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"Imagine a classic singer/songwriter record loaded with the intimacy and grit reminiscent of Alex Chilton or Nikki Sudden." Shindig

Los Angeles singer-songwriter Tracy Bryant returns with his new album The Well, which is his first release since 2019’s critically acclaimed Hush. His fourth solo album, The Well marks a striking new chapter, trading his signature guitar-driven sound for piano-led songwriting that took root during the pandemic. The album was born out of one of the most turbulent periods of his life, written in the wake of his father’s sudden passing and birth of his first child. It was produced by longtime friend and compatriot Joo-Joo Ashworth at Studio 22 in Cypress Park, CA, and mastered by Dave Cooley at Elysian Masters. The nine songs are filled with raw emotion and driving motorik rhythm, telling tales of loss and love, relationships beginning and ending.
 
When the pandemic upended Bryant’s promotion for Hush and brought his 2019 European tour to a halt, he found himself at home rediscovering his musical roots at the piano, listening to Vince Guaraldi and Arthur Russell to take inspiration for the song structures. Without a band around, Bryant used the instrument to create both rhythm and melody, which resulted in a repetitive and precise backbeat, which was elevated when he began working with drummer Carmeron Gartung to rehearse the new songs. This different approach would define the style of The Well, creating an amalgamation of sounds with classic songwriting structures blended with post-punk, 90s indie, krautrock and psychedelia.
 
To produce the record, Bryant turned to Joo-Joo Ashworth, who share a friendship stretching back to 2011 (when Joo Joo was only 18) when both of their bands, Corners and Froth, were at the forefront of the bourgeoning Los Angeles/Echo Park music scene of the time and embarked on their first national tours together. Ashworth, who has since become one of underground music’s most respected producers, recorded the album throughout 2024/2025 on half inch tape at Studio 22 in Cypress Park, California, giving The Well a warm, considered sound that matches the weight of its subject matter.
 
The album’s emotional core was forged by two significant life events arriving in close succession. In January 2022, Bryant’s father passed away unexpectedly at the age of 67. Just three months later, Tracy and his wife welcomed their first child. The Well is a direct result of those experiences, a songwriter processing grief and joy, endings and beginnings in real time. 
 
The nine songs take the listener on a meticulously crafted journey through the nooks and crannies of Bryant’s mind. Spanning 37 minutes, the album is an exploration of classic songwriting elements moving fluidly between driving beat punk, like “Weight” and “Widow”, and more melancholic tracks like “Halfway” and “Danny”. Album opener “Cold Floor” sets the tone immediately, Bryant’s lyrics confronting the day of his father’s death with unflinching directness – the breezy California piano sound is in direct contrast to the heavy theme. The Bowie-esque title track is perhaps the album’s most expansive moment – a fully realised epic composed with a dynamic flare. 
 
 The Well feels like an arrival. Dramatic and expansive, it is a true, visceral reflection of the life changing events that altered the course of Bryant’s life. Fans will be surprised by the heavy focus on piano but they will welcome the change as a bold turning point for an artist who has lived long enough to know exactly what he wants to say. 

Some previous press:

"feels like a slice of California, down to its ringing post-surf guitars and bright melodies, but cross-cut with a folk sensibility more aligned to the work of Elliot Smith or, on occasions, Conor Oberst." Uncut - lead album review

"…sees the Los Angeles rocker confront both the finer and uglier aspects of love and life, combining classic rock with psychedelic tinges and catchy melodies." Evening Standard 4*s

Tucked in the heart of Koreatown, Los Angeles, lies The Libra Hotel—the titular architecture of Nick Malkin's new album and site of his musical and psychogeographic exploration. Unlike most musical "site-specific" studies, Malkin remains wholly ambivalent to the documentarian approach, instead sharpening an auteur-like focus on the site as a conceptual and highly expressive backdrop. The Libra is musically explored as a space that houses a noir fragmentation of identity—the exhausted trope of a complicated protagonist walking through rain-soaked street corners and fumy neon lights—where an inner monologue is rendered in both miniature and at a cosmic scale. Casting aside stifling tropes around field recording, ambient, and improvised music, Malkin's work finds its own unique fidelity and emotional core through the assembly and reassembly of memory. Nearly every sound on the album—from frayed saxophones, lambent pianos, and dissected jazz drum kits—are multiplied, shattered, and reconstituted into shapes that adorn The Libra in a motion-blurred fog. The narrative of the Hotel suddenly appears as if out of the mist, with intersecting characters interacting within its walls by happenstance. Adminst the languid set pieces, wraith-like sonic grains gravitate around wide subbass beams that give structural form to The Libra, a narrative tension like when a scene is shot from hundreds of different perspectives: an image both luminous and veiled.

Much like Frank Sinatra's own spatial residency immortalized on "Live at The Sands," "At The Libra Hotel" showcases an exuberant view of entertainment, hospitality, and a form of masculinity, one that can quickly detourn into darkness. Knowing this, Malkin extracts a melancholic core out of The Libra locale. The flickering shadows of American decadence are shown in their ephemeral honesty, lines that trace how even in everyday life virtue is tested, sanity is tested, even reality is tested within the confines of desire, within the night. The album is draped in fleeting textures, carefully arranged with a trance-like microtonality, the faint inflections and articulations of a jazz band cascading into dissipated stillness. Voicemails about changed locations and covert eavesdropping on guests' whispered conversations provide an atmosphere of missed connection and voyeurism—a purloined letter of desire receding into a vanishing point. Like the music itself, The Hotel, a chapel perilous at the intersection of desolation row, the center of it all, yet simultaneously at the edge of town, becomes a structure between libidinous virtuality and actuality—our inevitable half-light.

Ultimately, the pensive atmosphere of "At The Libra Hotel," powerfully asserts a plea for the kinds of intimacy only possible in transient spaces. Here, memory cascades into a force that feels like something supernatural, perhaps even religious, yet always subject to the infidelity of our imagination. Here, the album opens into its primary psychodrama, the transient nature of subjectivity itself and how this becomes fractured in the tumult between our commitments and desires. Within this nocturnal space, to quote Louise Bourgeois, "you pile up associations the way you pile up bricks. Memory itself is a form of architecture."

Moscow's newly emerging Noots makes debuts with an EP that dissolves genre boundaries. Ambient washes, deep house grooves, jungle echoes and experimental textures coexist in a fluid internal architecture. Field recordings, from the daily hum of Moscow's Preobrazhenskaya Ploshchad metro to a friend's impromptu garage session, weave seamlessly into the music to ground his often abstract compositions in the real world. There is beauty in the green synths of 'Sudden Shift' and a blurry psychedelic edge to the ambient pads of 'Flowing Harmony' while a standout Nookie remix takes things into silky d&b territory.

Between flesh and silicon. “Under My Skin” (2026) is the first album by IADI, released by Neo Life. A record like few
others, highly conceptual, cover art included. Its essence lies in the folds of the increasingly ambiguous relationship
between man and machine, where the former designs the latter and, perhaps without fully realizing it, is gradually
destined to adapt and be reprogrammed by it. Each track of “Under My Skin” is, in fact, a sort of interface, connector, or
any other imaginative point of contact between two creative phases, amid emotional impulses and binary calculations.
The sonic architecture oscillates between analog warmth and algorithmic coldness, constructing landscapes in which
pulsating synthesizers and mechanical rhythms seem to question each other. There's no linear narrative, but rather a
progressive immersion in a zone of near-friction, where the comfort of technology coexists with more than a faint
musical uneasiness, like a background noise that never ceases to remind you who's truly in charge. In “Under My Skin”,
the machine is neither an enemy nor a simple instrument: it's a real presence, intimate, even tactile, amplifying desires,
fears, and dreams of dawns beyond the digital realm. Intelligent dance music. Less noise, more sensations. Electronic,
but profoundly human.
The final result, then, is a music project that speaks to the present, yet sounds like an X-ray of the future, capturing that
fragile moment when humanity and technology stop observing each other from afar and begin to merge, track after
track. It's no coincidence that IADI's album opens with “Impulse”, an immediate expression of an electrical impulse, for
both humans and machines, which is also the language of the nervous system, as fast as it is vital—pure energy and
rhythm, a track as intense as it is irregular. And after this introduction, it's the turn of the equally erratic “Axon”, whose
title describes the neuron that transmits the signal over distance, telling the listener to sit back and relax for a new
journey through the notes toward the more melodic “Cortex”. The cerebral cortex, the ultimate seat of thought and
memory, becomes the source from which the musical flow of the first part of the work is drawn.
Then, suddenly, an automatic, or instinctive, response to the constant succession of impulses: “Reflex”, or zerotemperature techno, with a fragmented pace, featuring vocal samples, breaks, and restarts. In the producer's
imagination, the subsequent, and conversely placid, “Neuron” represents the emotional core of the second part of the
work, providing a kind of respite from the seething vibrations. While the neuron is the basic unit of the nervous system,
the synapse is the functional connection point between one neuron and another effector cell, essential for the
transmission of nerve impulses and communication in the nervous system, enabling functions such as learning and
movement. Likewise, a track like “Synapse” once again illuminates the path traced by IADI. The more experimental and
streamlined “Static” instead suggests true ordered chaos. “Dreamstate” is the conclusion suspended in the void, relating
to that dreamlike state between waking and sleeping, where consciousness fades toward infinity and visions begin. Pure
fading into the subconscious. Eternal return to where it all began. Dancing is a form of consciousness. Every beat is a
question. IADI, however, holds all the answers you need.

