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London producer Kel McKeown celebrates the release of his tenth album as Kelpe, with a vinyl edition of uncategorisable dance music on Kit Records.

Kelpe's work combines live drumming with synthesis and guitars. Like the nine records that came before it, LP10 treads the line between gauzy melancholia and bustling, dancefloor-ready energy.

Listening to Kelpe's music can feel like fluttering through a photo album at speed. Familiar faces and locations are revealed, nostalgic scenes assembled then scattered by unruly rhythms and samples.

Analogue percussion takes centre stage on LP10. This restless drumming - gear-shifting from hip-hop through to jungle - showcases McKeown's chops as an instrumentalist, while harking back to the scrambled beats that were a hallmark of his early releases.

Kelpe has worked closely with the visual artist Nikita Iziev on this record. Inspired by pioneering film director John Schlesinger, the serendipitous geometry of new wave cinema is mapped out in fractured moments across the music and artwork.

While the track 'Schlesinger' echoes the bouncing unpredictability of the sleeve, 'The Palace Guard Loop' pours neon fertiliser over fender rhodes jazz keys. Adrenalin reaches a zenith on 'Events Proved Me Wrong', as Kelpe hits his stride for a homespun drum and bass workout.

LP10 will be the final full length Kelpe album.

Following their debut 7" on Les Disques Lexi (2021), Musica Mosaica expand their unpredictable geometry. In their 'laboratorium dilettanti' notes and musical phrases weave a mind boggling tapestry, in which sounds often find themselves in awkward situations. "Clock In, Clock Out" refers to time as a key element both in musical composition and in the organisation of labour. New causes, new consequences.

Cosmic G maps the liminal terrain between waking consciousness and neural drift across four transmissions. Synaptic pathways fold into spiraling architectures. Each sequence a deeper descent into the mind's hidden hollow circuitry. From euphoric dissolve to the hum of interior mechanisms, dream state traces the geometry of altered perception where the dancefloor becomes ritual chamber. An invitation to slip into the frontal cortex and navigate the frequencies that rewire thought itself.

Through her work across five Vastum albums, Leila Abdul-Rauf has been a sonorous contributor to 20 Buck Spin’s discography for more than 15 years now. Concurrent to that she’s also amassed an impressive body of solo work whereby she could showcase the full range of her multi-instrumental artistic and vocal talents. We now bring that part of Leila’s output to 20 Buck Spin showcasing her darkest and most confrontational material to date with new album ‘Andros Insidium’. On ‘Andros Insidium’ Leila draws us into a ceremonial descent, through the architecture of shadow itself. Unfolding like a ritual text etched in obsidian, each movement traces the violent and sacred geometry of transformation. The presence and wisdom of the feminine divine looms throughout, as an ancient and uncompromising force, in conflict with everything buried, exiled and made monstrous by the machinery of societal pressures and unrealistic expectations. The album delves deep into the dark vastness of the psyche of woman: wild, ugly, vulnerable and powerful. Sonically ‘Andros Insidium’ is a mutation of the cinematic dark-ambient, industrial and ritual folk expressed in prior releases, now sharpened into something far darker, more narrative and intimate. Leila’s vocal work becomes a new focus with a wider variety of styles and characters, exorcising the demons of patriarchal fragmentation and revenge fantasy as lived myth. In its most potent moments, ‘Andros Insidium’ suggests that wholeness is not purity or light, but the terrifying act of reclaiming everything that was discarded, and learning to speak with its voice. * New solo album of Leila-Abdul Rauf of VASTUM (also has played in Amber Asylum, Hammers of Misfortune, and others) * Dark and heavy mix of Dark Ambient, Industrial, Ritual / Neo Folk, Electronic

* FFO: Dead Can Dance, Diamanda Galas, Arcana, Amber Asylum, Jarboe/Swans, Chelsea Wolfe, Cold Meat Industry

For our first EP and 12", we're joined by Italian sound artist and long-time Goodness friend Yraki for 5 tracks of sonic hypnosis on a bass-heavy theme: ‘Tendril’ is meditative future-techno meticulously constructed through an experimental, high-poly lens.

Detailed, tactile sound design with deep, hypnotic momentum, it shapeshifts between stripped-back bass pressure and elastic, experimental flow in one costant, evolving, unravelling thread.

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The shadowed interstice between root and circuit, Tendrils creep through soil and signal alike, tracing patterns unseen, carrying memory and mutation. Time folds in layers of sediment and data; decay becomes growth, fracture becomes connection.

Tendrils are the pulse of the unseen, a meditation on growth, entropy, and the uncanny geometry of becoming.

Hello Spiral returns to the same North London block, the same triangulated geometry of balconies and courtyard, but with a shift of orientation. His previous record looked outward from the eighth floor, these four new recordings move inside, into the building’s arteries. Joe explores the hallways of the complex where he has lived and listened for years, using the same tool as before, an iPhone and its voice memo app. The recordings were made in situ, each exactly eleven minutes, captured without ceremony.

The hallways feel different. Less private, less scenic, more neutral. They are the connective tissue between hundreds of domestic units, a space of transit rather than rest. The carpet absorbs certain frequencies. The fire doors catch and release pockets of air. The lights hum. Elevators drone in soft cycles of arrival and departure. These are the institutional sounds of shared living, yet once recorded they begin to behave strangely. A kind of internal weather appears.

