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First ever release of pioneering radiophonic / experimental / electronic / soundtrack composer you may never have heard of but really should have by now. 26 tracks in all.
As we began the mammoth task of whittling down material for this album Elizabeth recalled the time she met Delia Derbyshire. It was during a party for existing and former Radiophonic Workshop composers at BBC Maida Vale in the early 1980s. Delia introduced herself with typical energy and exuberance proclaiming "It's up to you now - I'm passing the baton. Show these men how we get things done". That must have been quite an honour and responsibility for a young, female composer establishing herself within the male-dominated environs at Delaware Road.
Looking back over a musical career spanning almost five decades, it's clear Elizabeth rose to the challenge and made her mark. She was consistently in demand with television and radio producers, composing for an array of ground-breaking, critically acclaimed and popular BBC projects. Whilst Delia's legacy has achieved mythical status with her position as an innovator and feminist icon secured, the majority of Elizabeth's recorded work remains unavailable so her contribution to the output of the Workshop and evolution of British electronic music is somewhat under-appreciated.
Perhaps this record will help start to remedy the situation. Included are early tape experiments, home demos and non-BBC commissions from the early 1970's to the late 2000s. Having listened to 260+ digital audio tapes from Elizabeth's personal archive we have barely scratched the surface but hope to provide an indication of the breadth of her compositional and sound design skills.
Classically trained in cello and piano, Elizabeth graduated from the University of East Anglia with a degree in Music in 1973. She was mentored by Tristram Cary who helped her to become UEA's first recipient of a Masters in Electronic Music and later awarded an Honorary Doctorate by Staffordshire University. Joining the BBC as a studio manager in 1975, Elizabeth transferred to the Radiophonic Workshop in 1978. One of her first tasks was to create special sound effects for Blake's 7 using tape loops, the EMS 100 and trusted VCS3.
Her celebrated score for The Living Planet in 1982 featured early use of the PPG synthesizer and earned an Emmy nomination. Over the following years studio technology evolved rapidly, but Elizabeth transitioned from analogue recording techniques to newer digital platforms with relative ease, using samplers, midi sequencing and computer controlled workstations.
With an incredible 1,400 commissions to her name, she created special sound for The Day Of The Triffids, Lord Of The Rings, countless radio dramas including Iris Murdoch's The Sea, The Sea, Harold Pinter's Moonlight, all of Howard Barker's plays, productions of King Lear, Wordsworth's Prelude and The Pallisers. The success of The Living Planet led to further work for the BBC Natural History Unit followed by numerous commissions for The Natural World. At one point in the late 1980's at least five of her signature tunes were being broadcast every week including Points Of View, Horizon, Doctors To Be and Everyman.
After the closure of the Workshop in 1996 Elizabeth became freelance, arranging Faure's Pavane for the BBC World Cup '98 coverage (reaching no. 9 in the UK singles chart). She wrote additional music for Monty Python's Holy Grail DVD, scored Michael Palin's Full Circle and Sahara TV series, The Lost Gardens Of Heligan and The Human Body with Robert Winston.
Retiring from the music industry in the late 2000's, Elizabeth recently returned to her East Anglian roots and now lives near the coast. She walks daily, listening to all kinds of music, new and old, on her beloved air-pods.

Right on time once again, the fifth outing on Punctuality welcomes Irish producer Drua to the fore. In typical Punctuality fashion the release draws influence from the canon of golden era late 90s and early 2000s dance music with an entirely modern production aesthetic, engineered for big rigs and sweaty dancefloors alike.

Nightfire is a fully realised vision of Drua’s sound that could best be described as contemporary hard house. All four tracks are laden with punchy, rolling basslines, detailed low end, vibrant stabs, sultry vocals, undulating rhythms and sprinklings of quintessential club sparks.

The nouveau handbag styling of UP kicks off the EP. Stuttered vocals, M1 organs and solid grooves are fused together with clever sampling that is sure to make this one a hit for the festival season of s/s ‘25, as early support from the likes of Roza Terenzi, Confidence Man, Spray, Sally C and Maara would indicate.