Maybe it was inevitable that Vilhelm Bromander and Fredrik Rasten would find each other. A symbiotic musical alliance of suggestive combinatory magic that stretches back to the interstitial two day space that separates their dates of birth and manifests here as the movement between ‘perfect’ or ‘just’ intonation and the ragged, psychoactive energy of the slippages from and towards that togetherness that render otherwise simple patterns or generally understood repetitions as wildly other and alive.

Astral Twins shares ‘twin’ works by each composer. The patiently unfolding real time retuning of Fredrik Rasten’s guitars on the a-side’s Sojourns and Vilhelm Bromander’s quickened steps and spry looping melodies on the flip’s Partially Dancing.

Both artists have history of going deep into the aesthetic and acoustic impact of intonation (how you think about what is ‘in tune’). Where their first LP (...for some reason that escapes us, 2019, Differ Records) shared a gorgeous set of sustained tone colour fields, this time they lean more explicitly into the folk music traditions of Scandinavia and further afield, whilst echoing the zoned minimalist atmosphere of Arthur Russell’s classic Instrumentals.

Recorded up close and in real time at Fylkingen’s soon-to-be-abandoned temporary location in Stockholm’s southern suburb of Bredäng, Astral Twins sings with the possibility that one plus one can equal more than two.

Fredrik Rasten:
 Sojourns explores the live retuning of guitar and double bass in a sequence of just intonation harmonies. A guitar ostinato runs throughout the piece where the retuning becomes an integral part of the composition. The slow pace reveals every detail in the transition from one harmonic arpeggio to another — how interfering waves emerge and disappear as the tonal interactions settle in electric clarity. The double bass shadows the guitar's process and comments with occasional pizzicato tones and register jumps, at times providing a low foundation for the sound and sometimes soaring together with the guitar. This is music that is deeply listening; experimental and at the same time humbly inviting many kinds of being with sound.

Vilhelm Bromander: 
As the title suggests, this song has a partially dancing character. The title also has a double meaning with reference to the partials and harmonics that dance together. The basic idea was to write music in just intonation that instead of being drone-based is reminiscent of a lightly dancing folk music, where the joyous feeling of just being in the music — “musicking" — is allowed to lead the way.

The double bass plays repeated overtone double stops in an open harmonic progression with subtle modulations that is inspired in equal parts by Steve Lacy's persistent repetition of phrases as east-asian khaen music. The guitars and mandolin have a freer role, with plucked retuned strings that enhance the bass's modulations and provide forward movement. The music invites to both melodic and spectral listening, suddenly halting so that other focal points can reveal themselves. For example, a chord sequence suddenly transitions to a more spectral part where Fredrik is playing a bowed guitar with a chain, several plucking guitars, voices, and pitch pipes. I wanted to make something ‘orchestral’ with just two people and no overdubs: a dance of overtones and open resonant strings, where we seamlessly take turns standing in the foreground.

Destination Unknown is an EP by Unpronounceable born from an archive of sounds collected between 2019 and 2024—sonic fragments that took shape without a predetermined direction guided only by an open idea in constant transformation. The original track conceived as a “destination unknown” composition developed its own independent identity. However precisely because of its fluid and cross-genre nature Unpronounceable chose not to place it within a traditional EP context instead opening it up to a multiplicity of perspectives by inviting five artists to reinterpret it freely without genre constraints.

The result is an EP that unfolds like an alternative map of the same sonic territory where each remix explores a distinct direction transforming Destination Unknown into a multifaceted and ever-evolving experience.

In Carl Finlow’s remix Destination Unknown takes on a strong cinematic and narrative dimension. Inspired by the title Finlow imagines a mysterious journey toward a futuristic dystopian city turning the track into a kind of electro soundtrack—dark yet ironic rich in character and capable of evoking vivid images and motion.

MANASYt pushes the track toward more physical and ritualistic territories focusing on the dark pads and the more oneiric vocal elements of the original. The result is a hypnotic pulsating tribal-industrial reinterpretation where rhythm and sonic material become central intensifying the track’s most visceral qualities.

With Gay Horror the focus shifts to an emotional and narrative dimension. The vocals are deliberately made elusive and undefined while the structure develops through a slow controlled crescendo that recalls the atmospheres of ’90s trip-hop. This version also reflects a long-standing human and artistic relationship conceived as a story that travels through time and reaches the present day.

Kevin Follet adopts a more conceptual approach overturning the perspective of the original track. Rather than working with its main elements he brings the underlying structures to the foreground transforming what usually remains hidden into the core of his reinterpretation. His remix is elegant and deep balancing sound exploration with a strong attention to songwriting.

Closing the EP is GP The Synth Roller with a radical and highly experimental reinterpretation. The track behaves like an unstable system: parameters shift without warning surfaces lose coherence sudden accelerations collide with moments of arrest. There is no resolution only a sonic condition in constant tension eventually condensing into a dark compact mass.

Taken as a whole Destination Unknown is far more than a simple remix collection: it is a collective exploration of the potential of a single composition. Unpronounceable’s original track and the reinterpretations by Carl Finlow MANASYt Gay Horror Kevin Follet and GP The Synth Roller move across electro techno industrial and experimental territories offering six different perspectives from the same starting point. An open journey with no fixed destination where every detour becomes an integral part of the path.

Jim O'Rourke and Jos Smolders teamed up again after their first collaboration, Additive Inverse from 2021. Over a period of three years, both artists worked in sessions of a day, each in their own studio.
The result is sometimes like a warm cloud of sounds, suddenly breaking up into a rhythmic, irregular pattern, after which it dives into introverted mindsets. The music is in constant flux
The project followed the same workflow, but this time Jim took the lead and kicked off with a salvo of sounds that he extracted from his Kyma System. Both Jos and Jim were quite interested in the spectral character of sounds. Jim applied Kyma algorithms while Jos granulated his basic recordings. That way, textures are built, quite slowly moving from warm to gritty, from hard surfaces to deep sonic wells.

Bolka is known as the man with the cap. His cap has lived through a lot: his glitchy and microtonal experiments, studies at Institute of Sonology in The Hague or through countless performative works. A few years ago, Bolka’s cap fell apart. By that time he was already a fixture on the slovak experimental scene, but only releasing his debut album, “smutné stropy.” He started wearing new caps from then: somehow reminiscent of the old one, but much more varied — same as “smutné stropy,” bubbling with motifs, charming humour and pop sensitivity layered over detailed soundscapes popping with surprises.

On schwarzkopf, Bolka returns wishing for a thick black hair. With his charming love songs, that are positioned somewhere between a tightly run freak folk orchestra, deconstructed ballads and colorful ecstatic melancholy, he creates an album that thrives on juxtapositions that are completely unique, yet strangely familiar. Bolka’s songwriting is at once tender and irreverent — lovestruck whispering suddenly tripping over absurdist jokes and surreal images that fizz like soda. His songs move in that strange space between vulnerability and mischief, where intimate confessions collide with radical playfulness and the poetic rubs shoulders with the delightfully ridiculous.

On schwarzkopf, Bolka expands his world with a wide circle of collaborators and an even richer sonic palette. The album is meticulously detailed yet carefree: delicate moments sit next to sudden explosions, drifting from gentle pop to bursts of noise. Toward the end, the album even slips into a footwork-infused remix by Kodiki, passes through Julek ploski’s signature neon-baroque string perspective, and briefly wanders into Lénok’s cinematic sonic world. Bolka sings that he wants to dissolve into a healing ointment, to be ground in a mortar with calendula — and he invites us into this musical spa with him: a place that stings a little but ultimately soothes, a gorgeous soundscape that is both painful and joyful at the same time.

Geoglyph is the new duo project by Alohn and Khey Mysterio, a convergence of two deeply singular practices into a single subterranean signal. Their debut album arrives as the eighth reference on Organic Signs, not as a collection of tracks but as a carved artifact: six inscriptions pressed into vinyl, mapping a sonic territory where time, rhythm and texture are no longer linear, but layered like geological memory.

