Suche:feeling good

This is an album made during a crucial period in South Africa’s history during which there was a palpable feeling of a slow turning towards the collapse of the apartheid state side by side with an increasingly well-organised culture of resistance through the formation of the United Democratic Front (UDF) and various affiliated bodies. However, as a result, there was increased pushback from the state security establishment, a turning to dirty tricks and the formation of hit squads whose members murdered and tortured many of our friends and created chaos throughout South Africa as well as neighbouring countries.

This album is situated in this political environment however it took advantage of the new do-it-yourself music technologies available at that time. Technologies that made it possible to make and release records without interference from traditional record company executives. Two musician friends of mine pooled their resources after their respective bands had broken up. Ivan Kadey (National Wake) and Lloyd Ross (Radio Rats) built an 8-track recording studio control room and fitted it out in a second hand caravan and called it Shifty. They parked it in a garage attached to the only house left in a demolished and derelict mining village near Soweto on the outskirts of Johannesburg.
All the work on this album was completed there, mainly after hours and mostly alone where I enjoyed an exhilarating freedom to develop a whole new set of musical skills and ideas, incorporating my love of a wide range of music I’d grown up with. Influences of 1970s progressive/kraut/and psychedelic rock combined with mbaqanga bass styles, early reggae/dub and Indian tabla rhythms. Stockhausen, early Zappa and Holgar Czukay were radio text and shredding influences, and Chris Cutler’s band Henry Cow & Art Bears helped me see a way to political expression. Mostly though was the exciting post-punk and no-wave music coming through to us from Europe and America: bands like This Heat, the Mekons, Raincoats, Sonic Youth and Pere Ubu were immensely important to me as was my reading from the period: J.M.Coetzee’s first 3 novels are strong influences on Free State Fence; the stark landscape, superstition, ritual, and sexual repression are in many of his settings. JG Ballard was a constant presence throughout that period, especially whilst living in such a surreal environment, surrounded by mine dumps, but mostly I think the whole French post-modern philosophical movement—Derrida, Foucault and of course, Baudrillard’s Simulacra and Simulation—set out a new sense of possibilities, possible ways to express oneself, ways to think, and ways to try and analyse the political intersection of public and private life. Most important at that time was the influence of sound recordings I had made and experiences garnered from working as a sound recordist on documentary films. These financed my work and later the studio and were consistent employment throughout the 1980s. Film work also enabled me to experience much of South Africa that was hidden from most. The track Independence Day is a good example; drawn from some time spent in the rural homeland of Venda. This then was the first full length Kalahari Surfers album, completed in summer of 1984 it was taken to EMI pressing plant but rejected by the cutting engineer as being ""political, pornographic and anti religious"". Chris Cutler at Recommended Records took up the challenge and released the album through his label. He wrote the original liner note

From the moment she began writing her new album, Japanese Breakfast’s Michelle Zauner knew that she wanted to call it Jubilee. After all, a jubilee is a celebration of the passage of time—a festival to usher in the hope of a new era in brilliant technicolor. Zauner’s first two albums garnered acclaim for the way they grappled with anguish; Psychopomp was written as her mother underwent cancer treatment, while Soft Sounds From Another Planet took the grief she held from her mother‘s death and used it as a conduit to explore the cosmos. Now, at the start of a new decade, Japanese Breakfast is ready to fight for happiness, an all-too-scarce resource in our seemingly crumbling world.


Jubilee finds Michelle Zauner embracing ambition and, with it, her boldest ideas and songs yet. Inspired by records like Bjork’s Homogenic, Zauner delivers bigness throughout - big ideas, big textures, colours, sounds and feelings. At a time when virtually everything feels extreme, Jubilee sets its sights on maximal joy, imagination, and exhilaration. It is, in Michelle Zauner’s words, “a record about fighting to feel. I wanted to re-experience the pure, unadulterated joy of creation...The songs are about recalling the optimism of youth and applying it to adulthood. They’re about making difficult choices, fighting ignominious impulses and honouring commitments, confronting the constant struggle we have with ourselves to be better people.”

Throughout Jubilee, Zauner pours her own life into the universe of each song to tell real stories, and allowing those universes, in turn, to fill in the details. Joy, change, evolution - these things take real time, and real effort. And Japanese Breakfast is here for it.

After limping back from retirement with a remix or two and a single on Neroli, Domu makes it back to his birthplace, 2000black.

After 25 years of ups and downs, highs and lows and down and ups, it's now time to rest for good. As the spirit of his jungle past still haunts the hallways of what is left of record and clubland, Domu instead lays down to accept, for him at least, enough has been said.

A Madness is the result of layers and layers of random obscure rhythmic samples with some textbook Domu keys. Urgency pours out of it. Quick let me finish this before I die.

Not him again is a result of a jam with long time collaborator Robert Marin with Domu leading the creative direction. Do we like house records that could be on the wrong speed? Yes. Do we like Hip Hop that doesn't accept any of the standard conventions of Hip Hop? Yes. And this is the result.
And finally Them Things. Domu has been trying this whole time to convey a feeling, that weird feeling that those special 'odd numbers' create. Not a specific genre or tempo or movement with a catchy name, just a thing you can't quite explain. Maybe he got close now and again, maybe he didn't but this feels like it could be the closest we'll ever hear.

Miss this end of an era at your peril.