As with the previous album, Joe remains attentive to what is often overlooked, irrelevant or discarded. The hallways, with their scuffs and signage, their coded access and polite functionalism, provide an unexpectedly rich field. The ambience is not shaped by storms or scaffolding, not by birds or street spill. Instead the material is the building’s own breath, its mechanical rhythms, the low frequency traces of neighbours, the occasional shuffle of footsteps that pass but do not return.

Joe talks about this record as a possible middle chapter in a trilogy. If so, it sits between the exposed openness of the balcony and whatever comes next. A hinge point. These recordings continue Joe’s long practice of defamiliarization, sharpening attention to the unnoticed while withholding narrative. They invite repeated listening, not for revelation, but for the subtle shifts that occur when a familiar space is treated as an instrument.

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

ensemble 0 (pronounced zero) is a band /contemporary music ensemble, whose line-up and instruments can change according to the repertoire performed. Directed by Stéphane Garin and Sylvain Chauveau, performing pieces by, mostly, contemporary composers including its own members, and working with numerous collaborators.

The year 0 of ensemble 0 was 2004, when four friends decided to assemble a vessel, essentially dedicated to acoustic music for the present time. A light and adaptable vessel, of varying geometry and geography (its members are based in different cities and countries, including France, Catalonia and Belgium.)

Zero, in cartography, is the reference level from which altitudes are erected. In other words, where the field of possibilities stands. Depending on the chosen direction, the disentangled or deciphered compositions, the musicians and instruments brought in, ensemble 0 performs upon a unique range of reliefs. First, its own compositions are specifically performed by the pulsating heart of the collective, i.e. a trio made of Sylvain Chauveau (acoustic guitar, glockenspiel), Stéphane Garin (metallic percussions) and Joël Mérah (acoustic guitar). Then, with a contemporary repertoire the ensemble expands according to the needs of each work. ensemble 0 occasionally performs pieces by Moondog, Julius Eastman or Ligeti but is particularly keen on living composers such as Tristan Perich, Michael Pisaro or Rachel Grimes.

Here, ensemble 0 plays in according to the movie: L’Incroyable Femme Des Neiges (directed by Sébastien Betbeder with Blanche Gardin and Philippe Katerine) a soundtrack with their own strong and beautiful imprint.

Sharp Fragments marks Stenny’s second full-length release on Ilian Tape, a tense exploration of spatial and material disruption. Each track functions as a fractured, self-contained unit, yet together they form a wider language where interference becomes structure. Across twelve pieces, the record shifts through evolving states, tracing a path defined by transition rather than destination.

Returning to Die Schachtel with his fourth full-length with the label, the Genoa born, Bologna based, guitarist and electroacoustic composer, Stefano Pilia, delivers “Lacinia”, a new, immersive cycle of compositions, delving deeper into the realm of metaphysical, spiritual, and divine meaning, weaving astounding arrangements of sonority from a palette of synths, strings, brass, organ, various electroacoustic instruments, and percussion. Resting at a refined intersection of the acoustic and electroacoustic, drone, and chamber music - overwhelmingly beautiful, delicate, and bold, - “Lacinia” stands as a high-water mark in Pilia’s already remarkable and forward-looking career.

Since its founding in Milan during the early years of the new millennium, Die Schachtel has occupied a singular place in the landscape of experimental music, issuing a carefully curated body of reissues and archival releases by historically significant figures and projects like Christina Kubisch, Luciano Cilio, Marino Zuccheri, Prima Materia, Claudio Rocchi, Lino Capra Vaccina, Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza, Roland Kayn, and numerous others, balanced against bristling contemporary counterparts by the likes of Jim O'Rourke, Giovanni Di Domenico, Nicola Ratti, Luigi ArchettI, Valerio Tricoli, etc. Running like a spine through the label’s output is a deep dedication to the work of the Italian guitarist and electroacoustic composer Stefano Pilia. Now Die Schachtel returns with “Lacinia”, Pilia’s forth full-length with the label and their first release of 2024. Building on the ground of deeply personal engagement with metaphysical, spiritual, and divine meaning, explored within his previous LP with Die Schachtel, 2022’s “Spiralis Aurea”, “Lacinia” encounters the composer working in close calibration with various ensembles, including the Bologna based Ensemble Concordanze and Comunale di Bologna String Orchestra, weaving synths, strings, brass, organ, various electroacoustic instruments, and percussion into an astounding reconfiguration of immersive, contemporary minimalism that stands among Pilia’s most noteworthy releases to date. Issued by Die Schachtel in two special double vinyl editions and a CD edition, “Lacinia” features artwork by Bruno Stucchi/Dinamomilano, and is an absolute marvel that draws you in and doesn’t let go.

First emerging during the early 2000s, over the past two decades – via solo releases and numerous collations with artists like Oren Ambarchi, Valerio Tricoli, Alessandra Novaga, Z'EV, Andrea Belfi, David Grubbs, and numerous others - the Genoa born, Bologna based, guitarist and electroacoustic composer, Stefano Pilia has presented a singular voice within Italian experimental music, harnessing visceral energy and hands-on immediacy within delicately woven tapestries of sonority, each investigating the sculptural properties of sound and illuminating its relationship to space, memory, and the suspension of time. “Lacinia”, Pilia’s forth solo venture with Die Schachtel, encounters the composer reentering his longstanding practice of collaboration with various ensemble forms, including the Bologna based Ensemble Concordanze, for the albums central piece, “Lacinia Off Axis”, spinning stunning string confirmations by Pietro David Carami and Elena Maury on violin, Alessandro Savio on viola, and Mattia Cipolli on cello.