Job 2.3 has all the elements of a Punctuality anthem and maintains the big tune mood of the EP: skippy bass notes, low end wubs, subtle breaks, catchy vocal hooks and precise drums nail the brief in executing this prog-hard-house hybrid heater.

On the flip, Nightfire nods to classic leaning deep house through a peak time lens. Introspective pads make way for pulsing subs, sensuous vocal chops and hip catching basslines. This is one of those tracks that can shift the arc of a DJ set to the next level. Big tip here.

The EP concludes with Arch In Ur Back which has all the elements to work a dancefloor: multiple grooves, rolling breakbeats, party starting vocals and the modern sound design that punctuality has gained worldwide notoriety for. An all killer no filler EP in the form of four well rounded club tools from Drua that are sure to be mainstays for discerning DJs and Punctualists

We have had the honour of reissuing the work of Italian sonic polymath J.P Energy via our collaborative label with Transmigration, Sound Migration, over the course of the past year. Our third outing with J.P Energy is ‘Prima Dell’ Alba / Forbidden Planet’ - two sophisticated and sinister percussive tracks from 1997 that sit at the boundaries of Techno & Trance, indicative of the fruitfulness of creativity in underground dance music from Italy during this time. We are very pleased to bring this, until now, very difficult to obtain record into the hands of appreciative music lovers, complete with with a modern revision of Forbidden Planet by J.P Energy himself.

Founding work of minimalism, Music with Changing Parts is a piece with free instrumentation.The musicians choose which part to play among the 8 staves of the score. At each indicated cue, the musicians can change part, which produces an abrupt change of instrumentation. While the music is based on a melodic material limited to a few notes that are repeated in patterns that expand or contract, the changes in orchestration refresh the listening experience by producing sonic contrasts. These techniques at work
in Music with Changing Parts , written in 1970, will lead Philip Glass to renew his language and move from the monochromatic works that precede it to more dramatic works such as music in 12 parts and especially the opera Einstein on the Beach. When Philip Glass began rehearsing the piece, he was surprised to hear long notes when everything was written in eighth notes. After making sure that none of the musicians were playing held notes, he realized that the fact that the same notes were played by all the instruments in the ensemble produced, through a psycho-acoustic effect, a harmonic substrate of resonant frequencies. He then decided to add to
the score the possibility of playing long notes to reinforce this effect

On their debut album Seven Dances to Embrace the Hollow, Zurich-based artists Magda Drozd and Nicola Genovese, as Sopraterra, offer exactly what’s announced: seven compositions which, as they unhurriedly flow into each other, mark potential entry points to discover what might be lying underneath. By choosing Sopraterra, which translates to “above the earth” in Italian, as their shared project’s name, Drozd and Genovese indicate their own position in this archeological-looking endeavor, hinting at the potential for sonic explorations to produce deeply submerged discoveries.
Sopraterra’s object of inquiry isn’t easily grasped, traversing histories and blending influences alike. In a time-line-bending manner, musical signifiers from the past, along with specific tonal scales lifted from baroque and medieval music, get digitally synthesized. As sonic matter, the result is distinctly of today: a collection of electro-acoustic compositions that remain experimental at their core, referencing genres like post-rock, shoegaze, or psychedelic, while evoking aural memories of ancient times. Seven Dances to Embrace the Hollow pulls backward and pushes forward alike. Without ever forcing a didactic listening experience, musical motifs and archetypes are thoroughly investigated. But there is no scientific ambition at play here. Rather, the harmonies of late medieval Ars Nova or the transcendent elegance of Baroque chamber music lend their emotional qualities to perceived ideas of old times.
Oscillating between ambient and drone, the album’s seven brooding compositions bring primal connections to a universally shared past to the surface. In its multi-directional positioning, Seven Dances to Embrace the Hollow makes the case for embracing the confusion of warped time and paying attention to all that’s rather felt than seen.

