Buscar:hush

For nearly 30 years, SUNN O))) – Stephen O’Malley and Greg Anderson – have pushed the boundaries of heavy music, straddling the worlds of the avant-garde and rock to forge a style instantly recognisable as their own. Now, SUNN O))) return with their first album of new material since 2019’s acclaimed Pyroclasts. Their tenth album – their debut for Sub Pop – demonstrates the duo’s mastery of time and space, light and dark, and their willingness to evolve their unmistakable sound into bold new forms.

The eponymously titled SUNN O))) was tracked at Bear Creek Studios, Woodinville, Washington with Brad Wood (HuM, Tar, Sunny Day Real Estate, Liz Phair). This location proved crucial to the recording process. “The vast tracking room had big windows looking out on trees,” says O’Malley. “We could go hiking and be out in the woods, spend time outdoors. That became a big part of it.”

SUNN O))) have long welcomed collaborators into their self-contained world: past work has featured, Attila Csihar (Mayhem), composer Hildur Guðnadóttir, multi-instrumentalist Steve Moore, polymath Mark Deutrom, Silkworm’s Tim Midyett and legendary singer-songwriter Scott Walker. But on this album O’Malley and Anderson found fresh possibilities in the primal territory of the duo format, performing all the instrumentation themselves. “What’s been happening with our performances over the last couple years with the two of us and no other collaborators has been really fresh and exciting,” says Anderson.

The compositions on SUNN O))) are expansive and panoramic yet finely detailed, reflecting the arboreal setting in which they were recorded. Amidst howling feedback and glacial crunch, one finds surprisingly delicate moments: a field recording of water trickles beneath, piano interludes lend a hushed, solemn feel. All while the duo attains fresh heights of telepathic intensity as they shape music that breathes the bracing, earthy air of the Pacific Northwest.

Framing the album visually are two paintings by the late American artist Mark Rothko. Liner notes are by award-winning British writer Robert Macfarlane, famed for his works concerning landscape and the relationship between humanity and nature. Through the work of the band, Macfarlane, and Rothko, sound, word and visual combine into a fully immersive experience that is undeniably, completely SUNN O))).

"Music to be heard with ears. Through and through. Over and over. No coherence or meaning. A slow rotating dial of information. In and out of focus between benches, beams, buffs, busses, butter, bars, bees, bumps, beens and boons. Luminous eyes around a small fire. Waiting for something to happen. These two movements. With 10 eyes divided onto 6 faces. Making small sounds as they roll clockwise. Then over the table... stumbling into everyday ghosts"

Coyote are back with another typically carefully curated collection of Baleraic re-edits and revisions via the reliable (and hush-hush) Magic Wand imprint. The Nottingham twosome kick things off themselves with 'Carpenter', a dubby and bass-heavy extension of a dreamy, folksy number (all jangling acoustic guitar, stoned male lead vocals and gentle hand percussion), before we're treated to the 'Pointless edit' of 'Six Blade Scalpel' - a languid, bass-heavy revision of a late 70s blues/soft-rock number crafted by Bedmo Disco's Sell By Dave. There's an Americana/neo-folk feel to Andy Kidd's sublime extension of Dan England's 'I Don't Feel That Way', while YZ's edit of 'Sapelo' is a horizontal, Rhodes-laden, spoken word-sporting ambient delight.

born (literally) in fire, soma flared briefly as the alchemical pairing of two unique and dynamic musicians. david thrussell and pieter bourke met through mutual friends in the artistic melting-pot of early 1990s elwood, melbourne, australia. bourke was an integral member of the gothically ambient eden, thrussell frontman of anarchic industrial combo snog. both admired each others work, and though some considered them an unlikely combination, something rather potent was brewing which drew them inexorably together.

initially bourke joined snog live and then in the studio, contributing mightily to their epic second album ‘dear valued customer’. as a natural result of their friendship and muse, thrussell and bourke instituted their own project, soma, to explore the intersections of arcane and mysterious technologies. the first soma album “hollow earth” was released to acclaim.

soon after, thrussell was awoken by a 3am knock on his door. bourke was now homeless - the result of a devastating fire that had just torn through his apartment and studio - and he needed somewhere to sleep. this is when work on ‘the inner cinema’ began, with bourke and thrussell ensconced in the same dwelling, able to write and record around the clock (often only leaving to plan the next session while dining at local vegan eateries).