A new, important cycle of compositions by Pilia, “Lacinia” (meaning "lace" in Latin) builds upon the exploration of the metaphysical, spiritual, and divine dimensions through numbers, geometry, and the creation of tonal forms explored by 2022’s “Spiralis Aurea”, mirroring archetypal, immutable forms at the juncture of the abstract realm of mathematics and architectural structures in the physical world, expands the poetics and compositional ideas featured in its predecessor. Regraded by Pilia as both a series of individual compositions and a single work, “Lacinia” was conceived to “define a circular path (a sort of "rhizomatic lace") where the beginning and end touch, suggesting the concept of time not only as linear but also cyclical and ritualistic—an eternal return, a process of transformation where matter changes, its state changes, but without altering the invisible internal principle of mutation”, embarking upon a a series of “steps, degrees, and energetic quanta in a progression of archetypal whole numbers and transcendent creation.”

The resulting 16 tracks unfold as a series of complex sonic meditations. While deeply resonant with the minimalism of composers like Arvo Pärt, LaMonte Young, Pauline Oliveros, and Eliane Radigue, Pilia digs deep and moves far beyond the predictable tonal relationships and structures of that idiom, echoing the ancient liturgical and devotional music of composers like Gesualdo da Venosa, Monteverdi, and John Dowland, at a refined intersection of the acoustic and electroacoustic, drone, and chamber music.

Fascinatingly structured as a whole to include a number of motif returns, across which we encounter works like “Lacinia Off Axis” appearing in slightly different rendering, states, or evolutions three times, and compositions like “Eve” appearing twice in subtly different forms and arrangements - first for four oscillators, guitar and voice and then for string orchestra - as well “Maris Stella”, which similarly makes two appearances, first for horn trio, organ and percussion, and then for string orchestra, with “Lacinia” Pilia delves further into the world of chamber music than ever before, creating a deeply inward, mediative body of work the totality of which, guided by its rich string arrangements of arching, sorrowful tone, feels almost like a mass for some unproclaimed loss; simultaneously locked in the nuances of a moment, while managing to suspend time.

Perhaps most remarkable is Pilia's ability to create a remarkable sense of sonic cohesion while using such a varied number of ensembles and instrumentation. From the sprawling string arrangements delivered by Comunale di Bologna String Orchestra, under the direction of Paolo Mancini, and Ensemble Concordanze, and a flute trio (Cadux / Plectere) brilliantly played by Manuel Zurria, to pieces for sax, organ and percussion, violin duo and percussion, organ and percussion, Pilia manages to create a sense of singular, encompassing world that flows forward like a shifting stream.

Overwhelmingly beautiful, delicate, and bold, “Lacinia” is unquestionably a high-water mark in Stefano Pilia’s already remarkable, forward-looking career. Nothing short of a marvel of contemporary Minimalism that, through its shifting arrangements of harmonics, tonality, and texture draws flickering images of ancient forms of music into the present day, “Lacinia” is Issued by Die Schachtel in two special editions on double vinyl and a CD edition, featuring artwork by Bruno Stucchi/Dinamomilano. This is an immersive all-consuming listen that can’t be missed.

We presenting the upcoming Posthuman album "The Mind Is A Heavy Burden" coming out on Netherlands based imprint Flatlife Records. The full album arrives as a 9-track purple 12" vinyl and 13 track digital / streaming. This isn't the usual club-ready acid house to be expected from Posthuman of recent years, but instead a callback to their output in the early 2000s and their cassette releases on The Dark Outside. There's still plenty of their signature 303+808+101 sounds throughout but it's overall slower, more introspective and darker.

Japanese artists Yumiko Morioka and Takashi Kokubo unite for Gaiaphilia, a journey through ambient soundscapes that seamlessly blends Morioka’s graceful piano compositions with Kokubo’s immersive field recordings and atmospheric synthesisers.

This collaboration brings together two of Japan’s most influential pioneers in ambient and new age music, each with decades of groundbreaking work. Morioka, celebrated for her 1987 album Resonance—reissued to critical acclaim by Métron Records—infuses her introspective playing with Kokubo’s vivid environmental textures, creating a dialogue between nature and melody.

After releasing Resonance, Morioka stepped away from music, moving to America to raise her family. For years, her work was quietly cherished by fans, only gaining wider recognition with its reissue in 2020. A devastating wildfire destroyed her California home seven years ago, prompting her return to Tokyo where she became a chocolatier before rediscovering her passion for the piano in recent years, playing live shows and making new recordings.

Takashi Kokubo’s legendary discography spans over 30 years, and has found wider acclaim in recent years via YouTube algorithms and bootleg uploads, wracking up tens of millions of plays. Yet he is probably best known for his sound design work, specifically the Japanese earthquake alert sound as well as credit card payment jingles - his creations are pervasive in Japanese society.

“From our love and concern for our planet, we both offer a unique sensibility and spirit of inquiry which we express through our music.”

Rooted in shared philosophical interests, Gaiaphilia reflects a profound reverence for nature’s resilience and harmony. Themes of Gaia, Mother Earth’s renewal, and the interconnectedness of life are central, with inspirations drawn from cosmology, sacred geometry, and Japan’s mystical Katakamuna tradition. The album invites listeners into a meditative space where sound mirrors the delicate balance of the natural world.