Full throttle from Vancouver, BC to wherever the open road takes them The Vicious Cycles are BACK with their new LP Get Wrecked on Pirates Press Records! Before you even get the shrink wrap off the gatefold jacket, you can guess what kind of party you're in for. "Our pal Shakey Deal is the cover model," says Cycles head honcho Billy Bones. "A tuff looking scrub on a minibike says a lot about who we are." And who is that exactly? "We play garage/punk rock and roll songs about motorcycles. We like to have a good time." The promise of debauchery carries over into song titles like "Naked On a Beach," and "On Fire in the Hot Tub." As rip-roaring, danceable party music goes, it's second to none, and rest assured there's plenty of bike enthusiast inside baseball, but the lyrics often go deeper than a superficial glance might indicate. For example, the lead single, "Hold On Tight," is about, as Billy puts it, "the physical feeling of riding with your favorite person on the back of your motorcycle - easily one of the best feelings a human can have." So, a classic biker anthem? "But also," he's quick to add, "a metaphor for life and relationships. We're gonna make it." Waxing philosophical with motorcycles as allegory over chrome-plated punk rock 'n roll? That's The Vicious Cycles' songwriting in a nutshell. Another album highlight, "Daddy Was a Gambler" references Billy's father - an ex-preacher who regularly hauled his kids to Circus Circus in his '57 Chevy - and his mother, a nurse and, as Billy puts it, "as close to an actual saint as anyone in the world. The song is an appreciation for the two of them, and how their differences made me who I am." "Naked On A Beach" sounds like a party, but Billy explains it's "a critique of capitalism and the tiny lives we're expected - and sometimes content - to live." Even the title track, "Get Wrecked," is more than just a statement of defiance; it's a message to Billy's son about dealing with the conformist naysayers of the world. Longtime fans & newcomers alike will be stoked for the straightaways, but stick around for the twists and turns, just like any good ride. The band brings in pals on strings & saxophone for a 60s Wall of Sound-inspired production on "Black Boots, Black Leather Jacket," and try their hands at their first murder ballad on "Pretty Hands." There's an instrumental tune ("Blowing Smoke") and hell, there's even a deep cut cover of "Trouble Again" - originally performed by Stewart Copeland of The Police - which only the biggest nerds of a certain age will recall as the theme song to the 80s Star Wars animated series Droids! In the end, no matter the detours, the band - along with Jesse Gander (Territories, Comeback Kid), & Mariessa McLeod at Rain City Recorders - kept their eyes on the prize: sing-along choruses, handclaps, and short songs that get the job done and don't overstay their welcome. "I didn't want us to write a record that you could dance to." quips Billy. "I wanted us to write a record that you couldn't not dance to."

"Salsa con charanga" is really a feast for all salsa music lovers, a true jewel, which deserved much better when it originally came out in 1978. In addition to being a great salsa album, has the distinction that was released on Orfeon, a Mexican record label, due to the diligent work of the extraordinary producer Bobby Marin, and which miraculously received air play when powerhouse Fania label and few others ruled radio in the salsa music world. It comprises eight great, solid tracks; some, new interpretations from other albums in which Mike Guagenti participated with his handsome and captivating voice - a crooner with a salsero soul -, that, at times, could remind us of the late Tito Rodríguez, and even Ray Ramos. "The Mike Guagenti album," as indicated by Marin, "is a compilation of recordings by other artists. Originally a salsa album, I brought in Cuban Pupi Legarreta (violin and flute) and [Panamanian] Mauricio Smith (flute) to give it a charanga sound." With the exception of the cut 'Salsa con charanga,' which is an instrumental, the rest feature vocals by Guagenti. "Salsa con charanga" has developed a cult following, and finding a copy of the original could be quite expensive. Luckily, this officially licensed and restored edition will fill that void.

