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“In a concert, I show something with a beginning, a middle and an end. But, there is no end. Of course, there is no end. Because I am the music, and I am still here.” - Sophie Agnel

‘Learning’ - Sophie Agnel’s first solo LP, feels like the dark, physical inversion of her excellent ‘Song’ which came out on Relative Pitch earlier this year. Sinking her unique sound into vinyl for the first time, the LP arrives as Agnel recovers from a brain tumour - a shocking discovery that will require Agnel to start again with the piano. It’s a terrifying prospect, but Agnel has been here before, having reorientated herself almost entirely away from her early classical training over the last 4 decades of her work.

‘When I was young I had very good ears, oriole absolute. Then later I began to make strange sounds with my piano, to do different kinds of music. I was more interested in the sounds than the melody, for example. I remember once I sat down in a shop to try to read the scores of Schubert and there was a light emitting a very strong bzzzzzzz. And I couldn't listen to my oriole internal - I couldn't read the score. I was entirely subjugated by the sound of the light. And I understood that something had changed. Ten years before I could read and not hear the light. Now I understood that my ears were completely different. I was more open to the sounds of life.”

Born in Paris in the 60’s and playing her parents piano as soon as she could stand up, Agnel quickly grew tired of the classical world. What frustrated her was the strange disconnect between the frame of the piano and its keyboard - a weird boundary that seemed to form some hushed code of etiquette. “The first thing I put inside the piano was a plastic goblet. I’d seen a few pianists do it: Fred Van Hove, for example, put rubber balls inside his. But what didn’t appeal to me was that there seemed to be no link between the pianos outside and inside.”If you see Agnel play now, the body of her piano is littered with fish tins, ping pong balls, wooden blocks - not that you’d recognize their sounds. Having absorbed the language of the European avant-garde, Agnel is known for pulling the piano’s interior outside of itself by tipping her handbag into it. But these ‘strange sounds’ don’t just come from Cage - they also share the poetic force of Cecil Taylor and ‘Learning’ demonstrates that Agnel’s work on the piano's keyboard is just as important as what she’s littered on its strings. The record lets loose her ability to unleash a formidable sound mass and then rope it back to one single, clarifying note. With one hand, Agnel plays 88 tuned drums and on the other an enormous guitar - with the LP rotating through oncoming trains, and blues harmonica and feedback. It’s single minded stuff, borne out of a dedication to a wholly personal language of gesture, accumulation and deft reduction. “Maybe when I’m 80 I will not need anything,” Agnel says in a recent film made at her home. “I will do the same but with one note, and one finger. Maybe it's enough.”

‘Learning’ arrives in a reverse board sleeve designed by Jereon Wille. Recorded live at Cafe OTO by Billy Steiger on 6th June 2023 and 4th June 2024. Mixed by James Dunn and Benjamin Pagier. Side B edited by Benjamin Pagier. Mastered and cut by Loop-O. Front photograph by Aimé Agnel. Typography and layout by Jeroen Wille.

Apex Ten, a Belgian trio hovering in Space Rock, Desert/ stoner Rock and Psychedelic, mainly instrumental, offers a unique experience at each appearance. Fans of bands such as Electric Moon, Ecstatic Vision, Colour Haze, Kyuss or Hawkwind will be able to relate to them during the spacial, strange and contemplative atmospheres they develop. The sound is based on the energetic and powerful bass sound, paired with catchy and energetic drum lines. On top of it, the guitar melodies enable the crowd to travel and dissociate. In addition, the powerful vocal accompanies the listener and becomes the leader of this cathartic experience. On stage, Apex Ten brings their music to life with captivating performances that transport audiences into their expansive sonic world. Their ability to seamlessly transition between delicate, introspective moments and thunderous crescendos makes each show a mesmerizing experience. With a growing reputation for their innovative approach and dedication to their craft, Apex Ten is carving out a distinctive place in the modern rock landscape. For those seeking music that challenges convention and stirs the soul, Apex Ten is a band that stands at the forefront of creative exploration

If people were unaware of the significance of Joan Baez to western culture, her portrayal in the Bob Dylan biopic A Complete Unknown (played by Monica Barbaro) underlines how central she was to the popularization of folk music in the early 1960s. And it is her decade- previous relationship with Dylan that hovers joyously over Diamonds & Rust. The title track is about a thinly disguised ex-lover who calls up out of the blue; it remains one of her most loved songs in a 65- year- career.

There's a playful cover of "Simple Twist Of Fate" from Dylan's then just released Blood On The Tracks, complete with impersonation in a later verse; and "Winds Of The Old Days", written in response to Dylan touring again after a lengthy hiatus. Diamonds & Rust is a perfect, sunshine- drenched album of west- coast folk- tinged rock, full of star session players. It could almost have been a signal to all the recent comers on her patch many of them friends and colleagues, Joni Mitchell, Carole King, Maria Muldaur that Baez was here first and was sweetly reasserting her authority. Just listen to her mastery on "Children & All That Jazz", her cover of Stevie Wonder's "Never Thought You'd Leave In Summer" and the poignant closing medley of "I Dream Of Jeannie/Danny Boy".

The perfect accompaniment to that deep fall feeling, Frank Maston's beloved 2025 single finally gets its long overdue vinyl release! As our friends New Commute articulated beautifully, "Foreign Affairs" drifts through London fog and Paris shimmer, its avant-lounge glow wrapping each melody in a wistful ache. On B-side "Liaison," ghostly strings and a solitary piano paint a deserted twilight shoreline, Pacôme Henry's distinct 16mm cinematography hovering nearby." We've pressed just 500 of these gorgeous records so, be quick, Maston always flies.

Originally written for a film Maston was scoring in 2024, he decided to keep it aside for himself. And, well, us all. The song has a vibe Maston has previously flirted with; he wanted to dive in...all the way: "The arrangement is huge, definitely the biggest I've written, and it merited live musicians playing together. Also another experiment, to do it with all live musicians playing my arrangements. I wanted to make something that you'd want to put on when you bring a date back to your place. It's on the edge of sappy but that's sort of the point. I decided to give myself an unlimited budget - just spend whatever was necessary to get the right musicians and record it the best way possible."

It's this dedication to sonic perfection which Maston is rightly lauded for. We couldn't not put this on a cute wee 7" when we heard it.

The A side, "Foreign Affairs", is a brilliant, Bacharach-esque romp with a bit of that unapologetically romantic Morricone angle. Says Frank: "I was trying to synthesize that sort of jazzy/sexy/classy/romantic mature sound, where the edginess is in these surprising chord changes and subtle arrangement cues."

A wonderful complement, the flipside "Liaison", evokes Martin Denny, but Eden's Island was in Frank's head, too. He wanted to take a deep dive into that exotica sound - a genre he'd referenced a bit but never fully committed to - so the piece is lavished with those big sighing strings and a pretty lush arrangement. Happily, it all sounds super rich. Also, "Umiliani is always a reference for this sort of thing (Il Corpo etc.), That almost mechanical arrangement of things moving together and a simple melody over it (something I nicked from Ennio)".

The two songs were recorded in Paris and London in the summer of 2024. Aside from the rhythm section and piano, there's vibraphone, a full string section, trombones and alto and concert flutes. "Liaison" boasts strings, vibraphone, a female choir and tenor sax. Maston played piano and acoustic guitar but that's it (as opposed to playing basically everything on Tulips). His friend Oscar Sholto Robertson played drums and percussion whilst Maston mainstay Elie Ghersinu (formerly of L'Eclair) played bass.

The theme for a lot of Maston's titles is that they have two meanings. So "Foreign Affairs" is both a reference to him living abroad and the idea of constant cultural diplomacy and then there's this sexy/cheeky interpretation of foreign affairs in a literal way - "an affair abroad, ooh la la!". The artwork for this 7" single has Roman campaign flags, referencing the foreign affairs in sort of a sassy way. There's a violence implied. But then if you look from a bit of a distance it looks like a bouquet of flowers. So Frank thought it went with the spirit of the title. Also, he's used a lot of roman motifs now so he kept that theme going, even with the terracotta cover.

This is a vitally important project for our Frank. He explains why, here: "For whatever reason, these songs really resonated with me. I feel like they are either the end of a stylistic era for me or the beginning of a new one. They're sonically the culmination of what I'd been working towards and trying to get better at since I started. If I heard this when I was making Tulips I would have said "YES! *This* is what I want to be doing!". So that's the essence of it. It's a statement and the intended reaction is "This is really good, but why now?". Like the edge to it is the context of someone making this sort of thing in 2025, which I think is a huge strength. The real heads will get it. My music always has like a 2-3 year latency until people really catch onto it, and these ones will have a nice payoff I think."

We couldn't put it better ourselves. So we haven't.

In an intricate lattice of ever-evolving electro exploration, Samuel Van Dijk is back on Delsin with a new EP. Under his VC-118A alias, the Helsinki based producer presents a richly textured, cinematic strain of machine funk that reaches beyond dancefloor functionality to test the expressive potential locked within electro's crisp rhythmic framework. There's a melancholic mood hovering over Avian as Van Dijk allows a subtle edge of distortion to creep into his flickering drum programming. The end result is a pensive sound that touches on the moodiness of orchestral composition, unfurling patiently across extended run times without losing focus. With his characteristic attention to detail and broad dynamic range, Van Dijk continues to offer up a sophisticated, emotionally-charged strain of electro like no other.

Recital releases The Holy Restaurant, the new full-length album by Derek Baron, and their first solo LP since Curtain (Recital, 2020).

The album is built from years of miniature transcriptions of improvisations, functioning in many ways as a sister to Curtain. Half-thoughts and mistakes are revisited, gilded, and illuminated. The floorboards of the album are laid with piano, organ, string pads, while serrated accruements (distortions, flourishes, and recording interferences) step and drop overhead. The resulting conflux, as Baron notes in the accompanying booklet “becomes the point and the problem to explore.”