A master of sound design, Kokubo enhances this vision with his distinctive field recordings, captured using a self-made binaural microphone shaped like a crash test dummy’s head. From the jungles of Borneo to the gentle rhythm of ocean waves, Kokubo’s globe-spanning recordings transform into immersive soundscapes that perfectly complement Morioka’s introspective piano compositions.

“The title, Gaiaphilia, is a newly created word to encompass our love and respect for nature and life, this feeling is the theme we hoped to express.”

Released on Métron Records on 12/03/25 and with artwork from Ventral Is Golden, Gaiaphilia marks a remarkable new chapter for Morioka and Kokubo. Recorded at Kokubo’s log house studio named Studio Ion in Yamanashi, their collaboration offers listeners a deeply emotional and transcendent experience, rooted in the timeless beauty of Japan’s natural landscapes.

The iconic Valley of Tears series continues its pivotal role in Soil Records’ journey. This time, NX1, Crystal Geometry, and E-Bony return with electrifying contributions, joined by Parand as the newest member of the family. Four explosive cuts that define raw electronic intensity.

The dark Breakcore master on his favourite labels ! F**ing Good !

*Avant-garde Pop. Mixing meditation, sacred-geometry, searching for meaning behind the notes, Emika lost her mind trying to escape the reality of the lock-downs. Creativity in overdrive, determined to discover new dimensions: She produced VEGA. Named after the second brightest star after the Sun, VEGA is in the northern constellation of Lyra; one of the most beautiful sounding- instruments in Greek mythology. Vocals. Electronic. Classical. Collabs with Horace Andy (Massive Attack) +more.

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

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

Braindance IDM Electro!

"I wish I could turn or turn back" "Sometimes it’s hard to resist the feeling that there was a crucial turn in life out of which everything else flowed. Maybe in our more reasonable frames of mind we can dismiss that thought and take our plans and intentions very seriously. But, there’s often a lurking conviction that, like the oak from the acorn or the movie from its opening scene, it is already all there. In the first moment of Relics of Our Life, anything could happen, anything could come next. But as the suspense is broken with the first notes, the world of the record springs up as both an internal experience and a landscape of which we will learn something, but definitely not everything. The songs induce a swimming sense of cycling repetition and variation where shifting details tilt the ground under us. The round and round doesn’t make us dizzy; like breathing the right way, it makes us both heavier and higher. "Pawliczek’s songs can be located in the company of the greats of Flying Nun Records – maybe the delicacy of The Great Unwashed with the heavy heart of The Verlaines and smartness of The Chills. But, ultimately, his interests are elsewhere – a heart-break song over an earthly lover feels like only the tipping point for longing and devotion that outstrips the personal. In this sense, Popul Vuh for their hymnal geometry and switched-on Palestrina, and Terry Riley for cosmic elation come to mind. The songs have sweeping and cinematic proportions and depths of field constrained by a pop economy love of leanness. "But who’s supplicating whom here? The songs’ devotional quality is not upward to the sacred or even outward to the profane. It’s more like a magnetism between its elements – sounds, voices and rhythms. The track No Talk intones “why don’t you talk to me?” over a driving guitar and one feels visited by some kind of archaic god on whom the tables have been turned, finding himself jealous of our thousand little thoughts. The record finishes with his distorted lilting dance, trying to seduce us with some red red wine that is no one’s blood, but everyone’s favorite drug." -- Karina Gill (Cindy, Flowertown) 2024

With this new project, their fourth full-length work, Tupperwear completely departs from the "stylish" electronics and trends to delve into a profound exploration of the fundamentals of music.
It involves a quest or even a game through the extrapolation of geometry into various musical parameters, encompassing classical aspects like pitch, timbre, rhythm, intensity, etc., as well as noise, textures, or the implicit mathematics in natural or irrational elements.
Pentagonono delves into cosmology and nature. It is a musical approach without prejudices to basic numerology that unveils the universe, the harmonic scale, the number e, and logarithmic spirals. The golden ratio (phi) and the omnipresent number pi are also explored. Geometric shapes, proportions, and divisions of vibrating elements are transmitted through the air, internalized by humans, and transformed into music.
Following in the footsteps of previous sound explorers from various spatial and temporal origins such as Gamelan music with its infinite polyrhythmic replication, Psychedelia, Serialism, Musique Concrète, Bach, or J Dilla, this album presents itself as a materialization of ideas and concerns that, while already present in the band's musical understanding, are now brought to the forefront as if it were a vital manifesto.

After two years, Carl and Andreas present their second album, and once again, it opens up a wide associative space for us. What strikes us initially is the uncommon instrumentation: a church organ, harpsichord, glass tubes, and more. Like their first album (The Aporias of Futurism), it is mysterious and dark. But it also carries a strong touch of rebellion and adrenaline, sometimes quite pointedly. The pieces are now shorter and feature intricate yet irresistible rhythms. The impact is immediate, yet it maintains a sense of solemnity and ceremony. The Apollonian complexity of the rhythms and subtle melodic interweavings is transformed into a Dionysian, ecstatic, hypnotic, and at times tribal context. "Music for Unknown Rituals" oscillates between primitive instincts and avant-garde intrigues.