Rindert Lammers' debut album is a heartfelt exploration of gratitude, blending personal narratives with cinematic imagery in a serene and soulful ambient jazz style. Inspired by Japanese cinema and the raw authenticity of YouTube confessions, the album captures a mood of introspection and appreciation. Central to the album is the track "Thank You, Kirin Kiki," which draws from a powerful scene in the film Shopliers. Lammers explains "It's one of my favorites. The Japanese actress Kirin Kiki plays the grandmother of a ‘chosen family’, all of whom have fled or lost their own families in some way. In this scene, one of her last scenes before her (real) death, Kirin Kiki (the grandmother) looks at her family and says, 'Thank You!' twice towards the children and the sea. Kirin Kiki improvised these words on the spot, and it's such a poignant moment in the film, but also indicative of her impending death. I found the gratitude so moving it fit perfectly with the gratitude I found in the voice clip from "Thank You Hiroshi Yoshimura. "The fourth song, "Thank You Hiroshi Yoshimura," opens with a voice clip that acts almost as the protagonist of a film, reflecting on a turbulent time of sleeping in parks and on the streets. This voiceover was inspired by a comment on a Hiroshi Yoshimura video on YouTube that began, “This album reminds me of...” Lammers noticed the deeply personal responses le on these videos, so he recorded various similar YouTube comments from people around the world, initially intending to set them to music. Though much of this idea evolved, this particular voice clip remained a central influence, ultimately inspiring a cinematic journey within the album. "Summer in Shibuya" sets the scene as a trailer, "Opening Credits" introduces the narrative, and "Closing Credits" gently brings it to a close. While there’s a Japanese and Tokyo theme running through the tracks, Lammers doesn’t view the album as a tribute to Japan or Tokyo specifically—he’s never visited and admits to knowing only fragments of the culture. Yet he's drawn to Japanese environmental music and is an avid Murakami reader, seeing Japan as a powerful, visual inspiration in his mind’s eye. In a way, the album is also his “thank you” to the beautiful art that Japan has shared with the world.

Nach fast zwei Jahren meldet sich Okonski mit „Entrance Music“ zurück - ein Album, auf dem sich das Trio auf dem Höhepunkt seines improvisatorischen Könnens befindet und das Spontane und Meditative zelebriert. Nach dem Debüt „Magnolia“ von 2023 hat der Pianist und Bandleader Steve Okonski seine langjährigen musikalischen Mitstreiter (Durand Jones & The Indications-Bandkollege Aaron Frazer am Schlagzeug und Bassist Michael Isvara „Ish“ Montgomery) für eine weitere Session im Geiste von Künstlern wie The Bad Plus, Gerald Clayton und The Breathing Effect wieder zusammengebracht. Letztendlich ist „Entrance Music“ eine Einladung zu frühen Stunden, in denen die Songs in der Tür verweilen und ihre Anwesenheit ankündigen, bevor sie in die Luft zurückkehren, um sorgfältig in die nächste Runde zu treiben. „Entrance Music“ wurde in einer fünftägigen Session aufgenommen und war eines der ersten Alben, die in Portage Lounge, dem Studio von Terry Cole in Loveland, OH, auf Band gebannt wurden. „Es war ein neues Setup, aber mit Terry hinter den Reglern war es sehr vertraut“, sagt Okonski. „Ich kann nicht genug betonen, wie sehr sich Terry wie ein viertes Mitglied der Band fühlt, wegen des Raums, den er kuratiert, der Energie, die er einbringt, und den Produktionsideen.“ Die Energie und der Sound, die mit dem Colemine-Labelchef am Ruder entstanden sind, sorgen für ein Hörerlebnis, das sich mit den Katalogen von ECM oder Stones Throw messen kann. Während ein Großteil des Debüts auf seine Zeit in New York zurückgeht, fühlt sich „Entrance Music“ „ein bisschen weniger wie ‚auf den Straßen um 2 Uhr morgens‘ und ein bisschen mehr auf der Natur basierend an - ein bisschen mehr ätherisch“, sagt Okonski. „Es ist definitiv das Alter, die Umgebung und die Familie - all das kommt in der Musik durch.“

Originally released on CD only – those were the days – “Triola im Fünftonraum“ counts as one of the most iconic albums of the early Kompakt era. Experience this timeless masterpiece of lush electronica lovingly restored and remastered for the first time on vinyl – 21 years after its inception.

We found this review from back in the days that perfectly sums up what “Triola im Fünftonraum” is all about:

The press material for “Triola im Fünftonraum” made allusions to home listening, when the album is mostly about movement… in a car …preferably a fast one … on a muggy spring day.

This might catch followers of producer Jörg Burger off guard. Up until this point, the producer’s Triola tracks – limited to three consecutive appearances on Kompakt’s yearly Pop Ambient series and a spot on “Leichtes Hören Teil 1” – were free-floating ambient washouts (albeit wondrous free-floating ambient washouts) with no pulse. The album, on the other hand, is beat-driven. Though still resolutely ambient – more an update of Burger’s lushest Bionaut tracks, only fully engaging instead of mildly diverting.

