demos mit ein." Stilistisch verbindet das Album, wie schon der Vorgänger, klassische 70er-Einflüsse mit zeitgenössischer Rockmusik - man hört Anklänge an Can, Motorpsycho, Neu!, Indie- und Stonerrock, aber auch an David Gilmours Gitarrenästhetik. Die Musik ist instrumental, einzig im finalen Stück ,The Magic Balloon" übernimmt Jens Cappel den Gesang. Ähnlich rätselhaft wie bei der ersten Platte klingt der Albumtitel: Decrypting Dreams Of Weird Animals And Strange Objects. Blaser erklärt: ,Der Titel ist inspiriert von einem faszinierenden Aspekt der US-amerikanischen TV-Serie Westworld. Dort werden humanoiden Robotern Gefühle und Träume einprogrammiert. Doch weil diese Androiden dadurch immer menschlicher werden, geraten sie außer Kontrolle - die Programmierer suchen daraufhin den Fehler in den von ihnen geschriebenen Quellcodes, analysieren die künstlichen Gefühle, Gedanken und Träume mithilfe ihrer Computerprogramme. Übertragen auf unsere Realität ist der Titel durchaus ironisch gemeint. Unsere moderne Technik vermittelt den Eindruck, wir könnten jeden Bereich unseres Lebens vollständig steuern. Selbstoptimierung und die Kapitalisierung des eigenen Ichs werden zum obersten Prinzip. Eine trügerische Illusion, denn wir sind nur winzige Teile eines größeren, für uns unergründlichen Ganzen. Vor diesem Hintergrund stellt sich die Frage: Was kann Kunst zu unserer Wahrnehmung der Welt beitragen? Welche Bedeutung hat es, sich mit musikalischen Mitteln auszudrücken? Durch Technik, Mathematik, Physik und reine Vernunft kommen wir dem Wunder des Lebens und dem Sinn unserer Existenz nicht wirklich näher. Was uns bleibt, ist das Ritual, die Beschwörung, die Ekstase. Musik, Tanz, Malerei, Geschichten - sie offenbaren für kurze Momente den wahren Kern des Lebens, richten unser Verhältnis dazu neu aus und verbinden uns mit dem Universum." Aufgenommen hat die Band wieder im Tonstudio Bieber in Offenbach am Main. Oli Rüger, Studiobetreiber und selbst Musiker, hat langjährige Erfahrung mit dem Aufnehmen von Gitarrenbands. Innerhalb von drei Tagen spielte die Band die Basic Tracks live ein, anschließend ergänzten sie diese durch Overdubs. Rüger war auch als Co-Produzent beteiligt. Cappel: ,Oli hat das richtige Händchen für die perfekte Balance zwischen rohen, heftigen und filigranen Sounds, ohne gleichzeitig den Blick für das große Ganze zu verlieren." Das Werk wurde final von Krautrock-Legende Eroc gemastert - eine passende Wahl für eine Band, die sich nicht nur als Erben der 70er sieht, sondern diese Tradition aktiv in die Gegenwart weiterdenkt. Das monochrome Cover-Artwork unterstreicht eindrucksvoll die dunkle Atmosphäre der Musik. Es verdeutlicht den konzeptionellen Ansatz der Band, Musik nicht nur als Klang, sondern als Raum, Konzept und visionäre Erzählform zu begreifen. Das Titelbild - eine scheinbar endlose Spirale, Symbol für DNA-Strukturen und Ewigkeit - wurde vom italienischen Grafiker Daniele Stochino entworfen. Die Innenseite des Gatefolds verbindet dieses Motiv mit einer Illustration des in Berlin lebenden Grafikers und Musikers Max Emil Hurlebaus. Durch farbige Akzente eröffnet sie kontrastreich neue Perspektiven.