Through Geoglyph, Alohn and Khey Mysterio convey a message from below, or beyond. A pulse engraved from forgotten times in the basement of reality, reactivated by abyssal basses, vibrating layers and fractured textures. Exhumed from the subterranean strata where psychedelic dub, mineral techno and fractal dubstep fuse into raw energy, their music becomes a point of contact: every beat, every silence, every oscillation acting as a coordinate toward another perception. What unfolds is not simply sound design, but an invocation, rhythms as sigils, timbre as gnosis, signals that seem to arrive already charged with intention.

Across the album, Alohn’s guitar notes fall like cascades through the mix, dissolving at times into controlled feedback and crystallizing into melodic fragments that hover between tension and release. These organic gestures are interwoven with Khey Mysterio’s dense low-end architectures and rhythmic frameworks, creating a constantly shifting terrain: from weightless transmissions and ritualistic voices to moments of overwhelming propulsion where the music suddenly breaks open with tectonic force. The record moves fluidly between meditative suspension and explosive motion, never settling into a single state for long.

A strong undercurrent of what has come to be known as “druidstep” runs through the album, a term coined within the 95 Open Tabs universe to describe a form of dubstep untethered from genre convention, rooted instead in bass as ritual, in groove as invocation. Here it meets dub-techno pulse, psychedelic echoes and high-velocity 4×4 pressure, drawing subtle influence from underground bass cultures without ever becoming referential. The result is a body of work that feels both ancient and forward-leaning, cyclical rather than linear: a living geoglyph that reveals different meanings depending on how (and where) it is read.

As the final movement accelerates into its closing phase, the album releases its energy outward, with frequencies stretched toward their limits, leaving behind the trace of a completed ceremony. In this sense, Geoglyph’s debut stands as a defining moment within the Organic Signs continuum: a record that unfolds rather than explains, offering an experience to be entered, absorbed, and carried. With this release, the label continues to explore new sonic spaces, evolving and expanding while giving deeper meaning to its own essence. A message from beneath the surface, waiting for those willing to tune in.

Más de este género

Pon is Tujiko Noriko’s sixth album for Editions Mego and a further extension of her already significant body of work as both a solo and collaborative artist. Dedicated to her cat who she adopted as an infant and passed away due an accident having been born deaf, Pon is imbued with abstraction, tenderness and a deep emotional resonance.

Noriko’s palette of electronics, romantic melodies and surprising sonic details are all fully present here, and like her last full length, 2023’s Crépuscule this is an epic work, released as a 2LP by Editions Mego alongside a Japanese CD release.

The unmistakable hue of Japan hovers throughout this emotional rich landscape. Subtle field recordings and fragile, abstract motifs drift through the album, all cloaked in a warmth and humanity that only Noriko seems able to conjure.

Pon moves effortlessly between the childlike and the obscure. There are moments of deceptive simplicity where unexpected elements suddenly surface — strange voices emerge on Boku Wa Obaka, Knife of Yonder is a standout: a startling ten-minute unfolding that begins with a warm, almost Eno-esque drift before launching into a soaring mid-section and finally landing somewhere unexpectedly blues-adjacent.

Kikoeru Pon is brimming with childlike wonder — a heartfelt ballad that dissolves into domestic field recordings, including sounds of the feline for whom both the album and track are named. A quietly devastating ending that brings the personal nature of the record into sharp focus.

There is a deep sense of the human in the way Noriko embraces technology. This is far from cold abstraction; rather, Ponfeels like a colourful photo album, documenting Noriko’s inner world and instincts with remarkable intimacy. Hovering in liminal states between pop, ambient and abstraction, this is a deeply affective and moving release that reveals new surprises with each listen.

The emotional range of Noriko’s latest offering inspires hope in a world in disarray. It is both gentle and epic and one which we feel embodies the work of an artist fully at the height of her powers.

Signaling their long-anticipated debut on ICONYC, the label welcomes acclaimed Italian duo Glowal with their Future Faces EP. Uncompromising in its intent, this two-track capsule extends the duo’s emotional vocabulary, threading new ideas through their unmistakable sonic lens for a release that underscores the expressive precision at the heart of their craft.

Casting their gaze forward on “Future Faces”, Fabio Giannelli and Alessandro Gasperini open proceedings with a fractured rhythmic chassis driven by a throbbing low-end pulse that warps with each passing beat. Heavy percussive strikes carve their path into the night before a disarming female vocal emerges from the shadows, injecting a sense of yearning and fragile wonder into the piece. A sudden brake—like tires skidding across rain-slick asphalt—ushers in laser-etched synth lines that cry out with an anthemic resolve, while iridescent sequences bubble to the surface, sealing a striking first statement on the label.

Turning the corner, Glowal unveil the esoteric “Desert Soul,” a slow-burning reverie that expands on the EP’s emotional terrain. Patiently unfolding over fragmented rhythms and a meandering bassline, neon traces guide us toward a robotic vocal presence that introduces a subtle human-machine tension. Stripped to a minimal core yet rich in sentiment, “Desert Soul” resonates with quiet introspection—an understated meditation on self-discovery that lingers well beyond its final echo.

Precisely one year after Lézire, Crush of Souls is back with his third full-length album.

The musical endeavour of Charles Rowell – active in the indie/punk global scene since 2008 with bands like Crocodiles, Flowers of Evil, Issue – is just like its creator: always cooking up something. Relentlessly.

Now, as it was perceivable by the trajectory undertaken by after his previous LP, Captive Youth leaves goth rock and dark folk aside and head swiftly towards some old school 80’s EBM & 90’s Industrial dance vibe. After all, any album exploring themes of dystopia, politics and sexuality requires a strong rhythm. So how could this new chapter not mention seminal synth-pop and body music classics such as Technique by New Order, Belief by Nitzer Ebb, Towards Thee Infinite Beat by Psychic TV and Pressure Points by Anne Clark?

Forever a displaced soul, Charles’ album number three feels like a revision of Crush Of Souls and also a reanimation of his captive youth spent moving from town to town. The energy of the wandering worker poet. Warehouse basslines, artillery fire backbeats. Romance and melancholy wrapped in barbed wire. All this and more oozes from nine new tracks that inevitably deliver that blurry sexy urban vibe that’s become the project’s trademark.
Features collabo hit single Domination with Sade Sanchez from L.A. Witch.

Early DJ Support: Massimiliano Pagliara, Paranoid London, Logan Fisher, Terry Farley, James Holroyd, Rocky (X Press 2), Francois K, Marcel Vogel, Sean Johnston, Austin Ato, Ron Basejam, Richard Rogers, Oliver Dollar, Crazy P and many more

Creating an international name for itself over the past decade as a sample pack label, Samples From Mars made its inevitable venture into the music world originally as a home for founder Teddy Stuart’s work. Long before making samples, Stuart garnered credits working as a grammy-nominated recording engineer in the hip hop world, and DJing / producing with Justin Strauss as A/JUS/TED, for labels such as DFA, Domino Records and Southern Fried Records. Now the label is set to release a variety of genres - house, disco, techno, ambient, all with a vintage tinge and a focus on high quality, analog production.

Enter Salt Queen. Visual artist and musician Magali van Caloen together with Samples From Mars founder, Teddy Stuart. Based in New York, the duo combine hardware dance aesthetics with dry, salty takes on familiar club moments into music that sits somewhere between funny, raw and unpredictable.

Salt Queen’s debut ‘ARE U OK’ is an acid-laced, deadpan spoken word track with an opening line that snaps any room to attention. A disorienting club encounter unfolds over Italo-inflected 808s and a relentless 303 bassline. There are no chords and no melodies - just a skeletal groove and an intimate voice circling the dancefloor. Drifting between concern and provocation, the vocal runs through cliché club conversations before destabilizing completely into a siren-laden crash out. The ‘Freak Nasty Club Mix’ ditches the plot and lets the hardware breathe, with a thick SH-101 bassline anchoring the first half before a sudden switch into an unrelenting acid pattern that refuses to settle. Two versions of the same wild night out.

Cut The With The Cake Knife was recorded by Rose McDowall in 1988/89 following the break up of her group Strawberry Switchblade. Produced with the aid of several musicians in several studios, the album features songs written for the fabled second Strawberry Switchblade album. More importantly perhaps it showcases the honest, direct and life-affirming songs of one of the greatest unsung songwriters of the modern pop era at a tumultuous time in her career.