The soft, synthetic hand drums and tranquil vapors of “Leuchtturm” from Pop Ambient 2003, remain untouched and begin the album. Two other tracks that might sound familiar receive dynamic overhauls, now supported with quick dance rhythms and additional layers of synth gauze; the whispy flute trills and lightly flickering keys of “AG Penthouse”, for instance, are melted into a churning rhythm and some singing keyboard vamps that resemble a relaxed take on Tangerine Dream’s suspenseful soundtrack work for “Thief” (minus the crazy guitars).

What really makes the whole thing glow is the manner in which the tracks are attached, flowing in and out of another, rising and cresting and receding, with supreme poise – even if its title provides no indication, the album is as much a travelogue as Carl Craig’s “Landcruising”, Morgan Geist’s “Driving Memoirs” and Model 500’s “Deep Space”.

These are some of Burger’s most inventive productions, a remarkable feat since he’s been doing this so long. Catch yourself in the right frame of mind and you’ll wonder if everything he has released has been one extended ramp-up to this. In this age, it’s also refreshing to have a purely ambient techno album with absolutely no connection to “Boards of Canada”.

In other words, it’s a landmark for both its label and its genre.

Andy Kellman

Copyright 2025 TiVo Corporation
Ursprünglich nur auf CD veröffentlicht – das waren noch Zeiten – zählt „Triola im Fünftonraum“ zu den ikonischsten Alben der frühen Kompakt-Ära. Dieses zeitlose Meisterwerk schwelgerischer Electronica erscheint nun 21 Jahre nach seiner Entstehung erstmals liebevoll restauriert und remastered auf Vinyl.

Wir haben diese zeitgenössische Rezension gefunden, die perfekt zusammenfasst, worum es bei „Triola im Fünftonraum“ geht:

Das Pressematerial für „Triola im Fünftonraum“ spielt auf das Zuhören zu Hause an, obwohl es in dem Album hauptsächlich um Bewegung geht … in einem Auto … vorzugsweise einem schnellen … an einem schwülen Frühlingstag.

Das könnte die Fans des Produzenten Jörg Burger überraschen. Bis zu diesem Zeitpunkt waren die Triola-Tracks des Produzenten – beschränkt auf drei aufeinanderfolgende Auftritte in der jährlichen Pop-Ambient-Reihe von Kompakt und einen Platz auf „Leichtes Hören Teil 1“ – frei schwebende Ambient-Auswaschungen (wenn auch wundersame frei schwebende Ambient-Auswaschungen) ohne Puls. Das Album hingegen ist beatgetrieben, obwohl es immer noch entschieden Ambient ist – eher eine Aktualisierung von Burgers üppigsten Bionaut-Tracks, nur dass es voll und ganz fesselt, statt nur leicht abzulenken.

Die sanften, synthetischen Handtrommeln und die ruhigen Dämpfe von „Leuchtturm“ aus Pop Ambient 2003 bleiben unangetastet und bilden den Auftakt des Albums. Zwei weitere Stücke, die einem bekannt vorkommen könnten, erhalten eine dynamische Überarbeitung, die nun von schnellen Tanzrhythmen und zusätzlichen Schichten von Synthesizer-Gaze unterstützt wird; die flüsternden Flötentöne und leicht flackernden Tasten von „AG Penthouse“ zum Beispiel verschmelzen zu einem aufgewühlten Rhythmus und einigen singenden Keyboard-Vamps, die an eine entspannte Version des spannenden Soundtracks von Tangerine Dream erinnern, der für „Thief“ (ohne die verrückten Gitarren) verwendet wird.

Was das Ganze wirklich zum Leuchten bringt, ist die Art und Weise, wie die Tracks miteinander verbunden sind, wie sie ineinander fließen, ansteigen und ihren Höhepunkt erreichen und wieder abklingen, und das mit höchster Gelassenheit – auch wenn der Titel nichts darauf hindeutet, ist das Album ebenso ein Reisebericht wie Carl Craigs „Landcruising“, Morgan Geists „Driving Memoirs“ und Model 500s „Deep Space“.