The second track “Oven Girls” opens with us galloping on a horse in some video-game meadow on a bed of MIDI strings. Abruptly, a helicopter soars over us and we transition to a latticed guitar and woodwind exploration. The album rolls on in this fashion, juxtaposing musical half-sentences within a museum of sounds rag-picked from history and daily life. Emotional interviews with Midwestern friars who build and sell caskets are set against gothic piano and guitar duets. On “Music in the Casket,” A disorienting and hilariously epic guitar solo erupts. The penultimate titular piece, “The Holy Restaurant,” sets a text written by Baron’s grandfather. A small chorus voices his words, echoing the humanistic storytelling of “Blue” Gene Tyranny’s A Letter From Home. Under sunlit piano progressions, a fleet of smokey trumpets emerges.

Running throughout the album is a series of “traces”: short melodic phrases painted over again and again with different real and MIDI instrumentation. The “luxurious asceticism of doubling” as Baron puts it. They explain, “Part of the allure for me is that the ‘original’ material is itself kind of thin, sketchy, meaningless, maybe calling attention to itself only by way of a felicitous mistake. Hearing, transcribing, and learning what was basically only ever played first on accident becomes the guiding concern.”

The album’s shifting, variegated forms and voices pass quickly; the record feels both comforting and elusive, suitable for any hour of the day.

The Holy Restaurant features guest players Ed Atkins, Lucy Liyou, Quentin Moore, Emily Martin, Dominic Frigo, Jacob Wick, and several of Baron’s family members. It is released in a limited edition vinyl pressing of 200 copies, accompanied by a booklet of effusive program notes by the composer, alongside an assemblage of photographs, scores, and artwork.

Heavyweight Dub album by Alien Trackers, a new project by cosmic trumpet specialist Pablo Volt (STA) and Jahtari space ship mechanic disrupt, landing right in the sweet spot between soulful Black Ark-warmth, digital Firehouse dancehall hitters and Jahtarian Dub psychedelics.

A lazy day at a beach, in a galaxy far, far away... Feel the sand between your tentacles and splash in the emerald acid sea. Snorkel with plasma squids and shock eels. Marvel at the double suns during the magic twilight cycle and bask in their glorious gamma rays. Gaze into the depths of the local Vortex...

Coming on alien-green vinyl, with hand drawn art by David 8000 Farris, additional bass & guitars from Dubsworth, and an all four thumbs up-rating, 'Dubs from Vortex Beach' is landing in your orbit right now!
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A decade after its release, A Fragile Geography returns transformed. This limited edition cassette accompanies the AFG10 anniversary reissue, offering an inspired re-envisioning of Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark compositions. Reworks presents distinctive readings of these pieces, with each artist leaving their personal mark on the material. The titles remain unchanged, with the sole exception of “Hiatus,” reborn here as “Ausencia.” Together, these reimaginings extend the emotional cartography of the album into new terrains.

KMRU reframes “Displacement” with expansive, glimmering layers that open into meditative ambient landscapes. Nairobi born and Berlin based, he is known for morphing field recordings into vivid aural experiences, often capturing the texture of footsteps, foliage, and distant city life and weaving them into contemplative soundscapes. In this version he introduces subtle new sounds, including stringlike synths that trace and heighten the piece’s emotional arc. The result invites close listening, offering enveloping tones where the organic and the synthetic gently collide and flow.

Penelope Trappes renders “Reprisal” as a voice-led invocation of the delicate and the intimate. Her wistful vocals bloom with fragile sorrow, rising over shimmering strands of strings to create a sound world at once sacred and shadowed. She is adept at channeling inherited grief into music that is transcendent and otherworldly. The interplay of her voice, the strings, and her use of space and depth draws those qualities into Irisarri’s orbit, imbuing “Reprisal” with the same spiritual weight and clarity that define her most powerful work.

Kevin Richard Martin (a.k.a. The Bug) transforms “Empire Systems” into a cavernous “Iced Mix,” driven by polyrhythmic double bass motifs and sculpted from subterranean pressure and negative space. Known for pushing sound to its physical limits, Martin brings the stark intensity of his dub and noise infused practice into Irisarri’s architecture. The track seethes with harmonic distortion and erupts in white noise rhythms, its brooding low end depth and icy reverberant textures amplifying the tension. Vulnerability and force are set in stark relief, as silences feel as heavy as the bursts of sound themselves. The result is a stark study in atmosphere, restraint and impact, reframed through Martin’s singular lens of sonic mass and low end intensity.

On Side B, Mabe Fratti opens with a cinematic, dreamlike, Lynchian reimagining of “Hiatus” in her native Spanish (“Ausencia”). She threads cello and voice so wondrously that her rendering feels at once hauntingly beautiful and disquieting. Emotionally charged melodies shift in unexpected directions, while her soft, intimate vocals hover above Irisarri’s brooding synth textures. Fratti’s gift for blending experimental and avant pop sensibilities with visceral, emotionally powerful expression shines resplendently here. She gives voice to Irisarri’s reflections on the passage of time and his growing desire to reconnect with his familial roots.

Abul Mogard stretches “Persistence” into a vast drone elegy. A master of patient sound sculpting, Mogard layers evolving waves of analog synths into a dense shroud that radiates its own internal light. Gradual surges of tone and subtle harmonic shifts emphasize the piece’s endurance and inevitability. Irisarri’s original composition, in Mogard's hands, becomes a rumination on time’s unrelenting flow. Melancholy and transcendence coexist in equal measure in this engulfing, cathartic rework.

William Basinski and Gary Thomas Wright close the cycle with a spectral version of “Secretly Wishing for Rain.” Basinski’s field recordings of Reseda rainfall and birdsong, which open and close the rework, add a personal touch and evoke the imagined sound of a grainy film reel flickering to life. The piece suspends Irisarri’s yearning for the Pacific Northwest, lodging it hazily between memory, place and an unreachable dream. It feels like a fading recollection, half forgotten and half felt. A final gesture that dissolves the album into vapor, leaving the listener adrift in its lingering afterglow.

Mastered with great care by Stephan Mathieu and featuring a remixed version of the original artwork by Daniel Castrejón, this edition refracts the language of the original through new prisms. Less a return than a passage, across time, across interpretation, into uncharted emotional realms.

Developed over three years across residencies, tours, and periods of deep listening, “Your Whistle Tells of Landscape” finds Australian sound artist Alexandra Spence continuing her investigations into the perceptual entanglements of sound, place, memory, and imagination. Like much of the artist’s work, it unfolds at the liminal edge between the real and the imagined — between what is heard and what is remembered.

Composed from a constellation of materials gathered across sites and seasons — snowscapes recorded in Vancouver, insect choruses from a Sydney backyard, ceramic fragments unearthed while mudlarking with tinysound — it renders an intimate cartography of experience: one shaped equally by ecological resonance and internal drift. Each piece traces a kind of imaginary geography, where sonic ephemera become proxies for topography, weather, or myth.

The album is informed by time spent at EMS (Stockholm) and MESS (Melbourne), where Spence deepened her engagement with microtonality and tuned feedback systems, and by dialogues with sympathetic artists such as Tashi Wada and Patrick Farmer. Sound materials were sourced from Serge Modular systems, a custom lyre built by Tim Wall, amplified objects, handmade electronics, and Spence’s own field recordings captured within rockpools, beneath sand, and among a flock of sheep in the French Pyrenees. On “Magenta,” a collaboration with Delphine Dora, the domestic and mythic intertwine, as layers of voice, environmental recordings, and Halldorophone feedback drift in and out of one another like overlapping weather systems.

Despite its diverse material palette, the album resists spectacle or accumulation. Instead, it moves with a quiet sense of continuity and a rich interiority — less a sequence of compositions than a set of situated attunements. Across its duration, sounds seem to murmur, glint, or hover right at the edge of presence, invoking a listening practice that is as much about orientation as it is about reception. These are pieces not simply about place, but of place — etched with the grains of time, vibration, and breath.

“Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?” This quote from a poem by Edgar Allan Poe sums up the lamenting, primal work that is "All That We See or Seem"; a project conceived between Finland, England and Brazil. The self-titled album consists of two long-form pieces of droning mysticism hailing from the trio of Gruth (concept, production, electronics), Ellen Southern (vocals, field recordings, percussion) and Johanna Puuperä (violin, modular synthesizer, additional vocals).

The album opens straight into a thousand yard stare with “Myrskymielellä", adapted from a 1891 poem by the Finnish national poet, Eino Leino, who wrote it at the tender age of 13. Here a blank distant droning of synths and the sounds of flowing water hover underneath like a dark river observed from the air. This is a sound and feeling that will stay constant for the entirety of the piece´s thirty minute duration. It is a trance-inducing composition that slowly unfolds elements of pagan ancestry into its own life. At first, faint female vocals are introduced as distant spatial elements, which gradually advance into waves of cries and anguish as the piece progresses and moves further into the storm. The tranquility of the first half is slowly morphed into a full blown ceremony as driving ritualistic percussion and a foreboding witch-like presence shifts the piece into a Dead Can Dance-like territory. Here a constant enveloping mixture of violins, modular synths, field recordings and vocal screams creates the feeling of a grande finale. It is an astounding piece of music that develops like a drone symphony for the beginning of time.

With the second piece, “A Dream Within A Dream”, from Edgar Allan Poe´s 1849 poem, you are transported to the shores of an undisclosed island; a place where it´s only you, your thoughts and the endless emptiness. The continual sound of waves is soon brought together with a cloud of synths and mourning violins that will keep a steady dreamlike state during most of the piece´s duration. This time the wordless vocals feel almost angelic in their pageantry. The composition flows like a slow caress of the soul and feels like the spirit twin of Gavin Bryars' “The Sinking of the Titanic” with its lamenting slow movements towards the unknown.