at the time thrussell was obsessed by the testosterone bravado and haunting alienation of ‘spaghetti-western’ theme songs, while bourke brought his love of all things percussive and the other-worldly atmospherics of arvo pärt (with the outer-space dub of king tubby) to the mix. together, on a diet of blood-plum sago, fortean times and lingering smoke fumes, they concocted their dadaist brew.

magical and unforgettable, ‘the inner cinema’ stands apart and outside of the musical mainstream. since its 1996 release the album has developed a mythical reputation and is spoken of in hushed and adulating tones among acolytes of atmospheric and electronic music. you hold in your hands a lovingly remastered deluxe reissue of this sonorous gem.

time marches on, and after a few more sporadic soma recordings bourke and thrussell moved on to other pastures. bourke would work with dead can dance, lisa gerrard and hollywood auteur michael mann, as thrussell toured regularly with snog and black lung, cut some interesting soundtracks and birthed the idiosyncratic omni recording corporation.

expelled from its fiery crucible, this dark jewel of sound, this soundtrack of the mind, has lain in the soft earth awaiting rediscovery. fluid metabolic rhythms and breathy washes of timeless melancholy pulsing, inviting, in the warm soil. now is your chance.

Born in Philadelphia in 1943, Barron's journey through the jazz world reads like a tour of its greatest innovators: early work with James Moody, Roy Haynes, and a formative tenure in Dizzy Gillespie's quintet set the stage for a career defined by sophistication, depth, and unmistakable melodic clarity.

Through the 1960s and '70s, Barron became a sought-after collaborator, performing with Freddie Hubbard, Jimmy Owens, Yusef Lateef, Milt Jackson, Jimmy Heath, and Stan Getz. His role in the celebrated ensemble Sphere, alongside Buster Williams, Ben Riley, and Charlie Rouse, further cemented his reputation as a musician equally rooted in bebop tradition and forward-looking modernism.

Muse are a culturally-attuned, genre-defying band who channel the anxieties of each era—technology, power, rebellion, and identity—into maximalist, stadium-ready rock that evolves with the times while staying unmistakably Muse.


Kicking off with new single “Be With You,” this next era of Muse is rooted in electronic experimentation and an insatiable curiosity. ‘The WOW! Signal’ represents a world of cosmic mystery, existential hope, and the exhilarating possibility of contact with something far greater than ourselves.

2026 Repress

"To make authentic Jungle you’ve got to get the breaks right sonically and LMajor does that without effort. Something in the tone of his drums really spoke to me and I knew immediately I wanted a record for Astrophonica. Authentic UKG is also all in the drums and it turns out he can do those too. Throw in some killer hooks and riffs and it’s the perfect combination - full of vibe and character” - Fracture

‘Can’t Do It’ is raw dance floor Jungle in a drawn out and journey like fashion. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. Incredibly fun to mix - can you do it?

‘Spinnin’ is all blissed out UKG with dizzying chord stabs and vocal ticks. Wait for the irresistible walking bass line to take you by the arm and go for a stroll.

The drums in ’Feelin’ are so in the pocket that there’s no space for your wallet and keys so forget them and just bubble. Heavy sub bass will have the rest of your jeans flapping.

‘Hush’ closes the EP on a high with trademark LMajor breaks and drawn out arrangement. No need to rush this one, just tune out to the rhodes and Think break workout before the lashing and metallic Amen ramps up the excitement. Shhh, just listen.

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

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

Some previous press:

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

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

DYING VICTIMS PRODUCTIONS is proud to present the striking debut EP of Spain’s FABLE, Long Hath the Night Dwelt, on CD and 12” vinyl formats. FABLE started as a solo-project by Jose Soler (Phantom Spell, Chantrice) influenced by ‘70s and ‘80s hard rock and heavy metal – a list as varied and idiosyncratic as Thin Lizzy, Whitesnake, Pagan Altar, Ashbury, and Hällas – along with hints of old US metal. Duly girded, the band bring forth their public debut, Long Hath the Night Dwelt. An actually-narrated prelude sets the stage for a cautionary tale about class struggle and revolution, FABLE indeed using fables and stories as a medium to tell an expansive story of the woodsfolk dominated under the iron claw of “The Owl.” Despite that, the band’s debut EP is exceptionally compact at five tracks in 22 minutes, moving with a simmering patience that’s heavy on mood and dynamic in its restraint. Never overdriven nor busy, warm and intimate but with a psychic distance that seems impossibly ancient, FABLE very much evoke the perhaps-centuries-old folklore that seems so central to their rustic rock; the wise-sage vocals almost seem an afterthought when the narrative flow of the music starts winding and wending like smoke from a tavern fireplace, so illustrative is its hushed power. However, each element here is equally important, and all work together to form a totality that’s unfussy but hewn with class and care. And this is just the start of this FABLE: discover for yourself how Long Hath the Night Dwelt!