From the moment she began writing her new album, Japanese
Breakfast’s Michelle Zauner knew that she wanted to call it
‘Jubilee’. After all, a jubilee is a celebration of the passage of time
- a festival to usher in the hope of a new era in brilliant technicolor.
Zauner’s first two albums garnered acclaim for the way they
grappled with anguish; ‘Psychopomp’ was written as her mother
underwent cancer treatment, while ‘Soft Sounds From Another
Planet’ took the grief she held from her mother’s death and used it
as a conduit to explore the cosmos.
Now, at the start of a new decade, Japanese Breakfast is ready to
fight for happiness, an all-too-scarce resource in our seemingly
crumbling world.
‘Jubilee’ finds Michelle Zauner embracing ambition and, with it, her
boldest ideas and songs yet. Inspired by records like Bjork’s
‘Homogenic’, Zauner delivers bigness throughout - big ideas, big
textures, colours, sounds and feelings. At a time when virtually
everything feels extreme, ‘Jubilee’ sets its sights on maximal joy,
imagination and exhilaration. It is, in Michelle Zauner’s words, “a
record about fighting to feel. I wanted to re-experience the pure,
unadulterated joy of creation… The songs are about recalling the
optimism of youth and applying it to adulthood. They’re about
making difficult choices, fighting ignominious impulses and
honoring commitments, confronting the constant struggle we have
with ourselves to be better people.”
Throughout ‘Jubilee’, Zauner pours her own life into the universe
of each song to tell real stories and allowing those universes, in
turn, to fill in the details. Joy, change, evolution - these things take
real time and real effort. And Japanese Breakfast is here for it.
Available on clear with yellow swirl coloured vinyl.

Makin’ Moves bring this archived studio gem to the fore as it was just too damn good to be left sitting on the drive! Rewind back to 2005 and a chance studio meeting in London between Bugz in the Attic producer Afronaught aka Orin Walters and Justin Chapman aka Kemeticjust who decided to work on some tracks. It was a time in London where there was a huge melting pot of new sounds in the broken beat era / scene and that sound was at the forefront of London’s club scene including night’s like Co-op at Plastic People in Shoreditch. However, these sounds still have stayed the test of time and very prominent still in clubland today.
Justin’s classy vocal tells a political story about our modern times in American and feeling of oppression with in the Black race.
Phil Asher (RIP) at the time loved the track and decided to do his own “Restless Soul Dub” remix version, adding his characteristic drums and stripping the vocal back while also keeping the soulfulness of Kemetic’s original.
Also featured on the package are two other mixes the excellent Blaktones Mix is must have for all the co-op broken beat heads, seeing Afronaught using those classic sounds to full effect to set the party off!

Khadim is a stunning reconfiguration of the Ndagga Rhythm Force sound. The instrumentation is radically pared down. The guitar is gone; the concatenation of sabars; the drum-kit. Each of the four tracks hones in on just one or two drummers; otherwise the sole recorded element is the singing; everything else is programmed. Synths are dialogically locked into the drumming. Tellingly, Ernestus has reached for his beloved Prophet-5, a signature go-to since Basic Channel days, thirty years ago. Texturally, the sound is more dubwise; prickling with effects. There is a new spaciousness, announced at the start by the ambient sounds of Dakar street-life. At the microphone, Mbene Diatta Seck revels in this new openness: mbalax diva, she feelingly turns each of the four songs into a discrete dramatic episode, using different sets of rhetorical techniques. The music throughout is taut, grooving, complex, like before; but more volatile, intuitive and reaching, with turbulent emotional and spiritual expressivity.

Not that Khadim represents any kind of break. Its transformativeness is rooted in the hundreds upon hundreds of hours the Rhythm Force has played together. Nearly a decade has passed since Yermande, the unit's previous album. Every year throughout that period — barring lockdowns — the group has toured extensively, in Europe, the US, and Japan. With improvisation at the core of its music-making, each performance has been evolutionary, as it turns out heading towards Khadim. “I didn’t want to simply continue with the same formula," says Ernestus. “I preferred to wait for a new approach. Playing live so many times, I wanted to capture some of the energy and freedom of those performances.” Though several members of the touring ensemble sit out this recording — sabar drummers, kit-drummer, synth-player — their presence abides in the structure and swing of the music here.

Lamp Fall is a homage to Cheikh Ibra Fall, founder of the Baye Fall spiritual community. The mosque in the city of Touba is known as Lamp Fall, because the main tower resembles a lantern. Soy duggu Touba, moom guey séen / When you enter Touba, he is the one who greets you. After a swift, incantatory start Mbene sings with reflective seriousness. Her voice swirls with reverb, over a tight, funky, propulsive interplay between synth and drums, threaded with one-two jabs of bass. Cheikh Ibra Fall mi may way, mo diayndiou ré, la mu jëndé ko taalibe... Cheikh Ibra Fall amo morome, aboridial / Cheikh Ibra Fall shows the way forward, he gives us strength, he gathers his disciples... Overflowing with grace, Cheikh Ibra Fall has no equal.

Interwoven with Wolof proverbs, Dieuw Bakhul is a recriminatory song about treachery, lies, and back-biting. Over moody, roiling synths and ominous, lean bass, Mbene throws out fluttering scraps of vocal, as if re-running old conversations in her head. The music shadows her despair to the verge of breakdown, at one moment seemingly so lost in thought and memories, that it threatens to disintegrate. Bayilene di wor seen xarit ak seen an da ndo... Dieuw bakhul, dieuw ñaw na / Stop judging your friends and companions... A lie is no good, a lie is ugly.

Khadim is a show-stopper; currently the centrepiece of Ndagga Rhythm Force live performances. The song is dedicated to Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba, aka Khadim, founder of the Mouride Sufi order. Serigne Bamba mi may wayeu / Serigne Bamba is the one who makes me sing. The verses name-check revered members of his family and brotherhood, like Sokhna Diarra, Mame Thierno, and Serigne Bara. Though Islam has been practised in Senegal for a millennium, it wasn’t until the start of the twentieth century that it began to thoroughly permeate ordinary Senegalese society, hand-in-hand with anti-colonialism. The verses here recall Bamba’s banishment by the French to Gabon, and later to Mauritania, in those foundational times. During exile, his captors once introduced a lion to his cell: gaïnde gua waf, dieba lu ci Cheikhoul Khadim / the lion doesn’t budge, it gives itself over to Cheikh Khadim. Deep, surging bass, steady kick-drum, and simple, reverbed chords on the off-beat lend the feel and impetus of steppers reggae. A reed plays snatches of a traditional Baye Fall melody; the dazzling polyrhythmic drumming is by Serigne Mamoune Seck. Mbene compellingly blends percussive vocalese, narrative suspense, exultant praise, introspection, and grievance.