Truly a ghost of a record, “All That We See or Seem” is an experience hard to shake and feels like entering sacred ground. We are in a place surrounded by earth, both ancient and present. "Let loose, Vanha, the rage of an earthly storm! Detach the elements, completely open the sky! In the Earth, let an incessant storm prevail, so that in my chest I would not feel the miserable pain” - Eino Leino

Editions Mego presents Bosko, landing exactly 30 years after the initial General Magic flights into the fantastic; the legendary first Mego release, a collaboration with Pita whereby all sounds were harnessed from the buzzing, drinking, humming sounds of fridges MEGO 001 General Magic & Pita and a 12” with Elin called Die Mondlandung (The Moon Landing) MEGO 002 which embarked on a minimal techno template so austere and strange it was one of the historic progenitors of austere and wonky rhythms alongside Sakho and other European explorers.

The initial return of the playful and mystical Austrian outfit General Magic came with the 20th year anniversary vinyl reissue of their classic debut Frantz eMEGO 010. A record so audacious and playful it still baffles as much as it entertains. At some point whilst working on this reissue GM’s Ramon Bauer and Andi Pieper were spurred on to rummage around with ideas and tools once more and after more than two decades of inactivity sonic sorcery was conjured once again. Live shows in honour of Peter Rehberg were performed in Vienna and London. Softbop, a limited risograph collaboration with Tina Frank came with the first new recordings as a digital download came out discreetly online. The first full length album following Rechenkönig in 2000 MEGO 032 “Nein Aber Ja” released in 2023 on Finlay Shakespeare’s GOTO Records on CD and cassette. An ongoing series of mix tapes online further highlights their interests encapsulating a new found angle on electronic mayhem. All of these elements retain the wildly eclectic and ecstatic glow that only they can harness and hand out to an unprepared world.

Now, we have General Magic’s second official full length comeback recording, Bosko. The new album is initially notable prior to the needle hitting the wax or the cursor identifying a track due to the artwork. Made by long term collaborator Tina Frank, this is Frank’s first analogue artwork, with a painting of a happy/nervous machine thing hovering in a landscape of no discernible identity. It’s quasi science fiction hovering amongst the potential for fun. Suited to the music? Natürlich.

Bosko sees Bauer and Pieper update and reframe their original investigations with a fresh supply of head scratching, heart racing tunes that hit the inexplicable with a wild mesh of drums, pianos, synthetic voices and all manner of immaterial sonic play. Startling sonics shock the ears on Club Duchamp which sounds like a conversation between synthetic adult ants in an environment still in development. Elfer features vocals supplied by a female-ish voice who, whilst grappling melody, has trouble executing a firm identity. Noorenhalt catapults along a mainframe of syncopation so unwieldy it feels like the voice, which is utterly alien, provides the only comfort. Seite 5 inhabits a fuzzy zone where a synthetic Horn of Jericho type ambience competes with rhythms never quite sure of who they are. Rise of the Ombré raises the spectral dread. Is this Science Fact? Absolutely nothing within Bosko is predictable.

The amount of change in the miasma of existence and the things we touch in order to make things has shifted so exponentially we are at the point where minds are starting to glaze over. All of this makes the return of the always original, always surprising, always fresh and exciting General Magic totally in tune with the artificial intelligent apocalyptic age we currently inhabit. The tools may have changed but the wonderfully warped gaze of Bosko offers a fresh new vision of perplexing funk and robotic punk.

"Astral Americana hymns hovering somewhere between the dirt and the stars" Pitchfork

"Mood music for moments of solitude, best experienced without distraction" The Times

"Overwhelmingly effective and ravishingly beautiful" The Wire

American Dust is an ode to the beauty of the American Southwest, where vast desert landscapes hold stories both stark and tender. Eve Adams’ characteristic folk noir weaves a vivid tapestry of love, sacrifice and quiet revelation, conjuring images of dust storms, stray dogs and far off trains.

The high desert of California is a vast and confounding place. Equally inspiring as it is punishing, it’s a landscape that carries magic in its deep dark nights, holding stories both tender and stark in the coarse layer of dust that settles upon everything. It’s long been a source of inspiration for musicians, writers, and painters, each of them adding to the same current, carried forward over time, through hope and hardship and the passing years.

Somewhere out there in that broad and boundless landscape, Eve Adams has been living her own desert life, quietly writing the follow-up to 2021’s Metal Bird LP. Where that album sang of liminal space, the dream-like turbulence of Hollywood’s golden age, American Dust is far more rooted in traditional storytelling; a eulogy for the American Dream channeled through that sweeping part of the country that holds such power and mystery. Slipping into different and varied costumes throughout its ten songs, it finds Eve not just observing the people around her but stepping into their shoes and peeling back the layers of their quiet lives.

Adams writes from within. A few years ago she moved out there, to “the middle of nowhere”, finding a slowness that didn’t exist in the city, and she knows only too well about the mystical nature of the land and those who live within it. Weaving together themes of grit and romance, American Dust holds its focus on the bittersweet poetry of lives lived in solitude, most notably the women who sustain life at the center of it all. “There’s something very radical about domestic life,” Adams says of this thread. “So many women live their entire lives behind closed doors, completely in the shadows. Within those lives is such sacrifice, devotion, and love. I wanted to honor that: the poetry in the mundane, the longing in the repetition. The way love survives boredom and dust and time.”

Eve is joined on American Dust by Canadian musician Bryce Cloghesy, aka Military Genius of Crack Cloud, who plays throughout and also helped produce the album. Musically bold and vivid, it’s an ambitious and detailed stride forward from what’s come before, the scope of the LP’s narrative reflected in the radiant sweep of the playing. On top of gentle piano and guitar, gorgeous strings drift through the album, lending the songs a woozy sense of romanticism; a collaboration with Gamaliel Traynor (Cello) and Caroline’s Oliver Hamilton (Violin).

For all the drama that’s coiled around these songs, it’s the recurring notion of love and hope fighting against everything that holds true throughout American Dust. Musically it’s lush and vibrant, intimate and cinematic side by side, and always bursting with warmth. But it’s what it holds in its weary bones that elevates it to something truly special, something more than just a collection of songs penned in the heart of the desert. The characters it speaks of, and from, feel shadowed but wholly real, like they’re bursting to share their stories that have remained hidden for years and years and they allow Eve Adams to grow as a songwriter right in front of our eyes.

“The same swirling dust that clung to the covered wagons of my ancestors as they crossed the Great American Desert is the same dust my great-great-grandmother swept off her porch during the Dust Bowl of 1936 in Oklahoma, is the same dust that blows in through the cracks in my windows here in the desert, carrying stories from a time long gone,” Eve says, reflecting on the personal narrative that runs through her new album.

“It’s not just dust—it’s American Dust, the kind that settles into the bones of a family and never leaves. I think about that dust as a symbol of the passage of time. I hope this album will be part of that same current, carrying forward for the next generations of my family to find. I’ve been lucky enough to have journals and poetry from my ancestors that documents their lives during times of pure hope and pure hardship. I’d like to think of this album as a contribution to that family history.”

As they landed from their extended hovering adventure – a journey en(capsule)ated by twists, turns and various chops – the Fast At Work crew found themselves drawn to the idea of a new, singular sonic flow. Always on a noble mission for a future-forward vision of higher-deeper tempos, the crew realized that often the most meaningful iterations of their gospel can be found in the most inconspicuous places – “not even noticed,” some might say. Within these subtle crevices, a rising duo emerged to carry this torch (disc) forward into new, uncharted realms. Taking inspiration from “Eteus,” the god of light and knowledge, this duo expertly crafted four original offerings, all with a distinctive, minimalistic fusion of breaky, hopeful expansion. While the title contribution echoes a sermon of oozing bassline flows and siren signals, “Drip Advise” equally mesmerizes with its spiraling melodies and strong percussive foundation. On the disc’s flip, the anointed duo broadened and refined their journey via the acid-tinged bedrock of “Creamavity,” while the final offering “Anxious” ironically synthesized the full pilgrimage into a polished musical (and vocal) definition – “release yourself, into the unknown.” With the hope of sharing this glistening gospel far and wide, the mystical duo prescribed a set of two reshapes from enlightened phonic gurus in their own right. While Wisdom Teeth’s K-Lone opted for the always reliable essence of strong foundational grooves and deep airy textures, Maara (founder of the newly formed Ancient Records) crafted an oceanic odyssey – over 10 minutes of timeworn atmospherics and sensorial sensibilities.

Skkkrt! Step Ball Chain is officially running redlights and disregarding road rules with Anderson in the driver’s seat. The US born, Berlin based producer and deejay offers up Cut The Breaks, a 5 track EP bursting at the seams with ruff, tuff and techy freakouts, never neglecting the groove. Transcending genre, the low key king of the underground reaches into new realms sprinkling in electro, tech house and bouncy techno with a nod and a wink to hip hop.

Sleek & sexy; the opening title track is as fresh as it gets, a soldering of prize elements from different electronic ecosystems. Whiplash drums and vocal chops that weave their way through the record, also cropping and popping up on the B Side. Pedal to the metal for Giving it All and Visconti Bounce; playfully traversing dancefloors with tongue & cheek turboness and rhythmic exploration that will drive you wild. Smell the rubber burn for STEP15; let Anderson strap you in and take the wheel.

‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is the latest collection selected by Mikey Young (Total Control, EddyCurrent Suppression Ring) and Keith Abrahamsson (Founder and Head of A&R at AnthologyRecordings), the mangled minds behind the beloved ‘Follow the Sun’, ‘Sad About the Times’,and ‘…Still Sad’ compilations. The twenty tracks of ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ make a conscious(and unconscious) detour from its predecessors, sourced entirely from private press releases,spanning new decades and production modes within homespun folk, soft rock and otherwise70s and 80s FM radio adjacent music.  The magic of ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is the untold story of the artists behind these songs; thosewho missed the big time, but whose song craft and unrequited care hit the right notes, bothhigh and low.
Where ‘Follow the Sun’ and ‘Sad About the Times’ introduced us to the fame chasing, ambitioncrashing crooners who missed their shot in the mainstream, ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ delvesdeeper into the isolated wilds - a private world where production quirks, late-night tape hiss andone-man studio dreams were not necessarily a choice but the hand that was dealt.
With the parameters set to ‘private press only’, Young and Abrahamsson follow a circuitous trailof invention and emotion, documenting a spirit that’s more homespun, sometimes lonelier andoften a little weirder. The guitars still strum, but the keyboards’ hum is more prevalent andprecious; wistful harmonies brush up against lo-fi drum machines; a bittersweet fog lingeringover even the brightest melodies.
As with their previous collaborations, Young and Abrahamsson weren’t interested inconstructing a museum or drafting a historical survey. ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is a sentimentalmixtape, assembled late at night when the mind wanders and old memories blur with imaginedfutures, those within reach and those far too mysterious to ever encounter. Songs wereunearthed in personal collections, deep YouTube burrows, dilapidated web archives and thedim corners of Discogs, with many selections tied not only to intuition but to personalconnection.  Some tracks arrived via friends - Kelley Stoltz, a frequent guide for Young, tipped him off toboth Peter Kraemer’s lost gem ‘Let the Light Slip’ and Awakening’s revelatory closer - addingan unseen but deeply felt thread of camaraderie to the compilation.
The journey takes in a wide, strange sweep: The Watson Brothers Band’s ‘Just Whistle’ opensthe collection with a sigh and a shrug, a song that feels like it’s been waiting for decades to beheard again. Jim Huxley’s ‘Tessa on a Magazine’, rediscovered after a long and winding searchby Young, shimmers with a distinctly Australian melancholia. The heartbreak of Rick Penta’s‘My Story Changes’ and Twice As Nice’s delicate ‘Thoughts of You’ float easily alongside themore buoyant, radio-dream sheen of Barracuda’s ‘Baby I Love You’ and MAK’s sunshinedappled ‘That’s Life’.
Widening the aperture to the late 1970s and early 1980s allows for a deeper exploration intoevolving production techniques and musical technologies. The Squad’s ‘D.L.M.H.I.M.A.’ andChristoph Spendel Group’s ‘Forever’ crackle with the kind of bedroom synth warmth that couldonly come from the analogue age, while the soulful, yearning undercurrent of Awakening’s‘Gotta Do Somethin / Might As Well Cultivate’ caps the collection with a call for action - ormaybe just acceptance - in an accidental Brian Eno ‘Here Come the Warm Jets’ parroting.
While ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ moves away from the ‘sad man with guitar’ archetype that hoveredover its predecessors, it remains tethered to a familiar emotional gravity - a balance of longingand lightness that defines this corner of the musical universe. Each track shuffles gentlybetween resignation and hope, sadness and serenity, as if the artists themselves were chasinga dream just beyond reach, recording not for fame but for the simple act of getting it, thatprimal, creative itch, out into the world.
Available on CD and 2LP, featuring the third eye-opening artwork of Dang Wayne Olsen. Thedouble LP set arrives in an outrageous double-wide spine jacket with printed inners and adream journal entry by Pacific Northwest artifactual authority Josh Lewellen.

Classic black 2LP in gatefold! "Her darkest, heaviest and most personal album yet . . . a haunting, doomy exercise in loud-quiet dynamics." Rolling Stone Sleep paralysis plagues singer/songwriter Chelsea Wolfe, and that strange intersection of the conscious and the unconscious has inadvertently manifested itself within her work. Across the span of her first four albums, there is an underlying tension, a distorted and nebulous territory where dark shadows hover along the edges of the sublime and the graceful. But until now, Wolfe's trials and tribulations with the boundaries between dreams and reality have only been a subconscious influence on her work. With her fifth album, Abyss, she deliberately confronts those boundaries and crafts a score to that realm she describes as the "hazy afterlife. an inverted thunderstorm. the dark backward. the abyss of time." Chelsea Wolfe's material has always felt intensely private, from the almost voyeuristic bedroom-production aesthetic of her debut album The Grime and the Glow to the stark themes and atmospheres of 2013's Pain Is Beauty. "Abyss is meant to have the feeling of when you're dreaming, and you briefly wake up, but then fall back asleep into the same dream, diving quickly into your own subconscious," says Wolfe. To conjure this in-between world, Wolfe continued her ongoing collaboration with multi-instrumentalist and co-writer Ben Chisholm and drummer Dylan Fujioka, with Ezra Buchla brought on board to play viola and Mike Sullivan (Russian Circles) enlisted to contribute guitar. The ensemble traveled to Dallas, TX to record with producer John Congleton (Swans, St. Vincent). In the back of her mind burned the words of designer Yohji Yamamoto: "Perfection is ugly. Somewhere in the things humans make, I want to see scars, failure, disorder, distortion." The resulting eleven songs reflect that philosophy as they smoulder with human frailty, intimacy, quiet passion, anxiety, and deep longing. "Sleep and dream issues have followed me my whole life," remarks Wolfe as she revisits notes from the writing and recording sessions. In a way, these issues have become a part of Chelsea Wolfe's identity, for whom the notion of sleep as an escape has been subverted. Abyss captures this dichotomy, this battle between the soothing and the upsetting, and demonstrates why Chelsea Wolfe has become one of the most intriguing songwriters of the decade.

Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP Set Plays with Authoritative Tonality, Airiness, and Clarity:
Pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl and Strictly Limited to
3,000 Numbered Copies
1/4” / 15 IPS Dolby A analogue master to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe

Joni Mitchell is the only artist who could’ve made Hejira. The legendary singer-songwriter said as much when discussing the album decades after its release. Yet that fact seemed obvious from the moment the gold-certified effort streeted in fall 1976. An adventurous travelogue, probing narrative, and offbeat homage to freedom, Hejira remains an inimitable entry in the catalog of recorded music — a spare, gorgeous, meditative series of sonic vignettes comprised of floating harmonic pop, cool jazz, soft rock, and sensitive vocal elements that beckon feelings of motion, discovery, and self-examination.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing on MoFi SuperVinyl, and strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP set presents the record ranked the 133rd Greatest of All Time by Rolling Stone with definitive detail, richness, accuracy, and directness. Marking the first time the revered LP has received audiophile treatment, it's one of six iconic 1970s Mitchell records Mobile Fidelity is reissuing on vinyl and SACD.

Playing with a virtually nonexistent noise floor, dead-quiet surfaces, and superior groove definition, this collectible reissue reproduces in enveloping fashion the tones, textures, and craftsmanship that help Hejira function as the equivalent of a liberating trip down an open road with nothing but blue sky, natural landscape, and fresh air in the immediate vicinity. Passages bloom, carry, decay as they do amid an acoustically optimized environment. Soundstages extend far, wide, and deep, with black backgrounds and pinpoint images adding to the realism.

The reference-grade immediacy, airiness, and presence put in transparent perspective Mitchell’s dense strings of words, stream-of-conscious-like phrasing, and unhurried albeit forward momentum. Likewise, the instrumental contributions of her A-list support musicians — a cast that includes L.A. Express members John Guerin, Max Bennett and Tom Scott, plus Neil Young, Victor Feldman, and Abe Most — emerges with breathtaking clarity and dimensionality.

While Mitchell, whose intimate vocals and abstract guitar parts center everything, Mobile Fidelity's restoration of Hejira further reveals the visionary breadth of guitarist Larry Carlton and bassist Jaco Pastorius. Though heard on only four tracks, Pastorius' fretless bass epitomizes the fluid, subtle, flexible, roomy, and shape-shifting characteristics of songs that often appear to transpire out of nowhere akin to the formation of a puffy cumulus cloud overhead. In sync with Mitchell’s voice, Pastorius’ fusion hovers and floats, suspended in a fog you want to deeply inhale. The "grace notes" Mitchell desired on Hejira can now be heard in full. Ditto the luxurious tapestries of alinear lines, fills, and supplements unreeled on Carlton’s six-string.

Visually, the packaging of this UD1S set complements its identity as the copy to own. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, the LPs come in foil-stamped jackets with faithful-to-the-original graphics. This version is for listeners who desire to become immersed in everything about Hejira, including the unforgettable album cover — a pastiche of 14 different photos Mitchell used a Camera Lucida to assemble into one image that’s anchored by a portrait of her in a stoic pose — and the interior shots of Mitchell skating on a frozen Wisconsin lake wearing a pair of black skates, black shirt, and fur cape.

The notion of skating, feeling an awakening wind whipping against your face, and losing yourself to the surroundings are extremely apt for Hejira, which Mitchell wrote after a sequence of trips and relationships prompted her to reflect on the complicated conflicts between independence and marriage, success and satisfaction, duty and desire — and, more specifically, “the cost of being a woman.” The Canadian native delved into such themes before. But never as she does on Hejira, whose liberating, running-away aura doubles as another of Mitchell’s rejections of tradition as well as a suggestion of a better alternative.

At once observational and personal, expansive and insular, cheerful and poignant, Hejira spans a sea of human conditions, emotions, and circumstances. It addresses drifting, isolation, pleasure, place, time, and surroundings with strikingly poetic discourse matched with music that, save for the crooned ballad “Blue Motel Room,” forgoes conventional structures and choruses.

The jazz-based arrangements, marked by scaled-down percussion and all manner of bent, rounded, and unsettled notes, hint that Mitchell has no exact destination in mind. Excursions such as the moody “Furry Sings the Blues,” funky “Coyote” and edgy “Black Crow” throw open previously locked doors to possibility and journey. They signal it’s time for a welcome departure from norms and the past, one that leads to a heightened sense of clarity and perspective. Or, as Mitchell said upon choosing the album title, it’s time for “leaving the dream, no blame.”

Known for her delicate, subtly psychedelic approach to production - all subtlety is thrown out of the window on the opener, “Parents and God”. We are immediately confronted with a slamming Chicago house style beat in style of Mr Fingers at his most utilitarian. It slams, jerking in and out of tempo like Ron Hardy in beast mode.

Out of nowhere a soulful church organ arrives - at first for a brief respite - but then for an extended solo, which gives way to an 80s electro style breakdown before reverting back to form. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it does - to a dizzying extent - and heirin lies Mayurashka’s magic: a blatant disregard for norms and a deft touch that makes the unorthodox so compelling.