Tibet opens the set and could be one of the best pop songs you've never heard. The innate sadness of the songs' content - the loss of a friendship, impending sorrow - is heightened to heart-melting level by McDowall's pop nous and melodic sensibility. Choruses and hooks are everywhere on Cake Knife, from the outsider take on stadium 80s pop in Wings Of Heaven to the spiraling, ecstatic So Vicious, a glorious anthem that highlights the human fragility in McDowall's vocal performance, an instrument that has never lost the naïve purity it first exemplified in Strawberry Switchblade's early 80s recordings. The centerpiece of the album, the title-track, is the greatest Switchblade pop chart hit that never was. Like the veiled melancholy of her former group's hits, Cut With The Cake Knife hints at a darkness beneath the gloss, a darkness that saw McDowall delve into more esoteric territory with her subsequent recordings and collaborations. Cut With The Cake Knife serves as the bridge between the pop music McDowall had been making with her friends Jill Bryson, Lawrence from Felt and Primal Scream to what became a more extreme, deep sound informed by neo-folk and post industrial music.

Rose McDowall's role in the canon has always been one of an outsider. Beginning in Glasgow's East End in the avant proto-noise group The Poems, achieving fame briefly in the 80s and then disappearing into counter-cultural folklore, the emphasis in the internet-age has been skewed towards her image and cultural significance. Unseen to many, her solo work, her groups Sorrow and Spell and her collaborations with a whole host of underground luminaries have still touched lives. As McDowall elucidates: 'They're real sad songs, about real life. I've had people come up to me to say I'd connected with them and helped them. I remember a gig in America when we made a whole room cry. It was bizarre. A couple at the front of the stage started crying and then these two boys beside and suddenly everyone was crying. And I thought, "that's power."

Night School's issue of Cut With The Cake Knife includes unpublished photographs, extensive sleeve notes from Rose McDowall and 2 bonus tracks culled from the bootleg 7' 'Don't Fear The Reaper.' First vinyl pressing is Clear w/ Black swirl; 500 only / has DL card and booklet, with a poster
CD has extensive booklet and is packaged in anO-Card.

Hotshot producer D*v*d J*cks*n heroically revives the legendary Puss label, home to some of the most enticing, scandalous and straight out illegal dance music released across the
last 13 years, all supposedly masterminded by K*rn*l K*v*cs of St*d** B*rnh*s fame. Three reasons for this sudden revival: One trancetastic take on a deep cut from the queen of
Swedish pop, an instantly engaging UKG flip of an eternal dance hymn and, lastly, a rugged faux-Baltimorean nugget for all the Kittenz out there.

Since first forming in 2016, London's High Vis have steadily polished their palette of progressive hardcore with shades of post-punk, Brit pop, neo-psychedelia, and even Madchester groove, mapping a middle ground between hooks and fury, melodies and mosh pits. Singer Graham Sayle describes their third album 'Guided Tour' as an axis of competing forces: "It's trying to be a hopeful record, while also being incensed." Rounded out by drummer Edward 'Ski' Harper, guitarists Martin MacNamara and Rob Hammaren, and bassist Jack Muncaster, the band's deep roots in the UK and Irish DIY hardcore scenes have kept them grounded but growing, inspired equally by restlessness and righteous anger. As Sayle puts it, "Everyone's scratching, everyone's working all the time, and their idea of relaxing is just getting fucked and avoiding reality. This album is an escape from that."From its opening seconds of a cab door slamming, a car revving away, and a baggy rhythm swinging to life, 'Guided Tour' sounds like a band reaching for new heights, bristling with energy. Recorded across a few weeks at Holy Mountain Studios in London with producer Jonah Falco and engineer Stanley Gravett, the results feel dynamic and dialed-in, like anthems burned into sense memory through sweat and repetition. Harper cuts to the chase: "We had a clear idea going in, every moment got used. Maybe when we're 60 we can sit around and get a drum sound right, but for now it's about getting things done."The album's 11 songs span the spectrum of contemporary guitar music, sharpened by experience, camaraderie, and societal frustrations. From swaggering street punk ("Drop Me Out," "Mob DLA") to jangling indie sneer ("Worth The Wait," "Deserve It") to heavy alt ("Feeling Bless," "Fill The Gap") to shoegazey spoken word ("Untethered"), the group's chemistry transmutes any style to their unique intensity. Sayle champions this evolving fusion: "For years coming from hardcore, we had pretty clear boundaries - other scenes were separate worlds. Now things are getting more blended, drawing from different places."Nowhere is this sentiment flexed more boldly than on "Mind's A Lie," a dance- punk anthem inspired by Harper's love of house, garage, and pirate radio. Stabs of sampled female vocals (by celebrated South London singer and DJ Ell Murphy) build into a razor wire rhythm of low-slung bass, tense drums, and sparkling guitar before Sayle's staunch voice starts barking harsh truths ("Face to face with all I've known / I can't call these thoughts my own"). After a sudden breakdown, the track regroups and takes off, cruising into the horizon in a haze of chiming guitars and Murphy's ascendant voice, from the streets to somewhere beyond.

Winding through cavernous and dark meanders, amid gurgling water, rustling sounds, low and deep pulsations, incisive and impactful sound masses, floating waves, crystalline drips, sudden rays of light, electronic spirals, and unexpected openings onto almost soothing soundscapes and quiet environmental stasis, Rod Modell paints musical textures that are apparently abstract and contemplative, but in reality charged with pathos and drama, taking advantage of a spectacular, enveloping and surprising sound quality, in which every nuance and every small detail makes the listening experience even more intense and engaging. A new exciting masterpiece by Maestro Rod Modell.

Crate digger and music enthusiast James Endeacott compiles ‘Unlock Your Mind With Morning Glory’ for Two-Piers Records – A glorious heady mix of the weird and wonderful eclectic music from his radio show ‘Morning Glory’

“One weekday afternoon towards the end of 2017 I sat in The Lyric pub on Great Windmill Street, Soho with my dear friend Raf. I’d just finished another of my weekly Soho Radio shows and was starting to think about the next one. Raf had been on as a guest playing some of his favourite tunes of the day. We had a few drinks, told a few stories and started to plot and scheme. It was always a dream of mine to have a daily radio show. Radio had always informed and excited me from my early teens listening to John Peel under the blanket when I should’ve been either sleeping or revising right up to the present-day musical excursions of NTS, WFMU and numerous internet based stations.

We decided to speak to Adrian and Dan who ran Soho Radio to see if they’d be up for us doing a daily morning show. To our surprise they were into the idea and within 5 minutes Adrain came up with the name Morning Glory. We all liked it. We were all excited. It was all systems go. In December 2017 Raf and myself started a daily 2 hour show. We did the show together, got guests in and the musical policy was whatever we felt like that day. After several months Raf found the mornings too much. Off he went into the distance occasionally coming back with a smile, and a bag of new music. I carried on alone and then suddenly in March 2020 the world stopped, and we went into lockdown.

We set up in my house in Catford, Southeast London and carried on. The show became 3 hours a day and I started to invite friends, record labels, record shops, bands etc.. to supply me with hour long mixes that I played every day. The show took off during this time. My musical tastes expanded as I spent all day long searching for new sounds from around the globe. People started to send me more and more music. I became obsessed with the show. The audience started to take to social media and ask for certain tracks or artists to be played. I got listeners to make me mixes to play on the show and I did several phone interviews with musicians while playing some of their favourite tunes.

I was grateful that Soho Radio left me to my own devices. They never told me what to do or what to play – they trusted ma and I trusted my instincts.

The music on this compilation is not a ‘best of’ it’s just how I felt when I compiled it at the start of 2025. Apart from a couple of tracks they are all things I’ve come across since the show started in December 2017. If I did a list of tracks now I’m sure it would be completely different. Surely that’s the point. We never stick in one place. We are always moving and searching. Always trying to unlock our minds. Put it on. Take your time and let it take you somewhere” James Endeacott 2025

Rhiza Semar presents its fourth chapter with Yildizlara, a four-track odyssey shaped from shadow, rhythm, and elemental texture. Crafted as both visceral tools and introspective journeys, the record navigates between ominous density and luminous release, guided by a deep awareness of space, myth, and matter. As an artist, Hitam paves the way for a new sound emerging from his burrows to build bridges between electronic subgenres while shaping a landscape unmistakably his own. Orb Weaver opens the cycle with jagged IDM rhythms that coil and release like threads of a web pulled taut. Originally composed for the graduation project of fashion designer Tim van der Plas, who's collection was inspired on climbing out of depression, its atmosphere is dark and ceremonial, with textures scraping against silence until catharsis emerges from the tension. A confrontation between inner turmoil and release. On Vanishing of the Anasazi, cavernous reverbs carry traces of lost structures, percussion echoing as if across ruins. A relentless drive holds the ghost of ritual processions, summoning a spectral energy that feels at once monumental and hollowed-out. The track suspends itself between presence and absence, architecture and collapse, leaving the listener in a space where echoes become the only surviving form of memory. Mesh Grip plunges downward into subterranean force. A thundering groove rumbles like minerals being unearthed, goblin-like figures at work in hidden shafts, chiseling away at stone in endless rhythm. From this pressure, a sudden swell of melancholy pads rises, reframing the heaviness with emotional resonance as if the whispers of angelic guardians seep into the caverns, transforming extraction into elegy. What begins as pure drive of endurance evolves into an introspective meditation. Closing the release, Yildizlara unfolds as an epic ascent. Layered rhythms rush forward with urgency, intricate yet propulsive, while chopped vocals bring back a sensual human element, scattering like signals across the night sky. Animalistic atmospheres dart through the mix as spectral cries and furtive movements, adding a primal dimension to the drive. What begins as erratic and untamed slowly converges into warmth and ultimate catharsis: a cosmic tale inscribed in sound, both intimate and monumental, familiar yet born of hidden memory. Yildizlara is both innovative and ancestral; a release where turbulence becomes ritual, and where rhythmic complexity unearths fragments of hidden memory. Beneath its dark and erratic surfaces lies a strange familiarity, like echoes of a primal past resurfacing through sound, reminding us of worlds once known but long concealed. Words by A. Veyra