The process began in Döblitz, a small village on the Saale river in Germany, inside an old church that houses an organ built in 1886 by Johann Adolph Ibach. Carl and Andreas gained access and secluded themselves there for a few days, accompanied by the organ, an instrument made of glass tubes, and a set of modular synthesizers. After recording the basic tracks in Döblitz, the work continued in Munich and Berlin. Carl played electric guitars, harpsichord, bass, metallophone, xylophone, Indian harmonium, and various percussive instruments. Andreas added layers of electronic sounds, noises, and atmospheric drones. He also created percussive structures extracted and derived from recorded material of technical and industrial noises, which contrasted with the acoustic drums played by Carl. The antithetical approach continues with the dichotomous arrangement of the instruments, often panned hard left and right in the stereo field, creating an antiphonic communication. Some parts, especially the use of the electric guitar, evoke memories of the psychedelic sixties. However, this is anything but a nostalgic album—these musical references are merely remnants, set pieces, and fragments used from a contemporary, post-modern, post-youth-cultural, and post-romantic perspective.

Although Andreas and Carl continue on their chosen path of composing music with an almost literary narrative structure, this album is conceptually and formally completely different from their first effort. If “The Aporias of Futurism” was a revolutionary manifesto (in a pataphysical sense), "Music for Unknown Rituals" is more like the implementation in action; it is the practical application of the previous statement. To put it another way, if "The Aporias of Futurism” was the conceptual manifesto of a dark utopia of modernity, "Music for Unknown Rituals" is the staging of free will surrendering to the myths and catharsis of a Greek tragedy. And in response to this, the artwork features a leitmotif of histrionics with hands, the hands being the first and intuitive part of the body to express something: a ritual, a prayer, a defeat...

— Andreas Gerth is one half of Driftmachine, and Carl Osterhelt is part of F.S.K and collaborates with Hans-Joachim Irmler of Faust. Both became connected through their participation in the Tied & Tickled Trio.

**LIMITED/HAND NUMBERED 200 COPY RELEASE ON HANDPRINTED SLEEVES** A limited edition of 200 records. Each sleeve is hand printed & numbered on recycled Kraft card by esteemed artist John Pedder. There’s also a card insert with an extra print and sleeve notes written by the music journalist Joe Muggs. ’Yarni is all about tactile, real, physical experience and the creations that result. Now, alongside printmaker John Pedder, he’s making that more explicit than ever. Yarni and John swapped musical and visual influences, each feeding the other; songs and art developing as a single process. From The Clash to the Bauhaus movement, references merged, and in particular, Anni Albers became a touchstone for both. Every physical copy of this EP is different, the geometry of John’s prints echoing Ben’s music. The loping hip-hop jungle of the title track, the airborne house groove of “Red Meander”, the footworking jitter of “Agitator II”, the cerebral dancing of “Rummy” – all are inspired by John’s artistry. The EP is brought to you via Sound Records, a label focused on artistry, process, and artifacts – things you can feel, hold and treasure. Here’s hoping you’ll hold it too, and feel the joy that has been put into it from the very start.

Here our first reference with tracks by Pergo, Glenn Wilson, Jheal Bashta and Crystal Geometry. In which we can find that each track faithfully represents the style of each artist. Pure and Real techno.

Gladstone Deluxe is a New York based artist, producer and percussionist whose work takes form in recorded music, installations and live performances. Stone has performed as a soloist at the Kennedy Center, worked as a technical audio engineer, a software engineer and as an installation artist addressing concepts of rhythm, geometry, the black body and technology. “Spherical Intelligence” is Stone’s first appearance on vinyl. The crux of the record is three live performances recorded at his studio in West Harlem. These sprawling improvisations wove acoustic and electronic percussion, ambience and melody into forms that span the chasm from soundscape to advanced and intelligent club music. The stems were captured and then arranged into club-oriented tracks aimed directly at DJ and dancer. The result is an EP of cerebral, percussion-intensive music for the mind and body that reclaims and re-envisions the term “Intelligent Dance Music” from the Afrofuturist’s perspective.

In partnership with Ebb Software and Kepler Interactive, we’re happy to present the haunting soundtrack to Scorn on vinyl.

14 tracks mastered specially for vinyl will be pressed to heavyweight black discs, and housed in a deluxe gatefold sleeve. Artwork is by Ebb Software.

To complement the visceral, nightmarish Giger- and Beksiński-inspired art design, Scorn’s composers created an ambient soundtrack that blurs the line between sound design and music. Brian Williams, aka Lustmord, is often credited for creating the dark ambient genre, and has arranged two whole-side suites of his cues for Scorn. His pieces slowly unfurl in a broodily meditative way, emanating with emptiness and loss. AdisKutkut contributed under the alias Aethek, delivering oppressive, sci-fi-industrial tracks filled with deep synth pads, twisted harmonics, and metallic sounds triggering cavernous reverbs.

Dismantling the acoustic to feed the electronic, Editions Mego presents Telepath, the new album by Material Object. Born out of a single improvised recording session with a lone Violinist, Telepath is a startling album of future electronic music, resulting in an LP of unique and timeless tracks that reimagine a classic sound for an endless future.

Boldly departing from his previous canon of largely 'ambient' work, Material Object's Telepath renders itself out as something much stranger, something more spacious, more subtle and gradual. Moments of bouncing minimalism meet moirés of delayed pure tones phasing in and out of resolution, giving way to a series of strobing foreground gestures arranged and offset in disorienting landscapes which scatter themselves asymmetrically amongst crystal pools of reverb.

Revelling in the creative dismemberment of the original source material, Material Object slowly and patiently induces the violin to undergo every category of torsion, pressure and rupture. Its vivid acoustic qualities pass over and across the event horizon of the digital domain. Shattering then crystallising into points and coordinates, intersections, disjunctions, planes and reverberant figures. An uncanny geometry perceived only between the ears, at once dissolving and reconstructing itself.

Not to be missed here is the essential, but bonus only, add-on (available with all Bandcamp purchases) "Auxiliary Apparition", a hallucinatory expanse that traverses the same liminal geography as the LP proper but as some refracted, ghostly counterpoint. More nocturnal, overpowering phantasms looming out of a droning noise floor before fading away. A hypnotic and time-dilated recapitulation of what's gone before as if looking back from beyond a mirror. When it finally resolves in the closing moments and returns you home, you realise you haven't really moved at all.

Equally abstract, haunting and daring, Material Object’s Telepath is a singular work that abandons all notions of genre. Erupting with a tension of opposites that unfolds as a truly unique story, told in four dimensions and draped in deafening colour.

2023 Repress

* Nothing Lasts But Nothing Is Lost was the 3rd incredible installation of the Shpongle epic released in 2005 on Twisted Records. Now remastered for 2019.
It proved to be yet another masterclass in the psychedelic fusion of the worlds between musical genre and sonic geometry.
Simon Posford & Raja Ram interweave an impossible myriad of melodies on guitars, vocals, oud and horns with hifidelic sounds of masterfully manipulated glitchy synths and Raja’s inimitable Flute and otherworldly vocal mutations to create these majestic musical soundtracks.

The album famously features 20 tracks (which on vinyl appear as 8 separate tracks) designed so that every one flows seamlessly into another, continuously evolving like a musical hologram. Each new sonic world reflecting a psychedelic spectrum of the uniquely altered states of audio reality that Shpongle are renowned for.

With every track opening doors to new musical vistas, we are blessed to witness the ever changing sonic scenery that constantly shapeshifts in tone, timbre, tempo and time signature.

Opening with kaleidoscopic mandalas of a mythical music box that morphs into psychedelic funk on “Botanical Dimensions”, we know when Raj’s twisted vocal breaks that we are deeply in “Outer Shpongolia”. The diversity of musical sound surfing is unparalleled, touching on both established and newly invented genres such as latin glitch funk, arabic trance, psyfidelic dub, psychedelic samba massive with massive brass band riffs in “The Stamen of The Shamen” and even snake charmer techno- breaks on “Turn Up the Silence”. Nothing Lasts But Nothing Is Lost effortlessly and seamlessly emerges from one to the next and is a musical journey of such gargantuan portions that they barely fit into a 1 hour epic audio adventure!
On the third fantastical instalment of the Shpongle story, Raja & Simon tickle the synapses and kicking up the dust as evolutionary psychedelic textures and other worldly spaces meld with an irrepressible 4 to the floor of the Kickdrum liberally sprinkled throughout the album.

The mystical maestros undeniably delivered another astounding audio adventure, flipping the sonic switch for tripping without a hitch and earning its rightful place of any psychedelic connoisseur. 

A matter of pace, an analog memory…
Feel safe: like newborn, take your first careful steps on a clean slate while Maayan is your supervisor. Naïve and happy, you leave carbonbon footprints on your way into the positives. Then a faster pace: some tribal folk music from a tiny world, where people dance around an LED fire, commands a gallop to the one and ollam. Latinfection guaranteed.
Your nonplus motion interferes with environmental geometry. A memory from an analog past flashes like a daydream. Upward and rising, your smile workout succeeds while scintillating waves say “hello!”. Having grown up to a motorik being, the determined goal however never appears. The journey into a perfect storm is the reward. Maayan sends you some motivating words.
Then have a break and jump on the light train of thoughts to enjoy blurred reflections: on the water and in your mind. Sing your body beautiful and free. Words come in bubbles, a heart-throb away from a light tower. Feel like stumbling into new adventures on a pathless terrain.
Slowly and cautious, the novemberme, which is the one that approaches dawn, celebrates tristesse with a funny accent. Kick the blues with a beat. Somewhere lost but regenerated, find sisyphos’ generator of vitality. A nascent religious mood at the Autobahn service station fades into the fog.
Finally, the circle of pace is almost closed. After laughter of amazement, Maayan leaves you with a soothing mantra of confidence: an everyday ritual fun you should indulge yourself in. It comes in waves.

Ellen Allien and the We Are Not Alone collective are back with a second edition of the We Are Not Alone series. A 36-track compilation split into 3 parts, each consisting of 12 cuts, dedicated to the infamous We Are Not Alone event series and the best of Berlin’s underground techno talent.

Ellen Allien's innovative party series We Are Not Alone was launched in 2016 and remains committed to inviting an exciting crew of artists to perform at the 36 hour events, now in a new home at RSO.BERLIN, where they returned with bang over 36 hours and 3 floors in May.

Repress of Kaitlyn's solo debut Euclid (primarily written on a Buchla Music Easel synthesizer), it was inspired by her love of mbira music, early electronic music pioneers like Laurie Spiegel, Oskar Sala, and Terry Riley, and euclidian geometry. Each of the first six songs on Euclid were initially structured using euclidian geometry, an idea which Smith explored while attending a class at the San Francisco Conservatory. As Smith explains, "We each chose a 3D shape and assigned our own guidelines to the different components that make up the shape. For example each point of the shape represents a different time signature, each line between the points represents a pitch, each shape within the closed lines represents a scale, etc. And then you play the shape." Despite their heady geometric origins, the songs have a playfulness and warmth that makes them inviting and memorable. In addition to the buoyant grooves of Smith's synthesizers, some of the songs feature wordless vocals, which energize the otherworldly songs, while grounding them with Smith's earthly presence. She slows things down for the second half of the record, which features a collection of twelve short pieces, Labyrinths I-XII. Originally composed as new soundtracks to old silent films she found online, Smith says the tranquil Labyrinth pieces are "intended to feel like one is walking through a holographic labyrinth and encountering different experiences such as hang gliding, viewing microbes under a microscope, ice fishing in Alaska, and watching glaciers collapse." Despite their brevity, most of these songs feel like mini odysseys, effortlessly casting a cinematic hue on the the listener's world. Throughout Euclid Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith consistently delivers sonic puzzles draped in a warm Pacific mist. At times these songs feel so alive like the musical analog to roots growing deeper and stronger, leaves on branches bending towards the light, or the sun peeking over the horizon, briefly igniting the air with a primordial swirl of warm and cool colors.

“I’ve been coming a thousand years / you could call me the endless fuck,” goes the memorable opening line of Rubblebucket’s Earth Worship, a dance-forward, joyously layered collection of songs which work to dissolve the imaginary lines between the natural world and its inhabitants. Kalmia Traver and Alex Toth, the group’s front persons and co-writers, first began a friendship as jazz students at the University of Vermont. Soon after, they formed a prolific band that has delved into pop, funk, dance and psychedelia over five records, with performances spanning Bonnaroo to their self-curated Dream Picnic Festival, and collaborations with kindred genre-blenders including Arcade Fire and Questlove. But Traver and Toth initially bonded over another shared passion: the two were part of UVM’s Sustainable Community Development program. Though Toth communes with nature as part of his morning routine, and Traver is adept at foraging in the band’s adopted home of New York, songwriting explicitly about environmentalism in Rubblebucket has felt immaterial—besides, the band has shared its beliefs over the years by inviting anti-fracking, reproductive justice, and other organizations to table at their shows. But Traver was interested in writing love songs for and from the natural world, and both were inspired by their parents’ work in ecology and community facilitation, from which they saw a throughline to music’s communal healing. Traver suggested “earth worship” as a lyrical prompt for their sixth record, and with this concept at its core, the duo began writing Earth Worship: a Rubblebucket album with renewed shimmer, showcasing the group’s intricately sparkling beats, hushed yet hooky vocals and infectious melodic complexity.

“I’ve been coming a thousand years / you could call me the endless fuck,” goes the memorable opening line of Rubblebucket’s Earth Worship, a dance-forward, joyously layered collection of songs which work to dissolve the imaginary lines between the natural world and its inhabitants. Kalmia Traver and Alex Toth, the group’s front persons and co-writers, first began a friendship as jazz students at the University of Vermont. Soon after, they formed a prolific band that has delved into pop, funk, dance and psychedelia over five records, with performances spanning Bonnaroo to their self-curated Dream Picnic Festival, and collaborations with kindred genre-blenders including Arcade Fire and Questlove. But Traver and Toth initially bonded over another shared passion: the two were part of UVM’s Sustainable Community Development program. Though Toth communes with nature as part of his morning routine, and Traver is adept at foraging in the band’s adopted home of New York, songwriting explicitly about environmentalism in Rubblebucket has felt immaterial—besides, the band has shared its beliefs over the years by inviting anti-fracking, reproductive justice, and other organizations to table at their shows. But Traver was interested in writing love songs for and from the natural world, and both were inspired by their parents’ work in ecology and community facilitation, from which they saw a throughline to music’s communal healing. Traver suggested “earth worship” as a lyrical prompt for their sixth record, and with this concept at its core, the duo began writing Earth Worship: a Rubblebucket album with renewed shimmer, showcasing the group’s intricately sparkling beats, hushed yet hooky vocals and infectious melodic complexity.

“I’ve been coming a thousand years / you could call me the endless fuck,” goes the memorable opening line of Rubblebucket’s Earth Worship, a dance-forward, joyously layered collection of songs which work to dissolve the imaginary lines between the natural world and its inhabitants. Kalmia Traver and Alex Toth, the group’s front persons and co-writers, first began a friendship as jazz students at the University of Vermont. Soon after, they formed a prolific band that has delved into pop, funk, dance and psychedelia over five records, with performances spanning Bonnaroo to their self-curated Dream Picnic Festival, and collaborations with kindred genre-blenders including Arcade Fire and Questlove. But Traver and Toth initially bonded over another shared passion: the two were part of UVM’s Sustainable Community Development program. Though Toth communes with nature as part of his morning routine, and Traver is adept at foraging in the band’s adopted home of New York, songwriting explicitly about environmentalism in Rubblebucket has felt immaterial—besides, the band has shared its beliefs over the years by inviting anti-fracking, reproductive justice, and other organizations to table at their shows. But Traver was interested in writing love songs for and from the natural world, and both were inspired by their parents’ work in ecology and community facilitation, from which they saw a throughline to music’s communal healing. Traver suggested “earth worship” as a lyrical prompt for their sixth record, and with this concept at its core, the duo began writing Earth Worship: a Rubblebucket album with renewed shimmer, showcasing the group’s intricately sparkling beats, hushed yet hooky vocals and infectious melodic complexity.

Max Und Max is the new collaborative project from Maxime Fabre of Crystal Geometry and Roman techno pioneer Max Durante. Their debut release “World Clash” is questioning the role of music in our declining society. Entertainment has prostituted itself and money is killing art. They fght back to reclaim our subculture.

"Insane and heavy beats by the og don Pixelord featuring great remixes by an all-star line-up comprising Dj Ride, Dj Pound, Starkey and Dranq!

Like a lightning bolt in the middle of a dark sea, PIXELORD has returned once again from the frozen lands to shock and disquiet the tides of Futuristic Bass Music. Perhaps the best thing about Russian electronic music godfather Alexey Devyanin's PIXELORD project returning to SATURATE! for this "Demonslayer" release is not simply the exciting and hard-hitting beats contained within, but the simple fact that it shall be offered on delicious, glorious VINYL. An artifact for all time, perhaps to be found in future wastelands by those who would consider this "Demonslayer" to be the VanHelsing (or perhaps Trevor Belmont) of the 21st century bass music scene.

The last decade has seen PIXELORD riding the wave of forward-thinking bass music, and always staying at the crest, and 2020 is no different. "Doomguy" comes tearing straight in with menacing, distorted synth weaponry, assaulting with ballistic beats (even some nods to Junglism) until finally bestowing some glittering melody atop the fray, showing that not only is Alexey an elder-statesman of the genre, he's still the eager bass monster that explores his own depths. The depths are again evident in "Pain Elemental" where the vibe is established immediately, and only delves deeper into the slightly-detuned bass signals and ominous creeping atmosphere. The melodic elements are no longer here to sooth, they are newly charged laser beams that sear the flesh, scorching the eardrums.

This foreboding, demon-dispatching vibe is indeed present throughout this entire release, as you enter the "Bonus Stage" of this deadly game, where the aggression does not abate, and the bass plays backseat to the synth bell sonic geometry on display. The drums especially feel the wrath of PIXELORD on this track, where some impossibly tortured tambourines take a beating, and the chopping and relentless reorganization of the rhythm keeps you churning with intensity. The title track brings the "wild style", even though the drums are less frantic, the bass frequencies and laser blasts from our protagonist, the ever-ready "Demonslayer", are sure to dismantle any submissive subwoofer in range.

"BFG" rounds out this collection in a disheveled fashion, dishing out low frequency divebombs and squelches, whilst otherworldly transmissions from synth realms afar come leaping in trying to assert their dominance, only to be eaten alive by daemonic bass and telluric currents of seismic drum activity. An utterly destructive end to this tale… BUT WAIT, IT GETS WORSE! We have here on hand SATURATE! stalwarts DJ Ride, DJ Pound, DRANQ and big daddy STARKEY on remix duty, who all take the tracks down their own rabbit holes to parts unknown, with equal aplomb. The result is equal in intensity and aggression, but the textures by which this is conveyed are wholly transformed and re-imagined skillfully.

All this on one slab of gorgeous VINYL. No demon shall stand a chance against PIXELORD's battalion of beats and bass."

For Delft-based label Omen Wapta's first release, Japanese musician/sound designer/coder/producer JEMAPUR explores the far reaches of abstract experimental techno on his album Mode Cleaner. Pulling from music made between 2016 and 2020, JEMAPUR demonstrates his distinctive use of glitch, microsampling, live coding, and granular synthesis techniques. The album was made when the producer was drawn to subjects like physics, geometry, murals, ancient civilisations, the logic of nature, and the observation of the universe.

Delsin welcomes Jayson Wynters into the fold for a four-track EP that embodies techno as a vibrant, expressive artform with the ability to uplift. On The Affect Heuristic, Wynters strides forth with an electrifying machine language, calling to mind the feverish, psychedelic tweaking and layering of visionaries like Dan Curtin and Lee Purkis (In Sync). Across four tracks, Wynters pivots between distinctly Motor City-indebted funk, springy electro-techno and vivid, immersive soundchasms. The artwork - a canny meld of bold geometry, bright colours and rough textures from Erosie and Erris Huigens (Graphic Surgery) - responds to the music in a wholly appropriate way.

Impressions cast from lyric and rhythm – desire in movement, now articulated and set forth. Meaning arises between attention and action. In darkness what is it?

Air is breath, like light through crystal; it’s truth and sacred geometry. A version like ancient stone - the sample shows in layers, solid time. Compressed life. Pages packed together and seen from the edge, razor sharp and two dimensional. We are the salt we become, our children and ancestors. All at once, being forever; a verse, then volume and tome.

But we slow, dragging like ploughs tilling clay. The physical is a language like memory – translated into real. Turn from backwards to parallel, watch it reduce; remember downstream. The rock, earth and salt, our real reconfigured.

Type peels away, turning to sand in the wash. Disordering disorder - now still. Translation becomes everything, set sequence and entropy. Whole, to node, to nothing, and all. Not new, just another.

Vector Trancer’s journey continues; re-emerging into the central stream, deep dub glows and woven polyrhythm conjure vital knowledge for protection and expression. Viridis Mantra and outer canopy steam, we’re brought tense rhythm experiments and biospheric reverb – see further excursions in atmos and shades from Touch, Fax, Geometrik, or Ed Handley on a dark one.