“Notango" takes another big left turn - sitting somewhere between tribal seance and rain dance, it’s mostly organic drums and otherworldly sound effects that combine to drag us deeper into the wormhole before “ Vat Murmur” takes us back into the light with its uptempo disco energy and giving way to heavy chugging bass. This one is equally for fans of idjut boys and Larry Levan.

The EP rounds off with the title track “ LSI dreaming” - to try and describe it is almost impossible, but let’s say it starts of with a mid 2000s Perlon-era tech house energy before things quickly escalate beyond all recognition and then just hover with lysergic intensity. If I ever closed panorama bar, this is the track I’d end with.

With solid training as a classical musician, Sophie Agnel took a close interest in modern jazz before committing in the early 90s to the shifting, deliciously uncertain ground of free improvisation, thanks to her fascination for the powers of expression displayed by a few great keyboard-heretics such as Keith Tippett, Fred Van Hove or Christine Wodrascka. She began reworking the prepared piano techniques imagined by John Cage and transformed her instrument into a sort of extended piano.

Coming from a Punk music background Joke Lanz started in the mid 80s to play Experimental- and Noise music. Best known for his internationally acclaimed project Sudden Infant, Lanz is presenting his work since 30 years all over the world. Born in Switzerland and currently operating out of Berlin, he is one of the most prolific and profound artists working in the border zones where performance and body art meet Improvisation and Noise.

Agnel and Lanz have performed stunning live shows as a duo, now their debut album is coming out on Klanggalerie. Turntables and piano, a unique combination that is a lot of fun!

Senselessness 1/2 is the very first solo issue of the Swiss electronic composer Robin Félix, on his own label De l’Aube (Of Dawn), the occasion for him to prove that field recordings can be (or should be?) an integral part of the global matter, when so often they are just something hovering in the background because it’s “nice” or reminds the artist of a place he loves.

Throughout the length of these four tracks, they are litterally central; moreover, they are electronically transformed, manipulated, skewed and twisted in order to form some sort of framework, a backbone on to which sounds and genres intertwine. On Cluster, violins and cellos (recorded in the gardens of the Venice Biennale) are soon transmuted into the abrasions of the electroacoustic realm, until the pulse of a relentless bass introduces a pure and pristine electronic music that knows and uses the roots of dub, drum’n’bass and the meticulousness of Jan Jelinek’s Glitch aesthetics. A tad “housy”, Chi comes as a second pulse where a modified didgeridoo and African percussions (recorded in a Swiss forest) lead the listener to a sort of tribal mode, as suited to dancers than to those who prefer inner journeys; here, the spatial dub of King Tubby moves from background to foreground.

The more abstract Boiler verges on the IDM and the heady, elegant and spartan Detroit techno – headphones reveal its numerous minute and delicate details. Based on the recording of insects, of which one can hear the actual rubbing of elytras, the closing Swarm ends the record with and intricate blend of ambient, which in some way winks to the Aphex Twin and The Future Sound Of London. Overall Senselessness 1/2 is a mesmerising and concise update of the famous Deutsche elektronische musik of old, that gathered on its way the other genres that made Robin Félix tick. Since field recordings have hardly been that meaningful, one wonders where Senselessness 2/2 will lead us to

Glasgow-based Effective Dreaming—the solo project of Scottish artist and musician Iain Ross—unveils Dream Catalogue Vol. 1, arriving June 21st, 2025 (Summer Solstice) via Swedish experimental label Fluere Tapes.

Issued as a limited run of 50 cassettes, each adorned with hand-worked, corroded copper sheet inserts and labels, Dream Catalogue Vol. 1 feels less like a release and more like an unearthed artefact: weathered, humming, quietly alive. The materials echo the music’s exploration of fragile impermanence and erosion: oxidised metal, magnetic tape, hiss, hum. A tactile world where sound wears its decay like a patina.

Across its length, the album unfolds in a series of flickering vignettes—drifting, dissolving, reappearing. Shaped by synths, environmental recordings, tape loops, and soft drones, the pieces move like glints of light on water—never fixed, always in motion. Achingly beautiful melodies rise and vanish, tracing fragile pathways through a landscape of shifting sensations. Some moments glow with a gentle warmth, like sunlit glass or breath on a fogged mirror. Others slip into shadow: slow, submerged passages feel closer to memory than music. The album feels loose and weightless, yet dense with feeling—a presence more sensed than held.

There is no fixed narrative here—only fragments and artefacts, half-remembered places, echoes of dreams. Each track hovers just at the edge of clarity, evoking not specific stories, but moods, textures, and the quiet drift of time. It’s music that feels both intimate and remote, like overhearing a distant signal only you can understand.

The name Effective Dreaming is drawn from Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Lathe of Heaven, where a dreamer's visions alter the very fabric of reality—past and present reshaped, histories rewritten, unnoticed by all but the dreamer himself. In a similar spirit, Ross’s music inhabits a space where memory, perception, and matter blur—where each sound carries the residue of something once real, now transformed and dissolving as one drifts through the seams of the world.

Dream Catalogue Vol. 1 is a meditation on texture, transience, and the quiet resonance of what slips away.

For listeners of: Wave Temples, Dolphins Into the Future, Guenther Schlienz"

Re-Release auf transparent gelbem Vinyl

Editions Mego reissue the 2001 release Asuma by Finnish artist Ilpo Väisänen. Originally released on CD this is the first ever vinyl issue, remastered by Rashad Becker. 2001 is a landmark year for the artist following a wave of success from the notable outfit Väisänen formed alongside Mika Vanio, Pan Sonic (as they were now known then). Following a string of highly acclaimed and influential releases such as “Vakio”, “Kulma”, “A’ and “Aaltopiiri” Pan Sonic had toured the globe extensively leaving a trail of blown expectations and rumours of all manner of objects in venues cracking or falling apart due to the immense sound the duo concocted with their unique instruments.

Taking a break from the ecstatic cacophony of Pan Sonic, Väisänen retreated to work on a solo release which conjured the spirits of the former outfit whilst simultaneously carving out a more personal take on these new electronic forms.

Asuma is a precise study of drones, rhythms, clicks, ambience and gentle confusion. Whilst inhabiting a zone of abstraction the results also move in a natural field as Väisänen’s native Finland permeates these recordings as much as the idea of experimentation itself.

Autioitu 1 opens the album as delicate pinball rhythms bounce across the spectrum as a hairy drone hovers underneath. The mood is both intriguing and unsettling. Tukahduttaja is a delightfully disorientating sound sculpture that is hard to pinpoint what it actually is. Klikki is comparable to a microscopic version of Pink Floyd’s “Several Species Of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together In A Cave And Grooving With A Pict”. Asumaton is a foreboding miniature acting like a segway to Vallitseva which embraces the icy clicks that punctuates much of the Pan Sonic output. Arvioimaton Ongelma is an audio riddle whilst Jaettu jitters around a dancefloor crawl. Autioitu closes proceedings as a gentle ambient thumper. Asuma is awash with contradiction and mystery. This is time wrapped in twisted turns and rewards a neat payoff for those interested in the absolute fringes of electronic ‘dance’ music.

Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987 is the first ever archival release from Repetition Repetition, the “two-man electric minimalist band” consisting of Ruben Garcia and Steve Caton hailing from Los Angeles in the mid 1980’s. Repetition Repetition’s unique blend of cosmic art-rock minimalism / maximalism was self-released across a series of cassettes produced in micro editions, and while garnering the attention and participation of luminaries such as Harold Budd, remained under the radar during the band’s existence. Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987 collects select material from across the duo’s catalog.

It was over a plate of Mexican breakfast food when Ruben Garcia and Steve Caton first told Harold Budd of Repetition Repetition and the worlds they intended to explore by respective way of synthesizers and guitars --- a rendezvous instigated by the former’s fan mail to the legendary composer. If the upstarts entered this restaurant from a one-way street of admiration, they would leave with not only Budd’s interest but, sometime later, a blessing in the wake of many hours shared by the three in Garcia’s Los Angeles home recording studio: “This is going to be difficult, but God help them, I think they’re great,” noted Budd in a USC lecture in 1985. Now several degrees removed from prior rock music aspirations, the real game was afoot.

Between 1984 and 1988, Repetition Repetition operated within something akin to the underground of the experimental underground, although even that designation perhaps overstates the case. The duo’s sparse output consisted of three cassettes self-released on Garcia’s Third Stone Music label: Repetition Repetition (1985), Lakeland (1987), and The Machinist (1987). Their songs would also be included during this period on Trance Port Tapes’ vital scene-scanning compilations assembled by A Produce. Live performances occurred with similar infrequency, but Garcia and Caton counted converts in quality over quantity, numbering among them the aforementioned Budd, a Chambers Brother, and, judging by a memorably drop-jawed reaction following a rare Repetition Repetition gig, Jackson Browne.

Likewise, critical support materialized in the form of KCRW deejays Brent Wilcox and Dean Suzuki, whose steady airplay positioned Repetition Repetition’s music amidst fearless company like Jon Hassell, Hiroshi Yoshimura, and Richard Horowitz. Yet, to hear fellow Trance Port featured players like Tom Recchion and Bruce Licher of Savage Republic tell it, Garcia and Caton moved as ghosts --- a notion more vexingly endorsed by the silence of record companies that failed to come knocking --- and therein lies an overarching truth to the work itself.

Journey to the heart of Repetition Repetition and one discovers a collective ear impossibly attuned to the hypnotic possibilities of stylistic convergence, the resulting music possessed of seamless multimodalities which beckon to a glimmering plane of the disembodied. Where Caton sought his artistic fixes at an intersection of popular genres, Garcia zoned in on the sonically spare, drawing from the same wellspring as the Enos and Rileys of his personal avant-garde pantheon, and in their coming together the two tapped into a deeper cosmic source. Synthetic walls of keyboard sound in forever states of reprise met waves of shimmering --- and at times even punishing --- guitar in reply, their soundscapes hovering convincingly between, as suggested in fittingly dualistic fashion in a press kit assembled by Garcia, such disparate sensations as bird flight in one song and oil drilling in the next.