Nimzat is a devotional tribute to Cheikh Sadbou, a contemporary of Bamba, buried in a mausoleum in Nizmat, in southern Mauritania. Way nala, kagne nala... souma danana fata dale / I call upon you and wonder about you... If I am overwhelmed, come to my aid. The town holds special significance for Khadr Sufism. An annual pilgrimage there is conducted to this day. The rhythm is buoyantly funky; the mood is sombre, reined-in, foreboding. Punctuated by peals of thunder, Mbene sings with restrained, intense reverence; huskily confidential, steadfast. Nanu dem ba Nimzat, dé ba sali khina / Let us go to Nimzat, to seal our devotion.

Mbene Diatta Seck: vocals.
Bada Seck: bougarabou, thiol, mbeung mbeung bal, tungune.
Serigne Mamoune Seck: bougarabou, khine, mbeung mbeung, tungune.
Text by Mark Ainley (Honest Jons).
Mastered by Rashad Becker.
Everything else by Mark Ernestus.

Where the Butterflies Go in the Rain is the third studio album from the enchanting songstress, Raveena. Blending powerful storytelling with early 2000s pop, Where the Butterflies Go in the Rain sees music continuing to play the central role as both a catalyst and medium in her personal and creative growth. With newfound clarity, Raveena delves into themes of new love, maturity, comfort, and domesticity that reflect the peace of mind she currently inhabits. Speaking on this evolution and how it informed the album’s creative, she shares, “Butterflies are so delicate that they have to hide in leaves and flowers until the rain passes so that their wings don’t get crushed in the rain. I felt like that was kind of a metaphor for where I was in my life. I needed to go back to comfort—to deep rest—and stop weathering storms.” On the most instinctual level it’s an album that should conjure simple pleasures like the joy of a summer road trip with loved ones.

Embracing the sounds of classic artists like Fleetwood Mac, Brandy, Bob Marley, Joni Mitchell, and Marvin Gaye, to name a few, Where the Butterflies Go in the Rain draws inspiration from people who, “are really good at capturing the beauty and loss of life in the same breath,” she describes. In her signature style, Raveena seamlessly unites that expansive songwriting with traditional Indian instruments and feel-good early 2000s pop hits —putting forth a work that’s more unabashedly herself than any that’s come before.

Raveena reflects on her forthcoming album, “I don't think I've ever understood a record so well before—It wasn’t like the process I used to have with past albums where I was more anxious about being at my best. This time, it was all intuition, and I knew the album was right when I finally had the feeling of rest.”

The deluxe release sees the addition of 3 tracks. Sun Don't Leave Me - contemplating the feeling of wanting to hold onto one more beautiful sunset, one more passionate embrace, before things change again and hard times strike again - and a reimagined version of Lose My Focus with UMI, bringing fresh energy to an album that’s more unapologetically Raveena than ever.

"Evil is very real and having its way, and love is also real and hasn't lost yet." That's how Activity's Travis Johnson described their third album, A Thousand Years In Another Way. A friend had asked why these songs seemed to capture the strange, heavy feeling of being alive right now better than anything else_and that was his answer. The album doesn't try to explain this time we're living in; it simply feels like it. It's a mix of violence, alienation, and tenderness_reflecting the surreal, dreamlike (or nightmarish) rhythm of daily life. Across ten songs, Activity blends experimental rock, electronics, and found sounds with a sense of paranoia, flickers of hope, and a warped reality. Working with producer Jeff Berner (of Psychic TV), the band manipulated sounds and played with room acoustics to create a feeling that's disorienting_like the air is thick and the walls are listening. Coming out of a period of uncertainty, the Brooklyn-based quartet_Travis Johnson, Jess Rees, Bri DiGioia, and Steven Levine_pieced the album together from fragments: clipped samples, looping guitar lines, ghostly melodies. Rees, DiGioia, and Johnson share vocal and writing duties, shaping a record that feels both deeply personal and strangely alien. There's a constant sense that things could shift or fall apart at any second_nothing stays one thing for long. A Thousand Years In Another Way might not offer answers, but it captures the feeling of right now better than most. And maybe, it sounds a bit like your world too.

“Evil is very real and having its way, and love is also real and hasn’t lost yet.”
That’s how Activity’s Travis Johnson described their third album, A Thousand Years In Another Way. A friend had asked why these songs seemed to capture the strange, heavy feeling of being alive right now better than anything else—and that was his answer. The album doesn’t try to explain this time we’re living in; it simply feels like it. It’s a mix of violence, alienation, and tenderness—reflecting the surreal, dreamlike (or nightmarish) rhythm of daily life.
Across ten songs, Activity blends experimental rock, electronics, and found sounds with a sense of paranoia, flickers of hope, and a warped reality. Working with producer Jeff Berner (of Psychic TV), the band manipulated sounds and played with room acoustics to create a feeling that’s disorienting—like the air is thick and the walls are listening.
Coming out of a period of uncertainty, the Brooklyn-based quartet—Travis Johnson, Jess Rees, Bri DiGioia, and Steven Levine—pieced the album together from fragments: clipped samples, looping guitar lines, ghostly melodies. Rees, DiGioia, and Johnson share vocal and writing duties, shaping a record that feels both deeply personal and strangely alien. There’s a constant sense that things could shift or fall apart at any second—nothing stays one thing for long.
A Thousand Years In Another Way might not offer answers, but it captures the feeling of right now better than most. And maybe, it sounds a bit like your world too.