With Grammy award-winning sound engineer Katie May (MPG Sound Engineer of the Year, 2025) once again at the faders, Blank Arcades sees the same team (David Perry on guitars & church organ, Cameron Saint on double bass and Louis Spanton on percussion) reunite in atmospheric Yatesbury Church, close to the Avebury stone circle, to perform sixteen new songs on a single summer's day. A year on from its predecessor, Collodion ("hushed, haunted and shiver- inducing" wrote Alexis Petridis in The Guardian) Blank Arcades draws on themes of impeded progress and the 'entrances to nowhere' implied by the album title, a nod to Andrew's interest in ancient churches. "When you sing in a place like this, the walls join in."

Formed by vocalist and guitarist Andy Yorke, bassist Jason Moulster and drummer Nigel Powell, the band crafted an album that stood apart from the late-Britpop rush with a sound that was intimate, melodic and emotionally direct.Songs such as "Solved," "Higher Than Reason" and "Angel" showcase Yorke's plaintive vocal delivery and the band's gift for dynamic build-ups, moving from hushed reflection to soaring climaxes without losing their understated core. Critically noted for its cohesion and lyrical sincerity, Almost Here established Unbelievable Truth as a thoughtful counterpoint to the era's louder guitar bands. It remains a focused, atmospheric debut that rewards close listening and highlights a band confident in mood, melody and craft

A hushed and intimate reimagining of a landmark indie classic, Grandaddy’s The Sophtware Slump… On a Wooden Piano—originally released in 2011—returns in a limited Eco-Mix “Tangelo” vinyl pressing. On this version, Jason Lytle transforms the album’s lush, synth-driven arrangements into stark piano meditations, highlighting the fragile humanity at the core of the songs.

Hild unites US sound sculptor zake and UK-based rhubiqs in a transatlantic collaboration steeped in plenty of their signature patience and emotional gravity. Across four slow-burning movements, deep drones, hushed piano lines and glacial textures unfold with cinematic allure as vastness and intimacy coexist. Rooted in both artists' post-rock backgrounds, this record feels less composed than discovered, as if each passage emerges organically from silence. There is plenty of fragile beauty in the stillness and looming sense of loss, so this is the sort of record that has a profound effect despite its knowing restraint.

16 years after debuting, Coyote's hush-hush Magic Wand imprint continues to be one of the most reliable sources of Balearic-minded re-edits and reworks. Their latest is suitably mysterious - a single-sided missive released with no information about either the uncredited scalpel fiend behind it or the source material. What we can tell you is that 'Suntrip' is undeniably ace, with our shadowy editor delivering an extended, lightly dubbed-out take on what sounds like a mid-1980s big studio number: the kind of off-beat pop-not-pop record that Balearic heads love. Think synth marimba lines, fretless bass, effects-laden drums, glassy-eyed male lead vocals, glistening guitars, nods to dub and lashings

Formed by vocalist and guitarist Andy Yorke, bassist Jason Moulster and drummer Nigel Powell, the band crafted an album that stood apart from the late-Britpop rush with a sound that was intimate, melodic and emotionally direct.Songs such as "Solved," "Higher Than Reason" and "Angel" showcase Yorke's plaintive vocal delivery and the band's gift for dynamic build-ups, moving from hushed reflection to soaring climaxes without losing their understated core. Critically noted for its cohesion and lyrical sincerity, Almost Here established Unbelievable Truth as a thoughtful counterpoint to the era's louder guitar bands. It remains a focused, atmospheric debut that rewards close listening and highlights a band confident in mood, melody and craft

First coming to prominence purely as a drum & bass artist, with the likes of Metalheadz, Digital's Function and Klute's Commercial Suicide labels all over his material, veteran Slough producer Amit has, in more recent years, spread his stylistic base via his Amar label to take in deep dubstep and a touch of acid as well as ruffneck junglist behaviour. This 12", his first for more than five years, is heavyweight dub business, with echo chambers set to maximum dubbage and shuddering sub causing potential structural damage to all but the sturdiest buildings in a five mile radius. 'Dem Rude', with its gunshots and sonic soup, takes the A-side, while the flip tune 'Hush Up' marries more aural abstractions with another stepping rhythm, the hi hats fizzing and sizzling like they're encased in a deep fat fryer. Great to have this vastly underrated underground trooper back in the ranks - and well worth the wait.

