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Some bands reveal themselves immediately, coming right out and winning the listener over the moment they hit play. And then there are bands that open up with time, rewarding repeat listens with new lyrical and musical thrills on every return. Glaswegian jangle pop extraordinaires U.S. Highball have the rare distinction of being both. The duo specialize in the kind of instantly charming songwriting that makes a great first impression, and an even better second, third, and beyond. Their songs are equal parts wit and heart, full of pop culture nods, inside jokes, and hooks upon hooks. Now U.S. Highball’s third full-length, A Parkhead Cross of The Mind, leans even further into their unique dichotomy, offering another goldmine of discovery set to their finest batch of pop gems to date.

Future Islands' romantic synth sound scales new heights with On the Water, the Baltimore trio's most ambitious and fully realized statement yet. Built around a song cycle exploring love, loss, and memory, their latest album finds the band continuing to deliver pounding rhythms, swelling melodies, and undeniable hooks - but finding new ways to probe inner space and tug at hearts.

Exit Wounds: The Album is the soundtrack to the Andrzej Bartkowiak 2001 film, Exit Wounds. Executive produced by Barry and Jomo Hankerson, the album features production from a variety of producers including Dame Grease, Irv Gotti, Bud'da, Eric Seats, DJ Paul, Juicy J, The Beat Bullies, & Timbaland. Appearances include Black Child, Drag-On, Ja Rule, Lady Luck, Mack 10, Memphis Bleek, Nas, Redman, Sheek Louch, Styles P, Three 6 Mafia, Trick Daddy, Trina & WC, as well as the film's star, DMX. The album peaked at number 8 on the Bullboard 200 and features the hit single, "No Sunshine."

Edits Collection debut release with Detroit based Peter Croce (Razor N Tape, Rocksteady Disco).

This first-ever vinyl reissue, remastered from the original analog tapes, includes a gatefold jacket and inner sleeve with restored, new, and alternate art and photos by Terry and Jo Harvey Allen; an insert with lyrics, original notes, and Terry’s letter to H.C. Westermann about the songs; and a high-res download code. Deluxe CD edition features a trifold jacket and inner sleeve. Recorded exactly two years after acclaimed visual artist and songwriter Terry Allen’s masterpiece Lubbock (on everything), the feral follow-up Smokin the Dummy is less conceptually focused but more sonically and stylistically unified than its predecessor it’s also rougher and rowdier, wilder and more wired, and altogether more menacingly rock and roll. Following the 1973 Whitney Biennial, in which songwriter and visual artist Terry Allen and fellow iconic artist Horace Clifford “Cliff” Westermann both exhibited, Allen maintained a lively long-distance correspondence and exchange of artworks and music with Westermann, whose singular and highly influential art he admired enormously. In a February 1981 letter to his friend and mentor, written shortly after the late 1980 release of his third album Smokin the Dummy, while he and his family were living in Fresno, California, Terry explains the genesis of the album title: Westermann died shortly after receiving this letter, enclosed with a Smokin the Dummy LP, the minimalist black jacket of which Allen suggested that Cliff fold into a jaunty cardboard hat if he didn’t like the music. That response was unlikely, since Westermann loved Terry’s music, calling his debut record Juarez (1975) “the finest, most honest and heartfelt piece of music I ever heard.” The Panhandle Mystery Band had only recently coalesced during those 1978 Lubbock sessions, Lloyd Maines’s first foray into production. Through 1979, they honed their sound and tightened their arrangements with a series of periodic performances beyond Allen’s regular art-world circuit, including memorable record release concerts in Lubbock, Chicago, L.A., and Kansas City. Terry sought to harness the high-octane power of this now well-oiled collective engine to overdrive his songs into rawer and rockier off-road territory. His first album to share top billing with the Panhandle Mystery Band, Dummy documents a ferocious new band in fully telepathic, tornado-fueled flight, refining its caliber, increasing its range, and never looking down. Alongside the stalwart Maines brothers co-producer, guitarist, and all-rounder Lloyd, bassist Kenny, and drummer Donnie and mainstay Richard Bowden (who here contributes not only fiddle but also mandolin, cello, and “truck noise theory,” the big-rig doppler effect of Lloyd’s steel on “Roll Truck Roll”), new addition Jesse Taylor supplies blistering lead guitar, on loan from Joe Ely (who plays harmonica here). Jesse’s kinetic blues lines and penchant for extreme volume were instrumental in pushing these recordings into brisker tempos and tougher attitudes. Terry was feverish for several studio days, suffering from a bad flu and sweating through his clothes, which partially explains the literally febrile edge to his performances, rendered largely in a perma-growl. (By this point, he was regularly breaking piano pedals with his heavy-booted stomp.) Like the album title itself, the songs on Smokin the Dummy ring various demented bells. The tracks rifle through Terry’s assorted Obsessions especially the potential energy and escape of the open road, elevated here to an ecstatic, prayerful pitch and are populated by a cast of crooked characters: truckers, truck-stop waitresses, convicts, cokeheads, speed freaks, greasers, holy rollers, rodeo riders, dancehall cheaters, and sacrificial prairie dogs, sinners seeking some small reprieve, any fugitive moment of grace. A reigning deity of a certain kind of country music since the mid-70s. – The New York Times // The kind of singular American artist who expresses the fundamental weirdness of his country. – The Wire