"The meaning of this concept (Space Outside :Space) lies within your answers to these questions. Providing the questions are considered with honesty, the true meaning of what "Space" refers to becomes revealed.
There are no right or wrong answers, just reactions based on your view and angles on the mechanisms of life."

- Millsart aka Jeff Mills


What becomes a person that doesn't dream? What happens when we get all that we ever wanted? Do we know too much? Can we truly justify pessimism?
What are you planning on leaving behind? If given more life, stay the same or change? Life is more about giving or taking? Good fortune is based on what? What's more effective, love or hate? Do we care enough? Are we OK?
Life is mostly about ? Is there a end to this? Knowing that it propels, are we capable of critical thinking? Who is more important then yourself? What is worth dying for?

Every one of us has a family of origin—the one we’re born into—and a family we’re raised in, which, for some, like myself, may not be the same. Then there’s our chosen family—friends and community—the people we gather around us, love, and trust. We also have a musical family, and when you put all of those together, they form the world family. Right now, the world is in a time of upheaval, change, and uncertainty, leading to anxiety and fear for so many. This album is about channeling those emotions—what I experience every day—and translating them into songs that others can connect with. The first single, “Break Up With Everything,” is an example of that—taking these feelings and putting them into music that resonates and brings people together. Welcome to the Family is a record about finding connection in the midst of uncertainty, leaning into the love that surrounds us, and remembering that, no matter where we come from, we are all part of something bigger.

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

At a time when post-ambient electronica and bedevilled folk music are co-habiting, and the public’s interest in Pagan rites and rituals has been sparked by a new generation of fans. The bizarre storyline of Whistle And I’ll Come To You seems even more pertinent… and strangely haunting.
The Jonathan Miller-adapted 1968 ghost story was originally part of BBC’s Omnibus series and featured Michael Horden as a fussy professor who discovers an ancient whistle which summons up the spirits. A black and white folkloric tale in the style of The Wicker Man, the original TV programme received rave reviews.

The esoteric live score was recorded at the Hypnos Theatre in Malmö. The 42-minute soundtrack utilises stuttering tape loops on ‘Intro’ before breathing new life into the primitive John Carpenter-like drum machine on ‘Supernatural Breakfast’, while ‘Walk On The Beach 2’ sounds like a hauntological rendition of a Broadcast classic. Indeed, that effect is amplified on ‘Nightmares’, with its swirling wind and other-worldly choral effect, before the feeling of some supernatural presence is suggested on the penultimate cut ‘Evidence Of Spiritualism’

"I loved Julia Sabra’s Natural History Museum—it was released at the end of the year and is quietly devastating. Her lyricism and sensitivity in timbre and harmony is akin for me to the great Linda Perhacs. The songs are intimate and infinite feeling at the same time—I love the raw and soft poetic settings of love and death." Julia Holter (Best album 2024- Fader)

“This album is a collection of songs written between 2020 and 2024 in Beirut. I wanted to capture them the way they were written by keeping the rawness and fragility intact, like the late-night voice memos I send to my bandmates as soon as I have a first draft of a song. Fadi and I decided to record them live on tape, with no overdubs, barely any effect - with all the imperfections. Most of the tracks were done in one take only. Some were recorded in the studio, and some in the church I grew up going to every summer in Dhour Shweir.

This is a collection of songs that slipped through the cracks, and some of the most personal ones I ever wrote. Songs about the port explosion, its aftermath, picking up the pieces and trying to move on, coming to terms with the past, regret and nostalgia for a childhood that lives only in memory, the uncertain future, learning to love, getting married, watching a genocide unfold on my phone screen, having it fill my every waking moment, imagining a better send off for all the dead, processing the violence and terror, and finding solace in community.
These songs would’ve probably stayed in my “songs in limbo” folder on my laptop had it not been for Pascal and Fadi, who pushed me to release them. And for this I’m eternally grateful.”









[h] 8.Dis, quand reviendras-tu? [Barbara cover]

A multifaceted artist, who over his career has traversed between singer-songwriter, hit producer, DJ and curator, Ben Westbeech now arrives on Glitterbox Recordings with a fully realised artistic vision on his new album Everything Is Within You.

Encapsulating Ben’s appreciation of the power we all have within us to achieve joy and peace, as conveyed sonically by all the musicians involved, Everything Is Within You came together organically. His first full length solo LP since the acclaimed There’s More To Life Than This on Strictly Rhythm in 2011, Everything Is Within You showcases Ben’s artistic development as a songwriter, curator and producer as he steps into his role as producer and arranger, away from lead vocalist.

“This album is about speaking the truth. The truth from within. Luckily, I have been blessed to come across the paths of other artists that shared the same sentiment over the seas that dwell. These artists all feature heavily on this record. It isn’t about me or you. It’s about everything that is within.” – Ben Westbeech

Spotlighting featured artists such as Dames Brown (recorded by Moodymann in Detroit), RAHH, Karen Harding, DAVIE and Obi Franky, with co-production credits including Honey Dijon, Luke Solomon and Chris Penny, as well as Mousse T., the record was born out of a Glitterbox writing camp in London at Defected’s studios. The collection of records that were made that week became a catalyst for the full album, now arriving on Defected’s Glitterbox Recordings.

An artist with a rich musical history, from the release of his mature debut album Welcome to the Best Years of Your Life for Gilles Peterson’s Brownswood, to his chart-topping club records as Breach, and work as The Vision on Defected, the path to this new album has included periods of sobriety, self-work, spiritual exploration and the integration of a healthier outlook all round. Now based in Ibiza, the omnipresent energy of the magical island has permeated into the music on his new album, as well as the influence of his personal and spiritual growth.

Exploring a range of genres across the LP, from neo soul to house influences, the breadth of Ben’s musical knowledge is demonstrated throughout the eight tracks. From the blissed-out piano grooves of ‘Times Are Changing’, since remixed by house royalty Louie Vega and Josh Milan as Two Soul Fusion, to the uplifting ‘Do Me Right’ and the emotional soundscapes of ‘So Good To Me’, Everything Is Within You puts the emphasis on the guest vocalists. With exquisite live instrumentation and songwriting that give the record an evergreen feeling, this is a timely album that exudes a contagious, positive feeling throughout, something the world needs right now.

Limited edition test pressing, featuring Reggae legends...

Growing up is painful, brutal, and sometimes beautiful _ something Brooklyn-based indie-rock band Bedridden knows all too well. The band's name is even a nod to that ineffable period between childhood and the jagged edges of the real world. "When I was 21, I kind of lost my home," says frontman/guitarist Jack Riley. "I was couch-surfing. I was having a hard time.The next iteration in the band's maturation, then, is their debut, LP Moths Strapped To Eachother's Backs, 10 fuzzed-out (and sometimes gnarly) ruminations on dating, drugs, and survival out April 11 on Julia's War. The title came from a mysterious missive Riley received on astrology app Co-Star. "Last year I was way too reliant on other people _ my partner at the time, my friends," he says. "I was strapped to them in a weird way _ and flying in circles. This album is about that time."The current incarnation of Bedridden encompasses a patchwork of styles, influences, and friends Riley accumulated over the years. A Chicago native who first started making music at age five on a thrift-store guitar emblazoned with Kurt Cobain's name, Riley moved to New Orleans for college where he dabbled in punk before falling in love with shoegaze. There, he launched the first version of Bedridden. Sebastian Duzian (bass) _ a jazz musician and Pasadena native _ linked up with Riley in NOLA along with his bandmate, drummer Nick Pedroza. Pedroza, from Claremont, grew up on rock, metal, and jazz, honing his style after joining the band. Wesley Wolffe _ a guitarist fed on a steady diet of New Wave and `90s alt _ rounded out the crew just a few months back. Bedridden's previous lineup released their first EP, Amateur Heartthrob, in 2023 _ a noise-washed blend of shoegaze, DIY, and indie that Riley says is a "coming-of-age EP _ these formative stories about not having a bed, dating, being kind of a jackass. I was making fun of myself a lot." That release caught the attention of Douglas Dulgarian from Philly Label Julia's War (and TAGABOW), who signed them for Moths."Some of these songs have been around for years," says Riley, adding that they were recorded last February at Studio G Brooklyn; the album was produced by Aron Kobayashi Ritch (Momma). "As opposed to Amateur Heartthrob, we attempted to blend more clean guitars into a driving sound to capture more clarity _ one that also sounds live_ and raw," Riley says. That rawness thrums through the record, which kicks off with the thrashed "Gummy," about an incident when Riley had to gently fend off a co-worker's unwanted advances while both drunk and high on an MDMA gummy. And then there's mournful rager "Etch," which sees Riley daydreaming about beating up a meddler in his personal life _ in the minor key.The annihilating "Chainsaw" revs in next, a lightning-fast Lemonheads-inspired track that recalls Riley moving in with new roommates who were unnaturally obsessed with purchasing a lamp. "For some reason that pissed me off," he laughs; that rage is evident in the album cover, which shows said power tool demolishing a lampshade. Heavy-shredding "Heaven's Leg" showcases the band's affinity for `90s mainstays like Smashing Pumpkins while telling the tale of a gig at a local church. "The lyrics are about a pastor I had met that had lost his leg," Riley says. "The church had signs about not cussing and I had a feeling that neither of us had anything to talk about without potentially offending the other."The band's not afraid to get confrontational, though, on the anger-fueled, drum-heavy "Philadelphia, Get Me Through," which deals with a dead-end relationship and the mistaken assumption that getting drunk in the titular city would be a balm against the pain. And the nasty, brutist, and short hardcore-adjacent "MainStage"? "It's about being disrespected at a show on New Year's and how I lashed out," Riley says. "I then began to take it out on other people, which was a quality that I despise."Things get contemplative and mournful from here on out _ the emo-edged "Snare" is about bringing flowers to a hospital room where you're not welcome, while the Smiths-inspired "Uno" wrestles with self-loathing. "I guess the big finale of that song was my response to dealing with this recurring experience of feeling like I wasn't good enough by getting really into whippets," Riley says. Nu-metal bop "Bonehead," then, recalls an embarrassing dinner that turned into an argument _ the name applies both to that incident and the delicious simplicity of the guitar parts.After all that turmoil and pain, the band caps everything off with their eyes to the future on the jangle-pop "Ring Size." "All my friends are getting married _ do I follow in their footsteps? Or is it all a waste of time?" Riley says of the song. "At the end, through it all, I guess that's what I've been trying to figure out _ how to grow up, how to move on. I'm trying to navigate things as an adult and I'm not very good at it. But this is just the first record. This is just the beginning."And, hey, at least now he has a bed.

Full throttle from Vancouver, BC to wherever the open road takes them The Vicious Cycles are BACK with their new LP Get Wrecked on Pirates Press Records! Before you even get the shrink wrap off the gatefold jacket, you can guess what kind of party you're in for. "Our pal Shakey Deal is the cover model," says Cycles head honcho Billy Bones. "A tuff looking scrub on a minibike says a lot about who we are." And who is that exactly? "We play garage/punk rock and roll songs about motorcycles. We like to have a good time." The promise of debauchery carries over into song titles like "Naked On a Beach," and "On Fire in the Hot Tub." As rip-roaring, danceable party music goes, it's second to none, and rest assured there's plenty of bike enthusiast inside baseball, but the lyrics often go deeper than a superficial glance might indicate. For example, the lead single, "Hold On Tight," is about, as Billy puts it, "the physical feeling of riding with your favorite person on the back of your motorcycle - easily one of the best feelings a human can have." So, a classic biker anthem? "But also," he's quick to add, "a metaphor for life and relationships. We're gonna make it." Waxing philosophical with motorcycles as allegory over chrome-plated punk rock 'n roll? That's The Vicious Cycles' songwriting in a nutshell. Another album highlight, "Daddy Was a Gambler" references Billy's father - an ex-preacher who regularly hauled his kids to Circus Circus in his '57 Chevy - and his mother, a nurse and, as Billy puts it, "as close to an actual saint as anyone in the world. The song is an appreciation for the two of them, and how their differences made me who I am." "Naked On A Beach" sounds like a party, but Billy explains it's "a critique of capitalism and the tiny lives we're expected - and sometimes content - to live." Even the title track, "Get Wrecked," is more than just a statement of defiance; it's a message to Billy's son about dealing with the conformist naysayers of the world. Longtime fans & newcomers alike will be stoked for the straightaways, but stick around for the twists and turns, just like any good ride. The band brings in pals on strings & saxophone for a 60s Wall of Sound-inspired production on "Black Boots, Black Leather Jacket," and try their hands at their first murder ballad on "Pretty Hands." There's an instrumental tune ("Blowing Smoke") and hell, there's even a deep cut cover of "Trouble Again" - originally performed by Stewart Copeland of The Police - which only the biggest nerds of a certain age will recall as the theme song to the 80s Star Wars animated series Droids! In the end, no matter the detours, the band - along with Jesse Gander (Territories, Comeback Kid), & Mariessa McLeod at Rain City Recorders - kept their eyes on the prize: sing-along choruses, handclaps, and short songs that get the job done and don't overstay their welcome. "I didn't want us to write a record that you could dance to." quips Billy. "I wanted us to write a record that you couldn't not dance to."

Once regarded as an up-and-comer to watch, it’s fair to say that the past eighteen months have seen Dutch DJ/producer and live artist Locklead establish himself as one of the most in-demand artists emerging onto the global house stage. From his collaborative ‘Across Boundaries’ with close friend Chris Stussy to music via Dungeon Meat, Pilot, and Up The Stuss, the Utrecht-based talent has set his stall and is showing no signs of slowing. Adding to a first outing on sister label LOCUS two years ago, April welcomes a big debut appearance on FUSE as head honcho Enzo Siragusa invites him to the label for the first time to release his latest EP, ‘Kemickal Affairs’.
Opening the record, A1 ‘Zero’s Delight’ is a funk-fulled and spacey ride armed with resonant chords and swirling leads, while ‘State of Peace’ is a blissful ride through rich yet driving house spheres and showcases the second of two heavily requested anthems that have been go-to records for the likes of Stussy and Siragusa over recent months. The flip sees title cut ‘Kemickal Affairs’ open the b-side with authority, as bumping kicks and slinking grooves go to work beneath swirling synth lines and hazy tones, before wrapping things up with more modulated goodness and off-kilter vocal snippets on the chunky and trippy ‘Morning Krew’ - expect this to come out to play in those weird and wonky early-hours afters!

DJ Feedback:

Laurent Garnier - Very cool Ep

Jamie Jones (Hot Creations / Paradise) - Feeling this.

Joseph Capriati (REDIMENSION) - nice, will try soon. thanks !

Seth Troxler (Circoloco / Lost Souls Of Saturn) - lov

Paul Woolford / Special Request - State Of Peace is a killer house record, lovely chords and groove, thanks!!

Stacey Pullen (Blackflag Recordings / Transmat) - COOL THANKS!

Chris Stussy (Up The Stuss) - already on heavy rotation for the last couple of months, absolute heat!!

Rossi. (HOMEGROWN. / NO ART / LOCUS) - Immense music :)

DESCRIPTION
“We like all these songs a lot. Dylan's approach to composing and playing involves hybridizing American Primitive, folk, country, soundtrack and avant influences into a unique & powerful alloy. Spinning the record is nothing short of a goddamn trip. Transportational music of the highest order. Get some today.” --Byron Coley “I made the title track a couple years ago at the beginning of summer,” writes Dylan, “I was thinking about how as you get older you have fewer new experiences. That feeling of excitement for summer fades, after it used to be such a big deal as a kid. Those experiences can only be new and vibrant once. The rest of your life can be spent in nostalgia for them. It's a sad thought and maybe not true for everyone, but I suspect it is for most.” The result, No New Summers, is Aycock’s first full length under his own name for almost a decade; it sees him journey through frayed fields of haunted solo-guitar, waves of prairie ambience and hard-won country stillness

Nothing is lost on Cash Langdon. It’s something you can hear in the observational lyrics of his last record, 2022’s Sinister Feeling; but on its follow-up, Dogs, you can also hear it in the camaraderie he cultivates playing live with his band Meadow Dust, a sonic energy that gives off the heat of his native Birmingham. The trio’s fuzzy take on heavy country rock has a worn-in no-fussiness that recalls Neil Young & Crazy
Horse – nothing overthought, nothing understated. And like Young, Langdon’s voice is simultaneously earnest and world-weary – but there’s a sense of humor, too, and a resignation to keeping on (“Dogs,” “Magic Again”). Recorded at Portside Studios (the former location of the legendary Muscle Shoals Sound) in just two days, engineer Brad Timko (Dan Sartain, St. Paul and The Broken Bones) captured Langdon and Meadow Dust at their fiercest yet. The title track “Dogs” and side B heater “Dead Dogs” both take inspiration from the wild dogs Langdon encountered in his neighborhood at the time of writing the record, where he wondered about the sick twist of fate that renders one dog a pet and another a threat. Across songs, he examines how oppressive cycles overlap, intersecting the personal and the societal at all times. The heavy yet melodic “Lilac Whiskey Noise” is the heartbeat of the record, written following an active shooter event that Langdon witnessed at work in 2016. It’s an indictment – not of the perpetrator – but of the systems of power that enable such an act. It’s a microcosm for all of the themes on the album, too: the ongoing violence of simply being awake to the world around you, and the resolve to stay awake anyway.
On the crunchy album-closer “Nothing’s Good Anymore,” Langdon sings about overhearing someone say just that – and you can tell he’s tempted to agree. He’s going to find what kernel of beauty he can. Dogs is a sonic map for finding that beauty in just about anything.

"Water Season" is a collaborative EP between the lo-fi duo Hooky and shoegaze artist Winter. They first met online as fans of each other's music and soon started corresponding with ideas, the first of which was writing "horseshoe." After relocating from Los Angeles to New York, Winter took a trip over to Philadelphia in the summer of 2024 where they all became good friends and spent the whole day writing songs together. They coalesced in their love for lo-fi, indie, electronica pairing beautiful melodies with experimentation, sampling, and guitar. In their own way they created a sonic snapshot of that intersection of time and feeling- the bittersweet and fleeting sensation of the end of summer fading into fall. Both bands will be playing shows together this year as well as touring to promote the EP.

Here comes a very special production from East Germany of the early 70s!
One of the TOP Soul-Jazz & Beat combos in the country led by bassist and singer HORST KRÜGER,
recorded two previously unreleased, outrageously good titles here in the newly formed septet format.
"Ich will die Zeit nicht bereuen" is probably by far one of the most crispy produced German-language soul beat numbers that existed in the GDR at that time! From the pen of Ralf Petersen, the then head of Berliner Rundfunk personally, no pure high-class hit was recorded here, but hard-hitting, rocking beat.
It was not without reason that the choice of the head of broadcasting fell on the recently formed Horst Krüger Septet, which also gave the contemporary jazzy sound a perfect touch through an intensified brass section from 1970 on.
The title "Sonderbar" is exactly what its title promises, peculiar and extraordinary. A feat that was created as such in 1972. This somewhat sweeter SoulJazz vocal piece had a concrete idea, which composers Dieter Kopf, Horst Krüger and Franz Bartzsch as a musical arranger as well as Jens Gerlach in the musical free spirit of the hippiesque era. A through the stylistic device of Repetito in the text
dominant repetition, which is complicated in the context of the ever-evolving theme about feelings and love Groove of bass, guitar, drums and organ theme is reflected, redefined and constantly found again, simply masterfully. An interlude with a flute solo and a groovy dreamy Hammond organ solo at the end of the title, envelops the verses very contemporary.
Horst Krüger on bass guitar and his wife Gerti Möller with her outstandingly distinctive and powerful voice on the microphone.
A must for every fan of early beat, rock and soul!

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

SYML is the solo venture of artist Brian Fennell. Welsh for “simple”—he makes music that taps into the instincts that drive us to places of sanctuary, whether that be a place or a person. Born and raised in Seattle, Fennell studied piano and became a self-taught producer, programmer, and guitarist. Says Fennell about his album Nobody Lives Here, "We change, the world changes, and there is so much unknown. About a year ago I started writing songs that represent the change that is happening in front of my face, a group that have emerged to become the third SYML album. Many of these songs are about getting older, and the intimate, and sometimes frightening, passing of time. Some are about how getting older revolves around looking forward to things happening, and when they don’t happen, or they feel different than anticipated, we can be left with surprise and sadness. I’m actually reminded of this watching my 2 year old! We learn to live with disappointment. I recorded some of these songs with kids and dogs making noise in the background, and others in silent studios with musicians I’ve listened to and admired for many years. These songs are meant to be pieces of clothing to wear as you need (or I need). Some are bright and bold and others are gentle, but they were all made with a sense of comfort in mind, even when things feel bleak. My wife jokes that when our friends hear some of these songs, they might think we are not “ok”. Thankfully, putting myself inside a sad song is still a good place to feel happy. There's this generally unspoken feeling that musicians don’t listen to their own music. That isn’t true for me. I love living with my songs because their meaning changes as I change. There is as much fear and beauty in the big questions as there is wonder and possibility in the simple, everyday shit we live through.”

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

NOW Music is pleased to announce NOW Presents…Classic Soul, a stunning 5LP boxset of 85 of the greatest 60s & 70s Soul tracks ever... Out September 22nd!



LP1 opens with ‘I Say A Little Prayer’ from the “Queen of Soul”- Aretha Franklin, the peerless ‘Walk On By’ from Dionne Warwick and followed by massive hits from Marvin Gaye with the #1 ‘I Heard It Through The Grapevine’ and Stevie Wonder’s ‘I Was Made To Love Her’, plus classic tracks from The Temptations and Otis Redding. Flip to the other side for legendary groups – The Supremes, The Ronettes, The Marvelettes, The Velvelettes and Martha Reeves & The Vandellas.



LP2 begins with the powerhouse vocals of Tina Turner (with Ike) on ‘River Deep, Mountain High’. Top tracks from the Jackson 5 & the Four Tops give way to a run of Northern Soul classics from Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons with ‘The Night’, ‘Tainted Love’ from Gloria Jones, Frank Wilson’s legendary ‘Do I Love You’, and ‘Green Onions’ from Booker T. & The M.G.'s. Side 2 begins with the superb vocals of Ben E. King with ‘Stand By Me’ and Percy Sledge with ‘When A Man Loves A Woman’. Another Otis Redding classic alongside the genius of both James Brown and Nina Simone brings this LP to a close.



The A-Side of LP3 kicks off with the signature smash from Aretha Franklin ‘Respect’ before the first UK #1 for the Motown label from The Supremes with ‘Baby Love’, and there’s still room for Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, The Drifters, and another #1 from Freda Payne. Side B begins with one of the most iconic and funky baselines ever on ‘Papa Was A Rollin’ Stone’ from The Temptations and the classic grooves ‘Move On Up’ from Curtis Mayfield, Isaac Hayes’ ‘Theme from “Shaft”’, the emphatic ‘War’ from Edwin Starr and the cool sophistication of ‘California Soul’ from Marlena Shaw lead to the closing track ‘Could It Be I’m Falling In Love’ from The Spinners.



LP4 begins with a run of beloved tracks from iconic artists opening with the politically charged masterpiece ‘What’s Going On’ from Marvin Gaye, followed by Al Green, Bill Withers and Billy Paul, plus The Stylistics and The Delfonics to add to the selection of celebrated groups on this release. The second side begins with the exceptional ‘Killing Me Softly With His Song’ from Roberta Flack, before the stunning vocals of Minnie Riperton’s ‘Lovin’ You’ and Deniece Williams, The Three Degrees and Gladys Knight. The Jackson 5 bring this disc to a close with their timeless ballad ‘I’ll Be There’.



LP5 contains a run of 1970s favourites beginning with ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ from Diana Ross and ‘You're The First, The Last, My Everything’ from Barry White. ‘Fantasy’ from Earth, Wind & Fire, ‘Summer Breeze, Pt. 1’ from The Isley Brothers and ‘Love Train’ from The O’Jays all feature before the Commodores kick off the final side with ‘Three Times A Lady’. Rose Royce, Peaches & Herb and a second selection from Gladys Knight & The Pips feature along with George Benson, before the “Prince of Soul” Marvin Gaye brings this essential collection home with ‘Let’s Get It On’.



85 tracks across 5 stunning LPs, NOW Presents Classic Soul... Out September 22nd!

OHYUNG aka Lia Ouyang Rusli describes their new album as “my trans self and my former self in conversation, from both perspectives.” The record represents their lengthy, complicated, but crucial journey between lives, strewn with both doubt and excitement. It is an ecstatic, pop-oriented shift in direction from an artist primarily known for noise, experimental hip-hop, and ambient music, but carried with sleek confidence, maturity, and a silvery, hallucinogenic shimmer that reveals Rusli’s experimental background. It is, writes Rusli, “sometimes written from a dark place and other times from a place of happiness.” Throughout, darkness and light rise and fall in layers of phased strings, trip-hop drum production, and earworming vocal lines.

Also a film score composer, Rusli’s songwriting craft is meticulous and nuanced. You Are Always On My Mind was, perhaps surprisingly, formed primarily from processed “generic string loops” found in online sample packs - a strange and wilfully jarring reminder that what seems to be is not always what is. Recontextualised, these string loops enshadow the simplicity of their origins and reveal a grace and purposefulness perhaps not even imagined by their authors, subtly drawing out euphoria and tension in equal balance.

Rusli also writes of the influence of rave culture central to their transition, and of the record’s production and theme. “It’s a declaration of love for raves and the dark hazy rooms that helped me to be free and true with myself— seeing other people who are so free and beautiful and thinking that one day that can be me— that’s me in the future.” But there is also a fear and unease present. Key moment “no good” explores “the worst version of myself as a trans person, feeding doubt to my pre-transition self” with its core lyric anyone can see / I’m no good for you, delivered over a relentless beat, swooning strings, and glistening synthesis.

Later, “i swear that i could die rn” renders a Spectreish Motown beat lamenting and lush with breathy synths and knife-edge melodies that eventually yield a hazy, gliding string section, created again from mutated, spliced, and transitioned royalty-free sample packs. The track is about “seeing my beautiful friends at raves and feeling at home appreciating the harsh noises of hardcore techno and acid. Feeling that I could die at this moment and be happy.”

Look At Us Now: the long-awaited debut album from Song Festival sensation Gustaph!

"I wanted to make a record that makes people feel good about themselves."

Good things come to those who wait: after more than 20 years as a musician, Gustaph is releasing his debut album, Look At Us Now. The title is a phrase from the song Because Of You, which won him seventh place at the Eurovision Song Contest in 2023.

"Look At Us Now may be taken literally," Gustaph explains. "Look where we are now after 20 years of hardwork. And look where we are with the queer movement: as a queer artist, I can openly be myself and sing about the things that are important to me."

Gustaph's soulful voice takes us through various themes, from believing in yourself and fickle lovers to chosen family and loss.

Look At Us Now is a pop record infused with nineties house, dance and disco, but we also spot a ballad (Miss You The Most) and two Scandi-pop tracks: Like You, an ode to love and Darker Days, an epic track that will pull you through bleak periods with panache.

"I wanted to make a record that makes people feel good about themselves," Gustaph says. "One that they put on while getting ready to go out or just to start the day. A little pick-me-up that makes them think: Yes, now I can kick ass."

When you play the record for the first time, you'll already be able to sing along to a bunch of tracks: there's Because Of You of course, butalso more recent singles like Already Know, Faith In What You Feel and Calls Your Name.

The record was produced in London with Richard X, known for his work with Róisín Murphy, Alison Goldfrapp and Pet Shop Boys, among others. "That's very close to who I am as an artist, so that collaboration just made sense," Gustaph explains.

Look At Me Now sounds like a party where everyone is welcome. The club tour kicks off at Ancienne Belgique. Come celebrate!

Finger Lickin Good by Dennis Coffey, released 27 September 2024.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

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