Ste Cy, the latest studio offering from the trio of Jac Berrocal, Vincent Epplay, and Timo van Luijk, ripens like a forbidden fruit—born of an improvised instrumental session captured in the secluded hush of Kulta Saha by Timo van Luijk. These raw recordings were later reshaped into 12 songs by Vincent Epplay at Studio Villejuif in Paris. And over it all drifts the poetry of Jac Berrocal— sensual and incendiary, seeping into the music like spice into flesh.

Acclaimed songwriter Maria Taylor, best known for her work with Azure Ray, returns with her forthcoming album ‘Story’s End’, a hushed,
cinematic collection that unfolds like an intimate narrative of loss, healing and quiet transformation.
Featuring contributions from Mike Mogis, Conor Oberst, Nate Walcott and Ben Brodin, the album pairs Taylor’s intimate vocals with widescreen strings, bell-like piano and atmospheric arrangements

Indie Stock places itself in a context it adores and defies. Every wall is movable and no accident is an accident. Just as a song is made out to be one thing it reveals itself to have been the other all along. Make no mistake, there is something at the heart of it all, even though its pulse resonates from all directions at once. The listener becomes the toad, gladly boiled in a shimmering liquid until it is too late: The bass kicks in and cant be unheard.

From 2, Amsterdams self-proclaimed troupe of folk mutants, take stock of it all on this record: hushed affect in tumultuous settings, a mole insurrection of epic proportions, the secret workings of pornography platforms and memory. One song might invite to dance, stumble or float, while another is what a ghost should sing. Above all, it is real. Palpably real in a way only the fabrications of true devotees might ever be. What is a consoculator, again?

Yeun Elez opens a breach: that of a forgotten threshold, a gateway to Hell concealed beneath the peat and legends of the Breton marshes, from which Hoel Moce borrows the name for this project.

Born from Celtic tales passed down in hushed tones, it summons wandering souls, suspended spirits, and those who have already reached the end of their journey. Having escaped from Techno Thriller, Hoel founded Yeun Elez in 2022, as an autonomous and haunting sonic territory.

Surrounded by talented collaborators (Maria: NaturaMorta, Lou Savary de Reymour), he weaves a ritualistic and visceral music, traversed by dreamlike landscapes, misty battlefields, and a fantastical medieval Brittany.

Between pagan symbolism and spectral visions, the project explores the murky depths of the human condition. Thus, birth, love, decline, death: the themes emerge as archaic truths. Betrayal and revenge exist alongside devotion and the quest for an ideal that transcends us.

Mixed by Luc Bersier (Reymour) and then mastered by Tioma Tchoulanov (UVB76, Nze Nze), this album by Yeun Elez doesn't reconstruct the past: it invents it to better haunt it.

Music like a rite of passage, both rooted and timeless, like an inner journey, dark and necessary, to a place where myths refuse to die.

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

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

--

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

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

Following a trilogy of introductory EPs, a buzzed-about tour with Alvvays, and a mountain of global acclaim since they first emerged in 2022, the Stockholm-based trio teamed up with Alex Farrar (Wednesday, Snail Mail) for their first-ever full-length record. A sun-drenched prism of Girl Scout’s guitar-driven indie rock, Brink refracts with a new glow from each song to the next. Towering anthems intersecting with hushed tenderness. Nostalgia with momentary living. Doubt with joy. Forever a band of dualities, Brink is no exception for Girl Scout. Comprised of 13 tracks caught between apocalyptic anxiety and wistful escapism, the album captures the all-too-familiar crossroads of feeling stuck, yearning for change, and standing on the edge of something unknown.

The first resonant space Zosha Warpeha played in was the Emanuel Vigeland Museum in Oslo, Norway. Built as a mausoleum, its walls reach up into a gradual archway, creating an environment where sound expands and reverberates for twelve seconds before decaying into silence. Warpeha was greeted only by dim lights when she entered, and it wasn’t until she had spent several minutes listening that she was able to make out the frescoes that covered every inch of the room: graphic depictions of the cycle of life from conception through death. As the sound of her Hardanger d’amore encountered the walls and these slowly emerging scenes, they obscured its point of origin in both time and space, augmenting its own life cycle. The experience sat in the back of her mind over the next several years as she developed her own patient style of composition and performance, one that comes into full bloom on her new album I grow accustomed to the dark.