If now the time for voodoo amulets and protective talismans, sharpened swords and unbreakable shields, it’s also a moment for music to assume its highest form as a healing art, a source of benevolent spells, and a refuge from the chaos. After all, the best creators are always those that tap into the telluric current that exists below the surface. Those who delve into the collective unconscious so that timeliness is a happy accident; timelessness was always the intent. If Quelle Chris and Chris Keys’ Innocent Country 2 sounds like an antidote for a moment of surreal anxiety, the same could be said of it a decade from now. It’s an album best understand in a dialogue with the first volume of the series. Released in 2016, the initial Innocent Country focused on isolation, pessimism, and the notion of finding peace within pain. At a time when those feelings convey the mood of the moment, Quelle and Keys have responded with a soundtrack that offers soothing light in a bleak timeline. A hopeful record in a hopeless moment, precisely when it’s needed most.

Born in Norfolk, Virginia on 11 February 1935. At the age of 12 Vincent
was given his first guitar by a schoolfriend. There was no generosity
involved in the gift because it wasn’t his friend’s guitar. It belonged to his sister, who was learning how to play. He couldn’t stand the racket she was making so he gave her guitar away. But unwittingly, this cruel act was a crucial moment in Gene’s life as he soon began to entertain with the blues, gospel and country from his porch. ‘Be-Bop-A-Lula’ was to be the first single by Gene Vincent & the Blue Caps. Selling 3 million copies, it opened the door to national fame and untold riches. Followed by the release of the album ‘Bluejean Bop‘ on Capitol Records. He was the ultimate greaser, the genuine article and the authentic voice of his generation.

Francis Ford Coppola’s coming-of-age drama The Outsiders (1983) adapted S.E. Hinton’s successful 1967 novel of the same name, using a young cast of rising stars (C. Thomas Howell, Tom Cruise, Matt Dillon, Rob Lowe, Emilio Estevez, Patrick Swayze, Ralph Macchio and Diane Lane) many of whom came to be known as the Brat Pack, defining a genre of 80’s films. The plot focuses on the rivalry between two gangs of teenagers in Tulsa, Oklahoma, one poor (Greasers), the other wealthier (Socs).

Coppola’s ambition was to achieve the widescreen scope ‘of a teen Gone with the Wind’, and he asked his father, Carmine Coppola, to score the soundtrack. The result is epic and romantic, a return to a golden age of Hollywood film composing which suits the stylised and epic cinematography, becoming darker as the characters fulfil their tragic destinies. Stevie Wonder co-wrote and performed the song that plays over the credits, ‘Stay Gold’, which is included on this release.