Flanked by a team of collaborators - including Nick León, more eaze, Ultrafog and Kissen - Ben Bondy captures the Kwia-pop zeitgeist on 'XO Salt Lif3', sluicing down dappled emo and downtempo grooves with log drum thwacks, tempered field recordings and sandblasted shoegaze guitars.

Forget what you think you know about Ben Bondy; like Naemi's fuzzy 'Breathless Shorn', ‘XO Salt Lif3’ is a decisive shift away from the ambient world and towards contemporary underground pop. Last year's amapiano-tinted loosie 'Bend' serves as the album's opener and is the best taster, its slick DSP squelches, granulated drones and sub rumbles immediately swapped out for breezy acoustic guitar riffs, tuned log drum hits and Bondy's own Autotuned vocals. When Bondy turns down the temperature a little, letting the orchestral synth arrangements slip into fuller view on 'Halfmoon', a collaboration with Nick León and Aussie producer Lovefear, it's tempered by low slung emo riffs and mumbled sweet nothings.

By the time we hit 'Dreamseed', Bondy's in full swing, offsetting slow breaks and multi-tracked vocal harmonies with full-spectrum shoegaze power chords that cut into the mix like a chainsaw, with crunchy amp crackle foreshadowing the Bark Psychosis-like drop. Bondy hits a cruise when More Eaze helps out on 'There Is A Place'. Maurice's unmistakable pedal steel draws us in, used by Bondy to add an Americana accent to his euphoric fusion of amapiano and indie pop. It's music that'll make perfect sense if you've caught one of Bondy's notorious DJ sets, where you might hear anything from American Football and Jessica Pratt next to Gwen Stefani, Skinny Puppy or Sneaker Pimps. It’s this chaotic, open-hearted approach - which also plays a part in the Shineteac material - that makes 'XO Salt Lif3' so effortlessly enjoyable.

dungeon acid review 25-09-03 by Joakim Cosmo A acid house style EP by swedish acid techno pioneer on swedens oldest underground label? Making a acid house EP in 2025 that makes a difference is a challenging task but this one just nails it. Here you see a softer and more musical side of Dungeon Acid in the shape of 5 dark yet hopeful Acid House tracks. Despite the classic form and ingredients it somehow avoids feeling retro but I guess this is what happens when you let a true grand master do it combined with a selector and label boss beyond the ordinary. It's like a paralell universe version of what Acid House could have become, and its a beautiful vision. A1-101-303 starts off with a dreamy, moody dubby and slightly romantic track that is just utterly beautiful in all its simplicity. The elegance and easy touch strikes me instantly. Nails the essence of the genre. One more like this and im buying it. The way A2-Unlock rewind builds up gives me goosebumps. So hypnotic and dark and experimental and the way it progresses to the ravey chord-break. The sounds and effects and details feel so alive and on the fly. In the record store this is where id already go "ok, im having this one" B1-Lonely Acid boy is yet another simple yet super atmospheric track. The contrasts between the rough robotic parts and the jazzy live solos ontop just gets to me. The roughness in the mix, that second beat with the hi-hats and extra bass, the fact that its so loud and sudden, is just great. And then we get to B2-Shnukki and all of a sudden, a romantic melodious electro track with a asian touch and acid bassline, that somehow goes well together with the other tracks. This one isnt my favourite or what I would buy the record for, but it would probably be the one I discover years later. Typical Borft Records to think that far ahead. The EP ends with B3-Chiliflex BB come on and this one starts with more late 80's ravey chords but the further you get into the track the more disharmonic, tweaky and punky it becomes. Things dont really fit together yet they do. To sum it up, these tracks are raw, funky, gutsy, streety, visionary, full of contrast and a bit challenging, just like acid house should be, but often isnt. I think Dungeon Acid and Borft Records nails it here. I'd buy doubles of this.

Undefined somatic comfort. The sudden plasticity of time. This record is a result of not needing much and sometimes getting it, playing live here and there and, of course, lots of work. On his third solo vinyl EP Stereometrix reveals a new, carefully developed yet somewhat direct sound of which we suspected him for quite a while.

Kid Katana Records teamed up with Dotemu, The Game Kitchen and KOEI TECMO GAMES, to bring you the highly anticipated NINJA GAIDEN: Ragebound OST on vinyl.



The physical edition is a 2LP designed in close relationship with the game's creative team:
- 2 colored vinyls: transparent blue & magenta, matching the cover art & the color-code of the two protagonists
- exclusive poster with extended credits & liner notes giving insights from the game’s creative team and featured artists


This album illustrates the incredible return to the saga's origins, embodied by Ryu Hayabusa's disciple Kenji Mozu and The Black Spider Clan Kunoichi Kumori, both united to repel the sudden onslaught of demons. It takes players back to its roots: a side-scrolling, brutally precise action-platformer set between the events of the first three episodes of the NINJA GAIDEN 8-bit era. The game’s OST blends different genres: rock, retro tunes and action-packed arcade music that respect the IP music legacy while modernizing it.

Ladies and gentlemen, please reserve a warm welcome to the eighth Outdom Records’ release on wax, proudly introducing an already known artist on the label, Denis Kostitsyn, with his new five-tracker EP: “Funny Games”.



A record as cheeky as its title suggests, Funny Games features an adventurous blend of techno, minimal, electro and tech-house, sprinkled with acid squelches, UK breaks & 2 steps grooves and a dash of dubby hypnotic atmosphere. Expect nothing less than Denis’ trademark creativity: playful, gritty and endlessly groovy, a proper bag of surprises for discerning selectors who love their tracks unpredictable, yet razor-sharp on the floor.



Denis Kostitsyn, respected Arma17 club resident and vinyl digger, strong producer with past acclaimed EPs on Exarde, Mung Records and also showcased on our previous Virtual Tools Vol.2 Series with “Rvbbit Hole”. This time, Kostitsyn dives deep into a palette of raw, analog-sounding textures and 90s-minded grooves, shaping tracks that carry both a vintage touch and a futuristic spirit. His production is full of twists—between hypnotic atmospheres, shuffling percussions, heavy basslines, and sudden left turns that keep the crowd locked and guessing. Built as pure dancefloor weapons, each piece doubles as both a tool and a trip, playful in form but deadly in effect!



Outdom Records once again shines a light on forward-thinking underground artistry—music that grooves, mutates, and flips expectations, while staying true to the label’s quirky yet uncompromising DNA.


WARNING: Handle with care, drop with confidence.

In 1978 a newly formed Augusta, Georgia group Marshall, Donovan and Broomfield chose to record cover versions of two songs previously recorded in 1973 and 1974 respectively by Florida siblings group Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose. These Eddie Cornelius penned songs “Let me Down Easy” and “Since I Found My Baby” would form both sides of Marshall, Donovan and Broomfield’s first 45 single, released on group founder John Marshall’s own Augusta label. The flipside “Since I Found My Baby” would eventually gain popularity across the pond with aficionados of the UK modern soul scene of the early 1980’s and beyond.

John Marshall began his musical career in a high school group called The Fabulous Gardenias who recorded the doowop ballad “It’s You, You, You” backed with the up-tempo R n B mover “What’s The Matter With Me” released on Tommy Brown’s local Liz label (named after his wife future Motown recording artist, Liz Lands) in 1961.The Fabulous Gardenias featured John Marshall, the late Atlanta alumni Calvin Arnold, “Little” Joe Jones Jr (later of the Tams) and a fourth guy only remembered as Harold. John Marshall later sang with another Atlanta group The Tams of “Hey Girl Don’t Bother Me” fame from 1970 through to 1978.

