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On Board Music returns with its next remixes package. Following the "Point C Remixes" in 2024, the Rotterdam based label now revisits four tracks taken from its charity compilations "The Meaning of Time" and "The Meaning of Time II" - all reimagined by fellow On Board artists. Born during the global health crisis of 2020, "The Meaning of Time" series explored the shifts, fractures, and altered perceptions of time experienced during that period. This new remix edition not only reshapes selected pieces through the vision of close label affiliates and takes them closer to the dancefloor, but also sees all tracks freshly remastered by Neel. The four tracks were given a new life in two different ways - by remastering and reinterpretation. Luigi Tozzi treats Polygonia's aquatic ambient piece "Magnetic Force" and pushes the track deeper into dark and hypnotic late night territories. Vera Logdanidi's emotionally charged arpeggiated electronic work "Water bubble Floating In Space" receives a peak-time reinterpretation by Non Series head Psyk. Swedish artist Dorisburg reworks Human Space Machine's "Danz7" into a dreamier and more percussive journey. Closing the release in true deep On Board fashion is label head Laura BCR, who reinterprets Bas Dobbelaer's "T2310" in an earthy and textured manner, while keeping its ambient techno & dubby spirit vividly alive. Photography by Marius Renard.

Does the complexity that defines us as individuals already have a sacred function, or do we need to connect the cells we are made of to something more? This is what the new and third album by Le Pietre dei Giganti titled Pastorale asks itself and the listener. Lorenzo Marsili (vocals, guitars), Francesco Utel (guitars, synths and samples, vocals, percussion), Niccolo Pizzamano (bass) and Francesco Nucci (drums, percussion) draw inspiration from the interaction between humans and nature, from the idea of the universe as a physical and chemical system. This inspiration melds perfectly with the cover artwork by Morgan Sorensen (See Machine), where the subject and space are represented according to a rational vision. The color red and the circle above it trigger an emotional response. Our brains follow the rules of the world around us, but culturally we associate this emotional reaction with a depth that goes beyond matter.

With their fourth full-length album Signal Fire, GENGHIS TRON awaken us from the post-apocalyptic daydreams of their previous work with a violent—and most welcome—shove. This time, the distant-future reveries we first heard on Board Up The House give way to an unsettling awareness of the present we’re actually living, as our circumstances grow too pressing to try and escape. “Signal Fire envisions a Kojima-esque dystopia of endless proxy warfare,” says vocalist and lyricist Tony Wolski (The Armed), “where the deluge of available information has outmoded the human ability to parse it. A world where those amoral, shameless and cunning enough can literally reshape reality at their whim through sheer insistence." Having roared onto the scene in 2004 with a uniquely demented blend of extreme metal, synthesizer textures, and drum-machine madness, GENGHIS TRON are no strangers to making a forceful impression. But Signal Fire marks the first time bandleaders Michael Sochynsky and Hamilton Jordan –joined again by Wolski and Nick Yacyshyn (SUMAC) on drums, plus newcomer Kenny Szymanski (The Armed) on bass–has captured this level of urgency with such visceral precision. “This album is very much rooted in the now,” confirms Jordan. Album opener “I Am All” sets the table with a chest-throbbing synth pulse as Wolski declares “I’m on a tear, I’m on a tear,” over swirling industrial rhythms and creeping synthlines. “Nothing Blooms in the Hollow” grafts desert-rock swagger onto interlocking layers of dizzying riffs and chants before Wolski steers the band into full-on sonic burnout, like a spaceship careening into the sun. “Born Prey” navigates deftly through Genghis Tron’s classic sonic touchpoints: furious blastbeats, electronic breaks, haunting vocal earworms, and a towering synth-pop crescendo. Meditative interludes like “Like Fotocrom” and “Without Form” deliver shimmering, ominous beauty. And “New Gods” invokes Rabies-era Skinny Puppy to bring the album to a bludgeoning, anthemic finale, as Wolski screams on repeat: “New gods to bleed me out / No new peace / Bleed me out / I love it.” Twenty years into their career, having proven their ability to forge common ground between Ministry and Aphex Twin, between Brutal Truth and Boards Of Canada, between Cluster and Converge, ugly-beautiful new genre hybrids from GENGHIS TRON no longer come as a surprise. What’s remarkable, however, is how Sochynsky and Jordan have taken a project that started in 2004 as a dorm-room genre-pastiche experiment —”a chaotic, wild amalgamation of all our favorite stuff, literally slammed together,” says Jordan—and refined their songwriting craft to deliver a sound that is unmistakably their own.

Toronto’s Ducks Ltd. (formerly Ducks Unlimited), the bright jangle-pop duo of Tom McGreevy (lead vocal, guitar, bass, keyboards) and Evan Lewis (guitar, bass, drum programming), accomplish the impossible. The pair craft songs that play to very specific inspirations without drowning underneath them—immediately evidenced on their critically acclaimed EP, Get Bleak, and sharpened on Modern Fiction, their debut LP. “The Servants, The Clean, The Chills, The Bats, Television Personalities, Felt,” Evan rattles off. “Look Blue Go Purple is one I reference a lot with our production.” Echoes of ‘80s indiepop abound, but they never overwhelm. This is not a nostalgic record, after all, nor is it a derivative one. Instead, across 10 cheery-sounding songs, Ducks Ltd. explore contemporary society in decline, examining large scale human disaster through personal turmoil (hence the title, taken from a university course called Gnosticism and Nihilism in Modern Fiction, influenced by Graham Greene novels. Bookish indie fans, look no further.)

Writing the album was intimate. Tom drafted the nucleus of a song on an unplugged electric guitar and brought it over to Evan’s apartment, where the pair sat in his bedroom, placing percussive beats from a drum machine under nascent melodies, passing a bass back and forth, adding organs and bridges where necessary. “It’s computer music trying extremely hard not to sound like computer music,” Tom jokes. Fearful that limited and expensive studio time would kneecap the project creatively, eroding their charming naivete, the pair re-recorded the album in a storage space owned by Evan’s boss. Ornamentation through collaboration followed: there’s Aaron Goldstein on Pedal Steel in the Go-Betweens’ “Cattle and Cane”-channeling interlude “Patience Wearing Thin,” Eliza Niemi on cello (“18 Cigarettes,” a song loosely inspired by a 1997 Oasis performance of “Don’t Go Away”), and backing harmonies from Carpark labelmates The Beths (on an ode to friendship at a distance, “How Lonely Are You?,” “Always There,” and on the sped-up Syd Barrett stylings of “Under The Rolling Moon.”) While in his native Australia due to covid-19, Evan worked closely with producer James Cecil (The Goon Sax, Architecture in Helsinki) on Modern Fiction’s finishing touches—at one point, in the mountains of the Macedon Ranges in Victoria, recorded a string quartet (featured on “Fit to Burst,” “Always There,” “Sullen Leering Hope,” “Twere Ever Thus,” “Grand Final Day.”)

It’s danceable, depressive fun, with some relief: in “Always There” and “Sullen Leering Hope,” Modern Fiction’s faithful heart. “There’s a tendency in my writing, because of my world view, to be very bleak.” Tom explains. “A quality I don’t always see in myself and really appreciate in others is the courage to go on.” And yet, the record manages resiliency—enough for pop fans to fall in love with.

After a moment of calm, De Lichting returns with the fourth instalment in its double LP album series, Vier.



Never losing touch with its roots in emotional dance music, Vier is a tribute to the electronic soul, something increasingly overlooked on today’s dancefloors. queniv’s Frequency Match opens the album as a gentle invitation, built on minimal drum work and long, stretched pads. RDS’s Aerial Reflections continues in the same vein, leaning into a more serious mood with old school flavoured rhythms.

The first heavier club moment comes from Human Space Machine with Test Rec. A more tense, primetime leaning, proggy groove unfolds, washed in nostalgic strings and trippy elements for both body and mind. Nathan Kofi follows with Kinesis, a proper Detroit infused techno track that pushes the experimental edge further, darker and more driving.

On the second record, the mood shifts into deeper melancholy with Eversines’ Lift The Veil, featuring classic deep house textures of Rhodes chords and FM basses. Nearing the end of the album, Proxyan’s Another delivers pure credits rolling, emotion drenched analogue funk electro, a track the rest of the group had to beg Robbert to include. We are glad we did.

As a kind of bonus track, RDS and Eversines close Vier with a tech house rework of their earlier track Missing. Released on vinyl for the first time, it was previously available only in digital form via Kalahari Oyster Cult.

Hamburg is sinking into an ever-expanding landscape of fresh construction ruins born from investor fantasies, concrete monster-bridges and ghostly office spaces. But from secret basements, a Geflecht begins to grow. After the first tape by Hamburg duo Kostenfalle, now comes their second album on vinyl.