The inner sleeves feature extensive notes by Daniel Schweiger on the history of the film, the soundtrack and an insight into the Coppola father and son partnership.

Hey you
Do you still like music?
The Seoul Power boyz from the Basement found some new nu
Just for you

4 killa cuts from New NuNew York homeboi Sweater On Polo
Come get some
U know the deal
300 of these made

Luv, Peace & Hair Grease,
Soul 2 Seoul

Artwork by Savio Zigbi Johnson

Endless Boogie re-joins with its fifth proper studio album. It contains and is called ADMONITIONS. Seven tracks of unrefined wisdom, mostly put to tape in improvised fashion with little to no warning. Recorded over two years and two sessions - at the pastoral tranquility of the Stockholm inland archipelago in 2018, and in the dank, cramped basement of a Fort Greene, Brooklyn studio in February 2020. Eklow on crude direction, Sweeney on stealth glamour, the obscurantist clarity of Paul Major is, as always, as ever, on full display, the fierce reality of Mike Bones is crucial, and the stoic solidity of The Harry Druzd lays beneath it all. Old pal Kurt Vile hovers over COUNTERFEITER. Full grease, delivered with ease. It is the band’s humble wish that you immerse yourself and this offering. Endless Boogie emerge from fugue state with a new double LP. Admonitions was conceived a recorded via timewarp between NYC, TX & the Stockholm archipelago. Major growls, Eklow riffs, Sweeney flavors. Mystery players appear as specters in the mirror. 100% guaranteed to drown out paranoid inner dialogue. Onward and inward. . This one goes down swinging.

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

On May 28th , 2021, Surfdog Records will release Brian Setzer - Rockabilly Riot! Volume One - A Tribute To Sun Records on vinyl again! Out of print since 2005, this record sees Brian Setzer paying tribute to one of the greatest rockabilly labels ever, the one that arguably started it all: Sun Records.

"Why should I record a tribute to Sun Records? And at that, narrowing in on only their rockabilly years... a narrow time frame between roughly 1954 through early 1957. For that matter, what the heck is rockabilly anyway? Sure, all of us greaser, guitar slingin' hep-cats know, but (for the most part) the general population has never even heard the word. Rockabilly, the musical bastard of rhythm and blues, hillbilly, country, gospel, and maybe even a little jazz sung by wild-eyed southern white boys with too much time and too little money just lookin' for trouble. After doing much homework, I have selected 23 of what I consider Sun Records' best recordings. Some I’m sure you know (at least I hope so) and some are very obscure gems." - Brian Setzer

They Say: “Documentary and industrial underlays for current themes of modern life”.

We say: Mind-blowing, percussion-heavy, Afro-tinged, cosmic-disco library bomb.

This is the one. An absolutely outstanding record from 1983 and definitely one of the hardest to find on the collectable German library label, Coloursound. The Now Generation (Percussive Underscores) is comfortably one of the very best library records full stop.

The record comes galloping out the gate with a pair of rapid synthy-eurodisco bombs - the title-track and “Panama” - before slowing down to a woozy pace on “Inorganic Matter”. “African Nightclub” sounds like it reads, and is a particular favourite of Prins Thomas. Indeed, it was used to great effect on his seminal Cosmo Galactic Prism mix for Eskimo back in 2007. It’s followed by the dark, druggy, slow motion industrial groove of “Grease Plant” before “Southerly” lifts the tempo to close out side A with its Latin funk strut of bells and melancholic keys.

For us, though, it’s all about the opener to side B: “Mechanical Heart”. Seven minutes of building, mid-tempo disco-funk joy, deceptively explosive, club-ready gear for body and soul. The back cover dryly describes the track as “Guitar and percussion, light industrial underlay”. Hmmm. How about, “after finally emerging from a particularly heavy week jamming in a sunless, lawless German warehouse, Chic warily press record on a wayward, illicit instrumental for basement gatherings”. Just wait for those drums at the 3 minute mark…

The beatless ambience and menacing stabs of the proto-electro “Chemical Threat” follows, before the open drums and incredible fills of the metronomic “Steady Going” and fantastically monotonous funk breaks of “Nepal Trek” round out this sensational set.