When Warpeha was selected as an artist in residence at Brooklyn’s ISSUE Project Room in 2025, she saw it as an opportunity to more intentionally explore how her music might fill a room with ample natural reverb. I grow accustomed to the dark documents two single-take solo performances for Hardanger d’amore and voice at IPR, with both pieces composed in a unique tuning system developed to interact with the space itself. Listeners can trace resonance from the contact of the bow on gut strings into the body of the instrument, its five sympathetic strings offering another layer of refraction, before the sound is thrown about the cavity of the room. The echoes emerge like a photographic double exposure, or wisps of smoke that linger in the air, creating ghostly harmonic convergences that blur the line between what is there and not-there. Sound begins to act like light, a synesthetic alchemy that transforms drones into beams and ornamental trills into flickers.

Both side-long compositions, “filament” and “visual purple,” exemplify a duality that animates Warpeha’s music: an expressive, individualistic style that draws on extensive knowledge of her instrument’s history in folk traditions, and an austere, devotional quality maintained by focus and precision. Though very different in character and structure, both pieces evolve slowly through numerous repetitive phrases, passages of stillness, and bursts of intensity. “filament” opens with a cycle of delicate melodic fragments played and sung around a drone before blossoming into an outpouring of swooping arpeggios, harmonics flying from the strings like sparks off a bonfire. The disorienting pulsation of harmonic beating forms the core of “visual purple,” the close-tone dissonance building to a swarm of open strings ringing boldly throughout the space. After the knotty tones reach their climax, the piece collapses into studied quietude, hushed, but without any drop in intensity.

When Warpeha first visited the Vigeland Museum in 2019, she was in Oslo to deepen her relationship to the Hardanger fiddle through the study of Norwegian traditional music, which is primarily passed down aurally. The experience of learning songs by ear, not only internalizing the tune but also absorbing the techniques and tonalities by listening, was a crucial step in her development as a composer. The years since have seen her sharpen those skills as a prolific member of the New York avant-garde and improvised music communities. Warpeha’s music encourages listeners to join her in this journey, to listen closely with each repeated phrase and through each dramatic shift. Like the frescoes on Vigeland’s walls, with time and intention, the depth of I grow accustomed to the dark comes on like a revelation.

"Deep Purple's Greatest Hits, released in 2009, is a comprehensive compilation showcasing the legendary band's most iconic tracks. Spanning their groundbreaking career, the album features classic live versions of hits like ""Smoke on the Water,"" ""Highway Star,"" ""Child in Time,"" and ""Black Night,"" offering a perfect introduction to Deep Purple's influential sound. Known as pioneers of hard rock and heavy metal, the band’s virtuosic guitar solos, soaring vocals, and dynamic keyboard riffs shine throughout this collection. Greatest Hits captures the essence of Deep Purple's heyday while celebrating their timeless appeal. It highlights the band’s ability to blend powerful rock energy with intricate musicianship, making them a cornerstone of the genre. For longtime fans and newcomers alike, this compilation is an essential addition to any rock music collection, solidifying Deep Purple’s legacy as one of the most influential bands in rock history. Greatest Hits is available as a limited edition of 1500 individually numbered copies on purple coloured vinyl."

‘No Fixed Point In Space’, the third full-length album by Jack Cooper’s Modern Nature, takes the palette of sound and themes that were honed on 2021’s ‘Island Of Noise’ and launches them into an expansive world of openness and vivid technicolour.

It’s a music that hasn’t been heard before; as melodic as anything Cooper has produced but framed by rhythms and instrumentation that reflect the chaos, unpredictability and colour of the natural world.

Certain moorings - woodwind, percussion, strings and Cooper’s lambent voice - are still present and recognisable from No Fixed Point In Space’s predecessor, ‘Island Of Noise’, but the new record marks a shift to utilising musical notation as a point of departure, from which the group explore the space around suggested notes and rhythms to create a semiimprovised, semi-composed ensemble performance.

These explorations of partly organised chance were recorded live and directly to tape.

This approach gives the music a remarkably fresh feel; songs pulse and evolve. The changes between movements, verse and choruses are almost all ambiguous. During the album’s opener, ‘Tonic’, a verse of hushed brevity washes away into a passage of overwhelmingly vibrant orchestration.

CD in four-panel digisleeve with 10-panel booklet with lyrics. LP pressed on 140g black vinyl with printed inner
sleeve and stamped postcard.