The furious electropunk of Kostenfalle has been cut into the matrix at 45 RPM. Nine
songs in the fast lane, driven by sequencers, synthesizers, drum machines, and bass guitar. Despite the electronic machinery, Kostenfalle remain fiercely dynamic, twisting and shifting through intricate structures and sudden turns. Punk and Electronic Body Music lock into a dance; without warning we’re plunged into a psychedelic riff, only to slam angrily into the next guardrail.

With alternating vocals, Christian manning the transistors, Philipp holding the bass, the lyrics emerge dark and oblique, meditating on life as a one-dimensional human and on the spaces between people. Boycott and sabotage. Explode and generate.

"Western Massachusetts band Landowner play abrasively-clean minimalist punk. Singer Dan Shaw started Landowner in 2016, writing and recording the project's debut Impressive Almanac with a practice amp and a laptop drum machine. Shaw's initial concept was a made-up genre called “weak d-beat”, meant to sound intentionally absurd “as if Antelope were reading the sheet music of Discharge”. When Shaw joined with his current bandmates in 2017, they translated these early experiments in restraint, minimalism, and caricatured hardcore as a live band. This provided Landowner with its own unique set of blueprints: the guitars “slap hard” without using any distortion or effects, the rhythm section is tight, fast, and repetitious, and the song structures make space for lyrics that reflect on the global systems and dark absurdities our lives are tangled in. Comparisons could be made to The Fall, Lungfish, or Uranium Club, but across their five albums, they make it clear: Landowner just sound like Landowner.

Assumption is the band's fifth album. Sonically, it captures the vibrancy and intensity of their live performances. The album title “Assumption” encapsulates the album's multi-layered themes. We make assumptions, taking in information online through an overload of decontextualized snippets and headlines, and then quickly form conclusions, or we allow artificial intelligence to do the thinking for us. Assumption is the sound of a band that established its own musical identity and has reached a place of tightness with an ease gained from years of playing together, sounding mechanically precise and at the same time fully human. It may be the band's most cohesive and fully realized work to date."

APORIAMOR noun 1. The death of love’s contradiction.
| “Embody APORIAMOR”

Etymology
aporia-: an irresolvable internal contradiction or logical disjunction in a text, argument, or theory. from Greek aporos ‘impassable’, from a- ‘without’ + poros ‘passage’
-amor: love. Sentimiento intenso del ser humano que, partiendo de su propia insuficiencia, necesita y busca el encuentro y unión con otro ser. Del latín amor.
-mor: latin for death.

APORIAMOR explores the affective ontological and organic processes of love and lust in the turmoil of an urban existence, through the female lens. It expresses the process of strengthening through heartbreak in its various forms.

With her debut EP The Art of the Concrete, elsas knew that by giving that name to a record which was ironically expansive and experimental, she would be calling for a distilled and clearer path further down the line. This is what she’s been incorporating into the sonic world of this new EP, APORIAMOR, signifying the birth of a more matured and distilled version of herself as an artist.

With APORIAMOR (“the death of love’s contradiction”) elsas conveys a personal process of healing in the romantic space. Through different experiences of heartbreak, elsas builds a language - a coping mechanism attached to its subsequent artistic expression – that isn’t founded on hardness or a closing-off, but instead, on a playful but profound reckoning, and learning of self-worth.

APORIAMOR embraces the complexities of being a lover-girl: of moving through life with an open heart. It celebrates the clarity, sweet hindsight, and detachment that come from processing emotion. APORIAMOR is both an affirmation and a release.

elsas makes canonical blends with a forward boundary-bending vision. Her sound in this record is naturally referential of both her Mediterranean heritage and UK alternative music — intrinsic parts of her lived experience. She has had the opportunity to collaborate with artists she deeply admires, each exchange enriching her creative world.

The experience of working hand-in-hand with Sampha for the last 3 years and ongoingly has been a core of her evolution as an artist. She has also collaborated in many forms with artists like Florence + the Machine, Little Simz, Jordan Rakei, Jockstrap, Obongjayar, Black Country New Road, Genevieve Artadi (KNOWER) and Duval Timothy. Additionally, her ongoing work with the Idrîsî Ensemble, of which she is a core member, continues to inform her artistic depth.

The making of this largely self-produced record unfolded over four years — “it’s a well-kneaded dough,” she says. These songs evolved through exposure to multiple environments: from early writing sessions in her childhood home in the Spanish countryside, to stages across the U.S. while on tour supporting Sampha.

Experimentation and modulation are an intrinsic part of elsas’ method, conceiving songs as organisms that respond to their surroundings. Collaborators on this collection of songs include Shrink, Will Lister, Gabriel Gifford, Ethan P. Flynn and more. The record was mixed by David Wrench (a long-time supporter of elsas’) and Nathan Boddy, and mastered by Matt Colton.

With APORIAMOR, elsas creates a visual world from the fabulation of the past, as an act of playful historical revisionism in which she embeds herself as both subject and storyteller. The songs function like an archive of her experiences across various years, each one unearthed and presented as some sort of archaeological artifact. Through this body of work, elsas begins to conceptualize herself as a legacy artist: one who honors the archive of her own becoming while emerging as a distinct and resonant voice in today’s musical landscape.

Hiver completes a trilogy of EPs on Gudu with ‘Blue Hell’, another transmission of space-age machine funk from a duo who are truly shaping their own soundworld.

If you’ve followed Hiver, you should know the deal by now: they’ve spent the last decade honing a sound that draws heavily from dance music history – namely the starry-eyed synthesizer funk of classic techno and electro – that drips in colour and emotion without ever feeling retrograde. ‘Blue Hell’ is their third EP for Gudu, and maybe their most accomplished yet.

In Hiver’s words, “this EP was shaped by a mix of late night club energy and the more introspective, melodic ideas we’ve been exploring in the past years. A big part of it also comes from the tension between how people connect today. This constant, hyper-connected flow of networks, media, and online exchanges and our own way of creating music, which is very physical and personal. We’re always bouncing ideas through messages and files, but the real magic still happens when we meet in the studio, face to face. That contrast between digital connection and human presence became a sort of hidden theme behind the EP.”

“With Blue Hell, our third chapter on Gudu, we wanted to capture a moment of clarity, something direct yet still drifting. In a way, this release completes the excursion we began with the first two records: three points that trace the contours of the sounds we’re drawn to. Each track feels like a fragment of that journey, grounded in rhythm but always leaning toward depth and escape.”

Peter Beyls (1950) works on the intersection of computer science and the arts. He develops generative systems in music, the visual arts and hybrid formats. Beyls studied music and computer science at EMS, Stockholm, the Royal Music Conservatory, Brussels and the Slade School of Art, UC London. Initially he was active in electronic music, as a composer of tape music. Later on, he developed various analog live electronic music systems. In close partnership with Michel Waisvisz, he designed and built the early prototypes of the crackle box synthesizer at STEIM, Amsterdam (1973-1975). Around the same time, Belgian composers Karel Goeyvaerts and Lucien Goethals were his mentors at the IPEM Studio. Over the years, Beyls’ work has primarily centered on generative systems, including extensive series of machine drawings, human-machine interactive music systems using machine-learning and interactive audiovisual installations on which he has also given worldwide lectures. His work has been widely performed and exhibited at various universities and art institutions. The four previously unreleased tracks on this LP are amongst his first electronic music compositions using the Crackle Box, the Synthi 100 and the VCS3, a combination of live improvised electronics with precise tape editing and effects.

Xexa is still undefined, gliding over her origins, influences, and points of reference. Her music is informed by uploads from all that, processing heritage and future in much the same democratic way, sure of its (her!) path. Synthetic as it may sound, »Kissom« contains the very human element of Xexa's presence, not only through her instantly recognizable ethereal vocals but also manifest in the web of grooves stopping short of »dance«. »Kizomba 003« is the closest she comes to the dancefloor, a reduced take on the popular style of kizomba, a low-key interpretation but with the vocals atypically high in the mix. A brief breath of nostalgia. »Kissom« (title track) prolongs the slow pace, almost as an extended mix of »Kizomba 003«, stretching the sexy bounce for close to 4 extra-delightful minutes.

Everything seems to dissolve into space, as if every track gently expires only to be reconfigured somewhere else, molecule by molecule, perhaps in a different location within our mind. The artist somehow corroborates the feeling, particularly regarding »Será«, »Xtinti«, and »Txe«, which she says »finish exactly where I wanted. They all end with an EQ that mutes the frequencies until they cease to exist«. Here, there, sparse beats, successive waves of ambience, half-machine lips singing close to our ears, a blend of classic 4AD and a metallic environment warmly wrapping around the music. Extra-long, »Quem és tu?« poses the question – Who are we? Who is she? And the title »Kissom« stems from another question Xexa often hears from people, »Ki som é este?« (What is this music?). The answer might well be the artist's own paste of the words »kiss« and »som«. Lovely.