Dies sind einige von Burgers einfallsreichsten Produktionen, eine bemerkenswerte Leistung, wenn man bedenkt, wie lange er schon dabei ist. Wenn man sich in die richtige Stimmung versetzt, fragt man sich, ob alles, was er bisher veröffentlicht hat, eine einzige Vorbereitung auf dieses Album war. In der heutigen Zeit ist es auch erfrischend, ein reines Ambient-Techno-Album zu hören, das absolut nichts mit „Boards of Canada“ zu tun hat.

Mit anderen Worten: Es ist ein Meilenstein für das Label und das Genre.

Andy Kellman

Copyright 2025 TiVo Corporation

The Italian 80s avant garde / anarcho scene is explored in this limited 12” release presenting Nengue and their previously unreleased cover version of the new wave classic Los Ninos Del Parque and the electro pop wave African Beat.

The tumultuous political climate of the 1960s through 1980s inspired Italian artists to craft an introspective, psychological musical landscape. As civil unrest, violent demonstrations, and political murders became commonplace, Italy's centres of intellect vibrated with activist energy. This atmosphere gave birth to a unique, mechanized sound that blended electronic elements with a raw, discordant aesthetic, reflecting the chaotic spirit of the times.

Through vintage forms of social networking and music sharing, a community led process steered the scene, publishing zines and records that grasped alternative concepts of music and lifestyle.

Nengue, were similar to many of these lo-fi, retro-future electronic music pioneers. Based in Rome, their music / art backgrounds flowed with anti-art, extreme noise, futurism, industrial, experimental, martial, folk, free jazz and exotica.

With a couple of releases as a duo, as was often the case, they appeared in numerous other projects and the music was a mixture of their individual backgrounds.

Extraordinarily, only appearing on a couple of obscure cassette compilations, indicative of the time, the quality of Nengue’s productions stands testament. Originally approached to reissue their Cosmic meets Kraftwerk inspired African Beat, a wonderful yet simple electronic idiom, layers of electronica rising, each element an addition flow, vocals the release’s waves.

However, the discovery of their cover of Los Ninos Del Parque – describing it as ‘powerful anarchic nonsense’ – is rightfully now the primary focus.

Acting as some Brutalist interpretation, its sharp electronics and industrial vocals, propel you to a brick-strewn squat party and a place in anarcho folklore.

These are matched with a remix / remake by Berlin’s Bionda e Lupo. Presenting a ‘Neumisch’, Sneaker’s exacting studio mastery and Sano’s additional vocals are a blessing – a new duo version – dynamic and wonderfully special.

To complete, the powerful dub of African Beat closes. Stepping out of his time as one half of Romanian duo Khidja (DFA / Hivern Discs), Andrei Rusu builds on his recent solo releases / remixes for Malka Tuti with a fantastic, bottom heavy version, perfectly building with expertise, an EP for the basements of today that was made in the dark times of the past.

“Salsa con charanga” is really a feast for all salsa music lovers, a true jewel, which deserved much better when it originally came out in 1978. It comprises eight great, solid tracks; some, new interpretations from other albums in which Mike Guagenti participated with his handsome and captivating voice - a crooner with a salsero soul -, that, at times, could remind us of the late Tito Rodríguez, and even Ray Ramos.

It In addition to being a great salsa album, has the distinction that was released on Orfeon, a Mexican record label, due to the diligent work of the extraordinary producer Bobby Marin, and which miraculously received air play when powerhouse Fania label and few others ruled radio in the salsa music world. It comprises eight great, solid tracks; some, new interpretations from other albums in which Mike Guagenti participated with his handsome and captivating voice - a crooner with a salsero soul -, that, at times, could remind us of the late Tito Rodríguez, and even Ray Ramos. "The Mike Guagenti album," as indicated by Marin, "is a compilation of recordings by other artists. Originally a salsa album, I brought in Cuban Pupi Legarreta (violin and flute) and Panamanian Mauricio Smith (flute) to give it a charanga sound." With the exception of the cut ‘Salsa con charanga,’ which is an instrumental, the rest feature vocals by Guagenti. “Salsa con charanga” has developed a cult following, and finding a copy of the original could be quite expensive. Luckily, this officially licensed and restored edition will fill that void.