Brussels-based accordionist Suzan Peeters releases her debut album Cassotto on the Belgian label blickwinkel. With Cassotto, she opens a door into a hidden chamber of sound. The title refers to the “cassotto” — a small resonating chamber inside the accordion that warms, softens, and deepens its tone. Listening to this record feels as if you’ve stepped into that room yourself, enveloped in a world where intimacy and grandeur collide.

Although this is her first release, Peeters is already recognised as one of the most promising names in Belgium’s experimental music scene. Her distinctive live shows — from leading venues across Belgium to a packed Café Oto in London — have earned her a reputation for combining accordion, electronics and unconventional objects such as a massage board into a compelling whole where contrasts come together in an unexpected way. Cassotto captures this approach in recorded form, giving listeners the same sense of immediacy as her concerts, but framed within the intimate space suggested by the album’s title.

While the cassotto chamber naturally gives the accordion a soft and velvety voice, Peeters harnesses that warmth to explore extremes — from hushed detail to bold, expansive gestures that fill the room. As such, the album moves between the acoustic and the electronic, the tender and the abrasive, the static and the dynamic, the traditional and the experimental.

With Cassotto, Suzan Peeters presents a debut that places the accordion at the centre of an adventurous and contemporary sound world — one that invites to discover how far an accordion can reach when tradition and imagination intertwine.

Suzan Peeters (*1999) is a Belgian accordionist, composer, and experimentalist. She is constantly looking for new timbres and sound textures within the accordion, pushing its acoustic spectrum to its limits by manipulating the interplay between her body and the body of her instrument.
Suzan studied classical accordion at KASK & Conservatorium in Ghent and at the Royal Danish Academy of Music in Copenhagen. She is currently studying Live Electronics at the Royal Conservatory of Brussels.

With The Whole Story, their debut album released in 2024, Astral Bakers laid the foundations for a hushed soft-grunge, somewhere between misty folk and weightless rock. Vertical Life marks a turning point: a band that, after discovering itself, has now established itself as a tight-knit collective, with each member shaping its sonic identity with equal force. Recorded in the USA with Sam Evian (Big Thief, Blonde Redhead...), the album captures the freedom and raw energy of the quartet. There"s no over-recording or over-production here: the moment takes precedence, mistakes become texture, and slight imperfections a signature. Vertical Life is a choral album, a constant dialogue between the four musicians - Ambroise, Theodora, Nico and Zoé - where each now finds a more assertive place in this shifting puzzle, where voices cross and roles interchange. Textured guitars, sometimes silky, sometimes abrasive, criss- cross and overlap like wisps of delicate fuzz. Theodora"s bass anchors the tracks in a cinematic languor, while Zoé"s supple, restrained drumming builds a nocturnal, almost vaporous groove. The vocals, both fragile and assertive, are always balanced between whisper and soar, between indie introspection and grunge energy. A record where verticality is not just an upward movement, but a vertigo, a tension between rootedness and escape.

Detroit-born and Toronto-based, Honoré returns to Soul Jones Records with another slice of ‘70s super-soul with a cool twist. Ain’t No Substitute is an elegant, full-bodied dancer built on rich orchestration and a velvet groove, her five-octave range gliding from an intimate hush to full soul euphoria. Producers Pirahnahead and Thomas McKay frame her performance in shimmering strings, rolling rhythm and a touch of brass, with The Detroit Lovers and the 18-piece Detroit Soulchestra once again bringing that unmistakable analogue warmth.

Soft Rock to Riches announces our first original songwriting winner: Jonathan Kirby from Winston-Salem, North Carolina! “This Is Your Song” is an evocative beat ballad dedicated to seemingly endless Southern summers, late night drives, and romantic realism. In the early morning hours of August 9th, 2018, Kirby layered the drum patterns, chords, and hushed harmonies through a Tascam four track while his dad slept in the next room. Written and recorded in just three hours, “This Is Your Song” fits comfortably alongside privately pressed electronic soul ballads from home recording’s heyday.

The Devin Dare Dusk Mix introduces Vivienne on Side B, adding a graceful harmony that champions Kirby’s pining refrain. The Dusk Mix flips Kirby’s ballad over a head nodding breakbeat with a hypnotic synthesizer line and light, airy brushes of strings and delay.

Jonathan Kirby is a musician and archivist known for his ambient jazz LPs Safe to Disconnect and Safe To Disconnect II, his writings for Wax Poetics, compilations for the Numero Group and his exhaustive archival research on the music of his native North Carolina.