Brand new music from the space cavern for 2025. "Intersatelital" is the new exploration in sound from Vinnum Sabbathi, encompassing the relationship between us humans and the machines we have created to aid in our quest towards the expansion and conquest of space beyond our home planet, taking special focus on a pivotal point in time for Mexico. Back in 1985, two satellites (Morelos I & II) were put in orbit under the NASA missions STS-51-G and STS-61-B. These satellites became crucial for advancing communications in Mexican territory and were controlled and monitored by Mexican engineers in the heart of Mexico City. Mission STS-61-B also featured the first-ever Mexican astronaut, Dr Rodolfo Neri, who set several experiments in orbit as well as taking photo documentation of the country from space, and, with all of this, Mexico entered a new era of technology and communications. A sonic testament of the intricate human-machine comradeship from the last century.

For his last solo record ‘Through a Room’, Bill Nace shifted his usual saturated guitar sound and added tapes, hurdy gurdy, doughnut pipe, bird calls and the mysterious Japanese taishōgoto. Setting up for the final night of his three day residency at OTO with only the taishōgoto soundchecked, Nace hoped that Parker would arrive with his small soprano as its opposite. “I’ve been interested in state change, you know, playing until there’s a shift in time.” Known for his development of multiphonics to produce a constantly shifting pattern, Evan Parker has evolved an instantly recognizable sound - his work the soprano most distinct. Happily, it was the soprano Evan brought with him and as soon as the two start to play they entwine - taking off in a double helix of keys and reed primed for endless reconfiguration. Space warps under the velocity of playing, the pitch rising unrelentingly. It felt like unending lift off in the room, sheer energy until the last note makes remember your feet have been on the floor the whole time. Total time bending shredding.

–

"They had never played together before. They had never even met each other before this springtime 2024 concert at London’s Café Oto.

Evan Parker, circular breathing maestro of the saxophone, a legend in the universe that is Free Improvisation since the late 1960s and Bill Nace, one of the most intriguing experimental “noise” guitarists of the 1990s/2000s underground scene.

For those of us who have been enamored by the live and documented work of both these gents, this Café Oto duo was a must-hear event. It could have gone anywhere musically and that would have been totally fine. Particularly with Evan having a history of being thrown into a variety of challenging collaborations throughout his career, employing the learned elegance of trust in his own sensitivity to listening, responding, leading, following, sparring, intertwining, dialoguing, creating in the instant and, essentially, dignifying the non-hierarchical grace of chance.

The aesthetics of socialist consideration in Evan Parker’s playing, in his community of expanded and personal technique, for a younger player such as Bill Nace, strikes an exemplary model. This notion of respect would be entirely the reason Nace, when offered a residency at the most critical “new music” room in England, would request to play in duo with Parker.

Bill Nace came to prominence mostly during the apex of experimental music activity in and around Western Massachusetts in the early days of the aughts, with a focus on visual art and free improvisation guitar action. He could be found in the daytime hours, his head hanging down over a notepad, penning fine-tuned illustrations and abstract line drawings, while in the evenings he’d be attending any number of basement noise gigs, many of which he’d be participating in. His guitar style came across as being informed as much as by the physicality of his writing utensils in friction to the page as it was to his hearing and redefining of radical recordings ranging anywhere from the Black Unity Group to Black Flag.

Utilizing various metal files and other small cylindrical objects Bill would allow his guitar and amplifier to be in tandem with the improvisatory movements of his body as the instrument balanced, intentionally and, at times, precariously, upon his lap. The performances came across thrilling and daring and they would be mostly in the context of venues nothing more than a low-ceilinged damp and dank New England basement, a clutch of people hanging onto rusty pipes or sitting up on dilapidated washer/dryer machines, the shards of Bill’s “file guitar” sounds ringing out like the most alive music on Earth.

By the time Bill reached Café Oto in early 2024 he had relocated to Philadelphia all the while releasing a succession of collaborative LPs on his Open Mouth label to present his developing progression of solo and collaborative work. He also would find himself considerably engaged with playing the electric taishōgoto, a keyboard-activated string instrument from Japan which can exist as a one, two, four, five, or six string oblong sound object. Bill’s approach to the taishōgoto would not be too unlike his approach to the traditional electric guitar, though no outboard implements such as files, sticks, and rocks are utilized. The similarity would lie wholly with Bill’s full immersion of high velocity action-playing where, with the taishōgoto, an electric drone beauty occurs. The flurry of sonics and resultant harmonics emanating from the amplifier (which Bill opts to dial into with borderline loud-as fuck volume settings) furthers the meta-mantra properties of the instrument in an astounding display of drone dynamism.

This sound world of Bill’s two-stringed taishōgoto on this Café Oto night worked beautifully with Evan Parker’s improvisatory saxophone conceptions. The duology achieved instant lift off at ground zero only to find it’s eventual finale as if it were organically ordained. Time seemingly morphed from its ancient human construct of control, rendered inconsequential to the torrential transcendence of the room wildly activated by the magic resonance of the multi-directional pan-spatial sonance of the music as if it were some beatific blessing. It was one of those nights where art as a liberating force of spirit gifted the listeners with an offering of exaltation and joy. It was entirely mystical and mind blowing. A night of Total Music."

Thurston Moore, London, 2025

A Place In My Memory Is All I Have To Claim is the new album by Australian atmospheric pop trio Hydroplane, the storied 'offshoot' formed by three quarters of independent pop group, The Cat's Miaow. On this, their first music after two decades plus of radio silence, Andrew Withycombe, Kerrie Bolton and Bart Cummings return to the gentle, close-quarters musical world they shared around the turn of the century.

Recorded during 2024 in Melbourne and Ballarat, A Place In My Memory… picks up the thread Hydroplane set down with its precursor, 2001's The Sound Of Changing Places, though you can hear echoes of their other releases, too, with Withycombe noting a through-line from the group's 1998 "Failed Adventure" single. There's little quite like A Place In My Memory…, then or now, though. Maybe you can draw some connections between Hydroplane and their sister group, The Cat's Miaow, while fellow travellers might include Empress, The Ah Club, and further back, Young Marble Giants, Veronique Vincent (the muffled, ticking drum machine also makes me think of Robin Gibb's Robin's Reign).

There's also an umbilical to the bedroom-crafted electronica doing the rounds in the late nineties and early noughties. Hydroplane hint at this through their approach to songwriting, which often builds creatively around loops as structural devices. Through all this, the trio achieve an effortless, organic weightlessness across these nine lovely songs. Many feature Bolton's clear singing voice, drifting along, while guitars, keyboards, drum machines and loops tickertape away. The constituent parts fit together, but they also have a curiously detached quality - think of abstract cloud formations sharing the same sky.

Hydroplane and The Cat's Miaow often dealt in emotional ambiguity and uncertainty, and the uncertainty of the nostalgic. This was always one of the most appealing facets of their music, and A Place In My Memory… is thus named perfectly. I couldn't dream up a better title for the album and its reflections on history, lived experience, and the inevitable tangle between these two phenomena. These reflections variously address such concerns as human cruelty, flight, space travel, adventurism and spiritualism. There's also "To the Lighthouse", not a direct reference to the Virginia Woolf book, but a great title, nonetheless. (They've always had excellent titles, often borrowed, for songs and albums.)

A beautiful collection of drowsy, sleepy pop, humble and quiet, but resolute in its craft, A Place In My Memory Is All I Have To Claim is dream work in practice; a lovely reintroduction. Welcome back, then.

Milian Mori shares his deep interest in combining mathematics, geometry, and data with emotion, dance, and fulfillment: technology meets nature, binary meets fluids, algorithm meets spirituality, dualism meets triality, machine meets human, randomness meets self-similarity.

His second album, »Triality«, consists of 16 tracks and is being released via raster as a double LP vinyl, CD, and digitally. Composed to be experienced seamlessly, the 53-minute-long album can be listened to from beginning to end like an audiobook, with no pauses between tracks, creating a continuous sonic experience.

Triality explores the ›unspeakable third in the second‹—a quality that is present everywhere but remains immeasurable. This concept strongly influenced Milian Mori during the composition of the album. In his live performances, he attempts to visualize this unique relationship through the strobe light, which exaggerates the interplay between light and darkness, creating a non-binary space between 0 and 1. The album can be experienced like a film without images—a film that speaks of a vision yet to unfold.

Zelienople frontman Matt Christensen returns to Miasmah with Constant Green - a record of reverberant country inspired songs that puts the weight somewhere between Johnny Cash and Slowdive. Matt pours out his soul through flashes of life - small and large. His voice roaming over the guitars in a way which feels like a floating poetic deluge.

Appearing fresh from last years Zelienople album Hold You Up, Matt has made a very personal record that arrives as perfectly as it could be. It is full of beautiful sparse moments that capture the feeling of time standing still while simultaneously flashing in front of your eyes. As a child of the 70ies, growing up with country influenced AM rock on the radio, riding around in cars without seatbelts, Matt creates this nostalgic feeling of free riding through the city streets at dusk : a dream world where one can see green as a symbol for humanity and optimism. Not to say the album doesn't have it's share of darkness. Christensen always lingers deep in melancholy, driving his fears and anxieties out through music.

Visions of being able to move anywhere, picking his mother up from jail, family matters, change, the small things in life - all outtakes from what he sings about. Although it's hard to pick up on unless you really listen, as his ramblings can at one moment be fully clear while in the next drowned or muffled - becoming a mere meditative element to the music. Steady collaborators Brian Harding and Eric Eleazer from Zelienople accompanies on pedal steel and keys to further fill the sound into a warm dream, following in the footsteps of Matt ́s previous Miasmah album Honeymoons (2016). That said, while Honeymoons used drum machines and vast open spaces, Constant Green is another step closer towards the classic singer-songwriter folklore. Timeless gold from an artist that never stops creating.

Unknown Waveforms is the forthcoming album from Belgian trio KAU, set for release on October 10, 2025. Marking an evolution since their 2023 release The Cycle Repeats, this new record captures a more personal, immediate, and unfiltered version of the band's sound. In an increasingly digital world, KAU takes a different route, with an album rooted in human connection, live energy, and creative spontaneity. Here, the trio reflect their take on instrumental music, drawing heavily fromjazz, hip hop, and electronic influences.

At the heart of Unknown Waveforms lies the starting point of three musicians in a room, writing and composing music on the spot. For KAU, this idea mirrors their working method: long jam sessions, free-flowing experimentation, and shared moments of inspiration. Songs often take shape slowly, unfolding over hours or days, but always built collaboratively as a trio.

The album's title reflects the mystery behind how music comes together, but is also both literal and symbolic. Unknown waveforms are the sounds that arise when machines and people interact in unpredictable ways. Whether you're an experienced musician or just starting out, the creative process often feels elusive and hard to fully understand. But there are also certain moments: creative sparks that can't be planned or programmed. It ends up being more than notes, gear, or structure, it's about the process, the tension and energy that builds when people connect and create in the same room.

The title track, Unknown Waveforms, captures that exact process. It opens with a quote from synth pioneer Wendy Carlos: "I'm just trying to show you how we get some of these sounds", inviting listeners directly into the creative space. The track focuses less on a polished outcome and more on the moment before a song is "finished": it's a portrait of experimentation, feeling, and raw expression.

This commitment to honesty permeates the entire album. KAU kept overdubs to a minimum, avoided excessive editing, and prioritized spontaneous choices over calculated ones. In a time when the future of live, improvised music feels uncertain, they double down on the physical, the real, and the immediate. The album resists the pristine polish of modern production, favoring the warmth and imperfection of analog synthesis. The band embraces the character of their instruments, particularly vintage gear, where subtle flaws add beauty, depth, and personality.

One standout track, cr_eye, is driven by the Moog Subphatty-a key instrument in the band's toolkit for its analog warmth and powerful sub-bass. The track centers around the conversation between bass and drums, allowing the keyboards to recede and create space. It draws emotional threads from earlier KAU tracks like Kampala and Kautokeino, bridging past and present with a shared atmosphere and rhythmic interplay.

Another highlight, Stratford, finds inspiration in London's transport system and the UK jazz scene that has long influenced KAU. A field recording snippet of the London Underground kicks off the track, connecting it to the rhythm of everyday commutes. Built around a hypnotic sequencer line from the Roland JX-3P, the track evokes the motion of a metro journey. Artists like Nubya Garcia, Yussef Dayes, and Alfa Mist, giants of the scenethat the band has admired for years, resonate subtly throughout.

Above all, Unknown Waveforms is a statement of intent from KAU: a celebration of imperfection, creative honesty and an insight in the process.

The debut album from Addy Weitzman, ‘Light Months Will Fly Over Us’ explores new-wave, romantic pop and art rock with elegance and ambition, drawing from Weitzman’s scattered network of collaborators, as well as a “frighteningly vast” personal archive of compositions. Sequenced by Seth Troxler and released on his Slacker 85 label, it represents a pivot in musical direction for the imprint, and a showcase for the songwriting craft Weitzman honed as a member of cult electro duo Footprintz, and Montreal synth-pop projects The Beat Escape and Dawn to Dawn.

The title Light Months Will Fly Over Us is derived from a line in a poem by the Russian writer Anna Ahkmatova. Weitzman was immediately struck by its “hopefulness, its mystery… it gives the feeling of being suspended, hanging in a dream-like state”. This interpretation has been translated to the album, rich in memorable songwriting that nonetheless invites the listener to lean in further. Delicately mixed by engineer Pierre Guerineau, known for his work alongside Marie Davidson, each of the eight tracks gently interrogates life’s greater mysteries; fear, love and salvation, each defining and revealing the human soul.

Opener ‘End of The Line’ invites us into an immediately lush space of lounge lizard existentialism, soft brass and piano helping Weitzman introduce “where the journey begins and the fantasy dies”. Across orchestral arrangements arranged by Adam Wilcox, whose sensitive, ambitious compositions are weaved throughout the album, ‘Beyond The Speed of Life’ brings to mind the laments of Scott Walker. Navigating vulnerability via grandeur, Weitzman’s earnest vocals flourish in wide-eyed call-and-response with the object of a transcendent love affair.

Alongside collaborator, Richard Lamb, the next chapter of the LP plunges into contrasting machine-driven moods; the wry, bubbling ‘Entertainment Is All I Wanted (And I Found It)’ is imbued with the playfulness and experimentation of 80s electronic pioneers such as Fad Gadget, while the tougher, icier ‘Stranger To Your Kind’ shifts in a more instrumental direction, recalling Weitzman’s dancefloor experience, as well as contemporaries such as Matthew Dear.

Album centerpiece and striking first single ‘Running & Returning’ is the first of a suite of three tracks in collaboration with Weitzman’s The Beat Escape and Dawn to Dawn bandmate, Patrick Boivin. Blending lush saxophones and angular guitars with a wistful melodic touch and lyrics, its irresistible art-rock rhythm provides the foundation for one of Weitzman’s most involving vocal performances.

It’s followed by an anthem for existential absurdity: ‘Ice Cream Candle’ provides a driving acceptance that “the more and more you learn, the less you understand”; Weitzman submits to this uncertainty with equal grace on ‘No Man’s Land’, as baroque invocations of “words swept through the fields” and meeting “where the water lilies grow” give way to a blistering guitar solo, humbly riding hypnotic percussion.

For the compassionate finale of Light Months Will Fly Over Us, Weitzman narrates the experience of ‘Gabrielle’, a woman slipping between rooms between shuttered blinds in the towering city, “where cigarettes and roses fill the air.”

As lyrically delicate as it is musically ambitious, Light Months Will Fly Over Us is a sublime debut album, enriched with care, love and much-needed enchantment.

LIMITED VINYL COMES IN CARDBOARD SLEEVE WITH BOOKLET!
OSTRANENIE is a collection of digitally manipulated, impressionistic piano miniatures — each named after blockbuster films and TV series. Improvised late at night as a reaction against passive media consumption, these pieces function as both homage and critique, navigating the space between classical impressionism and contemporary digital manipulation. They don’t just deconstruct traditional piano expression; they interrogate the emotional stakes of sound in an era where immersion culture flattens meaning and algorithmic logic erodes agency.

The album’s title references the Russian formalist Viktor Shklovsky’s concept of “ostranenie” (ɐstrɐˈnjenjɪj, estrangement/defamiliarization), a term he introduced in the early 1920s to describe art’s role in resisting the indifference of habitual perception.

“And so, held accountable for nothing, life fades into nothingness. Automation eats away at things, at clothes, at furniture, at our wives, and at our fear of war.”
—Viktor Shklovsky, Theory of Prose (1925)

Shklovsky saw art as a way to break through the anesthetizing effects of routine, stripping away the layers of habit that dull our senses. By making the familiar strange, art reclaims perception from the mechanical and the automatic. His argument wasn’t just a theoretical exercise — it was a response to a world rapidly consumed by industrialization, war machines, and the alienation of a technologically dominated modern life. In this context, he positioned artistic technique as something autonomous, distinct from mere social criticism or psychological reflection. Art seeks to remove “...the crust that the world of things deposits on our senses, with routine’s unending murder of the real.” Ben Ehrenreich on Serena Vitale’s Making Strange (The Nation, 2013)

This tension—between revolutionary/artistic and industrial technologies—defined the 20th century, and it continues to resonate today. The mechanization and automation that fueled the First World War’s devastation, alongside the social and economic turbulence of the 1920s, became central to the era’s self-conception. But just as technology was a source of alienation, it was also positioned as an agent of radical change. As the shock of modernity disrupted the human condition, it also became the driving force behind an ideological utopia — one that ultimately deformed into political totalitarianism — a paradox that remains unresolved.

OSTRANENIE plays within this contradiction. The music shifts seamlessly between an uncanny black MIDI dismantling of traditional piano virtuosity and moments of raw, fragile intimacy. The result is a work that resists automatic anonymity while questioning what it means to create in an era where the technological mediation of sound — and experience itself — is unavoidable: Art in the age of its technological constructedness.

Isabelline curator and label head Practitioner reveals a stunning selection of his own archival productions with 'Portobello Innocent', the third release on the mysterious and acclaimed Berlin-based imprint. Recorded between 2016 - 2024, these «ve selected works offer a broad look into Practitioner’s sonic sphere. Introspective club re¬ections that cover a grand scope of machine-translated human emotions. The EP feels like a dug-up lost tape, timeless tracks untouched by current modes or trends, each composition progressively digging deeper into unknown chasms of the enigmatic producers' distinct sound.

Raisina - A hypnotic club track featuring sharp drum machine rhythms and a prominent vocal sample from a 1960s North African love song, creating an alluring and surreally beautiful opener. Well-Behaved Boys - Pulsating, shu®ing techno drums take front and centre, as warped frequencies from raves of a bygone era tune in and out, ¬ickering between past and present with frenetic rhythms and spoken fragments. Form & Emblem - An effervescent ambient interlude, its shimmering textures and layered atmospheres provide a meditative pause amidst the EP’s harder edges. Kala - Hazy and dreamlike, this track layers a wandering dub bassline under a steady house beat, glimmering jazz chords and ethereal textures surround the sonic sphere, evoking ¬ickering memories and lingering mystery. Council - A relentless, bassheavy techno groover with sharp vocal cuts and infectious energy. Council feels like a culmination of all that camebefore, resulting in a hypnotic and kinetic underground offering that feels in«nite. With 'Portobello Innocent', Practitioner offers a rare glimpse into his abstract realm, crafting magnetic spaces between memory and rhythm, the ancient and the future, the human and machine.

GU are very proud to present a brand new City Series from Montreal. Joseph Capriati is one of the scene’s most in demand headliners and he delivers a masterclass in music with this journey through house and techno. Featuring tracks & remixes from Louie Vega, Solomun, Âme, Carl Cox, Deetron, Marc Romboy & Oliver Huntemann, Len Faki & more. "If you close your eyes you might find yourself in a loft party in ‘90s Montreal dancing while the sun rises" (ALICE AUSTIN)

An imperial phase Actress commits a lushly amorphous installation piece made for the Berliner Festspiele to vinyl, rendering a post-industrial symphony full of iridescent shifts in gyring, OOBE-like spatial coordinates landing somewhere between nutopian ambient, kankyō ongaku and sawn-off bass science.

‘Grey Interiors’ was made in collaboration with Actual Objects and is an absorbing animation and navigation of those post-human ideals that have prompted Darren J. Cunningham to his best work across the preceding two decades. In its hypnagogic symphony of the elements, he short-circuits distinctions of classical music’s metric freedoms and the hyperspatial sensuality of concrète/electro-acoustic and ambient musics with an artistic license that has come to distinguish his work in the contemporary field, and arguably identified him as this generation’s most vital electronic abstractionist.

The first half of the album is bewitchingly airless, materialised in a twinkling vacuum. Naturalistic environmental recordings and a half-heard piano swirl around nauseous airlock whooshes and eerie bass drones. It's all pulverised to a powdery, shimmering residue; if Actress's music is defined by its character and texture - that sweet spot between the bedroom and the soundsystem - then this one advances the narrative without losing its backbone. And like a lot of his best work, it comes into its own on the back of zonked eyelids, conjuring a play of shifting geometric patterns within its imaginary physics and nuanced narration of ephemeral melodic phrasing and vaporous textures.

At about the halfway point, that dissociated piano finds its groove, coalescing into a jerky drum machine rhythm popping like bubbles in the stifling atmosphere. We can draw some intersecting lines here thru electronic music lore - traces of vintage AE, Push Button Objects, UR - but Actress always leaves an indelible fingerprint on anything he touches. Even when he's rubbing against the gallery-industrial complex, he manages to fill a stagnant space with electricity and wit; look at the title itself: is it a reference to the "landscape beyond man" as the installation's press release might have us believe, or the institutions themselves?

Repressed LP on Neon Orange Vinyl, includes download card. It feels like someone left the light on in the studio and it all just ran itself, there had been a funky human input earlier in the day but, by a Darwinian machine-led kind of osmosis, the tracks recorded spent the wee small hours self-reducing and simplifying themselves. Marinated in music. “I believe more in the scissors than I do in the pencil,” said Truman Capote. ”Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication,” opined Leonardo da Vinci much earlier in proceedings. Yes, it’s the space around the object, what you leave out that makes what you leave in so important. ESG know this. Sure they can play the game but it’s the swagger of the groove and the minimal topping – like an anti-cup cake – that makes this unique New York sisterhood so appealing on ‘Keep On Moving’. Sampled on TV ads, lauded by critics and swooned over on the dancefloor, ESG’s post-punk took out the grunge and polished the basics. Cut them open and “less is more” is written all the way through. ‘Keep On Moving’ was released over ten years ago to much praise (Q said it was “even better” than 2002’s much loved ‘Step Off’). ESG had been sparring partners for PiL and early hip hop and four years after the ‘Off’, they were onto something new – rhythm as core, reflective storylines about relationship management, sensuality and insanity gather around the bass fix but they’re much blurrier than the incessant beats. Inadvertently they unmask techno and glitch and leave out any kind of superfluous fluff. It’s hard and temple throbbing. Turn it up. And keep moving. “If there's one tune which sums up ESG's enduring lust for life, it's the beautifully-judged Black Flag/early techno crossover of the closing 'Gimme A Blast'.” The Guardian 5/5 // “This album's every percussive aspect has been honed to impart the maximum amount of pleasure.” The Observer // “Despite their influence on younger bands (you can hear LCD Soundsystem's knobbly grooves on ‘Insane’), ESG still sound like nothing else.” The Guardian

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.

2023 was a whirlwind year for Oracle Sisters. The trio—Julia Johansen, Chris Willatt, and Lewis Lazar—followed the release of their debut album Hydranism with a globe-spanning tour that captivated fans and critics alike. From the highways between Knoxville and Nashville to sold-out clubs in rain-soaked Seattle, and festival stages across the UK, they logged countless hours on the road. Their journey was a tapestry of exhaustion and exhilaration, falling apart, brawls and disputes, love and acceptance. By the year’s end, just two days before Christmas, they found themselves in Tokyo, reflecting on the fleeting nature of time and the fragments of inspiration gathered along the way. It was there the seeds for their next album, Divinations, began to sprout. Composing as a true trio for the first time, Oracle Sisters pieced together sketches formed during stolen moments on tour. These fragments coalesced into Divinations, an album shaped by the band’s nomadic existence. The recording sessions spanned cozy Parisian studios, a barn in northern France, and the storied Valentine Studios in Los Angeles. Their creative process embraced experimentation—swapping primary instruments, playing with toy drum machines, and crafting melodies on quirky tools like the OP-1 and a baby Casio keyboard. This spirit of discovery lent the album a sense of spontaneity and wonder. At its core, Divinations channels mysticism and timeless storytelling. The band’s songwriting draws on diverse influences, from the surrealist poetry of Baudelaire and Rimbaud to the introspective philosophies of Carl Jung. Musically, echoes of Talking Heads, Air, and Leonard Cohen resonate throughout the album and tracks like “Riverside” delve into existential questions— “How far are you going? Is it more than money can buy?” Elsewhere on the album “Marseille,” born in the city that gave the song its name, kicks off as a trance with lyrics that play between the sincere and desperate self-help affirmations, we give ourselves while trying to find a bridge between our individual lives and a universal feeling. Lead-single “Alouette” is Oracle Sisters at their most direct; propelled by a driving bassline and exuberant strings, the track summons the sound of 80’s, 90’s, and early 2000’s rock n roll as they sing about “getting out of dodge, finding a pirate ship and sailing home.” Inspired by the book Caliban and the Witch, “Blue Left Hand” is a lyrical tapestry weaving together history, philosophy, and cultural critique. The lyrics, “It’s in the harbor of every page / It’s in the corner of the playwright’s stage / And every player and every fake / And every witch that we burned at the stake,” reflect on the forces that shaped the capitalist society we know today. Across Divinations’ 11 tracks it’s not only geographic boundaries that were crossed but also the boundaries of time and circumstance. While their work may not consciously reflect specific worldly events, they seek to embrace the universal and offer a space for healing. “Good music would make sense to a farmer in 17th century France as it would to a pastry chef in Slovenia in the 21st century,” shares Lazar. “It’s not written for any temporal powers that be. It’s about expressing our common humanity and taking it from there.” This intuitive approach fuels Oracle Sisters creative process - whether composing in a frozen French farmhouse or performing live with an ever-expanding lineup of collaborators, the band remains committed to exploring the unknown. Through Divinations, they hope to leave listeners feeling transcendent, levitating on waves of intuition and discovery.