Later in 1978, John Marshall having relocated to Augusta, GA the previous year was casually emptying the contents of his mailbox outside his home when a car suddenly pulled up. The driver called out “Hey I recognize you, you’re John Marshall you used to be with the Tams!” The driver continued to introduce himself as John Donovan stating that he too was a singer, followed by an impromptu performance, and hey! sure enough he could sing! A later introduction to Charles Broomfield (John Marshall’s next-door neighbour at that time) would lead to the formation of the group Marshall, Donovan, Broomfield with the addition of Mary Marshall and Pat Donavan (the then, two John’s respective wives) as backing vocalists. The previously mentioned group’s first release the John Donovan led “Let Me Down Easy/Since I Found My Baby” was recorded at the now defunct Jam Studio’s in Atlanta. Upon release, the “Let Me Down Easy “side received considerable local radio play but only led to the group performing a handful of local shows. On the strength of the group’s first release a second 45 release followed in 1980 “Let’s Dance/That’s Love” both sides of this 45 were penned by Charlston, South Carolina native, Harold Thomas who John Marshall knew from his time with the Tams, Thomas having once been part of Bill Pinkney &the Original Drifters and later the Tams management teams. This second 45 never gained the same local attention of “Let Me Down Easy” and after three years together the Marshall’s, Donovan’s and Charles Broomfield went their separate ways. John Marshall lost contact altogether with his former group members and left the music business taking up employment at International Paper Mill until his retirement in 2013.

Due to the current resurgence in popularity of “Since I Found My Baby” with copies regularly selling for four figure sums, Soul Junction have reacquainted ourselves with John Marshall to you bring you “Since I Found My Baby” backed with “Let Me Down Easy” with the addition of the excellent and lesser, known stepper “That’ Love” making this an excellent value 45 release.

Swimming Paul’s music has always lived in the push-and-pull between euphoria and melancholy; the rare kind of electronic music that can make you cry while your body keeps moving.



On Smiling Through the Pain 2 (out October 24 via Headroom Records), the French-born, London-based producer doubles down on that emotional duality, delivering an album that feels as much like a diary as it does a DJ set.

Over the course of 15 tracks, Paul stitches together late-night catharsis, suburban nostalgia, and the jagged tenderness of early adulthood. The record is sequenced like an unbroken night out: the giddy anticipation, the sudden moments of reflection, the quiet comedown as the sun edges in. It’s an album that refuses to treat joy and sadness as opposites, they coexist here, often in the same chord progression.



“I don’t want to escape the feelings, I want to bring them with me” Paul says. “If you can’t stop thinking about something, you might as well dance with it.”

That philosophy runs through the singles: the emotional release of Holly (with Junior Simba), the aching nostalgia of Different Time, the hypnotic haze of Hard 2 Sleep, and the house-driven Drinking to Get Drunk, a bittersweet ode to nights spent outrunning your own thoughts. Elsewhere, Liza M1 folds heartbreak into an almost triumphant piano hook, while Shine a Light urges listeners to take risks and live without hesitation—as if youth’s boldness could be bottled.



Since debuting in 2023, Swimming Paul has quietly built an empire on emotional resonance: 150 million streams across platforms, 1.9 million monthly listeners on Spotify and more than 50 editorial placements (including Dance Party, Crying on the Dancefloor, Electronic Rising….), 10,000+ radio spins worldwide, and sold-out tours across Europe and North America. His sound has earned co-signs from BBC Radio 1, Triple J, KCRW, Sirius XM and a wave of DJs who value melody as much as momentum.

But Smiling Through the Pain 2 isn’t chasing charts, it’s chasing connections. Paul’s global fanbase, nurtured through a lively Discord community and nights on the road, has become a two-way conversation, with fans’ stories feeding back into the music’s emotional core.
This autumn, Paul takes the album to stages that match its ambition, from London to a string of US club dates, festivals and intimate pop ups designed for shared release.



Smiling Through the Pain 2 is an invitation to feel everything at once. To sweat through the sadness. To let your guard down under strobe lights. To realise that the best nights out don’t make you forget; they help you remember.

Reintroducing Soar - the alias of Christian Aebi, serial DIY taper and one-man orchestra from Langenthal, a fog-shrouded town in the Swiss provinces. Krautophobia, ambient lo-fi agriculture, analogue soul balm and slowspeed psych gelati-blitz cardboard pop only gesture towards the sound world he coaxed from his broken Tascam four-track recorder, in attics, churches, junkyards and at the kitchen table.

The spark for Soar was likely time and space, somewhere in the autumn of 1994. Armed with a cable salad of Sixties guitar/bass, fairground drums, mould-speckled organs and toy instruments, Aebi coaxed five albums, an unverified run of 25 cassettes, and a handful of gigs. Mostly issued through Zurich label Corazoo, the records arrived in hand-pasted sleeves, rough-cut reproductions of his teddy bear-fixated artwork that carried the same imperfect immediacy as the music. With Rudi Steiner, performances in galleries, clubs and halls bent into live sound-image happenings - part installation, part film, part flea-market-instrument theatre - invariably leaving the house engineers bewildered.

At the time of his untimely death in 2021, Aebi remained a village secret, his music passed quietly between friends and local ears. Now, Swiss graphic designer and Ghost Riders compiler Ivan Liechti has pieced together a portrait from the afterglow, gathering tangled audio formats, paintings, illustrations, photographs and notebooks with his family, former label and peers. What emerges is a first glimpse of Soar's intimate cosmos - brushing against Füxa, Spectrum, Dump, Stereolab and King Crimson, but orbiting a dimension entirely his own.

Wally Badarou is a synth pioneer and musical polymath. But rarely does he sing over his sumptuous tracks. The 6 songs that comprise new record Simple Things finally realise Wally's vision for select backing tracks from his beloved Colors Of Silence.

The tracks were originally developed back in 2001 for the release of the original CD; here, Wally has “simply" added overdubs and vocals to their mastered mixes with some discerning edits. Simply put, Simple Things is another slice of simply stunning Wally Badarou genius.

Simple Things has been decades in the making. Indeed, Wally struggled not only with the idea of singing these wonderful songs himself but singing them in English and writing his own lyrics, while wrestling with the sensational backing tracks, which themselves seemed to have taken on a life of their own.

As Wally explained to us: "In addition to the instrumental artist I have been known as, so far, there has always been a singer who simply was not sure he was, up until now. Even though “Back To Scales Tonight”, my very first album, was, indeed, a song album."

Opener "It Couldn't Be You" embellishes the uptempo groove of soca-funk gem "The Lights Of Kinshasa". As Wally explained to us, it's about “a simple love story somewhere, one rainy night, under the lights of Kinshasa. A woman, a man, online dating, quite usual in our times. Then they meet, almost missing each other." The guide vocal Wally had laid for Colors Of Silence - with an organ sound - seemed striving for words in Linguala, a Congolese language he could not speak. Therefore the decision to do it himself was not an easy one, for it had to be in English to fit his singing. We think it turned out pretty good!

"You Can't Hide Always" vocalises Wally's deep concerns set to the propulsive "Smiles By The Millions": "Populism, ostracism, radicalism, ethics and values all turned upside down worldwide, are they all inevitably exacerbated by our social networks? It could all melt down one day, like a house of cards in the ocean of fake news and false prophecies”. Wally wanted to keep the track as bare as possible but, inevitably, the backing vocals and the synth-brass arrive ultimately to present a welcome 70s flavour, with no snare-drum added.

The bright and breezy "We'll Make It Again" adds vocals to "Where Were We", a tropical, reggae-tinged bounce through the islands. Here's Waly: "Where were we when we last said: "I love you"? Simple words to express something quite common, but never quite simple to deal with. A simple song about the resilience of the broken hearts.” The reggae came from it being conceived when Wally was scoring for “Third World Cop”, a 1999 Jamaican action movie.

"Walk Straight Ahead" provides Wally's gorgeous, contemplative and idiosyncratic vocals to the deep serenity of Colors Of Silence highlight, "Amber Whispers". It's a gliding, divine, mini melodic masterpiece. It'll make you swoon in its extreme beauty. As Wally describes, "it started as just whispers, sweet amber whispers. Then the colour turned darker, as darker skies seemed to fall upon us while the whole world keeps on walking ahead, straight ahead, regardless of the blatant warnings, feeling much too comfortable in conformity. Initially, the verses were to be spoken only. I realised they could be sung all the while, without overshadowing the ethereal atmosphere." Amen.

The serene, celestial "Painting My Life Blue" presents the vocal version of "Days To Wonder". Says Wally, "how does it feel when your second half is gone after decades of riding life together? Past the temporary loss of your bearings, you come to realise you've been blind to the essential, and suddenly you can see...For this most intimate song of mine, I had tried to come up with a melody on top of the existing backing track, long before realising the melody was in the keyboard part already. It just needed to be properly mixed with it."