Sugaring a Strawberry, the sophomore record from Julia, Julia, is a study in coming undone—on purpose. Recorded at COMA, Julia Kugel's home studio, and mixed through a custom Flickenger clone, the album drifts in and out of clarity like memory itself. It's emotionally retrospective, creatively unvarnished, and deeply human. You can hear it in the hiss, the warmth, in the vocals so raw they're like an open window. These songs weren't engineered for perfection. They were built to breathe. Her long-time collaborator and husband, Scott Montoya, mixes it all so loosely that you can hear the air between tracks— a space that makes the music feel inhabited rather than recorded.


"Bound" opens the album like a secret passed between sisters, solemn and unspeakably close. It begins with the softest of touches: hushed guitar, a near- whispered delivery that carries the intimacy of someone singing only for one other person. It's a love song, but not romantic, more ancestral in the way long bonds can be. All glow and undercurrent, "I Know," is like hearing someone hum through a wound. The track arrives as if it had been waiting, coiled and complete, to be sung. Its pulse is slow but insistent, anchored on a hypnotic loop and a vocal that's half-incantation, half-confession. One of the most outward-facing songs on the record, "Feeling Lucky," opens like a cigarette flicked in the dark– smoky and a little bit slick. Built on a skeletal beat and a nearly detached vocal, it leans into a sarcastic swagger that barely masks the ache beneath. The delivery is droll and glazed, the instrumentation is sparse and a little woozy, leaving space for her voice to sway—a shrug of a song, stylish in its sadness. "A Love That Hurts" drifts in on soft, fingerpicked guitar and a dry, close-mic vocal that feels both haunted and immediate. The mix is stripped down and analog-warm, letting tape hum and silence frame the emotion. Julia sings like she's remembering something she doesn't want to, each line a slight unraveling. Like the rest of the album, "A Love That Hurts" doesn't push toward resolution. It sits in the ache, sifts through it, makes it beautiful.

Sugaring a Strawberry doesn't seek catharsis so much as stumbles into it. There's a quiet volatility to these songs like they might fall apart if you press too hard. It moves in shadow and softness, asking questions it doesn't answer. It doesn’t end with closure. It ends with truth.

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

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

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

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

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

Long-time NuNorthern Soul contributor, B.J. Smith is a man in demand, dividing his time between solo work, playing guitar in Crazy P man James Baron’s popular JIM outfit, collaborating in a variety of well-regarded projects (Smith & Mudd, Bison and White Elephant amongst them) and composing for TV. Due to this impressive list of musical commitments, solo releases have been few and far between of late, with Smith’s most recent NuNorthern Soul release, a stripped back version of his Big Sur single, dropping late 2023.

It's been ever longer since he delivered a volume in his popular and ongoing Dedications To The Greats series, where the singer-songwriter and composer successfully turns his hand to other people’s songs. Since debuting the series on NuNorthern Soul in 2013 via revelatory and inspired covers of tracks by Mos Def and the Pharcyde, Smith has covered cuts by Outkast, Prefab Sprout and Soul II Soul.

On volume four, Smith’s first volume in the series for five years, he delivers a “cover of a cover” – a revolutionary and imaginative interpretation of Billy Swan’s ‘Don’t Be Cruel’, itself a version of a song first made famous by Elvis Presley. It was their mutual love of Swan’s version that brought Smith together with the release’s most prominent guest artist, Joe Harvey-Whyte, whose lilting, bittersweet and deeply emotive pedal steel performances can be heard across the EP.

Smith provides three contrasting takes. The EP is led by the ‘Mother Earth’ version, a slowly unfurling epic in which waves of effects-laden pedal steel and sun-splashed picking acoustic guitars usher in Smith’s eyes-closed vocalisations, settling into a groove reminiscent of his collaborative work with long-time friend and collaborator Paul ‘Mudd’ Murphy that showcases Harvey-Whyte centre stage to joyful effect. As the 14-minute epic progresses, we’re treated to long, languid electric guitar solos, percussion-laden slow-motion builds and hazy, stretched-out organ solos. It’s a breathlessly brilliant concoction that’s a million miles away from either Swan or Presley’s versions.

In contrast, the similarly epic ‘Earth Heart’ version – available in full vocal and instrumental takes – pushes the song front and centre. Following an extended build up, where Tamar Osborn’s gorgeous and fluid flute motifs rub shoulders with languid guitar solos and Harvey-Whyte’s pedal steel, Smith takes to the mic, delivering an emotive performance of the song’s heartfelt lyrics over a hushed, slow-motion groove. The track builds in waves as it progresses, with Smith layering up instrumentation as it rolls towards a fine conclusion.