But don’t call it a push-pull dynamic, as this was a creative partnership founded upon fluidity and organicism by way of, naturally, repetition. In contrast to, say, the Bressonian ideal of repetitive motion as a great stripping away, the concept in the hands of Garcia and Caton equated to ascendancy via continuous unfolding, a maximal route to minimalism. To be sure, their recording philosophy morphed over the course of the act’s short history, and what started as a process defined by consistent in-person interplay developed into a more isolated method formulated by Garcia, who eventually took to his own one-man bedroom-studio sessions in order to fully chart any and all potential ostinato-loaded paths which he could travel down, the Tascam-captured resonances subsequently provided to Caton as blueprints from which to take flight himself, adding layer upon layer of steel to the proceedings.

If the practice and execution changed, however, the evidence certainly didn’t rest in the results: The seamlessness remained, and, despite the brevity of their time together, so has Repetition Repetition. With this finely calibrated collection of songs in Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987, Freedom To Spend sees to it that the private worlds of Garcia and Caton can now be visited by all rather than just the count-‘em-on-both-hands lucky few whose musical endeavors or collector vocations carried them into this once-distant dimension.

Repetition Repetition’s Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987 will be released on Freedom To Spend in vinyl and digital editions on May 30, 2025. The collection includes extensive liner notes from Bill Perrine, and wil be offered alongside Over & Over, a supplemental collection of music available exclusively as a mail order cassette from Freedom To Spend and RVNG Intl.

Perth’s finest, Psychedelic Porn Crumpets, continue their onslaught on 2025 with the release of a brand new single & announcing details of their 7th record due in May 2025. ‘Carpe Diem, Moonman’ promises to be another weird & wonderful journey through the mind of Jack McEwan, the talisman of the Perth 5-piece. It’s announced alongside brand-new single ‘Weird World Awoke’, another ferocious blast of inimitable rock & roll, with a lyrical rollercoaster to keep pace with the relentless tempo & guitar slaloms.
McEwan himself had this to say about the new record: “Carpe Diem, Moonman” is an entanglement of chaos, the bi-product of excessive touring, an explosion of doubt, wonder, excitement, dog bites, Greek philosophy, death, weekend benders and a partridge in a pear tree, a mongrel of sorts. There’s so many genres, flavours, cream crackers and fairground amusements packed into CDM. It blasts out the gates, takes you for a spin then leads you off into somewhere beautiful, fun and enthralling. I want people to come back and find something new with each listen.”

'the fun years', comprised of multi-instrumentalists Ben Recht and Isaac Sparks, have been making music together since the turn of the century, producing intriguing interrogations of ambient, drone, post-rock, and turntablism. Originally released in 2008 on the now-defunct Barge Recordings, 'baby it’s cold inside' is perhaps the high watermark of their discography. Equally concerned with microtonal nuance and harmonic intensity, it is both a product of its time and something well past it. The chief protagonist is surely the turntable, deployed to create woolly, evocative loops from unidentifiable source material that recall, at times, the work of Philip Jeck or Jan Jelinek—churning, roiling, hissing, atrophied textures further articulated with nuanced processing and buoyed by baritone guitar drones and anti-riffing.

The title of opener "my lowville" feels like a wink to the famed slowcore duo, with spare post-rock motifs hovering in a dusty ether, slowly consumed by distorted washes of rich, harmonic sound. One of the most satisfying aspects of the album is that despite the recumbent nature of most of their sound design choices and compositional proclivities, Recht and Sparks are loath to sit still. "auto show of the dead" is a serpentine piano/guitar exploration full of subtle detail, preceding the immaculately titled "fucking milwaukee’s been hesher forever," in which the tactile delights of clicks+cuts are liberated from the laboratory and allowed to slum it in the world of tape gunk and '90s plate reverb. Later, "re: we’re again buried under" presents an inky black ambience that feels truly expansive and almost overwhelming, and closer “The Surge is Working” tears apart an anthemic shoegaze dirge at the seams, leaving only billowing filtered noise and negative space in its wake.

Presented here with a brilliant remaster by LUPO, 'baby it’s cold Inside should be considered alongside records like Belong’s October Language and Polmo Polpo’s Like Hearts Swelling—an arresting early aughts ambient marvel that warrants ongoing investigation.

'Quiet Pieces' initiates Abul Mogard’s personal imprint Soft Echoes with a definitive self-portrait of calm, contemplative, and discreet inner landscapes made audible. It is the first solo album on vinyl in four years. RIYL Alessandro Cortini, William Basinski, The Caretaker.

While sifting through archived material left idle from earlier projects, a chance encounter with a late uncle’s trove of beloved 78rpm classical and opera records prompted the reworking and completion of what would eventually become the album. Spinning dusty records at 33 and 45rpm, Abul Mogard recombined their enduring spectres with unfinished sketches from his archive. The resulting soundscape blurs distinctions between his memories and those of another, exquisitely short-circuiting the senses with its waking, dream-like lucidity.

This was a process I hadn’t explored in my earlier works. I began sampling brief moments from these records, altering them with studio effects and playing them at slower speeds. In many cases, I wasn’t entirely sure how the original music sounded. These fragments, once further processed, became a source of inspiration for my new compositions. Over time, I realised that the old pieces from the archive and the new material derived from the samples naturally complemented each other.”

The resulting pieces hover over a threshold, a liminal space that harmonises the old and older material. Voluminous waves of quiet and loud undulate between consonance and dissonance, conjuring imagery of a decaying grandeur that humanity’s decadence has surrendered to the elements. Abul Mogard’s seemingly abandoned yet vast landscapes are nevertheless intimate with timbral frissons of red-lined distortion. Elusive, yet as tangible as sea spray or smog, they affect the olfactory senses with a rarified, synesthetic quality that modestly engages one’s emotional register – a hypnotic, distinguishing feature long hailed as one of the hallmarks of his work. A fidelity to memory and dream recall is sensitively probed in the journey from the stately symphonic stasis of 'Following a dream' to the almost industrial, untethered brutality evoked by a looming silhouette that’s never fully visible in 'Constantly slipping away', culminating in the foreboding coda of 'Like a bird'. Those pieces appear to shield the album’s sentimental core, where the tempestuous play of light and shadow of 'In a studded procession' escalates to breathtaking, panoramic climax, while 'Through whispers' evokes an out-of-body-like experience encountered with visceral poignancy.

Looking back, Mogard notes an unexpected influence: “I realise being inspired by Phill Niblock, whose work I had barely known at the time but explored after his passing in 2024. His album 'Boston Tenor Index' changed the way I approached dissonance. It encouraged me to push my sound further, to the edge of a space where I began to feel uncomfortable.”

The album artwork, created by longtime collaborator Marja de Sanctis, features a photograph taken at the Temple of Jupiter Anxur, an archaeological site overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Captured with an iPhone, the image traces the residual presence of construction techniques and architectural forms of the Romans, where material history is transcribed through contemporary tools. The convergence of ancient and modern technology aims to reverberate the site’s lasting spiritual presence – an echo persisting in what is now perceived as a quiet, emptied space. The spiral gestures towards infinity and light. Past and present dissolve into one another, reflecting 'Quiet Pieces' meditation on sound, memory, and time.

RIYL Alessandro Cortini, William Basinski, The Caretaker

Following a trio of quick sell out, limited lathe cut 45 to kick off 2025, Feral Child now embark on a stash of more widely available full lengths (from the likes of Lake Ruth, The Jonny Halifax Invocation and Polypores amongst others). First up is a wonderful follow up to 2023’s “Refrains” 10” EP from Swedish band TAPE. “Refrains” figured in 2 or 3 notable UK stores’ end of year polls, noticeably Monorail in Glasgow where Stephen Pastel gave it a top 3 for 2023 nomination. “Preludes” is -if anything- even more majestic and acts as a superb follow up. The record is released 11th April on Feral Child as one time pressing 10” vinyl only release, featuring beautiful artwork once more from Peter Liversidge and the calligraphic hand of Klas Augustsson. The return of Swedish trio Tape has been reassuringly slow motion. They’ve always moved at their own pace, these three peripatetic musicians – brothers Andreas and Johan Berthling, and companion Tomas Hallonsten – though it’s been over a decade since their last full-length, 2014’s Casino. Not a disappearing act, rather a break for consideration, time to explore other avenues of creativity, perhaps… But their reappearance, with the Refrains 10”, was one of 2023’s most encouraging moments; doubly so, as it was proof they’d not lost their way, at all, in the intervening nine years. The Tape modus operandi is one of deceptive simplicity and artful innocence. On Preludes, a typically right, one-word Tape title, this means five wordless songs that move between fully fleshed out, lovingly tended folk threnodies – the beautiful opener, “Lights Out”, that spins webs via simple, hypnotically repeating guitar – and textural conceits that hover, appealingly, in a kind of no-place. “Naukluft Plateau” is lovingly dappled, with ruminative piano adrift on a cascading tonal waterfall. Then, feather-fall strums of guitar meet huffing harmonium and electronic scrum on the brief “Golden Gain”. Is there a more perfect song title for Tape than “Tangential Thoughts”? It sums up the way their music, nimble and dainty but also carefully tended, lends itself to the reverie, the meander, the anfractuous. The madeleine-like power of this song’s two-chord figure allows the music to take flight: rustling organ, oscillating cymbal, droplets of percussion, a spinney of sound. And Preludes slips away “On The Accordeon Bus”: there’s something lovely about the way that title collapses transit, articulation and bellows, reflected in the see-sawing sway and glitch-like rivulets of sound that course through the song. So, Preludes, then – alive to the moment, both gentle and sturdy. A copse of tone, and a most gorgeous wool-gathering.

Moving Pressure 03 lands as Rene Wise's third release on his imprint. With a refined approach to rhythm and restraint, the artist once again distills techno to its purest form: hypnotic, percussive, and propulsive. Across four tracks and in line with the label's essence, MP03 thrives on movement-low-end mastery meets tightly coiled grooves, while textural elements shift and evolve with subtle precision.
A1 'Relax' sets the foundation with a mighty sub-base, rolling forward with effortless force. Chopped-up claps ricochet through the mix, while a funky, disembodied vocal repeats a single command: "relax". Then comes 'Chomp Chomp', a denser offering in Wise's sensorial arsenal. Layered with gritty textures, his signature percussion builds a soundscape that is both tactile and weightless, evoking a kinetic dream state where groove and space are in constant conversation. On the flip, 'Cave' plunges into murkier terrain. Swathed in fog and sinister atmospherics, it unfolds through an eerie blend of sci-fi surrealism and grounded physicality. Bleeps hover like distant signals, their sharpness softened by a cavernous, smothering embrace. It's a study in tension-hypnotic and unsettling in equal measure. Closing the release is 'Deep Under', a track that embodies its name with subterranean mystique. The soundscape is rich with detail, an ecosystem of sonic fragments shifting beneath the surface. It's immersive yet elusive, like catching glimpses of something just out of reach-a mirage that flickers between the tangible and the ethereal.
This is minimalism with intent, built for deep immersion. Less, here, is infinitely more.

Bugge Wesseltoft has long been a shaper of his own jazz idioms, through his diverse solo albums, his group projects such as New Conception of Jazz, OKWorld! and RYMDEN, and collaborations with artists such as Sidsel Endresen, Henning Kraggerud or Henrik Schwarz.

"Am Are" features special constellations of superb musicians that spans both generations and styles, and is an exploration of sonic textures, dynamic contrasts of mood and style, and ranges from sparse arrangements through to complex layers of dubs and loops and improvisational interplay.

The album begins with Bugge alone on "How?" with layers of undulating atmospheric synth, brought into focus by Bugge's piano at the forefront, creating a minimalist miniature that is both emotive and serene. For "Villrein" Bugge is joined by Elias Tafjord on drums, beginning with a santur-like synth figure, floating over ominous formant sci-fi bass synths bubbling and pulsing, and overlaid by phrenetic piano that only stops to lock into the santur figure before relaunching on its own journeys, all underpinned by Elias Tafjord's expressive drumming. "Is Anyone Listening?" demonstrate's Bugge's songcraft, layering muted percussive piano behind Rohey's distinctive and beautiful vocals punctuated by Martin Myhre Olsen's tenor saxophone, creating a soulful mood tinged with desperation.

"BAG" presents the first classic piano trio of the album - Bugge on piano and synths, Arild Andersen on bass, and Gard Nilssen on drums - announcing itself with an insistent riff, chattering drums, breaking into a progressive rock-style passage of bass and piano in unison. "Reel", the second track from this trio, is a mellow soundscape that evolves to become hazy urban downbeat jazz.

The second piano trio of Bugge (Rhodes and Korg MS20 synth), Sveinung Hovensjø (Electric Bass), and Jon Christensen (Drums and Bells) offers a completely different perspective. The first track "Render" features Bugge's Zawinul-esque Rhodes and monosynth leads, Sveinung's fuzz bass in something of a leading role, all carried with chattering gusto by Jon Christensen's dynamic drumming that brings texture and space as well as rhythm to the piece. "Vender" begins as an atmospheric piece, with reed organ-like synth washes, and octave-processed bass with a somewhat sitar-like tone, meandering until the track breaks down into drums and bass weaving around an insistent drum machine loop, dripping with synth pads and monosynth lead.

"JazzBasill" introduces the third piano trio - featuring Bugge (Piano), Jens Mikkel Madsen (Acoustic Bass) and Øyunn (Drums) - and offers a classic piano trio style with urban sophistication, that is lyrical, and interspersed with staccato cadences, giving a feeling of broken swing, slightly staggered yet driving forwards. The title track "AM ARE" is late night jazz, with baroque whispers, and distinctly melodic.

The final track, "Think Ahead" features the non-standard trio of Bugge (Piano/Organ), Oddrun Lilja (Guitar) and Sanskriti Shrestha (Tablas/Harp). Beginning with a minimalist piano figure, table, and sustained guitar, the track breaks down to a noise surge and ambient windscape, with guitar birds and abstract grinding, before returning to minimalist melodicism.

The shifting personnel across the album, as well as the three different studios in which it was recorded - Village Recording in Copenhagen, Rainbow Studios in Oslo, and his own Buggesroom Studio - creates a feeling of dynamic change and musical variety that is unified by Bugge's piano and keyboards. His playing moves between foreground, where he allows the music to elevate him, and background, where he move gently like a beneficent presence, tending to the demands of the spirit of the musical moments he has captured. It is an album powered by restless exploration and shaped by distinctive musical personalities; it is a journey through different moods, illuminated and brought into focus by Bugge's measured approach and guiding hand.

Francesco Sotgiu has forged a unique and very swinging project of songs. With a quintet consisting of Luigi Bonafede on piano, Emanuele Cisi and Riccardo Luppi on woodwinds, Salvatore Maiore on bass, Francesco on drums, and with special guest Paolo Fresu on trumpet to cap off this heartfelt collection. There is also a nice diversity of groups within this larger collection. A nice trio piece called “Calm” featuring Paolo Birro sitting in with Marco Micheli and Francesco. And one called “Lotus Blossom” where Francesco shows his considerable skills and soul on violin. But the bulk of the material is straight-ahead jazz and is totally swinging and soulful, proving that jazz has no borders and is a worldwide language to which Francesco has added to that tradition with this project and all the great voices he has included here. Bravo maestro.

This is the comment of Gil Goldstein, American accordion player who won 5 Grammys and collaborated with giants such as Gil Evans, Wayne Shorter, and Michel Petrucciani.

This record was recorded in the middle of the pandemic times, and most of the work for preparing this record took place via the telephone: the selection of the songs on paper, the exchange of ideas on arrangements, staff and instruments, a sort of “phone rehearsal” of the structure of the songs, with the choice of a solo; everything else, everything that will happen in the recording sessions, is the result of a controlled improvisation, a jam session masterfully captured in the studio through the use of well-positioned ribbon microphones.

This is why “Passing,” literally “passing” or “crossing”: because the musicians have gone through listening to these songs as teenagers, and find themselves today, as a mature meeting of old friends who create an informal game made of nostalgic fun, great personality, confrontation, and deep spirituality. In the classic “Caravan” by Ellington and Tizol or “Afro Blue” by Mongo Santamaria, Coltrane toning, the Latin accent of the rhythm section supports the interpretation of the theme and the interplay in the solos between the soprano and tenor saxophones by Cisi & Luppi, and the piano by Bonafede.

A certain elegance in the execution distinguishes pieces such as Duke Ellington’s “Sound of Love,” yet another tribute by Mingus to the Duke, with a calibrated solo on the double bass of Maiore and the flute by Luppi, the immortal “Take Five” by Paul Desmond, with the highlighted soprano by Cisi, “Wishes,” “7th Street,” and the eponymous “Passing,” all pieces composed by Sotgiu, characterized by the precise medium/fast drive of the drums and a certain “cinematic” taste of the main themes.

In songs such as “Black Bats and Poles,” composed by trumpeter Jack Walrath for the Mingus Orchestra, and in “Stranatole,” an original piece in which Sotgiu writes a theme of Monk’s influence and enjoys overturning the traditional “Anatole Jazz” structure, the quintet opts for an effective hard bop language, with exciting moments of dazzling virtuosity in Bonafede’s solo. While in Coltrane’s “Wise One” and McCoy Tyner’s “Ballad for Aisha,” we enter a modal, mystical, and ceremonial jazz, of a cosmic depth, which seems to hover in the sweet volume of the great hall of the recording studio. These are truly magnificent interpretations.

A special separate mention for two classics such as “My Foolish Heart” by Victor Young, performed in trio by Sotgiu, Maiore, and the unmistakable trumpet by Paolo Fresu, and the (unfortunately very short) “Lotus Blossom” by Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington, which in the piano-violin duo of Birro and Sotgiu, in a minute gives a suspended momentary magic, sums up the roots of African-American jazz music, and also referencing an old-fashioned Italian musical sensitivity, typical of Nino Rota’s music for Federico Fellini’s films.

"The title track here ebbs and flows in and out of Amen break cascades, as the drones hovering beneath give a sense of flying through an electrical storm. Dooky' is better still, its sparser rhythm recalling Reinforced stalwart Paradox in its ability to be simultaneously woody and ultra-digital, human and alien." THE WIRE

Those who are aware of dgoHn will by now be familiar with his sound and those who aren't should be. Back with his third single on Love Love, the drum maestro makes skin prickle once again with two shining original tracks laced with impeccable moments. Only dgoHn can create the kind of drum and bass that sounds like the tightest of ensembles playing meticulously rehearsed arrangements, painting intricate shapes with the percussion.

The title track takes a fresh look at the amen break, finding ways to breathe new life into it. Soaring above the clouds on thick warm pads, the drums thunder with a blissful rage propelled forwards by a rumbling bassline.

On the B-side 'Dooky' serves up a dgoHn masterclass in spatial control that could well be a future-classic of his. A formidable groove with serious punch, hi-hats skip along as the delicate balance of frequencies gives the listener just enough headspace not to get lost in the deep, dark world it creates. A subtle demonstration of tension and release, this single floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee whilst dripping with funk.

Lastly, Rognvald switches up the title track with a jam that triples the edits and doubles the bass, tipping the scales from the side of restraint to that of chaos without losing the feel of the original. Artwork once again provided by Colin 'Snublic' McCallister.

“Where is this? It looks like the grounds of a shrine. Like a deep, dark, forest. I'm wandering around. I can't get over the feeling that I've been to this place before. The temple and the tower look much bigger than usual, and I feel as if I were lost in a world of immensity. It's very dark with no sky up above, like being in the depths of the Earth. Anyway, it's a world I know.” - Leisure, the Sonorous Dream

For schuttle’s next unearthly contribution, we invite you to slip into the reassuring comforts of the simulated realm. Herein lies an open invitation to all of those tentative travellers willing to join us as we revel in four slices of post-biological optimism.

The world building begins with “Splan”. schuttle’s navigation vessel hovers steadily above a fractal landscape until a divine arp propels us skywards. We burst through the latent cloudsphere to marvel at the boundless synergy of the interlocking polygons. The sunburst gradient barely has time to load before an oscillating wriggle plunges us into a strangely familiar stomping ground. Hedonistic NPCs begin spawning at random, splurging joyful machine funk at each other before walking gleefully into walls. Finally, with a little help from a well known toad, schuttle unleashes the full might of his Mana on the nascent gathering.

We dock next in ‘Melonweed Musick’. Our vessel gently stirring the reeds as we descend into the marshland. The potent aroma of the swamp fills our nostrils, various apparitions seem to wriggle into view. What have we been inhaling? No time to consider, the loose murk of the breakbeat is starting to take effect and it’s all we can do to keep one foot squelching after the other. As we submit wholeheartedly to the sheer depth and clarity of the bassline, a kindly angel sweeps above the sphagnum, spraying a succession of cleansing chords over our slimy bodies. Refreshed with some useful navigation advice we continue.

In ‘Kitchen Sync’ our craft’s speedometer is tickled up to a cruising 120bpm. The world outside our window begins to swim with colour, prickly forms materialise then dissipate around us. The familiar shape of our old friend, the high priest 303 appears before us, steadying the ship. Its resonant flame warming our hearth, and our hearts too. Then begins a beautiful communion of the domestic and the otherworldly, through the interplay of acid under glimmering keys. Provoking within us an uncontrollable desire to open our curtains, to cast off our slippers and embrace the infinite morrow.

Our voyage concludes with ‘Inspo 2000’. Scintillating landing lights guide us toward our destination, our descent beckoned by woody and playful percussion. We tumble through the troposphere, our landing cushioned by the buoyancy of the gated chords, the kicks juicing what's left of our dwindling fuel supply. A luxurious breakdown brings the ground into focus. Perhaps this is home? The simulation is now so accurate that it seems pointless to question it, it is a world we have always known.

“Eerie, wailing sounds over distorted feedback drones… Vibrato-heavy harmonies chirrup and throb in agonisingly slow motion.”
The Guardian, Album of the Month

“Cinematic...carefully orchestrated...delicately explores unfamiliar territory with uncanny finesse.”
The Wire

Acclaimed Icelandic theremin musician Hekla returns with Turnar, her third album of devastatingly heavy, spectral soundscape-songwriting, entering a sublime paranormal plane of haunting dread.

Now augmenting her virtuosic solo theremin work with cello, voice, and the sacred church organ of Icelandic master Kristján Hrannar, the evolution of Hekla’s unique magic summons new worlds with Turnar. The album was recorded partly in (and named after) a medieval castle tower in rural France, its ruinous black broken in spare beams of angelic stained-glass light. But, writes Hekla, “the sound of theremin kind of opens up a portal into a new realm that both looks into a dark old world and to the future.” The record is an alternately beautiful and crushing space voyage into a glacial underworld cascading with phosphorescence and cave drip, conjuring ancient choral ritual just as readily as redolent sci-fi gloam.

Opener “Inni” begins with swooning and shimmering lines of theremin that shiver with electrified energy before subfrequency bass elevates them into a glowing plasma, hovering above a crystallised surf. Key moment “Gráminn” wails with ghostly harmonics while distorted drones crash together in a stormy and blackened netherworld sea. It traces a neat progression from Hekla’s last album - the acclaimed Xiuxiuejar - while also welcoming an expanded timbral palette and flourishing compositional confidence. At the end of side A, “Var” delicately places sonic artefacts about a desolate negative space, creating a dense inverse gravity. As with the rest of the record, a claustrophobic gauze hangs over music that could otherwise be called subverted songwriting, aligning Hekla’s sonics with avant-garde, musique concréte and sound-art.

Emergent polymath Brother Aten makes his first outing on Bruk with an icy slice of system-ready
minimalism, guided by the cooly detached voice of Ze R.
Taking cues from cult sci-fi and early 80s no wave, Fragmented Dystopia is a crystal clear
statement trimmed of all unnecessary baggage. The title spells out the mood — Aten's
soundscapes are stark and synthetic machine mantras punched out on outboard instruments
navigating gritty, futuristic zones.
On 'Unavailable' steadily humming drones shape the space in which Ze R. hovers, initially
delivering a deadpan denial before their humanity sneaks in as the track snakes through an
intricate lattice of crisp digital percussion. Short and razor-sharp two-parter 'Fragmented Dystopia'
finds an even sparser corner to occupy within Aten's subtly cyberpunk vision, where Ze R.'s
scattered words cut a measured figure delivered at acute angles before breaking into wilder forms
at the end of Part 2.

Originally from Brooklyn and now based in Berlin, Brother Aten has been weaving a fascinating
tapestry of audio and visual work as MAF. His artwork examines the fraught relationship between
technology and society. Ze R. explores dimensions of sexuality, subjectivity and individualism
through writing, performance and community organisation.

Refracted's "In Veil" materialises as the third emission in the Titrate series. A gradual unfolding across six passages, each step a study in the dissolution of boundaries.

Here, time becomes elastic - synthetic textures breathe alongside captured moments of reality, neither demanding prominence nor seeking refuge in the background. Percussion appears as memory rather than rhythm, while drones hover like fog over unknown lands.

Cut to 180g vinyl and embraced by 350gsm reverse board, "In Veil" doesn't announce its presence but rather seeps into awareness.

Black Vinyl / 350 mcn double white coated paper / Poster sleeve / PVC outers / Original artwork / Exclusive 30x30 cm insert with Q&A by Tony Higgins with Ole Matthiessen printed on on 250 gram Gardamat coated paper. Archive picture from original recording session printed on 350 gram Gardamat paper. Archive pictures printed on 375 gram Vintage Bindakote Monolucido. All papers are acid free an printed with food based inks.

Personnel: 

Jesper Nehammer - tenor saxophone
Ole Mathiessen – piano
Jon Finsen – drums
Henrik Hove - bass

Notes:
Danish jazz band founded in 1969. Band line up: Henrik Hove on bass, Ole Mathiessen on piano, Jesper Nehammer (later Thors Hammer, Alrune Rod and Entrance) on tenorsax, and Jon Finsen on drums. Played for a while every Monday in the famous Jazzhouse Montmatre in Copenhagen.
Tordenskjolds Soldater only made this record (1970).
The small record label Spectator Records was founded in 1969 by Jørgen Bornefeldt a former journalist from Danmarks Radio in coorporation with the jazz musician Carsten Meinert. Meinert recorded two albums on the label. He only joined the company in the beginning. Cindarellaistudiet The studio was destroyed august 6th 1972 by a major fire. And that was the end of Spectator Records. From 1969 to the end, the label recorded at least 23 lp albums and 9-11 singles/EP's. The picture shows Henning Kragh Pedersen from Cinderella in Spectators studio. The great Danish rock band Gasolin recorded their first single – Silky Sally - on Spectator Records. It was no success and sold only 155 copies. Silky Sally is now one of the most sought after Gasolin singles among collectors and is of course very expensive.
The music from Spectator Records is mostly jazz, progressive rock and hippie free style. But they also made strange records for children, education etc. Most records were issued in very small numbers (300-500). Some of the best progressive rock in Northern Europe was recorded here.
Quality of vinyl was often poor - even new looking records can have audible problems. Covers and labels are primitive and cheap. On the other hand the creativity could be outstanding - check the Furekaaben cover gallery or the artwork of William Skotte Olsen from Green Grass. Several record from the labels are cult today. A perfect copy of certain records costs a fortune.
Master tapes was never found after the fire in 1972. Unofficial reissues and bootlegs are therefore made on the base of the original records. Recordings that never made it to the vinyl got lost in the fire. Both Cinderella and The Copenhagen based band, Lines lyst, had material readdy for lp's which was never recorded. (Tony Higgins)

I first saw Hugh and Jackson play together at Good God’s ‘Soft Future Piano Bar’ at the Sydney Opera House in 2017. That year was a fruitful year for the two as artists and for the Sydney music community in general. I remember that all of us, along with Greville and Brad, hosted a DIY party in a tunnel under a highway somewhere near Sydney Airport. Is that the same tunnel that Tunnel Dancers derived their name from? 7 years after that first meeting at the Sydney Opera House, Hugh and Jackson have released an album. Listening to these songs there is an audible patience and understanding between two musicians. They probably could have released something else a long time ago, but chose to wait - instead enjoying bowls of laksa on their lunch breaks and sharing long, quiet conversations at The Babylon Sauna & Spa. When the next warm bowl of noodle soup arrives on your table, how long will you let it sit before you dive in? Soup first or noodle first? If you learn from these songs, perhaps you will know to first observe the whole bowl. Observing in this way, the moment settles and hovers and remains for much longer than a moment.

A long-lost vinyl album is back in stock: for the last 20 years, Kosmischer Pitch by Jan Jelinek, originally released in 2005 on ~scape, existed only as a digital download. Right on time for the 20th anniversary the remastered album is available again on vinyl. The digital version includes two previously unreleased pieces from that period.

What the press said about Kosmischer Pitch back in 2005:

“For Kosmischer Pitch, Jelinek draws from the obsessed-over rock produced by his German countrymen in the 1970s. (…) Trance-inducing repetition is constantly modulated by variations that hover on the threshold of audibility. (…) one of the more remarkable bodies of work in electronic music.” - Pitchfork

„Like the cosmic compositions it delicately references, Kosmischer Pitch is proof that the higher and lower pleasures can triumphantly combine.” - The Wire Magazine

“ The old Jelinek approach can also be heard on the new album - not least the “Pitch” in the title, which, as Martin Büsser explains in the info sheet, refers specifically to Wild Pitch House, generally to manipulation/exploitation of the sense of time - but there are striking differences: clear vintage synth, guitar and drum sounds, very subtle club references.” - Groove

“t's impossible to know how many layers of sound Jelinek has stacked up on any of these eight tracks, but each one seems to take on a shadowy, ghost-like life of its own as it morphs across time and space. Minimalist, yes, in a way, but thick as a wool rug.” - AllAboutJazz