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

LP + 7". Portland indie rock band charts novel sonic territory, exploring resilience of the human spirit in the aftermath of tragedy and trauma, over 5 years in the making. Conceived in the wake of a worldwide quarantine, the entire West Coast being on fire, and the horrific murder of one of the band's own - then recorded, finished, and now released in defiance of it all. Harnessing all that of chaotic change and catastrophe, the band took it all as an opportunity to boldly blaze some new trails for themselves, carving out new sonic territory by exploring everything from spacey Fusion-Funk bass Moogs and Hip-Hop drum machines, to New Wave-ish synths and flourishes of Samba, Blues, Soul, and Sunshine Pop - all while still delivering the goods that Aan fans have come to know them for: to-die-for melodies, inebriating primal belt-along therapy, and face-melting guitar solos. For Fans of Unknown Mortal Orchestra, STRFKR, Pixies, Dungen, Grizzly Bear, TV On The Radio, Stereolab and Modest Mouse.

Drawing inspiration from film, literature, art, and music, “Zdenka 2080” was heavily influenced in particular by a series of apocalyptic sci-fi novels by Octavia Butler and Gene Wolf. “They inspired me to explore the realms of fantasy as a means of illuminating concepts and truths about our own society and humanity,” she says. “I also was very inspired by the movies Tekkonkinkreet and Embrace of the Serpent - a beautiful exploration of capitalism, colonialism and greed.” Olsen’s music is highly conceptual and “Zdenka 2080” describes a future dystopian Earth in the year 2080 that has been mis-managed by unethical governments and corporations.

In his second EP, Scott Avery takes us on a journey through the life of MK2680—a fictional android, Martian, and human hybrid living between Earth and Mars in the year 3000. A young historian traveling through space and time searching for ancient African music traditions, MK2680's time machine malfunctions on a routine trip to Earth, leaving him stranded in Detroit in 1992. Techno, a genre he had yet to encounter, dominated the dance floors and airwaves during this time. Blown away by its emotional depth, futuristic sound, gritty textures, driving rhythms, and minimal yet hypnotic arrangements, MK2680 endeavored to make music to find a place in the universe. The result is the Dark Side of Mars.

***Limited edition with clear vinyl, white inners, printed centre labels and holographic sticker on B-, D- and F-side*** Nous'klaer Audio proudly presents Paerels III (aka Pearls 3), the third and final edition of its beloved 3x12'' compilation series. This release brings together a refreshing splash of sounds, unbound by genre, blending deep-listening pieces with driving techno, rave-tinged house, and a few playful surprises. Contributions come from both familiar faces and new voices on the label, with some tracks pulled from the archives and others fresh out of the studio - curated by label-head Oberman. Featuring artists like Megan Leber, Mattheis with a remix from Pye Corner Audio, Marie K, Mattias El Mansouri, Cooper Saver, Kems Kriol, Martinou, Human Space Machine, Koraal, Eversines, Erik Luebs, Mathilde Nobel with an Oceanic remix, Mary Lake, and lastly Gotu Jim. A1. Megan Leber - Tides A2. Mattheis - Swell (Pye Corner Audio Remix) A3. Marie K - Silver Lining B1. Mattias El Mansouri - Transcendence B2. Cooper Saver - Cloudburst C1. Kems Kriol - Blimund C2. Martinou - Glider D1. Human Space Machine - Second D2. Koraal - This One E1. Eversines - Rhapsodia E2. Erik Luebs - Toward Entropy F1. Mathilde Nobel - May + Be (Oceanic Remix) F2. Mary Lake - Evergloom F3. Gotu Jim - De Last

‘Dyp Tid’, the fifth album from Norwegian psych-rock group Electric Eye, is a contemplation of the unknown and the ineffable. Crafted in a landscape where time and space collapse, the record is Electric Eye's most ambitious and experimental project to date. Originally commissioned by Sildajazz – the Haugesund International Jazz Festival – and premiering there in 2022, ‘Dyp Tid’ (Norwegian for ‘Deep Time’) is both a meditative journey and an exploration of what it means to exist in a universe where time stretches far beyond humanity’s grasp. First performed live in Skåre Kirke, an octagonal wooden church in Haugesund, Norway that was built in 1858, these six atmospheric compositions centre church organs, synths and choral vocals over any traditional ‘rock’ instrumentation. Gradually winding through ambient minimalism, kosmische improvisations and experimental psych-jazz, ‘Dyp Tid’ isn’t just an album but a space; a mental landscape where sound and time intersect. Talking about the album, Electric Eye’s Øystein Braut says: “We have always been drawn to the cinematic, to the sense that something feels larger than life, and in Dyp Tid we wove these elements together into something both deeply personal and utterly elusive.” Setting up in Bergen´s Duper Studio, the recording space became a laboratory to further develop these new ideas and transform the ‘Dyp Tid’ piece into a fully-fledged studio album: “We delved into analogue technology, explored vintage machines, and experimented with what lay at the edge of our control. We sought the sound of time’s depths, something that felt infinite and uncontrollable. In an age where everything seems algorithmic and predictable, we aimed to create something that refused to be boxed in – something that lives and breathes by its own rules. The album intricately weaves together live recordings from the wooden church and studio sessions, often oscillating between the two in the course of a single track.”

Tristan Arp returns to Wisdom Teeth with his sophomore LP: ‘a pool, a portal’ - a vast, multi-dimensional record of pin-drop rhythms, hushed vocals and swirling ambience that maps out a vivid limbic space between the natural and the digital worlds. The LP began life while Tristan was still living in Mexico City, and was subsequently finished in New York. Carrying on from where his acclaimed debut ‘Sculpturegardening’ left off, the record marries hallucinatory modular synths with cello, found sound and spoken word, creating a rich sonic world in which machines mimic nature and acoustic instruments merge with their digital counterparts. Across the record’s narrative arc, listeners are invited to imagine a future world in which nature and machines collaborate to rewild and search for new modes of being. Far from apocalyptic, the artist’s vision is yearning and hopeful - a reflection on how we might evolve to overcome our very human limitations. “Hopefully we can all open a little portal into another world and integrate what we learn into our own”, Tristan offers. True to his word, Tristan shared much of the creative process with his machines, using modular generative processes to create randomised, improvisatory moments that he could collaborate on as artist and observer. Most of the tracks were captured in single takes as live performances and improvisations that were subsequently edited and cut down. Speaking of ‘Life After Humans’ - the record’s beguiling 10-minute centrepiece - Tristan recalls: “I neglected to record multi-track outs, but it was actually super empowering to be left with just a stereo track: I couldn’t mix individual elements even if I wanted to after the recording, but I’m happy I inadvertently limited myself in that way.” Alongside his own voice, the record features a stunning appearance from fast-rising Guatemalan cellist and vocalist, Mabe Fratti. The pair met in Mexico City in 2020, where she helped Tristan to learn cello - an encounter that ultimately went on to inform the recordings that made up ‘Sculpturegardening’. Her appearance on ‘a pool, a portal’ marks a full-circle moment in their creative relationship. The album’s artwork features photography by Zhang An - a photographer based in Nanjing, China. Despite their appearances, these are unmanipulated photos of real-world ice formations. As is the case throughout ‘a pool, a portal’, the lines between the natural and the artificial are playfully indistinct.

As we approach the threshold leading us back to the Black Lodge on our transformative 8th journey, we are escorted through and beyond the mystical portal by the vigorous and fierce forces of Sneaker. Portrait in House is a collection of 3 resonant works, which are unified into a singular vision within its uncanny language that is rooted deeply in the foundations of Jak, New Beat, EBM, and Wave. Existing inside the liminal spaces of where light meets dark, we are presented with a documentation of dissonance and harmony. We begin our voyage with Jihad, a sluggish and slogging piece that unforgivingly drags us through the grime and the dirt in a ritualistic fashion that would have the ghost of Georges Bataille dancing in circles. Voices call out and howl into the dark as the drum patterns of the 707 rhythmically grasps onto its anarchic components. In the dark, we can see the light beyond the known universe. In the words of Sneaker "The name is not our message, but a document of an evident, traditional concept in (y)our world." As we find ourselves sprawled out on the ground following the 1st sonic stanza, a menacing voice bellows and warns that this is a Sax Track. Referencing Chicago icon Lil Louis, this work juxtaposes classical elements of house music together with the bare knuckled spirit of Jak. A magical spell led by disharmonious Portasound FM keys in conversation with a teetering sub bass, where at its core, this plus this, equals something that is uniquely familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. A number fit for any uncanny ritual that will fall under the night sky. Bringing our cosmic procession to a close we pick up the pace with a commanding number titled, Dance On, a no holds barred work that will possess your soul in the name of Jak. Flangers wail unforgivingly alongside a pulsating 101, as samples of the human voice are chopped up and arranged into a conversation that hypnotically calls for our bodies to be transformed into soft machines, while powered by ceremonious motions that are generated from the liberating process of ritual movement. We command you to dance! Words by Justin Aulis Long

Belarusian post-punk / synth pop group Molchat Doma have always exuded the kind of brutalist aesthetic of the architecture that adorns their album art. It's cold, gray, imposing, industrial and yet there are human hearts beating within those foundations. In the wake of their breakthrough success in 2020, the trio endured a polarity of experiences, from the nadir of an uprooted life and forced relocation away from their native Minsk to the apex of headlining massive shows across the world. It was in this headspace that the band settled into their new home of Los Angeles to finish writing their fourth album Belaya Polosa, a testament to change in difficult times, a love letter to the digital pulse of the `90s, and a technicolor reinvention of the band's somber dancefloor anthems. From the opening synth swell and drum machine throb of "Ty Zhe Ne Znaesh' Kto Ya," to the goth / post-punk austerity of "Son", to the swirling electronic textures mixed with reverb-drenched guitar flourishes, expansive space, and yearning vocals of title track "Belaya Polosa" - that suggests Depeche Mode at their most reflective or The Cure at their most downtrodden - to the sultry and seductive "Chernye Cvety"_ a track reminiscent of Duran Duran's early `90s output in its fusion of dreamy guitars and authoritative mechanized beats _ and the interwoven layers of instrumentation, soaring chorus, and melodic sophistication of "Ya Tak Ustal", it's clear that Molchat Doma are operating on another level. Molchat Doma gained following with earlier albums that sound like third-generation bootlegs of banned recordings from the Eastern Bloc made after a few key entries in the Factory Records catalog were smuggled in from the West. Belaya Polosa propels them into a new direction while retaining their cold minimalist delivery they're known for. The basement grime and dirty tape-head sound of their previous work are now making space for digital luster and shimmering production values. And while Molchat Doma's broadened aural spectrum adds a synesthetic power to Belaya Polosa, the mood remains rooted in stark and unflinching self-reflection. Molchat Doma retain the duality of being both cold and feverish in their delivery while pushing their music into expanded territories through an armory of new textures. The trio continue to harness the sound of harrowing beauty thriving under harsh realities.

Belarusian post-punk / synth pop group Molchat Doma have always exuded the kind of brutalist aesthetic of the architecture that adorns their album art. It's cold, gray, imposing, industrial and yet there are human hearts beating within those foundations. In the wake of their breakthrough success in 2020, the trio endured a polarity of experiences, from the nadir of an uprooted life and forced relocation away from their native Minsk to the apex of headlining massive shows across the world. It was in this headspace that the band settled into their new home of Los Angeles to finish writing their fourth album Belaya Polosa, a testament to change in difficult times, a love letter to the digital pulse of the `90s, and a technicolor reinvention of the band's somber dancefloor anthems. From the opening synth swell and drum machine throb of "Ty Zhe Ne Znaesh' Kto Ya," to the goth / post-punk austerity of "Son", to the swirling electronic textures mixed with reverb-drenched guitar flourishes, expansive space, and yearning vocals of title track "Belaya Polosa" - that suggests Depeche Mode at their most reflective or The Cure at their most downtrodden - to the sultry and seductive "Chernye Cvety"_ a track reminiscent of Duran Duran's early `90s output in its fusion of dreamy guitars and authoritative mechanized beats _ and the interwoven layers of instrumentation, soaring chorus, and melodic sophistication of "Ya Tak Ustal", it's clear that Molchat Doma are operating on another level. Molchat Doma gained following with earlier albums that sound like third-generation bootlegs of banned recordings from the Eastern Bloc made after a few key entries in the Factory Records catalog were smuggled in from the West. Belaya Polosa propels them into a new direction while retaining their cold minimalist delivery they're known for. The basement grime and dirty tape-head sound of their previous work are now making space for digital luster and shimmering production values. And while Molchat Doma's broadened aural spectrum adds a synesthetic power to Belaya Polosa, the mood remains rooted in stark and unflinching self-reflection. Molchat Doma retain the duality of being both cold and feverish in their delivery while pushing their music into expanded territories through an armory of new textures. The trio continue to harness the sound of harrowing beauty thriving under harsh realities.

Belarusian post-punk / synth pop group Molchat Doma have always exuded the kind of brutalist aesthetic of the architecture that adorns their album art. It's cold, gray, imposing, industrial and yet there are human hearts beating within those foundations. In the wake of their breakthrough success in 2020, the trio endured a polarity of experiences, from the nadir of an uprooted life and forced relocation away from their native Minsk to the apex of headlining massive shows across the world. It was in this headspace that the band settled into their new home of Los Angeles to finish writing their fourth album Belaya Polosa, a testament to change in difficult times, a love letter to the digital pulse of the `90s, and a technicolor reinvention of the band's somber dancefloor anthems. From the opening synth swell and drum machine throb of "Ty Zhe Ne Znaesh' Kto Ya," to the goth / post-punk austerity of "Son", to the swirling electronic textures mixed with reverb-drenched guitar flourishes, expansive space, and yearning vocals of title track "Belaya Polosa" - that suggests Depeche Mode at their most reflective or The Cure at their most downtrodden - to the sultry and seductive "Chernye Cvety"_ a track reminiscent of Duran Duran's early `90s output in its fusion of dreamy guitars and authoritative mechanized beats _ and the interwoven layers of instrumentation, soaring chorus, and melodic sophistication of "Ya Tak Ustal", it's clear that Molchat Doma are operating on another level. Molchat Doma gained following with earlier albums that sound like third-generation bootlegs of banned recordings from the Eastern Bloc made after a few key entries in the Factory Records catalog were smuggled in from the West. Belaya Polosa propels them into a new direction while retaining their cold minimalist delivery they're known for. The basement grime and dirty tape-head sound of their previous work are now making space for digital luster and shimmering production values. And while Molchat Doma's broadened aural spectrum adds a synesthetic power to Belaya Polosa, the mood remains rooted in stark and unflinching self-reflection. Molchat Doma retain the duality of being both cold and feverish in their delivery while pushing their music into expanded territories through an armory of new textures. The trio continue to harness the sound of harrowing beauty thriving under harsh realities.

Animals on Psychedelics welcomes Swiss/Tunisian producer Ish for its 9th release, with another suitably lysergic 3 track EP.

A1 kicks off with vintage Sci-fi mind exploration samples and quickly evolves into a pulsating and accelerated acid trance rumpus, with the sample weaving its way around the tracks main goan filtered synths and throbbing bass, for a perfect, reflective end of night closer.

Still keeping things pacey and sci-fi, B1 guides us into more traditional trance territory, with lighter 808 kick drums and a progressive arpeggiated synth line that links up with his paranoid friend half way through for some machine talk , before metallic bass and electric guitar mates comes barging in to abruptly end all chat.

B2 continues the trip and lands us on an unexplored planet deep in the outer universe. Pensive, melancholic and breaksy IDM frequencies transmit through our vessels radio, whilst a woman reminds us that we still have our 'Body's' as we float in space.

"Trauma and the shock effect of it - the leftover residue of harsh reality so impactful that it shapes the way you imagine, envision and calculate your position in regard to everything and everyone around you.
A new type of psychological radius evolves. Boundaries are reinforced. Relationships are recessed. A damaged brief system float aimlessly. Vulnerable to and for anything reminiscent of a worthy cause. The truth about facts became satirical monologue, dead end expressions that have no critical arrangement. We all know someone that either has been or will be"

- Jeff Mills


The Eyewitness reveals a habitual pattern in the way it symbolizes a mirror reflection of mankind in our most vulnerable moments. It is the forthcoming album of Jeff Mills and it is composed from the perspective of an unknowingly complicit bystander and it is at the very least, psychologically pathological in nature. What this release is essentially proposing is an admission to the diagnosis that no one is immune to shock and trauma. Not the accuser or the accused. And this abnormality s culturally and generally transmittable - handed down and passed over to one another disguised as righteous theatre.

As an artist, what Mills is notoriously known for is the perspectives and paths he chooses to approach hefty, complex, and sometimes, awkward subjects. The best way to recognize the narratives of his mostrecent album works such as "The Clairvoyant", an eerie transcending album that plays through like a Seance for creating a bridge to reach another dimension or "Mind Power Mind Control", a cautionary warning about the consequences of supporting deceit, mind control and mass mental persuasion is to start by first taking a moment to look at yourself in a mirror. He's suggesting sound as a reflection and what we might be able to see in ourselves. Proposing that we might be the problem and a solution. In the same vicinity of his recent solo albums, the direction, scope or target of The Eyewitness is first about us, then about it.

More than the few previous albums he's released lately, this one has a unique relationship in terms of imagery and visual treatments that represent the concept. The front cover shows Mills, neatly dressed in a black suit that appears to be caught in the act of doing something methodically as he cohorts to supportwith a bright white type of surgical light towards the viewer. Stark and in the act of.......something offensive - it could be some type of hypnotic machine at work. Other photos show him in darkened spaces. Remote and deep in thought.

Other clues are the titles of the tracks such as "Sacred Iridescent Mirror (The Pledge)": this refers to the act of installing value and credit to something ambiguous and "Menticide" which means the systematic effort to undermine and destroy a person's values and beliefs. In the opening track, "in A Traumatized World" we hear the narration spoken by Mills. In a language he specifically created for this album. It's a dialect that is designed to be undistinguishable, but spoken with a compassion that it could be sympathized with. In the latter part of the track, it reaches a climatic point. Meaning, "it" has happened. And the album is the evidence.

On extra note:

In this day and age,it's comforting to see a musician like Jeff Mills administer music conceptually without any conditions attached. The artistry and craft of using sound and rhythm to bring forth a concern, a warning or the result of a diagnosis to the listener.

Two years in the making, 25-year-old Angelica Garcia's album Cha Cha Palace is the result of an artist's need to SAY SOMETHING. The second song on the record, "Jícama" might only be a minute and 25 seconds in its entirety, but the message spans generations and is one that resonates deeply for Garcia with her Mexican and Salvadoran roots. Singing/shouting, "I see you, but you don't see me Jímaca, Jímaca, Guava Tree_I've been trying to tell ya, but you just don't see, like you I was born in this country," Garcia tells the reality for millions of Americans unapologetically and with passion.That feeling of being between places is something Garcia knows well having been raised between multigenerational, multicultural, homes with step-parents and half-siblings. Additionally, she made the journey from the West Coast to the East Coast and back again multiple times before finally settling down in Richmond, Virginia.She fondly recalls Mexican ranchera music always playing throughout her childhood. Ranchera was ingrained within the maternal side of her family with her Mother, Grandmother, Uncle & Aunt constantly singing the traditional music throughout the home of her Grandparents.Like Mitski, Lorde, Billie Eilish, and Rosalía, Garcia isn't afraid to tear pages out of her diary and express emotions that might be difficult and oftentimes daunting to share given today's social and political environment. Like her peers, she joins a new chapter of musicians who are connecting with their audiences on a level that lives outside the reaches of technology, trends, and social media, the daily experience of feeling torn between saying something and doing something, for being a voice and speaking with your voice, of being Latina while being American. And it's humanity and honesty that audiences are looking for and will find in spades throughout each note of Cha Cha Palace.

"Deep Dancefloor Jams of African Disco, Funk, Boogie, Reggae & Proto Electro Music 1977-1986reggWhen a passionate DJ and crate digger intuitively selects music for a DJ compilation, without artistic compromise and without the burden of trends, AfroMagic vol.1 emerges from the depths of his soul. Herewith we present the new favorite phonomancer’s tool for all the DJs who experience the dance floor as a sanctuary and a source of freedom and love.

The most fundamental thing that defines African music is that it was created for dancing. In African dance, there is often no clear distinction between ritual celebration and social recreational entertainment – one can seemlessly merge with the other. Because dance and rhythm have more power than gesture and more richness than words, and because they express the deepest experiences of human beings, dance is in itself a complete and self-sufficient language. It is truly an expression of life with all of its emotions – joy, love, sadness and hope – without which there is no African music and dance. For the African people, dance and music are integral parts of the body and soul, thus depicting the expression of life, current emotional states, visions or dreams. Through hypnotic repetitive music and dance, people communicate with each other and with the souls of the dead, the animals, the plants, the stars, the Gods… They free the body and the spirit through ecstatic states, reaching a healing sense of freedom, happiness, and satisfaction.

Throughout history, this transcendental perception of rhythm and dance originating from Africa, influenced popular music worldwide, thus creating new living and breathing forms of musical genres – freeing them from their industrial mold. Funk, disco, soul, boogie, reggae, dancefloor jazz etc., developed in parallel all over the world. It is foolish to perpetually discuss where they originated from and who were the creators of all these fiery dance floor genres – being obvious that they directly or indirectly originate from the African continent and its people who were as well, over the centuries, influenced by disturbing socio-cultural factors of colonialism. However, no one can enslave the soul. The seeds of free and uninhibited dance and rhythm, true to their original form, initially first sprouted onto the USA’s fertile fields of clubbing and popular music while later evolving in other parts of the world.

The disco funk club culture manifested itself as a phenomenal explosion of artists and grooves in the second half of the 70s in the USA. Shortly it spread around the world continually reigning over charts in its various forms – to this day. Clubs emerged where the DJ is an almighty shaman and the dancers are a tribe united under one roof. This urban ritual had and still has a single goal: togetherness, freedom, and love. Clubs have evolved into temples where we free ourselves from the burden of a consumerist lifestyle and suppressed emotions – a place where we receive love and give love – to be who we really are.

Disco funk clubbing was such an influential global phenomenon that its influence can be observed in various other genres from the disco funk era i.e. progressive rock, which mutated by layering complex rock arrangements with a disco funk groove resulting in hybrids, highly sought by today’s diggers, producers and collectors. The profit-hungry music industry of the 80s very quickly commercialized the original disco funk sound by amputating of its original Afro groove to be able to easily ‘sell’ it globally. So, the original disco funk groove became underground again, and it has remained so until this day. Today, for a DJ to unearth that ravishing groove that will lead the dancers to the stars, he must dig passionately like a true musical archaeologist in search of that groove that picks you up after just a few initial beats. That groove which forces the atoms in your body to vibrate, that groove which unites the body and releases the burden.

The AfroMagic compilation series is created as a tool for real DJs who stick to the aesthetics and essence of clubbing.

This continuation of the Afromagic compilation by DJ Borovich was created in a private jam session which served as an escape route from intense and complex love problems.

Unconsciously driven by intuition and emotion and following a live mix tape framework where many tunes are arranged instantaneously, Borovich narrates his story with a strong rhythm that cuts loose even the most blocked off energy nodes and restores happiness to the spirit and the body.

The musical experience of the groove is completed by the lyrics of the songs, which symbolically give DJ Borovich universal answers to his questions arising from questioning the boundaries, nuances and other forms of love.

When considering that Borovich’s selection was created to facilitate an escape from the burdens of reality through rhythm and dance, we can be sure that Afromagic Vol. 2 will have a 100% uplifting, energized and spaced-out effect on the listeners.

The intro to A1, “Feeling Happy” by the Apostles, introduces us to an experienced and slow, cool and irregularly tight groove containing a confidently sung chorus that instantly gives a sense of freedom and hints at the remainder of Afromagic Vol. 2: “I’m gonna feel happy, ´cause I know I’m gonna be myself.” After the anthemic song mantra of the Apostles, Aigbe Lebarty uncompromisingly continues with a dirty disco rhythm. Acidified by accented synths that elevate it to shamanic levels and held together by a female tribal choir, we embark on an uncompromising ritual disco journey. Without a moment to take a breather the prog funk band Mighty Flames and their Road Man launch a highly vicious and raw, thick funk groove spiced with acid synths and dirty RnR breaks, raising the bar for the A side. Jimi Hendrix himself would surely praise it given the ultimate freedom and virtuosity in the solo sections. With the last tune on A side DJ Borovich decides to burn the floor with Geraldo Pino’s psychedelic, acid furious groove and lyrics which describe this HEAVY part of love problems: “The way she walk, the way she talk, the way she does a funky dances, she is really really heavy – that woman”.

While the A side represents a compact intoxicating afro groove machine that separates us from reality and lifts us up to the stars in over 23 minutes, the B side is a treasure trove of proto sub-genres gems. This selection represents the mission of the Afromagic: to find singular events in African recorded discography of popular music from the 70s and 80s that give evidence to the birth of new modern genres on the Dark Continent even before they emerged in the U.S.A. or Europe. The beginnings of electronic music influenced genres are represented back to back with 80s synth jazzy pop, all painted in African colours.

The B side opens big with Jake Sollo and a huge reggae blues number singing about the humiliation of a man – goosebumps guaranteed! “You think I’m nobody that’s why, you don’t know the way for me, I’m somebody I know, I found myself at last”. Adolf Ahanotu then enters the scene with a hard sliding tackle at B2 and an exotic rare disco funk dancefloor napalm. A ‘Sensation’ that would ignite even the coldest of introverts. While we approach the end of the compilation the narrative revolves again and takes a different turn. No less and no more than to the proto-electro that Baad John Cross serves us in “Give Me Some Lovin´”. The fat and repetitive broken electro synth groove, championing many early 90s electro tracks, is presented here without hesitation and with constant tension accompanied by a mantric chorus “Gimme some, gimme some, gimme some looooovin’, EVERBODY!!!”. Finally, we’re guided to the end of Afromagic Vol. 2 by Eji Oyevole’s 80s synth pop style presented in an authentic afro manner, giving us a glimpse at yet another released Afromagic edition, as well as giving an answer to DJ Borovich’s love problems. A smoothly broken electronic rhythm resembling electrified highlife sounds, carried on the wings of a virtuoso dreamy saxophone on top of which Eji presents the most intimate parts of himself. Finalizing the track with a symbolic chorus, on the surface referring to the dancefloor and simply having fun, but in actuality referring to the skill and happiness of living: “I´m a dancer, I can dance”. So, get up and dance among the stars with DJ Borovich and Afromagic.