The profoundly emotional "Just Two Lovers" works up the formerly-too-brief and glorious "Crystal Falls" into a much fuller masterpiece and features acoustic guitar sparkle before fully glistening with some gentle head-nod percussion. Waly explains further: "Dear little green men, please tell me, what is it about us that makes you want to come and visit us so often (contrary to Fermi's assertion)? And here is the reply I believe I heard them sing: "You've got the key you've been searching for: Love”. I reverted to the initial backing track I had made around 1985, which already bore the melody, and which I added acoustic guitars to, before singing it." An astounding closer.

A synth specialist, there can be few artists more under-appreciated given their vast influence than Wally Badarou. His solo work practically defined the sound of the Balearic DJs of the 1980s, and thus the more sophisticated sound of dance culture thereafter. He was one of the Compass Point All Stars (with Sly and Robbie, Barry Reynolds, Mikey Chung and Uziah "Sticky" Thompson), the in-house recording team of Compass Point Studios responsible for a series of albums in the 1980s recorded by Grace Jones, Tom Tom Club, Mick Jagger, Black Uhuru, Gwen Guthrie, Jimmy Cliff and Gregory Isaacs. Badarou's keyboard playing could also be heard on albums by Robert Palmer, Marianne Faithfull, Herbie Hancock, M (Pop Muzik), Talking Heads, Manu Dibango and Miriam Makeba. He also produced Fela Kuti. Phew!

When we asked Wally about the significance of this collection's title, he explained: "These are "Simple things” that everyday’s life seems to build upon. The simplest are the harder to describe, but when satisfactorily described i.e. with simple words, they are the more genuine and authentic to express and share. I’ve immersed myself in other classic song lyrics, something I hardly did before, just to appreciate the genius behind the simple words they were made of, and had a great time studying how powerful they were in expressing complex ideas such as love."

Recording was twofold: first, most of the backing tracks were recorded in 2001, in Wally's studio in Normandy, mostly using hardware synths and Yamaha digital consoles. Then, he fine-tuned the melodies and wrote the lyrics in late 2023, then added some overdubs and sang them all during summer 2024. States Wally, "Digital Performer was and remains the DAW I’ve been using throughout, ever since the 80s."

Wally's sophisticated synth textures and expressive keyboard runs are so full of character, so full of life, that this work of art transcends any easy genre categorisation. Meticulously remastered and cut by both Simon Francis and Cicely Balston respectively, it has been pressed to the highest possibly quality at Record Industry in Holland. Sometimes, the simple things are the most extraordinary.

In the heart of a post-apocalyptic city, Spacelunch was making his way through the ruins, wearing a heavy armour of metal plates and flickering circuitry. Cat settled on his shoulder, listening intently to every sound. This time, they weren't just looking for an artefact — their target was the Singularity Echo, a mysterious device created right before the catastrophe. Legend had it that the scientists of the past, sensing the impending collapse, had put all their accumulated experience and knowledge together to create it. It was said that one day “Echo” would awaken and allow descendants to touch the wisdom of the ancients, learn the secrets of forgotten technologies and, perhaps, avoid the fatal mistakes of the past.

— We’ve been wandering around for how long? — muttered Cat, looking around warily. — And nothing.

— Sitting up there complaining, aren’t you? — Spacelunch grinned, deftly bypassing the debris and intertwined roots that poked out from under the asphalt.



Suddenly, a glow flashed before them, gradually taking the form of a palm-sized transparent crystal. It floated in the air, surrounded by silver lining that wove into intricate patterns, like a network of ancient runes. The symbols on its facets, flickering, cast soft reflections on the debris around them. As the professor slowly reached out his hand, the crystal shone brighter, and the low whisper of distant voices cut through the silence. Their minds were enveloped by the echoes of past events, filling their minds with images of the vanished world.

The friends froze for a moment, overwhelmed by shock and a sense of profound change.

— Well, — said Cat, not hiding his surprise. — It seems we've gotten a little smarter.

— A little? Now we have what has been lost for an era.

— So, we have a new adventure ahead of us. Where do we start?

The ghost town, once seemingly lifeless, now seemed to come to life: every collapsed building and every corner sparked with traces and clues as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for a sign.

Blazing onto ICONYC for its 21st release, Swiss sonic alchemist Shiffer makes a striking debut with the magnetic All I’ve Been EP. Celebrated for his emotional finesse and innate ability to connect with unexplored corners, Shiffer’s latest creation, including a lucious collaboration with Paul Brenning and capped off by Jonathan Kaspar’s trademark rework, is a tantalizing suite designed to echo in our timeless halls.

The journey begins with Shiffer & Paul Brenning’s opening manifesto, “All I’ve Been”, a track that unfurls with both confidence and caution, as if self-aware from its very first beat. Mechanical whirs and fractured frames give way to low-end swells that drive forward with an unrelenting undertow. Brenning’s unmistakable vocals start to break a warmer ground as they linger in the liminal space between today and tomorrow before slowly growing in gravitas. Suddenly, the piece begins to contort, drawing spellbinding figures as arresting arrangements and melodic flourishes allow for decompression. Imbued with a tantalizing breakdown that amplifies their exquisite use of negative space, “All I’ve Been” is a fascinating and intimate take that feels as expansive as it ever could.

The follow-up, “Urban Legends”, takes a bolder stance. Anchored by heavy drum programming that carves its place with deliberate force, the track is haunted by ghostlike vocal fragments that lend an unsettling, cinematic edge.. Out from the left field, Shiffer deploys undulating synthetics that intertwine with consummate ease as they glide under the spotlight. An alluring act that treads unhurried and unconcerned, “Urban Legends” operates at its own pace, far from the demands of a world lost in the metropolitan hustle, allowing us to bask in a lore of things that might or might never have happened.

Closing the release, ICONYC calls upon Cologne innovator Jonathan Kaspar, who delivers a singular reinterpretation of “All I’ve Been”. Immersed in iridescent textures, Kaspar layers lush, swelling pads over pulsing low frequencies, their ebb and flow punctured by flashes of distortion that spark like electric currents.. Reflective and equally immersive, Jonathan Kaspar’s take on “All I’ve Been” pushes the collaboration into a brash new terrain while retaining the spiritual ethos intact

"It's been exactly 40 years since “OCEAN OF CRIME” was released.

It seems like yesterday when Claudio Causin, the guitarist of STAGE,
brought me the music without the lyrics.

As soon as I heard the song I thought of an apocalyptic scene after a
nuclear war.

The lyrics came out suddenly, without any second thoughts.

The words fit the music perfectly.

It wasn't a dance-song but a mix of rock dance.

After all these years it still has an extraordinary charge .

And now the “Dreaming” album is finally ready with all the tracks we
recorded through the “FullTime” years.

Good listening to all."

Franco Masala (STAGE’s singer and songwriter)

Repress!

Biosphere is the main recording name of Geir Jenssen (born 30 May 1962), a Norwegian musician who has released a notable catalogue of ambient electronic music. He is well known for his works on ambient techno and arctic themed pieces, his use of music loops, and peculiar samples from sci-fi sources. His 1997 album Substrata was voted by the users of the Hyperreal website in 2001 as the best all-time classic ambient album.



Cirque - originally released in 2000 - was Biosphere's first album for the UK label Touch. This new re-issue comes with a 6-track bonus album and new artwork.



Mojo (UK): Fourth full album from ambient pioneer. Coming to prominence with 1992's Microgravity - which along with the first couple of Aphex/Polygon Window CDs, defined the genre ambient - Geir Jenssen as Biosphere has made three of the '90s' best albums, culminating with last year's near beatless Substrata. The idea - as it always was thanks to Eno's On Land - is music as environment (reflecting, creating): working from his base in Tromso, Arctic Norway, Jenssen offers a polar, Apollonian exploration of the human psyche. Cirque is a perfectly constructed 47-minute sequence: cold clarity up against real depth of field, synth cycles dissolving into sudden moments of sonic revelation that sound like a waking dream - try the first 20 seconds of Black Lamb and Grey Falcon. (And if you think that's pretentious - your loss). Inspired by the story of a young American, Chris McCandless, who walked alone into the Alaskan wilderness and perished, Cirque balances the tightrope between warmth and unease, resolving into a moon melody that leaves you a peace. What a good record! Jon Savage.

Among the true Keiji Haino devotees, Nijiumu’s Era of Sad Wings (released on P.S.F. in 1993) has always held a special place in the pantheon. Operating for only a few years in the early 90s and apparently only performing a handful of shows, Nijiumu operated at the opposite end of the dynamic spectrum to Haino’s famed power trio Fushitsusha, dwelling in a hushed, meditative realm of mysterious droning sonorities and free-floating melodies that occasionally erupts into violence. Black Truffle is pleased to announce a new double-LP edition of a lesser-known 1994 Nijiumu recording, When I sing, I slip into the microphone. Into that void, I bring comrade “prayers”, then, turning to face the outside, together we explode. Here, Nijiumu is the trio of Haino, Tetuzi Akiyama and the obscure Takashi Matsuoka, the three performing on a wide variety of string, wind and percussion instruments, as well as electric guitar and bass, and Haino’s unmistakeable voice.

Like on the early solo Haino album that shares the group’s name (released on P.S.F. in 1993), the instrumentation swims in reverb (the use of which Akiyama recalls as ‘a kind of point of the band’), often obscuring the instrumental sources. On the short opening piece, a distant reed instrument arcs long buzzing melodies over a bed of cymbals and gongs, like a psychedelic take on Tibetan music. The epic second part, occupying almost 50 minutes, begins as a splayed, near-formless cloud of electric guitar and bass, shadowed by bowed and plucked strings, the three elements working through twisting atonal shapes. At various points in the recording, we hear what seems to be the sounds of musicians moving between instruments, their shuffling and bumps fitting seamlessly into this radically open music. Eventually, what sounds like electric guitar moves closer to the foreground, fixing on a repeated melodic cell around which hover mysterious clouds of long tones and a sporadic shaker. At the half-hour mark, the music begins to build to a violently emotive climax, Haino’s impassioned vocal cries punctuating a lumbering, bass-heavy murk, contrasted at points by what sounds like a tin whistle. Suddenly, the volume drops to a near-whisper, opening the way for the stunning final moments, which touch on the slow-motion balladry of Haino’s classic Affection, here given an eccentric twist by an occasional woodblock hit. The third piece opens with a hazy trio of rumbling bass, bowed strings and abstracted slide guitar, the latter calling to mind some of Akiyama’s later solo work. Eventually joined by Haino’s voice, its fragile, haunted tone might remind the listener of the man in black’s documented love of the madrigals of the murderous Count Gesualdo, before the recording abruptly breaks off mid-note. In this new edition, the Nijiumu trio recording is supplemented by a piece recorded solo by Haino in 1973, a bracing electronic blowout stretching almost half an hour. Using a homemade electronics setup to unleash a barrage of crunching distortion and shuddering harmonic fuzz, it takes its place in the canon of extreme live electronics next to Robert Ashley’s Wolfman and Walter Marchetti’s Osmanthus fragrans, looking forward to extreme noise years before Merzbow. Taken as a whole, these four sides of music are a stunning document of some of the lesser-known waystations of Haino’s singular creative path.

The black and white hoverbike flew out of the fog at breakneck speed and raced through the neon-lit urban jungle of the Havan metropolis. It manoeuvred steadily between the skyscrapers, trying to throw off the tail of the corporal's convoy, which was getting closer by the moment, preventing it from sneaking away with the seemingly easy-to-get Zero-G prototype. This weapon could create an anti-gravity field with a single shot and disable even the largest battle cruiser. That's why an elite squad of cyber-soldiers equipped with modified implants and gadgets was sent in pursuit not to allow them to ease off for a second.


With a sharp steering wheel jerk, Spacelunch turned off the main street and into a narrow alley. "Your turn!" – He shouted insistently over the engine's roar. Cat rose from the back seat, took aim, and deftly fired his blaster. In a pall of sparks and smoke, the pursuer's hoverbike spun out of control and crashed into the building. Gritting their teeth, the friends raced through the winding maze of obstacles and tight turns. All senses were heightened with excitement. They could see a gap ahead and a way out into the slums.


Suddenly, a heavily armed police drone blocked the road, aiming its red gun lights at them. Spacelunch decisively grabbed Cat and jumped into the so-fortunately spotted sewer manhole, barely managing to dodge the gunfire barrage. After landing in a pitch-dark narrow tunnel, they moved on, with every step feeling the growing tension in the air and realizing that they could be found out at any moment. The darkness seemed endless. The only consolation was that they had the prototype in their hands, and now all they had to do was get to the spaceship and get off this freaking planet.

This is the story of a Telegram audio message suddenly poured and cast into the materiality of a vinyl record. Is it a correspondence archive? Above all, it’s a field recording, a moment bit torn from everydayness, where Androo found some fresh air in a church in Sardinia and started playing the organ. Next we’re in Naples, and Androo is playing a tiny instrument as we can hear sporadically the street hum in the background. This was all recorded on an already too old iPhone during the summer of 2023. As always, oscillating between heterogeneous elements, the album builds bridges between a radical and strangely romantic musique concrète (so slightly reminiscent of particular Luc Ferrari pieces), drawing inspirations from American minimalism, as well as traditional Sardinian music (which Androo listens to every morning), and a special kind of gospel-modal-jazz. Mostly, this is a very personal album (or its script), the fragments of a journey with no makeup. This is what it is.

credits
produced, played, recorded, mixed by androo

LIMITED PRESSING OF 100 COPIES

Orcas Island began as a spontaneous moment, a sudden burst of post-punk electronic inspiration driven by a desire for freedom in music: to move beyond genre, to create and manipulate sound, to experiment, and to embrace the unconventional.

It was the 90s. Paris had the blues, French rap was beginning its slow rise, and a new musical genre was emerging: Acid Jazz. Imported from England by DJ Gilles Peterson, this groovy style blended 70s funk with a certain idea of jazz tailored for the dancefloor. Its heroes were Galliano, Brand New Heavies, Incognito, and the James Taylor Quartet. Jamiroquai topped the charts, MC Solaar recorded with Urban Species, and suddenly, France was swept up in the swing whirlwind. Starting in 1993, Parisian clubs embraced this union of jazz and groove, and in 1994, a compilation was released: Paris Groove Up. Around ten groups delivered the French version of this British style: Mellowman, Mad In Paris, Vercoquin, Ready Made... and Dis Bonjour À La Dame. The band wasn’t new—their roots went back to the late 80s, when bassist Marc Israël brought together a brass section and some seasoned musicians. But the real beginning of DBALD came in 1992 with the arrival of singer Sital. "Christophe Denis joined on guitar and songwriting. In 1993, we opened for Jamiroquai and Maceo Parker, and that’s when the major labels interested in the acid jazz market started noticing us," recalls Marc. Their track Chris’tal, the centerpiece of the compilation, was released as a single, and Dis Bonjour À La Dame's album began production in late 1994 in London, at Roundhouse Studio. “We must’ve been among the last sessions there—it was demolished shortly after. It was a very 70s studio, with old gear, a Fender Rhodes, everything was vintage! We recorded for a month, all playing together live, then added the brass and finally Sital’s vocals. We were lucky to have two exceptional backing singers, Sarah Brown and Mark Anthoni, who worked with Incognito and Urban Species.” The self-titled album came out in early 1995, and it had all the ingredients of a hidden funky gem from the 90s: Hey Mama with its ironclad groove, the irresistible instrumental Sheherazade Groove opening the record, Soul Body with its R\&B sensuality... The hip-hop touch came courtesy of Lee Rick’s, the MC from Mellowman, who laid down rhymes on Hall Blues. The brass section was on fire, the bass went wild, and Sital added a sensual spark to the whole thing. In short, a solid album produced by Fred Versailles (producer of NTM’s first album) and mixed by Paul Borg (Urban Species, UFO, -M-, Mory Kanté), a testament to a time when big funky bands made Paris groove—with Dis Bonjour À La Dame leading the charge. Nearly thirty years later, it’s time to (re)discover DBALD.

Ajere” tells the story of the sudden end of a love story: the disorientation, the balance, and the strength to say “Nun te vogl’ chiù manco je!” (I don’t want you anymore either!).

In this reggae reinterpretation, Chiara Della Monica meets Tonico70, who with his direct language brings a concrete, urban and visceral charge to the song.

Available on 45 rpm vinyl, with the song on side A and the instrumental on side B, “Ajere” blends Neapolitan melody and Jamaican groove, transforming a breakup into an act of liberation.

2025 Repress Cherry Vinyl limited

A mystery bag of magical editing tricks is on full display here with a groove so sweet you could sprinkle it on a donut. This is a track that bobs, weaves and ducks like a seasoned Heavyweight Champion - all perfectly timed to an outrageously hypnotic rhythm that’s layered with heavy-slap bongos, triangle percussion and crisp congas. When the familiar bassline and unmistakable vocal kicks in, you’re certain you know where this journey is going. But you’d be wrong. All wrong. Reality is swiftly flipped by the mother of all rug pulls. Suddenly, you’re off-road; driving through a hazy, surreal combination of twisted sonic reverb cuts and delicious diva-drenched vocals. This is a masterclass in the art of the edit - adding subtle ingredients to make something so individual and so unique. Good enough to eat? You bet it is. Any self-respecting selector will want this gem in their record bag, so grab it while you can!