Completing a superb package is the ‘Root Heart Version’, a Balearic-meets-Americana take built around shuffling drums, toasty bass guitar, extended pedal steel instrumentation, flashes of flute and Smith’s sun-bright acoustic guitar. Loved-up and more than a little saucer-eyed, it’s a bona-fide sunset delight.

It runs through the minds of men and women of a certain age, complexion, and place who grew up during the era of segregation and who defied their parents, the law, and all genteel propriety and custom by answering one bluesman's invitation to cross the color line and join him getting lowdown and dirty as he serenaded a generation from the bandstand, on jukeboxes, and through the radio.

To them, the slurred guttural sound of a wise man singing "Hush, Hush," putting down the "Big Boss Man" or advising the listener to "Take Out Some Insurance" before they behold the "Bright Lights, Big City" was a siren's call they had no choice but to answer. Even if they tried, they couldn't resist the steady, dirty rhythm punctuated by the twanging sting of an electric guitar note and the sweet wail of a harmonica. And when they leaned in close, they could even hear the barely perceptible sound of a woman's voice whispering forgotten lyrics into an ear.

Ain't nobody can do Jimmy Reed like Jimmy Reed could. But this drive down Jimmy Reed Highway with fellow Mississippian Kent "Omar" Dykes at the wheel with Jimmie Vaughan (older brother of the legendary Stevie Ray Vaughan) riding shotgun and folks like, Kim Wilson, Miss Lou Ann Barton, James Cotton, Delbert McClinton, and Gary Clark, Jr., joining the duo, comes mighty close. As Omar guns the engine and peels rubber on the two- lane blacktop lined with no- good women, empty whiskey bottles, too many cigarette butts and bad intentions, he leaves John Law trailing behind eating his dust. Hop in for a ride and turn up the volume. The electric bluesman who shaped the minds and moves of a musical generation is alive and well. (by Joe Nick Patoski)

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

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

Lizkis zweites Album 'Losing Grip in a Chaotic World' macht schwere Themen mit Pop-Appeal etwas leichter.
Schon der Opener überrascht mit funkelnd-fröhlicher, tanzbarer Popmusik, die klarmacht, dass wenn schon untergegangen werden muss, dann gefälligst mit fliegenden Fahnen. So geht es weiter, wenn auch inhaltlich nicht gerade leichte Kost verhandelt wird, etwa Selbstzweifel 'Bit My Lips', 'Water' und -findung 'In Between', Liebe 'Back Out Alive', 'Wicked Way', 'Happiest Girl' und wie man trotzdem glücklich wird 'Rigged Game', 'Something Good'. Es treiben die Beats, die Synths zirpen und quietschen, der Bass rollt, die Hooks brennen sich in den Frontallappen und das alles wird zusammengehalten von Lizkis klassisch ausgebildeter Stimme, die manchmal gerne etwas ins Theatralische abgleitet, wie um klarzumachen, dass es dann mal genug ist mit Zusammenreißen und In-sich-Reinfressen.

Angel Bat Dawid's International Anthem debut The Oracle introduced her multifaceted voice to the world. The response to its modest, initial cassette/digital release in January of 2019 was immediate, and immense. Within a month of its announcement, Dawid was being featured on magazine covers and receiving offers from international festivals; and her subsequent activity marked the beginning of an epic run of creative output (including 2020's LIVE double LP, the same year's EP Transition East, 2021's Hush Harbor Mixtape Vol. 1 Doxology, and the sprawling opus Requiem for Jazz, released in 2023) that continues through the present.

The collection of compositions on The Oracle present a deep blend of powerful and emotive songs alongside heavy and free improvisation. In true DIY fashion, Dawid recorded and mixed the album using only her cell phone.

"Angel's fieldnote approach affirms that the everyday remains a legitimate site of creative production," says South Africa based percussionist, collaborator, and IARC labelmate Asher Gamedze in his liner notes for the album's IA11 Edition. Gamedze - the only other musician to appear on The Oracle besides Dawid, who constructed most of the album's tracks by layering, overdubbing, and arranging lo-fi symphonies of her own voice, wind instruments, percussions, and keyboards - waxes extensively about Dawid's significance in his notes, calling her "a living exemplar and extension of the spacious sonic horizons opened by the likes of the AACM and their refusal of any limitations on their creative vision and the destruction of the demarcation between composer and improviser."
"...a masterpiece, rich with dense improvisation and Afrocentric themes." - Suraya Mohamed, NPR

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth