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ONLY ONE MUSIC PRESENTS NORKEN - TIDAL FREQUENCIES. RE-ISSUE FROM 1998!!!
RE-MASTERED VINYL ONLY EDITION.
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!

Between improv, pop and r&b abstractions, and contemplative balearics, Sam Gendel and Ugné Uma “Tam tikri objektai erdvėje” subtly meanders through a fragile and forward cosmos both inward and out.

Sam Gendel and Ugnė Uma’s Tam Tikri Objektai Erdvėje album sketches a layered, melismatic and intertextual view on what both performers define as a lightness of being. Ugnė Uma’s musical stance is influenced by experimental poetry and Lithuania’s 20th century underground music scene - jazz and folk, resulting from the liberation of the country’s independence movements. Sam Gendel, from Los Angeles, is a saxophonist and producer, proficient on more instruments than the saxophone alone, whose recorded work both solo and collaborative has brought him acclaim as a vital new voice in modern jazz and beyond.

Tam Tikri Objektai Erdvėje is Lithuanian and translates as Some Particular Objects in Space. The six tracks on the album stand for every letter of the word Saturn. They sketch out a sound palette both fragile and full of forward momentum. With hints of improv, sampling their own recorded work and sounds of a childhood’s Yamaha Portasound PSS-290 synth into abstractions of pop and r&b, some of these tracks reach an almost balearic feel, the more contemplative end of it. With lyrics delving into cosmic phenomena, Tam Tikri Objektai Erdvėje is an album about space, whether cosmic or inward or the one in between. It easily surpasses the sum of its influences and the materials and tactics used to produce it.

I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a musical career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

“I Talk To Water”, das fünfte Album des dänischen Produzenten Kölsch für Kompakt, ist zweifellos das persönlichste Statement des Künstlers bislang. Während alle Markenzeichen, die seine Musik so beliebt und kraftvoll machen, immer noch präsent sind – üppige, melodische Techno-Tracks; schwebende, tranceartige Elemente; sinnliche, fiebrige Texturen – ist “I Talk To Water” auch eine tiefe und intime Annäherung an Familie und Geschichte. Es ist ein wunderschönes, fein ausgearbeitetes Dokument des Verlusts und der Erinnerung, und es verfolgt den langen, ungebrochenen Faden der Trauer, der durch unser Leben läuft, sobald wir diejenigen verloren haben, die wir liebten.

Der emotionale Kern von “I Talk To Water” besteht aus Aufnahmen von Kölschs Vater, Patrick Reilly, der 2003 an Hirnkrebs verstarb. Durch die Pandemie und ihre damit verbundenen Lockdowns, die plötzlichen, entfremdenden Veränderungen im Alltag, fand Kölsch sich in Gedanken an den Tod seines Vaters und seine fortwährende spirituelle Präsenz wieder. Er überlegte, wie er eine so bedeutende Figur in seinem eigenen Leben am besten verewigen könnte. Diese Aufnahmen öffneten ihm sozusagen ein Portal, um Vergangenheit und Gegenwart miteinander zu verbinden und sie auf sensible und poetische Weise zu verweben.

Kölschs Vater war Musiker – “er tourte in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren, vor allem im Nahen Osten, auf dem Hippie Trail, spielte Gitarre und schrieb im Laufe der Jahre einige Songs”, erinnert sich Kölsch. “Aber alles in allem entschied er sich, sich auf die Familie zu konzentrieren, anstatt eine musikalische Karriere zu verfolgen.” Reilly spielte und schrieb jedoch im Laufe der Jahre weiterhin Musik, obwohl Kölsch das Material lange Zeit nicht angehört hatte: “Ich hatte nie den Mut, es anzuhören, weil ich mich einfach zu zerbrechlich fühlte, seine Stimme anzuhören. Es ist so schwer, das durchzustehen.”

Während der Pandemie hörte sich Kölsch jedoch durch das fragmentierte Werk, das sein Vater im Laufe der Jahre produziert hatte. “Ich beschloss, die Musik meines Vaters zwanzig Jahre nach seinem Tod endlich zu veröffentlichen”, reflektiert er. “Dieses ganze Album handelt von dem Verlustprozess, welcher für mich generell eine der Hauptantriebskräfte in meinem musikalischen Leben ist. Der ganze emotionale Aspekt von dem, was ich getan habe, basierte auf dem Gefühl, dass er nicht mehr da ist.”

Auf “I Talk To Water” sind Aufnahmen von Reilly in drei Songs zu hören. Seine Gitarren ziehen nachdenklich durch “Grape”, bieten einen üppigen Melodiefaden, den Kölsch mit klickenden, treibenden Rhythmen und dröhnendem, melancholischem Bass umwickelt. “Tell Me” ist ein schönes dreiminütiges Kunstlied, eine traurig-schöne Reflexion, minimal geschmückt mit sanften Tasten und einem gedämpften Puls. Und auf dem Abschlusstrack “It Ends Where It Began” lässt Kölsch die akustische Gitarre seines Vaters im Mittelpunkt stehen, ein überraschend folkiger Klagegesang, den Reilly ursprünglich 1996 aufgenommen hatte. “Er hat es tatsächlich für mein erstes Album aufgenommen, das nie veröffentlicht wurde”, enthüllt Kölsch, “und ich hatte es ewig liegen.”

Diese drei erdachten Kollaborationen zwischen Vater und Sohn sind ausgewogen und zart. Aber ihre Beziehung prägt auch die wunderschöne Musik, die Kölsch im Rest von “I Talk To Water” geschaffen hat, angefangen bei dem nervösen, aber üppigen “Pet Sound” (benannt als Hommage an eines von Reillys Lieblingsalben), den flimmernden Synthesizern und sehnsüchtigen Vocal-Samples in “Khenpo”, den ekstatischen Erschütterungen in “Only Get Better” oder den langsamen Schwenks und subtilen Enthüllungen in “Implant”.

Es gibt auch den Titelsong, in dem Kölsch von Gast Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros) begleitet wird, der ein Mantra für die innere Reflexion singt: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrells Auftritt bringt eine weitere Klangfarbe, einen weiteren Geist in das Album, der gut zu seinem jüngsten Interesse an elektronischer Musik passt. “Er war völlig fasziniert von der Idee, mit Wasser zu sprechen”, sagt Kölsch und denkt darüber nach, wie wir kollektiv zur Natur als Trost, Zuhörer, Führer durch die Trauer neigen, um die Gelände des Herzens zu kartieren. Diese Kartierung ist etwas, in dem Kölsch im Laufe der Jahre erstaunlich geschickt war; Tanzmusik für Körper und Geist, sowohl für das Hier und Jetzt, als auch für das Leben danach.

Sounds Of The Universe | The 12" Singles, a deluxe collector's
edition box set, contains seven 12" vinyl discs presenting
singles--including Wrong, Peace, the double A-side Fragile
Tension/Hole To Feed--alongside B-sides, remixes, dub
versions and other recordings contemporaneous to Depeche
Mode's 12th studio album, Sounds Of The Universe, originally
released by Mute Records in April 2009.
Sounds Of The Universe | The 12" Singles offers a full range of
ear-grabbing mixes--radio, club, dub and more--of Depeche
Mode originals with three discs (Discs Two, Four and Seven)
newly compiled for this collection, bringing together B-sides
and mixes first released across CD and maxi-singles
contemporaneous to the album's release.
When it came time to record the Sounds Of The Universe
album, DM's classic core (Dave Gahan, Martin Gore, Andrew
Fletcher) returned to the studio to make their second album
with producer Ben Hillier, whose intuitive contributions to
their previous studio album, 2005's Playing The Angel, had
created new sonic possibilities for the band expanding
Depeche Mode's vision and repertoire while continuing their
tradition of issuing monumental 12“ singles.

the EP FACE I is an evolution from the previously released album JAHRE. it fits into the narrative of urban life and our own personal development. both chronology and emotions are explored here and adapted with lyricism and atmospheric digital and analog sound.

it starts with 1984, beginning of our emotional journey and also literary (GEORGE ORWELL) fixpoint of the electronic adaptation. we feel a kind of lightness in our society, upswing and freedom determine everyday life for a large part of germany. we are free, everything seems possible! almost we move through an utopia. new prosperity and contentment let us blossom, no digital friends and in-between worlds alienate our seemingly naive and peaceful being.

in TMV a first individual emotional world comes to the fore, the mood is mixed and seems fragile. euphoria and melancholy mix to an undefined state of emotional and musical confusion. LYRIK gets a first big space here and carries from the part of confusion into a part of detachment. despite the ambivalence of the first moment, the scene ends in a transcendental, positively driving state of letting go and rest ...

the next part takes us away from the familiar and seemingly peaceful MOMENTS. we jump into the year 2184! 200 years later we are sitting here now, society has turned into an emotional desert like in ORWELLS fiction. a lonely CYBORG sits in the ruins of our once joyful cathedrals and sings about his tearing apart. he can't be without, but also can't be with his own anymore. like a cursed of two worlds he sits stranded in space and time.

the conclusion is made by TMVA, here we get into a very intimate emotional farewell to a lost and unfulfilled love. the calm tempo lets everything flow out that has confused and driven us for years. who or what do we want to become emotionally? are we even capable of letting ourselves fall after decades of searching and disruption? are we already dying? in the end only art and the love of it remains to save us.

ALL LOVE
AMAS_DHE / AMAS_PHI

Everything is vibrations.

The infinitely deep chaos of things rests on the tiny and fragile chemical balance of the depths.

Eliaz traps us in his raw and introspective groove with complex and saturated signals that call for bodies motions. He gives us a key to read and decript the Mercury Frequencies.

The debut full length album from Gloved Hands, entitled Empty Terminal, finds the musician straying from the dance floor in search of something amorphous and less tangible. Ambient in nature, the eight tracks that comprise the LP have a deep focus on texture, space, and human feelings rather than a need for constant propulsion and momentum.

The A-side, the more rhythmic and percussive of the two, is awash with vague echos and smudged, slow-moving chords. Subaqueous drums shift in and out of focus. Sound sources are at once distant and intimately close. The curtains part to reveal a glimpse of a crystalline melody or a fraction of a vocal phrase only for the room to fill with fragrant smoke and go dark. It is a place beyond the dance floor. Perhaps it's a place without any floor at all.

The B-side is even more fragile and diaphanous. The foreground and background are obscured, leaving a hazy mesh of delicate, interwoven forms and rhythms; glistening and brushing against one another in the warm, dimly-lit space in between. With a swirling mix of cavernous bass and sweet-but-never-saccharine melody, the details are stretched and abstracted into something new yet familiar. The compositions ripple in midair, appearing and vanishing, close but just out of reach.



b A2 The Hungry Army Arrived As the Beans Ripened Master

Collecing orders for repress

Dawns Early Shadows By Berlin's Ubahn Platforms, Desperately Running From His Own Shadow Into The Arms Of A Lover Not Found. Eva Is A Warm Soul From The Past Trapped In A Ice Cold City Reliving A Modern Neues Sehen. We Are Proud To Present His Fragile Story & Namesake Ep / Single Title 'einsam' Which, In Our Opinion, Is A Romantic-wave Masterpiece. Flip To The B Side, The Beginning Of Eva's Loveless Story Actually Starts Here With 'the Gitter' Gearing To Machine Funk Territory And A Naive Outlook On What Could Be In-store For Him. Finally P808 Takes Us Into The (sub) Consciousness Of His Mind, Just As The 808 In The Name Suggest, Toms Pulsate Like His Brain Scanning Neurons Over And Over, Searching For The Answer, 'who Will ...who Will Love Me'

Celebrating a Decade of Dark Entries with a compilation titled ‘Tens Across The Board’. We revisit our roster and chose 10 songs from 10 bands from 10 different countries spanning the years 1981-1993. The songs flow in chronological order and have never appeared on vinyl, with 7 of the songs previously unreleased.

The compilation begins in 1981 with Parade Ground from Belgium, the duo of brothers Pierre and Jean-Marc Pauly with help from Patrick Codenys and Jean-Luc of Front 242. “The Light’s Gone” was one of their earliest experiments and employs a stark minimalism with modular synthesizers, guitar reverb and tape delay. Next we venture to Granada, Spain in 1982 to meet the trio of Diseño Corbusier. Influenced by Cabaret Voltaire and Dadaism, “La Esperanza está en Antenas” was the band’s take on melancholic pop fueled by a robotic DR-55 bass-line. Sailing the Mediterranean Sea to Athens to meet Greek electronic goddess Lena Platonos who shares a demo from 1983. “Μια Γάτα Σασ Περιμένει Στη Γωνία” translates to “A Cat Is Waiting On The Corner” and is possibly the witchiest sounds we’ve shared yet, ending with a blood curdling scream. Frozen in 1983 we cross Ionian Sea to Messina, Italy and visit Victrola, the duo of Antonino “Eze” Cuscinà and Carlo Smeriglio. They’ve unearthed a melodic instrumental version of “Luca” fueled by a Korg Polysix and TB-303. Traveling across the Adriatic to Slovenia circa 1984, where Borghesia are working on their album ‘Ljubav Je Hladnija Od Smrti’. “Magla” translates to “Fog” fitting for the thick, somber electronics of Aldo Ivancic providing a dense atmosphere for the baritone vocals of Dario Seraval.

On Side B we go down under to Sydney and excavate a hidden Tom Ellard song recorded in 1984 under the alias Lord Metal, an anagram of his name for copyright reasons. “Ga Duum Blitzfonika” is a slow-motion, unadulterated dance groove originally released on the cassette compilation "Independent World”. Skipping ahead to 1986 in Tours, France we salute X-Ray Pop the minimum new wave duo of Didier "Doc" Pilot and Zouka Dzaza. They contribute the hypnotically fragile “Corto Maltese” that originally appeared on the cassette compilation ‘Plop’. Crossing the German boarder we arrive in Dortmund at the apartment of Andreas Sippel of Second Decay who recorded the instrumental demo “Lübeckerstrasse” in 1988 with partner Christian Purwien. Utilizing an TR-808, SH-101 and Arp Odyssey this cold slice of futurism was named after the street Andreas lived on. Traveling westward to England, specifically Basildon, Essex to the teenage bedroom of From Nursery To Misery, the trio of identical twin sister vocalists Gina and Tina Fear and keyboard player Lee Stevens. “Contentment” is an introspective, ethereal pop song with child-like vocals that originally appeared on the Belgian tape compilation ‘Heartbeat Vol.4’ in 1989. Finally, we return home to San Francisco and close out the compilation with Cyrnai the moniker of multi-instrumentalist Carolyn Fok. “Digital Grit Box (Demo)” was an outtake from the ‘Transfiguration’ album sessions recorded in 1993, utilizing dark dance drum beats made with MIDI sequencer programs Studio Vision and Sample Cell.

All songs have been remastered by George Horn at Fantasy Studios. The vinyl is housed in a custom designed jacket by Eloise Leigh featuring our label’s colors black-white-red with connect-the-dots pattern linking the 10 songs via maps/timeline/location, all relating to the reissue process, plus source images from San Francisco, our hometown. For this landmark release we've also printed a 2-sided fold-out wall poster that includes every artist we've released in our first 10 years 2009-2019 in black, red and silver metallic ink, plus an 8x11 insert with lyrics, notes and photos.

Originally released on Ezekiel Honig's Anticipate label in 2007, Standing on a Hummingbird is the debut album by Canadian sound artist Mark Templeton, now appearing for the first time on vinyl, newly remastered by Giuseppe Ielasi and cut by LUPO. Working at the intersection of post-glitch, electroacoustic ambient, and textural minimalism, Templeton composes through restraint and erosion, building patient and richly tactile pieces primarily from acoustic sources - fingerpicked guitar, plaintive banjo, muted accordion tones - subjected to careful processes of granulation, filtering, and environmental masking. These gestures never overwhelm the source material; instead, they wonderfully destabilize it. Melodies appear briefly, only to dissolve into dense atmospheres of field recordings: distant streets, birds, water, air. Sounds hover, vibrate, and vanish, much like the wing beating latent in the album’s title.

Tracks such as “Pattern For a Pillow” and “Amidst Things Uncontrolled” articulate this approach with particular clarity, setting languid acoustic figures against churning granular backdrops that feel at once sheltering and unstable. Elsewhere, moments of fragile clarity - fluttering guitar lines, reedy accordion tones - briefly break the surface before being absorbed back into the field.

Heard today, the record offers a clarion, almost spartan strain of textural ambient music: intricate yet unforced, shaped by human touch rather than automated excess. Its refusal of spectacle feels especially vital in a landscape saturated with maximalist digitalia - a reminder that electronic music’s most enduring gestures often occur where sound is allowed to tremble and hold itself just long enough to be felt before disappearing once again. (Alex Cobb, 2026)

øjeRum is the moniker of Danish artist Paw Grabowski. Since 2007, his mostly tape-based works have unfolded like private diaries—intimate, textural, often centered around an vintage pump organ Paw found left abandoned in a dilapidated Danish home, and to which he would return, sometimes in the dead of winter, to play and record on. The works featured on this release are centered around this pivotal engagement and collect some of his earliest releases from around 2014 to 2017. These were then carefully selected and released via Vaagner's sister label in 2018 via a double cassette release, which has since become a coveted collectors item.

Throughout the album, the organ breathes, sighs—the moments of brief silence that follow are almost palpable, then like a sonorous echo, the sound rushes back into the foreground with gentle restraint, submerging the listener into an undulating current of emotional upheaval. In this ebb and flow, øjeRum shapes a space where memory seems to waver and dissolve, and where a fragile, lingering melancholy unfolds with a kind of hushed inevitability.

With the newly minted Vaagner.Archive, this album is now reissued on vinyl for the first time—carefully remastered and housed in a 2xLP gatefold sleeve printed on special cardboard, its tactile presence echoing the material sensitivity that has always defined Paw Grabowski's practice. A love letter to repetition and restraint.

On Dreams ’24 / ’25, Scottish composer Bill Wells turns his nocturnal imagination into a sequence of delicate musical miniatures. The album brings together 24 short pieces, most of them under two minutes, unfolding in just under half an hour like a quietly drifting dream diary.

The album is split into two parts. On the Dreams 2024 side, Norman Blake lends his voice to Wells’ dream-born melodies. Blake, best known as a founding member of Teenage Fanclub, recorded the songs with Wells in a single afternoon at his home, capturing their fragile immediacy in direct and unadorned performances.

For Dreams 2025, Aby Vulliamy — one of Yorkshire’s best kept musical secrets — takes over vocal duties. In mid 2025, Wells sent her a batch of demos; Vulliamy recorded them at home and sent them back to him. The result is a second chapter that feels more introspective, intimate and gently surreal.

The songs themselves are born directly from dreams. Wells wakes from the dream, records it on his mobile and later shapes it into a brief, lyrical composition. One piece, Mackenzie’s Return, was inspired by a dream in which Elvis Costello marched through the streets of a suburban town complaining that he had run out of song ideas, a detail that perfectly captures the album’s blend of humour, strangeness and quiet melancholy.

Dreams ’24 / ’25 is not a collection of fully formed pop songs, but rather a series of fleeting emotional snapshots: soft voices, simple motifs, and melodies that appear and vanish before they can fully settle. It is an album that rewards close listening, inviting the listener into a private, half-lit space somewhere between memory and imagination.

The album is accompanied by a striking cover artwork by Annabel Wright.

Mit "We Will Survive This" veröffentlichen 1816 ein Album, das seine Kraft aus Verletzlichkeit, Beharrlichkeit und leiser Zuversicht schöpft. Die Band - bestehend aus der Sängerin Wenche Losnegard, dem Bassisten und Hauptkomponisten Audun Ellingsen, Cellisten Gregor Riddell und Schlagzeuger Erik Nylander - knüpft an ihr gefeiertes Debüt an und vertieft die charakteristische Verbindung aus Kammermusik, Jazz und alternativer Pop-Sensibilität. Der Name 1816 verweist auf "das Jahr ohne Sommer" - ein historisches Sinnbild für Umbruch, Erschütterung und Überleben. Vor diesem Hintergrund erforscht das Album Themen wie Unsicherheit, Entbehrung und die fragile Hoffnung in Zeiten, in denen die Welt aus den Fugen zu geraten scheint. Die Musik reflektiert diese Stimmungen, ohne sie direkt zu kommentieren: stille Passagen treffen auf dynamische Ausbrüche, offene Formen auf dichte Klangszenen. Die Texte bewegen sich zwischen persönlicher Introspektion und alltäglicher Lebensnähe; literarische Anklänge - von Byron bis Dolly Parton - verleihen ihnen zusätzliche Tiefe. Gäste erweitern den Klangraum behutsam, ohne den unverwechselbaren Stil der Band zu überlagern. "We Will Survive This" ist ein berührendes, bewusstes Album über das Annehmen von Grenzen - und den Mut, dennoch aufzustehen.

Marcos Valle is one of those artists you simply can’t overlook if you have even a passing interest in Brazilian music. Whether your taste leans toward bossa jazz, samba, psychedelic folk, or modern soul, Valle has surely recorded a great album for you.

By the late 1960s he had already released enough outstanding records to secure a place among the greatest Brazilian artists of all time, but fortunately his career didn’t stop there. He has continued recording fabulous albums over the following decades, right up to the present day.

This second album by Marcos Valle (1965) is one of the foundational works of bossa nova. In fact, the record includes one of the most widely heard and covered Brazilian songs in history: ‘Samba de Verão.’ In addition to his work as a composer—alongside his brother Paulo Sergio—Marcos Valle also begins to reveal himself here as a great singer, with a soft, almost fragile voice, while his acoustic guitar recreates the same intimacy of the nighttime atmosphere in which he composed most of the songs.

The arrangements were co-written with Eumir Deodato, with the participation of other renowned Brazilian musicians, and they surround Valle’s compositions with elegant string orchestrations, bossa rhythms, and jazzy touches of swing. Highlights include the sophisticated beauty of songs like ‘Preciso Aprender a Ser Só,’ the rhythmic 3/4 feel of tracks such as ‘Seu Encanto,’ and the powerful ‘Deus Brasileiro.’

First vinyl reissue in over 50 years!

Pete Lambrou, the visionary composer and multi-instrumentalist behind VLMV (pronounced "Alma"), is one of the most singular voices emerging from the ambient, post-rock, and experimental scenes in the UK. With a career that spans atmospheric solo work, film and television scoring, and evocative live performance, Lambrou has carved out a distinctive sonic universe he describes as "ambient-ish post-something" (Pete Lambrou) a playful yet accurate summation of a sound that is at once genre-fluid and deeply immersive. The album takes its title from Sara Teasdale's 1918 poem and Ray Bradbury's later short story, both of which imagine a world continuing quietly after humanity's disappearance. This idea became the gravitational centre around which the record formed. Written during a period of deep engagement with climate fiction and ecological thought, `There Will Come Soft Rains` reflects on humanity's legacy, its technological ambition, and its uneasy relationship with the natural world. A century on from Teasdale's poem, the balance of power feels less certain, and Lambrou's music inhabits that tension with remarkable subtlety. "The initial ideas stem mostly from chaos, randomness or sound exploration and then get shaped as I go. Typically, and certainly for this album. It's evolved since album 1, which was more song / chord based. It's a fun process of finding the sound and then working out whether it's speaking to me - or merely just a cool noise. That's fun, but it sometimes can't evolve or progress, so then begins the long journey of shaping it into some sort of song format - which doesn't have to be a-typica,l but whatever feels right to me. The subject matter and overall theme is important too - it's got to all make sense within itself. There's no point having a slowly creeping theme and then rush the music." (Pete Lambrou) VLMV embody an emotional honesty that works with patience and nuance. Whether you're encountering his music for the first time or returning to its quiet depths, VLMV offers an aural space that resonates long after the final note fades. Lambrou's singular sonic language sits at the intersection of ambient, post-rock, modern classical, and experimental electronic music, while remaining unmistakably human at its core. "Instrumentally it's far more synth based - as soon as I had the concept, I wanted to make sure technology clash and marry with traditional instruments (at different times) in a sort of slow-moving dance I suppose. One is nature, one is human development and technology. Sometimes working together and sometimes in opposition. On my previous albums I'd say that at least half of the tracks started life as songs, whereas with `There Will Come Soft Rains` I think the majority (if not all) started as experiments in sound." (Pete Lambrou) Sonically, the album is VLMV at its most cinematic and textural. Warm, intimate piano figures and elegiac string arrangements are set against unstable modular synthesis, fractured rhythms, and evolving sound design. The organic and the artificial are locked in a slow, shifting dialogue, mirroring the album's central themes. At times the music feels tender and nostalgic, at others unpredictable and mournful, yet it never tips into despair. Instead, a quiet resilience runs throughout the record. "The album is slightly unusual in that it was mixed in Dolby Atmos before being mixed down to stereo. Most, if not all, do it the other way round. That's because I got to work with a superb mix engineer who just happens to live opposite. It was extremely random and lucky, moving to a tiny hamlet in the South of England and there being a Dolby Atmos studio opposite with a genius of an engineer. We had in mind that we would do it this way round and enjoy the mix process and give everything its own space - it still had issues when folding down to stereo, but overall a more pleasurable mix!" (Pete Lambrou) There Will Come Soft Rains has a geological sense of time: themes creep, expand, erode, and reform, resisting conventional structures in favour of something more patient and immersive. Each sound exists because it needs to; they move, recede, and emerge with a three-dimensional clarity that enhances the music's cinematic quality, giving each element room to breathe while maintaining an enveloping sense of cohesion. Lambrou's unique voice is Intimate and fragile, his vocals hover above the instrumentation, a guiding thread through the expansive soundscapes, drawing listeners closer into the emotional core of each piece. "Long time vocal collaborator Anja Madhvani did lots of harmonies on the album - I wanted to include her voice as much as possible on this album. In terms of string players - 3/4 have been long term collaborators with me. Marie Schreer actually recorded all strings on my first album ALMA, and Fraser & Clodagh have worked on every album (and occasional live shows) since Stranded Not Lost. In terms of art - Joel Cammarata designed the cover, and accompanying art - he designed Sing With Abandon and I absolutely adore his work, but also - he's so great at understanding and developing and capturing the concept." (Pete Lambrou) Layered harmonies drift through the music like distant signals or half-remembered voices. Madhvani's presence adds a human fragility to the album's vast soundscapes, reinforcing the sense of memory and longing that runs beneath the surface. The strings, performed by a close circle of trusted collaborators, further ground the record in warmth and physicality, acting as a counterweight to the synthetic elements that threaten to unravel it. "Despite the heavy subject matter, I wanted to create an album that imparts hope and optimism, marrying traditional instrumentation as nostalgia, with technological innovation through the randomness of modular synths." (Pete Lambrou) The partnership with Pelagic Records feels both organic and significant. Known for championing artists who value emotional weight, sonic ambition, and artistic integrity, the label provides a natural home for VLMV's work. Lambrou's music shares Pelagic's ethos: immersive, patient, and unafraid of scale whether intimate or vast. With There Will Come Soft Rains, Pete Lambrou has crafted a work that feels timely without being didactic, expansive without being overwhelming. It stands as a quiet, but powerful statement that lingers long after the final notes fade. FOR FANS OF Sigur Ros * Olafur Arnalds * Radiohead * Keaton Henson * This Will Destroy You

Pete Lambrou, the visionary composer and multi-instrumentalist behind VLMV (pronounced "Alma"), is one of the most singular voices emerging from the ambient, post-rock, and experimental scenes in the UK. With a career that spans atmospheric solo work, film and television scoring, and evocative live performance, Lambrou has carved out a distinctive sonic universe he describes as "ambient-ish post-something" (Pete Lambrou) a playful yet accurate summation of a sound that is at once genre-fluid and deeply immersive. The album takes its title from Sara Teasdale's 1918 poem and Ray Bradbury's later short story, both of which imagine a world continuing quietly after humanity's disappearance. This idea became the gravitational centre around which the record formed. Written during a period of deep engagement with climate fiction and ecological thought, `There Will Come Soft Rains` reflects on humanity's legacy, its technological ambition, and its uneasy relationship with the natural world. A century on from Teasdale's poem, the balance of power feels less certain, and Lambrou's music inhabits that tension with remarkable subtlety. "The initial ideas stem mostly from chaos, randomness or sound exploration and then get shaped as I go. Typically, and certainly for this album. It's evolved since album 1, which was more song / chord based. It's a fun process of finding the sound and then working out whether it's speaking to me - or merely just a cool noise. That's fun, but it sometimes can't evolve or progress, so then begins the long journey of shaping it into some sort of song format - which doesn't have to be a-typica,l but whatever feels right to me. The subject matter and overall theme is important too - it's got to all make sense within itself. There's no point having a slowly creeping theme and then rush the music." (Pete Lambrou) VLMV embody an emotional honesty that works with patience and nuance. Whether you're encountering his music for the first time or returning to its quiet depths, VLMV offers an aural space that resonates long after the final note fades. Lambrou's singular sonic language sits at the intersection of ambient, post-rock, modern classical, and experimental electronic music, while remaining unmistakably human at its core. "Instrumentally it's far more synth based - as soon as I had the concept, I wanted to make sure technology clash and marry with traditional instruments (at different times) in a sort of slow-moving dance I suppose. One is nature, one is human development and technology. Sometimes working together and sometimes in opposition. On my previous albums I'd say that at least half of the tracks started life as songs, whereas with `There Will Come Soft Rains` I think the majority (if not all) started as experiments in sound." (Pete Lambrou) Sonically, the album is VLMV at its most cinematic and textural. Warm, intimate piano figures and elegiac string arrangements are set against unstable modular synthesis, fractured rhythms, and evolving sound design. The organic and the artificial are locked in a slow, shifting dialogue, mirroring the album's central themes. At times the music feels tender and nostalgic, at others unpredictable and mournful, yet it never tips into despair. Instead, a quiet resilience runs throughout the record. "The album is slightly unusual in that it was mixed in Dolby Atmos before being mixed down to stereo. Most, if not all, do it the other way round. That's because I got to work with a superb mix engineer who just happens to live opposite. It was extremely random and lucky, moving to a tiny hamlet in the South of England and there being a Dolby Atmos studio opposite with a genius of an engineer. We had in mind that we would do it this way round and enjoy the mix process and give everything its own space - it still had issues when folding down to stereo, but overall a more pleasurable mix!" (Pete Lambrou) There Will Come Soft Rains has a geological sense of time: themes creep, expand, erode, and reform, resisting conventional structures in favour of something more patient and immersive. Each sound exists because it needs to; they move, recede, and emerge with a three-dimensional clarity that enhances the music's cinematic quality, giving each element room to breathe while maintaining an enveloping sense of cohesion. Lambrou's unique voice is Intimate and fragile, his vocals hover above the instrumentation, a guiding thread through the expansive soundscapes, drawing listeners closer into the emotional core of each piece. "Long time vocal collaborator Anja Madhvani did lots of harmonies on the album - I wanted to include her voice as much as possible on this album. In terms of string players - 3/4 have been long term collaborators with me. Marie Schreer actually recorded all strings on my first album ALMA, and Fraser & Clodagh have worked on every album (and occasional live shows) since Stranded Not Lost. In terms of art - Joel Cammarata designed the cover, and accompanying art - he designed Sing With Abandon and I absolutely adore his work, but also - he's so great at understanding and developing and capturing the concept." (Pete Lambrou) Layered harmonies drift through the music like distant signals or half-remembered voices. Madhvani's presence adds a human fragility to the album's vast soundscapes, reinforcing the sense of memory and longing that runs beneath the surface. The strings, performed by a close circle of trusted collaborators, further ground the record in warmth and physicality, acting as a counterweight to the synthetic elements that threaten to unravel it. "Despite the heavy subject matter, I wanted to create an album that imparts hope and optimism, marrying traditional instrumentation as nostalgia, with technological innovation through the randomness of modular synths." (Pete Lambrou) The partnership with Pelagic Records feels both organic and significant. Known for championing artists who value emotional weight, sonic ambition, and artistic integrity, the label provides a natural home for VLMV's work. Lambrou's music shares Pelagic's ethos: immersive, patient, and unafraid of scale whether intimate or vast. With There Will Come Soft Rains, Pete Lambrou has crafted a work that feels timely without being didactic, expansive without being overwhelming. It stands as a quiet, but powerful statement that lingers long after the final notes fade. FOR FANS OF Sigur Ros * Olafur Arnalds * Radiohead * Keaton Henson * This Will Destroy You

**LIMITED 500 UK COPIES ON BLACK VINYL** VINYL ONLY RELEASE for RSD: Rival Consoles, UK producer Ryan Lee West, shares his original score for MindsEye, the highly anticipated narrative-driven game from Build A Rocket Boy, the studio led by visionary game director Leslie Benzies. The industrial techno score doesn’t just accompany the game, it’s embedded in the code of the world they have created together. The full score sees its debut on vinyl for the first time as a limited-edition Record Store Day 2026 release.

Set in Redrock, a sprawling desert metropolis ruled by surveillance and automation, MindsEye follows Jacob Diaz, an ex-soldier haunted by fractured memories. As his personal mission escalates, he’s forced to navigate a world shaped by rogue AI, militarized tech, and a fragile grip on control, all while confronting the truth about his past. "In MindsEye, sound is a critical storytelling layer, from ambient detail to emotional drive, every element is designed to shape how players feel inside the world," said Craig Conner, audio director at Build A Rocket Boy. "Rival Consoles’ tracks brought something truly special to that vision. Ryan’s music adds a distinct emotional charge and texture that elevates key moments. It doesn’t just accompany the game, it sharpens its edge, deepens its atmosphere, and perfectly complements the world we’ve built." The score was produced over the span of three years in his London studio, and contains some of West’s most ambitious and heaviest compositions to date.

To coincide with today’s release of the game, the 10-track score is now available to stream in its entirety. MindsEye follows West’s previous scoring work, including bespoke music for 2019’s Black Mirror episode Striking Vipers, featuring ‘I Love This, I Love You’, 2022’s Netflix feature doc El Caso Figo about the legendary football player Luís Figo, and Alexander Whitley’s contemporary dance production Overflow, which was released as a studio album with the same name in 2021. The most recent Rival Consoles album, Landscape from Memory, was released in July 2025 to critical and fan acclaim. A world tour continues into mid-2026.

A hushed and intimate reimagining of a landmark indie classic, Grandaddy’s The Sophtware Slump… On a Wooden Piano—originally released in 2011—returns in a limited Eco-Mix “Tangelo” vinyl pressing. On this version, Jason Lytle transforms the album’s lush, synth-driven arrangements into stark piano meditations, highlighting the fragile humanity at the core of the songs.

Laurel Halo returns with an album of original soundtrack music, composed for the film Midnight Zone by visual artist Julian Charrière. Following the path of a drifting Fresnel lighthouse lens as it descends through the Clarion-Clipperton Fracture Zone — a remote abyssal plain in the Pacific Ocean, rich in rare metals and increasingly targeted for deep-sea mining — the film traces a descent into one of Earth’s last untouched ecosystems.


Charrière’s film reveals the deep not as void, but as a luminous biome teeming with fragile life: bioluminescent creatures, swirling schools of fish, and elusive predators. The suspended lens becomes an abyssal campfire, attracting species caught in the tides of uncertainty, their futures hanging in the balance.


Echoing this tension, Halo’s compositions evoke a sensory freefall, where gravity falters and light and sound flicker in uncertain rhythms. Midnight Zone is a sonic drift through the space between what we seek to extract, fail to understand, and must protect.


Halo’s score evokes the life that exists beyond our physical airbound capacity. The material features long, subtle passages of electro-acoustic ambient, drone and sound design, slowly flowing and unfolding with rich detail. The music, composed largely on a Montage 8 synthesizer and Yamaha TransAcoustic piano at the Yamaha studios in New York City, possesses an uncanny quality: that of synthetic waveforms being amplified and sung through the stringboard of the physical body of the TransAcoustic piano. Combined with stacks of violin and viol da gamba, the music on Midnight Zone possesses trace elements of a human hand in an otherwise sunken landscape. Patient, submerged, and alive. The album will be the third on Halo’s imprint, Awe.


The film is central to Charrière’s current solo exhibition Midnight Zone. The exhibition engages with underwater ecologies, exploring the complexity of water as an elemental medium affected by anthropogenic degradation. Reflecting upon its flow and materiality, profundity and politics, its mundane and sacral dimensions, the solo show acts as a kaleidoscope, inviting us to dive deep.

Somewhere close to Manchester’s ever changing city centre, as the sun fades and peeks through the newest glass facade, you’ll find Shaking Hand. One part in shadow, the other basking in prisms of light as they sketch out their own sonic landscapes in the dusty redbrick mill they call home. One that is just about clinging on from the encroaching developments that surround them.

Against this back-drop where buildings are constantly torn down & built back again, the three piece craft away. Pulling from early post-rock, and 90s US alternative rock, crafting their own brand of Northwest-emo. Assembling something new, yet nostalgic. Looking ahead towards the transforming horizon. Shaking Hand’s music is built on tension and release – quiets that stretch, louds that overwhelm. Repetition that feels both hypnotic and destabilising.

The band’s musical DNA runs through experimental guitar outfits like Women, Slint, Sonic Youth, Pavement, and Ulrika Spacek, balanced with the melodic sensibility of Big Thief and the dynamic intimacy of Yo La Tengo. Their compositions push against structure: sudden jolts of tempo, polyrhythms that almost fall apart, and riffs that unravel into something fragile or ecstatic. Yet, as Ellis notes, there’s an underlying warmth too: “Like walking through an empty city late at night but catching flickers of life in the buildings you pass.”

Early ideas like ‘Night Owl’ and ‘Sundance’ grew out of George’s lockdown “bedroom years,” where new tunings (open E, drop D, and stranger Pavement-inspired set-ups) opened up uncharted textures. Later, in grim rehearsal rooms, the murky epic ‘Cable Ties’ and the hypnotic ‘Mantras’ absorbed the gloom and grit of the band’s surroundings.

The album was recorded with producer David Pye (Wild Beasts, Teenage Fanclub) at Nave Studios in Leeds, housed in a converted church. “The live room was huge and perfect for capturing our sound,” says George. Determined to bottle their onstage energy, the band tracked the foundations live, layering vocals and guitars later. Soviet-era microphones, odd mic placements, and even phone-recorded demos fed into the mix. “You’ve got to watch out for David though,” Freddie laughs. “He made me play four tambourines in one hand, really hurt, man.”

Lyrically, the record drifts between abstraction and lived moments. George’s words often spill out instinctively, words falling into place before their meaning becomes clear. “A lot of the lyrics look like they’re buried in abstraction,” he says, “but when I look back I can see what they were about — whether that’s an emotional response at the time or just an observation of what was happening around me”. There’s contrast at the heart of it all – optimism vs. doubt, the lightness of youth vs. the monotony of work, a city in constant redevelopment vs. the people drifting through it.

The album artwork is taken from unused plans for the 1970s redevelopment of Los Angeles by architect Ray Kappe, entitled ‘People Movers’. Hypothetical buildings for real people, it feels a complement to the band’s own constructions. One thing’s for sure, Shaking Hand’s debut is built to last.

Cranes is a dream pop/shoegaze band formed by siblings Alison and Jim Shaw, who rose to stardom following a world tour with the Cure in 1992. After the influential Dedicated label folded in 1998 they went on a two-year hiatus after which they set up their own label Dadaphonic. On Dadaphonic, they released three studio albums between 2001 and 2008, of which Future Songs is their first.

Between 1986 and 1997 Cranes released a steady stream of records on Bite Back! and of course Dedicated, and when the latter folded, the Shaw siblings took a relatively long break from recording. Then, in 2001 they returned with a different bassist and drummer, their new Dadaphonic label and a fantastic new record to go along with it. A breathe of fresh air,

Future Songs acts as a bridge between their somewhat brusque approach to shoegaze from the 90s and electronica-infused sound from the zeroes. A remarkable effort, especially considering the Shaws recorded almost everything on their own.

Future Songs is available as a 25th anniversary edition of 1000 individually numbered copies on yellow marble vinyl, and includes an insert.

Isle Of Men is the band led by guitarist Dirk Fryns, featuring Gunther Verspecht (Stash) and all-round keyboard maestro Tom Van der Schueren, Herman Temmerman (bass and production), Niels Delvaux (drums) and Sara De Smedt (backing vocals). They made an impressive debut in 2015 with the album ‘Voluntary Blindness’.

Here is what the press had to say at the time:
De Morgen ****: “Subtle night music that inhabits the same world as David Sylvian, The Blue Nile, Ray Lamontagne… an excellent debut.
Focus: *** “A fine Belgian debut with an album that willingly lets itself be enveloped by the quiet twilight of the night.
Het Nieuwsblad/GVA ***: “Refined, intimate songs carried by the deep voice of Gunter Verspecht”.
RifRaf: “An impressive nocturnal record for fans of, say, Talk Talk, Tindersticks, Nick Cave or Nick Drake. Welcome to the fragile world of Homo Melancholicus”.
Now, at last, there is an equally atmospheric and impressive follow-up with the album “The Soul Of Kindness”.

Sem is the first album by Victor Negri under his own name, after a decade making music as Arubu Avua. Released via Stray Signals (Berlin) in partnership with Mutum (Portugal/Brazil), the album was composed between late 2023 and early 2025 during a prolonged period of compounded grief and relocation, and is built upon layers of guitar in irregular loops, alongside samples, experimental electronics, and field recordings.

Begun in Lisbon and finished in Campinas, Brazil, Sem (meaning “without”) deals with loss by juxtaposing new material with unfinished recordings from previous years. As the process unfolded, catharsis emerged as much through editing as through raw expression. The album became a symbolic attempt to glue together fragments and memories from a world that ceased to exist, in order to move forward.

Across its eight tracks, some pieces gradually unfold while others crumble or explode into distortion and feedback, while some seem almost suspended, as if unsure of the next steps. There is a loose trajectory from disorientation and collapse (“Voçoroca”) through astonished frustration (“Não”) and numb acceptance (“Obrigado”), toward a fragile optimism on the closing tracks “Os cacos” and “Boa continuação.” Negri’s first fully instrumental album, Sem contains no vocals at all. That absence emerged gradually after fruitless attempts at songwriting during the period; overwhelm and speechlessness ultimately prevailed. The result leaves room for ambiguity, wandering, and the unfamiliar.

Victor Negri is a Brazilian musician and songwriter. Previously known as Arubu Avua, he makes music framed by noise, feedback, irregular loops, and field recordings.

Frizzell & Duque's A Sorrow Unrequited moves with suspended patience, each LP piece built from simple melodic figures, each of which eventually thicken out to quiet overwhelm. Working outside their Zake/City of Dawn aliases, the pair realise a more diaristic exposure here, drawing their inspiration and track titles from Julia Frizzell's poems of the same name. 'We Once Believed We Owned The Sky' tone-sets the vibe with long, tidal swells of strings and synth, dissonances sparing but weighted, while 'Closer, Always Closer' moves in similarly tidal cycles, with momentary swellings and torn cellos fissuring through the overall sadness.

2026 Repress

On Left At Sunset, Tornado Wallace taps into those fragile, glowing moments after a long night in the club, when the lights come up just enough, the bass softens, and the first hint of morning slips through the windows. Time feels suspended.
The lead track Asahi Ga Yondeiru (“the morning sun is calling”) captures that feeling perfectly. Built around Courtney Bailey’s gentle vocal, it drifts somewhere between late-night house and early morning reflection. It is not about the peak. It is about what comes after it. That quiet euphoria when you realize the night gave you something you will carry back into the real world. The rest of the EP stays in that same emotional zone: warm, slightly melancholic, but full of light. These are tracks for the very last dance, when the floor is half-empty, hearts are wide open, and every sound feels a little more meaningful. Not an ending, really. Just the beginning of whatever comes next.

Michael Forzza unveils Obscure, a two-track EP navigating the darker edges of atmospheric techno with precision and intent.

A) Obscure is a peak-time weapon built on powerful percussive drive and a commanding groove. The rhythm pushes forward with controlled intensity, locking the dancefloor into motion. As the track evolves, the rhythmic pressure gradually recedes, allowing a shadowed melodic atmosphere to emerge in the final moments, adding depth and contrast without losing its dark identity.

B) Torture ventures into a more industrial realm. Dense textures, mechanical tension and hypnotic repetition shape its core, creating a sustained rhythmic strain. Then, when the pulse finally withdraws, the structure opens into a striking melodic finale, transforming the track into a suspended, almost cinematic closing atmosphere.

With OBSCURE, Michael Forzza explores the fragile line between impact and introspection, pressure and release. A release crafted for intense peak-time moments and the shadows that follow.


Français

Michael Forzza dévoile Obscure, un EP deux titres qui explore les territoires les plus sombres de la techno atmosphérique avec précision et intensité.

A) Obscure est un véritable track peak time, porté par une puissance percussive affirmée et un groove implacable. La tension rythmique s’installe et maintient le dancefloor sous pression, avant de s’effacer progressivement en fin de morceau pour laisser émerger une atmosphère sombre et mélodique, apportant profondeur et contraste.

B) Torture s’aventure dans une dimension plus industrielle. Textures denses, tension mécanique et répétition hypnotique construisent une montée intense. Puis, lorsque la pression rythmique disparaît, le titre bascule vers une finale mélodique surprenante, transformant l’énergie brute en une atmosphère finale plus immersive.

Avec OBSCURE, Michael Forzza joue sur l’équilibre entre impact et relâchement, puissance et émotion. Un EP taillé pour les heures sombres et les dancefloors exigeants.

The open skies of Ochre's new album, Oversail, replace the dense canopies of his last, Understory back in 2020. This time, UK-born, Netherlands-based talent Christopher Leary trades rhythmic intricacy for something more exposed and reflective on a record that unfolds in measured steps, with each passage revealing fragile melodies set against sparse, shifting frameworks. There's a tactile quality to the sound design, hardware elements clicking and sighing like ageing machinery still in motion. Tracks feel suspended and the focus is on slow revelation across the quietly affecting 'Casadastra', airy beauty of 'Meristem' and hopeful synth sequencing of 'Canthropa.'

2026 Repress

Gaudi’s Jazz Gone Dub is a masterclass in genre fusion, seamlessly blending the improvisational essence of jazz with the heavy atmospheric grooves of dub. Known for his eclectic approach to music production, Gaudi pushes the boundaries yet again, creating a sonic landscape that feels both nostalgic and refreshingly innovative.

Four years in the making, from the opening track it’s clear that Jazz Gone Dub is more than just a mashup of styles—it's a thoughtful exploration of the intersections between two rich musical traditions.

Gaudi’s multi-instrumental talents are on full display, and the presence of reggae royalty is palpable, courtesy of rootsy melodies from David Hinds (Steel Pulse), Jah Wobble’s iconic bass grooves, Ernest Ranglin’s intricate guitar lines and Sly & Robbie’s rhythmic genius. Add Sardinia’s Train to Roots band, Manu Chao collaborator Roy Paci, veteran guitarist Marcus Upbeat, Mr Woodnote and Tim Hutton’s brass work, Gavin Tate-Lovery’s sultry sax and flute, Horseman’s percussive flair plus Colin Edwin and Vlastur’s serious basslines, and the
result is a rhythmic foundation that’s both solid and fluid, allowing the jazz elements to float freely above the dub undercurrents.

Despite this star-studded line-up, Gaudi remains the glue that holds this gem together: his production is meticulous yet organic, allowing each track to breathe and evolve naturally. The use of space, delays and reverb—a hallmark of dub music—is expertly handled, giving the album a dreamy, immersive quality. Tracks like Susceptible and Alabaster Moon showcase Gaudi’s ability to create mood and atmosphere without sacrificing melodic and rhythmic complexity.

In Jazz Gone Dub Gaudi has crafted an album that feels both timeless and forward-thinking, a celebration of musical synergy where the free-spirit of jazz meets the deep resonance of dub. Whether you’re a fan of either genre or simply appreciate masterful musicianship and innovative production, this album is a must-listen.

Malta’s Human Safari returns to R&S Records, building on the momentum of his 2023 debut ‘Sax Paradiso’, with another EP of fast, physical club music on ‘Children Of The Sea’.

Propulsive opener ‘Children Of The Sea’, balances tensile strings and frenzied percussion fused around a high-tempo techno framework. ‘Jazz Affair’ follows suit but shifts the mood inward, pairing feverish, hypnotic drum programming with expressive instrumentation - layering drifting piano chords, fragile pads and a winding bassline that lends the track a kinetic pull.

‘Turbulence At The Orchestra’ draws from the raw spirit of ’90s warehouse techno, weaving in the sounds of sensationalist news reports on illegal raves of the time and overall diving into darker territory, led by a foreboding, spiralling 303 line and punctuated with dramatic horn flares.. Closing track ‘Lido’ locks into another deep, rolling groove, with pulsing low-end, reverberant horns and skittering, Latin and jazz-tinged rhythmic details threading through the mix.

‘Children Of The Sea’ by Human Safari is available on R&S Records from 13th March 2026.

"Hayalet Kırıkları" unfolds like a diary of fragmented memories, where voices, textures and distant echoes blur into something both intimate and unsettling.
Hilal Can’s luminous presence meets Tzii’s raw sonic landscapes, creating a music that feels suspended—between memory and invention, absence and desire.
With the spectral violin of Ruben Tenenbaum, the record shimmers like a fragile world on the verge of dissolving.

Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.

in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.

Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.

Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”

Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.

in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.

Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.

Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”

A cocktail of rebellious queer vocal fragments, deceptive percussive granules and swaying hammered vibrations, upsammy and Valentina Magaletti's first collaboration trembles with suspense. The seeds of 'Seismo' were sown following a commission from Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum to soundtrack an exhibition of work from the Museum Boijmans van Beuningen in Rotterdam and the duo didn't want to approach their collaboration flippantly. So, wandering the museum's maze of rooms, they recorded various improvised percussive sounds with their arsenal of microphones, using the space to inform various rhythms and textures that were sculpted later into electroacoustic vignettes. This was just the starting point, though; as Magaletti and upsammy began performing together, the project evolved and 'Seismo' began to take shape. The duo had struck on a salient aesthetic concept, using mostly digital and acoustic mallet instruments to blur the boundary between their roles and create friction between the synthetic and the authentic. And the finished record is a phantasmagoric push-and-pull between its various conflicting elements: harmony and dissonance, randomness and predictability, openness and constraint. 'Seismo' isn't the first time that upsammy has studied her environment in search of revelation. On her acclaimed second album, 2024's 'Germ in a Population of Buildings', the Amsterdam-based DJ, producer and multidisciplinary artist erected her complex, unorthodox rhythms and eerie melodies around a modernist frame of field recordings collected in various cityscapes, countering heavyweight basslines with subtle, microscopic sounds. London-based Italian vanguard Magaletti, meanwhile, has applied her unique logic to innumerable projects at this point, working with everyone from batida icon Nídia and hardcore-dub outfit Moin to French writer Fanny Chiarello and British bass scientist Shackleton. For years she's approached the drums with criticism, attempting to challenge any preconceptions, something that's most visible on 2020's 'A Queer Anthology of Drums'. And both artists' thoughtful perspectives are welded together seamlessly on 'Seismo', a dizzying suite of eight eccentric statements that's fragile but never insecure, gauzy but not indistinct. An unnerving sense of space characterizes 'It Comes to an End' as Magaletti's in situ improvisations herald for upsammy's microscopic glitches and chiming pitch-bent melodies. It's almost unbalancing to witness the track's impossible dimensionality, the interplay between reverberant marimba hits and bone-dry synths, or percussion that's been recorded and processed in consciously different settings. A new architecture emerges in the sound itself that the two artists scan and explore meticulously, testing its boundaries with undulating hybridized rhythms on the invigorating 'Superimposed' and offsetting the powdery drums with liquified smacks and alien voices. The duo's vibrations are knotted with piano flourishes on 'Hyperlocalize', balanced with artificial clanks and clangs that disappear into the track's sonorous atmosphere, replaced by whispers and half-hallucinated insectoid chirps. 'Seismo' is an album that feeds off the energy generated by its juxtapositions: the tension and anticipation that's melted by rapid, hyperactive movement and the finely drawn rhythms disrupted by a layer of indistinct, barely perceptible microsounds. It's a collaboration that sounds like two minds challenging each other but not wrestling, each peering from their own distinct vantage point and imagining a third landscape shaped by optimistic, queer vibrations.

As Selofan's fifth studio album, Vitrioli, from 2018, is a testament to the tragedy of life. The Greek duo, Joanna Pavlidou and Dimitris Pavlidis, who recorded the album in the Fabrika Records home studio, continue on in their poetic, but heartbreaking, music set to a dance beat. Between languages (Greek, English, German, and Spanish), Selofan feels on the brink of mania with Vitroli. However, the madness is controlled, the songs are restrained hysterics that culminate into the alchemic perfection of the band's specific moody sound.
From synthpop to synthpunk elements, the twelve-track LP leads listeners through dark corridors and into haunted, empty beds. There is a resignation to a doomed destiny with Vitroli—a trait that connects all Selofan releases—as a bitter pain and loneliness that cannot, or will not, subside.

The album begins with "Give Me a Reason" whose lyrics feel universal in this day and age: Give me a reason, to get out of bed / I could just watch the ceiling instead. Its heartbreak is profound as bells and voice pads echo under Joanna's voice. The adjacent music video for the song was directed by Dimitris Chaz Lee, and the band describes the video as "depicting the fragile nature, conflicts, emotional demands, and vulnerability of each person in a relationship."
"Billie Was a Vampire" is a story about an undead creature who works at a nightclub followed by the urgency of "Black Box." Brass sounds moan against the fast beat and suggest a frenzied need to escape.

"I'm Addicted" became the second single for the LP. I am addicted, you are mine, Joanna demands of the lover. The music video, also directed by Dimitris Chaz Lee, depicts a clean, white photoshoot primed for the most beautiful creatures of the Athenian wave scene. Alex Macharias, from the legendary Greek band In Trance 95, acts as the photographer for the session, as the models pose and flail under the bright bulbs. The director states: "Addiction is a mental state, something inside all of us. It altered our perception and created a parallel world of avant-garde beings and flashy lights making us part of this everlasting bond."

As Selofan's fifth studio album, Vitrioli, from 2018, is a testament to the tragedy of life. The Greek duo, Joanna Pavlidou and Dimitris Pavlidis, who recorded the album in the Fabrika Records home studio, continue on in their poetic, but heartbreaking, music set to a dance beat. Between languages (Greek, English, German, and Spanish), Selofan feels on the brink of mania with Vitroli. However, the madness is controlled, the songs are restrained hysterics that culminate into the alchemic perfection of the band's specific moody sound.
From synthpop to synthpunk elements, the twelve-track LP leads listeners through dark corridors and into haunted, empty beds. There is a resignation to a doomed destiny with Vitroli—a trait that connects all Selofan releases—as a bitter pain and loneliness that cannot, or will not, subside.

The album begins with "Give Me a Reason" whose lyrics feel universal in this day and age: Give me a reason, to get out of bed / I could just watch the ceiling instead. Its heartbreak is profound as bells and voice pads echo under Joanna's voice. The adjacent music video for the song was directed by Dimitris Chaz Lee, and the band describes the video as "depicting the fragile nature, conflicts, emotional demands, and vulnerability of each person in a relationship."
"Billie Was a Vampire" is a story about an undead creature who works at a nightclub followed by the urgency of "Black Box." Brass sounds moan against the fast beat and suggest a frenzied need to escape.

"I'm Addicted" became the second single for the LP. I am addicted, you are mine, Joanna demands of the lover. The music video, also directed by Dimitris Chaz Lee, depicts a clean, white photoshoot primed for the most beautiful creatures of the Athenian wave scene. Alex Macharias, from the legendary Greek band In Trance 95, acts as the photographer for the session, as the models pose and flail under the bright bulbs. The director states: "Addiction is a mental state, something inside all of us. It altered our perception and created a parallel world of avant-garde beings and flashy lights making us part of this everlasting bond."

Double LP pressed on transparent red vinyl with black marbles. In Dying Light: The Beast, you step back into Kyle Crane's skin, but he's no longer the man he once was. Years of experiments have left him torn between fragile humanity and a monstrous power that he can barely control. Every light, every shadow, every choice feels dangerous. The forests and ruins of Castor Woods don't just set the stage, they breathe, they watch, and they punish the reckless. This is survival stripped to the bone, where horror is not just outside, but inside you. Olivier Deriviere's powerful and capturing score for Dying Light: The Beast doesn't just accompany Crane's journey, it is his voice. Sometimes it whispers in empty rooms, fragile and broken, sometimes it roars with distorted rhythms and pounding drums when the Beast takes over. Between silence and sound, the music pulls you deeper into Kyle's fractured soul, making every step and every heartbeat part of the story. It's not just a soundtrack, it's the echo of a man losing, and maybe finding, himself.