This is a library masterpiece in no uncertain terms, full of synth funk, afro beats, exotica, leftfield madness, dance floor dynamite and all-around greatness.

As with our KPM and Themes re-issues, the audio for The Now Generation comes from the original analogue tapes and has been remastered for vinyl by Be With regular Simon Francis. Richard Robinson has brought the original Coloursound sleeve back to life in all its metalic silver glory.

Released in Japan on the legendary Jazzy Sport imprint

180g heavy vinyl, comes with download card

Former member of the Kingdom Afrocks band and one of the most talented artists of today's Japanese music scene, drummer and multi-instrumentalist Naoito creates with "dotA" an explosive and unique mix of spiritual jazz, afro flavors and soul.

Sung in Japanese and English and bringing the very best musicians of Tokyo's underground scene, "dotA" is released in Japan on the legendary Jazzy Sport imprint. 180g is proud to bring to the international audience this essential album of contemporary grooves straight from the far-east!

Late-summer joy from two long-time Glaswegian party-makers, James “Harri” Harrison, a resident at the legendary Sub Club for over thirty years, now crossing the aisle from DJ to producer, and Max Raskin, together known as Manakinz.

The four tracks (five on the digital version) contained are saucy, sassy late-night bangers meant to keep you locked into a permanent groove hovering right around that 124-BPM sweet spot. Sharp, punchy house oiled with groovy disco grease.

Daughters Of The Sun's singer / guitarist Nick Koenigs has been toiling solo as Filthy Huns for a couple quiet years at this point, layering grease-stained drum machines with badlands guitar, mirage keys, and desolate vocals, alternately broke-down and road-burned. His debut is a dusty midnight ride through black hills. “Watch Of The Bear” in particular captures a loner-in-leather mood, headlight off, pushing 70, chasing the horizon under a sea of stars. Elsewhere there's woozy, hungover dub (“Hot Morning”), peyote campfire awakening (“Infinite Ride”) and stoned sunshine raga (“Out Of The Grave"). Barren times on the highway, through darkening deserts.

It took a while before it was this. It was a place to find clothes made by people lost in a minefield of ideas who liked to party. It was a place for temporary visions that turned out to happen and were then forgotten. It was always a place to find a new circle of friends. A place for expression where the throttle had been loosened and we all careered into the next day and the day after that. We all need to meet in the flesh away from the pixels and connect our first thoughts. Somewhere to ruffle our own feathers and take off on a phantom flight. It has been all this and it still is. Only now there is a record label to try and actually document a little of all of that. Welcome to Sameheads.

This record is a morsel from the community. Novo Line, Twoonky, Kruton, Kris Baha and Antoni Maovvi and Balance Crew aka Dane Close & L. Zylberberg. Six acts whose sweat is in the carpet and who all owe more than seven euros to the place for one reason or another. Six songs that electrify a new way to no wave. Don't forget, this a mince based dish. Enjoy.

J R Seaton aka Call Super

The 2nd HOMOAGENT EP 'We Are Here To Ruin Your Life' continues the exploration of this city's various basements. A fictional work of excess, doused in amyl and fuelled by the Trve Basque Speed, greased gloved strangers in decaying mansions meets Hellraiser but in real. Triames & Maiovvi return to Instruments Of Discipline with four new productions of their trademark glassed out, hi-fi night fantasies where sweat and leather meet 18 or more consenting adults.

Danny McLewin (Psychemagik) and Jamie Cruisey have a new label of original signed artists called SPIRITS. The first release is from Mexican hotness 'Lokier' of She Made Monster and 'Jason Greer' aka 'The Machine', one of the Californian undergrounds best kept secrets. They met in 2015 at a festival in London and after spending a few days together, became musically obsessed with each other. That summer, as Jason bounced around Europe, he stayed with Lokier in Barcelona for some weeks and after long night walks, some tapas and absinthe bars they came up with their first EP together.

A1 "White Room's" slo-mo headnod film score, kick starts the EP, brooding synths buzzing with electric cocaine gloss, their oscillators fluttering like cyborg butterflies around the pulsating strobelight beat. Creepy.
A2 "Stained Glass" hits tough straight out the gate with subterranean bubbling acid bass and charges headlong into deep psychedelic territory with a goth-inspired guitar, reverb on 11, turning the track into a next-level robo-Giallo monster!

B1 "Pearly Hate" begins as if a menacing swarm of bionic rave bees is slowly surrounding you, the tension of their impending drone amping up steadily as your brain thinks: Do I run This midtempo Carpenter-esque jam is atmospheric putty in the hands of sleazoned DJ's and sounds like the beginning of a long, strange trip.
B2 "Red Floor" is a chugging, barely restrained dark disco beast, flagrantly wearing its Weatherall and Neu Beat-ing heart on its tattered sleeve, elliptical melodies keeping you from your sanity with a solid drop for the dancefloor - another one for DJ's who ride it rough.

Thus completes the first release for new label SPIRITS. Four tracks exploring another corner of otherworldly analogue hedonism for extra-dimensional travel. Keep your ear on "Red Floor", as its potential for dancefloor uplift is proven and Machine-ready! Stay jacked in for more missives soon...

Ivan Smagghe:
"When your best Mexican chola low-rider meets our favourite Californian mechanic, you get a proper slice of (Lokier and) Machine funk. This is grease electronics, black leather under the very dark sun of 'Pearly Hate' or in the bright isolation tank of 'White Room''

The franchise goes one cut deeper as Parasols AKA Ali Renault and Antoni Maiovvi team up on this dark as hell during an eclipse set of grime soaked grease sleazers. Parasols throws forth two sharp as blades numbers with a guest appearance by the one and only Unit Black Flight with his first ever remix. Antoni Maiovvi closes things with something from the vaults, the 808 and sub bass sleekness of Shivers, remixed by Black Metal EBM overlord Equitant. Guaranteed nightclub nightmares as we put on the gloves one more time...

Andras establishes a new home for his out-house productions with Punp Records. While House of Dad laboured in detail, 'Sanity' targets club play - speeding tempos laced with the larrikinism of Boiler Room, Australian reality TV and shark siren cut ups. 'Vinyl Only' takes a swipe at the 100% mentality with a stereo bassline threatening to derail the stylus, further sidetracked by being digitally available a week before the 12'. On the P-side, '40k' pulls swimmers from the Bondi rip while 'Sanitiser's simplicity cleanses the grease from Andras' former plumbing exploits.
Words by Michael Kucyk (Noise in My Head)

One half of Scottish duo Clouds, Perth Drug Legend tear off a solo EP of rugged, apocalyptic bloke-techno. Stunners, all of them. Freak genius at work.
What more can be said about Clouds, young prodigies who have put out as much innovative techno in the past few years than anyone. The story takes a twist with a wealth of material being released by PDL, hot off a remix of Tiga's Bugatti and releases on Resin and Westend Communications. The sound is reminiscent of Ghost Systems Rave, but there's the feeling that things have gotten even more refined, something that smacks of a real subcultural movement.

Opener Balquhidder Ruins is a stomping gate-crasher, the tempo pulled back just enough to feel the grit of industrial funk, everything restrained to it's bare essentials. Monzievaird swings heavily around a few twinkling bleeps, sparse, chunky kicks that thunder through the greased hats. Pushing things even more into the dark corners with overdriven, haunting resonance is Clackmannanshire Crusaderz, which sounds like the soundtrack to being blacked out on the ground in a Berghain tunnel. Thisistullohnottibetpal adds a mystical, multi culti dimension with some mountain flute inexplicably soaring through the air before a bell breakdown zens things into a forceful yet tranquil climax.

If that madness weren't enough, there's a digital bonus track which is an absolute bomb if you're into lower tempos and hip hop inflected bangers.

Stunners, all of them. Freak genius at work.