In der Musik der Latin-Sängerin und Songwriterin Michi verschmelzen verschiedene Epochen zu einem einzigartigen Sound: Die Nostalgie des R&B der MTV-Diven-Ära trifft auf den Groove von Funk und Soul der 70er und 80er Jahre. Die Songs ihres Debütalbums 'Dirty Talk' handeln davon, wie man mit Selbstliebe und Lebensfreude aus Liebeskummer herauskommt.

In den Songs von 'Dirty Talk' geht es darum, sich selbst zu seiner Weiblichkeit, seiner Sexualität und seinem authentischen Selbst zu bekennen. Produziert wurde das Album von Blake Rhein (Durand Jones & the Indications) und Paul Cherry (Jordana, Kate Bollinger).

- Zu den featured Artists auf dem Album gehören Kiefer und der zeitgenössische Bossa-Nova-Musiker Gabriel da Rosa.
- Für Fans von: Erika de Casier, Cleo Sol, Ravyn Lenae, Kali Uchis, The Marías, Omar Apollo, ELIZA.

- Ltd. Col. LP: (Cremefarbenes Vinyl mit vollflächig bedruckter Innenhülle)

Nach fast zwei Jahren meldet sich Okonski mit „Entrance Music“ zurück - ein Album, auf dem sich das Trio auf dem Höhepunkt seines improvisatorischen Könnens befindet und das Spontane und Meditative zelebriert. Nach dem Debüt „Magnolia“ von 2023 hat der Pianist und Bandleader Steve Okonski seine langjährigen musikalischen Mitstreiter (Durand Jones & The Indications-Bandkollege Aaron Frazer am Schlagzeug und Bassist Michael Isvara „Ish“ Montgomery) für eine weitere Session im Geiste von Künstlern wie The Bad Plus, Gerald Clayton und The Breathing Effect wieder zusammengebracht. Letztendlich ist „Entrance Music“ eine Einladung zu frühen Stunden, in denen die Songs in der Tür verweilen und ihre Anwesenheit ankündigen, bevor sie in die Luft zurückkehren, um sorgfältig in die nächste Runde zu treiben. „Entrance Music“ wurde in einer fünftägigen Session aufgenommen und war eines der ersten Alben, die in Portage Lounge, dem Studio von Terry Cole in Loveland, OH, auf Band gebannt wurden. „Es war ein neues Setup, aber mit Terry hinter den Reglern war es sehr vertraut“, sagt Okonski. „Ich kann nicht genug betonen, wie sehr sich Terry wie ein viertes Mitglied der Band fühlt, wegen des Raums, den er kuratiert, der Energie, die er einbringt, und den Produktionsideen.“ Die Energie und der Sound, die mit dem Colemine-Labelchef am Ruder entstanden sind, sorgen für ein Hörerlebnis, das sich mit den Katalogen von ECM oder Stones Throw messen kann. Während ein Großteil des Debüts auf seine Zeit in New York zurückgeht, fühlt sich „Entrance Music“ „ein bisschen weniger wie ‚auf den Straßen um 2 Uhr morgens‘ und ein bisschen mehr auf der Natur basierend an - ein bisschen mehr ätherisch“, sagt Okonski. „Es ist definitiv das Alter, die Umgebung und die Familie - all das kommt in der Musik durch.“

This one is from the minds of the Exist Dance label heads, Michael Kandel & Tom Chasteen, who’s work as High Lonesome Soundsystem & Voodoo Transmission we have had the honour to reissue previously. Under their Eden Transmission alias, we hear them delivering something at once totally indicative of the West Coast rave sound that they helped define but also something that goes beyond any means of simple classification and defies pigeon-holing. Breakbeats, in varying shades of blissful and nightmarish, hoover bass mental breakdowns and reality melting samples from the mouth of the psycho-magus Jodorowsky collide with elements of Trance in it’s euphoric, embryonic form. Psychic travel guaranteed.

Two records came out in 1988 that forever changed the perception of "experimental" or "serious" music produced in Portugal. These were "Plux Quba" by Nuno Canavarro and "Música de Baixa Fidelidade" by Tózé (António) Ferreira. Both were released by the same label - Ama Romanta -, an influential independent imprint closely linked to avantgarde pop band Pop Dell'Arte. Because those records appeared in what could be perceived as an "alternative pop" framework, they rescued this difficult music from Academia. It helps that Canavarro played in a successful new wave pop band (Street Kids) during the period 1980-83. By association, being a friend since 1976, António was in close contact with many of the musicians and bands that were part of the equally celebrated and detested Portuguese Rock Boom (roughly 79-82).

He was not a musician then but through his friendship with Canavarro, who had the means to acquire electronic equipment, António became involved with that equipment and shared Canavarro's passion for experimentation and curiosity for knowledge. They tried to get hold of as many technical magazines as possible and learn while testing ideas. In 1983, Street Kids were about to break up, young lives drafted into the Army and maybe, in Canavarro's case, a whole new passion for challenging music similar to his bandmate Nuno Rebelo, by then in the process of discovering a wide range of "other" music mainly through Jorge Lima Barreto. Barreto, who had started Telectu with Vítor Rua, possessed a huge book and record collection and, like Rua before them, Canavarro, Rebelo and Ferreira became fascinated by the pool of knowledge they now had access to by frequenting Barreto's house in Lisbon. He was roughly a decade older, had published several books and other writings throughout the 1970s, cultivated an anarchic stance and a penchant for cultural indoctrination. Rebelo was the first to be introduced via his contact with Rua (who had invited him to play in his other band GNR).

Overwhelmed, he felt the need to share his enthusiasm with friends and eventually took a few to the house in true pilgrimage fashion. To see the Light. Among the few he led there was even João Peste, founder of Ama Romanta. Canavarro and Ferreira preceded him.

Ferreira recalls an exciting learning process added to his experiments with Canavarro's array of synths such as the Korg Ms 20, Korg polysix, ARP Axxe, Roland SH-01, the Ensoniq Mirage sampler... He read in a magazine article about someone who had studied at the Institute of Sonology (then in Utrecht, Netherlands) and went there during a vacation trip in the Summer of 1983. He became excited by the prospect of studying at the Institute but money was a problem. Canavarro, on the other hand, was admitted there in the following year. Back in Portugal, Ferreira eventually abandoned his Chemical Engineering studies in Lisbon's Technical Institute in favour of a more focused music practice. He collaborated with Telectu during 1984 and 85 as a sort of technical engineer, implementing some recording solutions and background tapes and went to work at a thermoelectric power plant in Sines, hoping to make enough money to fund his musical studies. He did and proceeded with the paperwork for admission at the Institute of Sonology, now based in The Hague. António studied there in 1986-87 and the present album includes two compositions developed at the Institute: "More Adult Music" and "This Is Music, As It Was Expected", both featuring the voice of Rodney Waschka II. Among other activities and talents, Rodney is an expert in computer music and to António his voice sounded similar to Robert Ashley's, whose work he admired.

What happened at the Institute was a systematization of António's self-taught practice. Computer software, Musique Concrète, noise and silence, organisation of abstract ideas and sounds. The original notes on the back sleeve of the LP give some indication of process and thinking, but a more detailed account was given by António in the liner notes of the CD reissue in 2002, which are also included in this 2025 LP reissue.

The music sounds deep and detailed, despite the fact of António calling it low-fi ("Baixa Fidelidade"). It flows like an improvised performance where several musicians might be responding to each other, respectful of their mutual space. Drama occurs, as a natural emotional connection is sought by the listener. Piano, bells, drone, processed voices, even the clear narrative of Rodney Waschka II, contribute to create a sort of alternative perceptual reality. The sounds are almost tangible, more a part of the physical world than ethereal manifestations and thus it would not be correct to invoke "ambient music" as a selling point. But although "physical" and distinct, this music is still alien, more so in Portugal's 1988 environment. In March, helped by Canavarro, António set up a home studio and there he recorded the remaining material for this album: "Algumas Pessoas Olharam O Sul E Viram Deserto", "Um Som, Seguido De Uma Cena Negra E Malva" and "O Verão Nasceu Da Paixão De 1921".

"Música de Baixa Fidelidade" stands not only as a proof of great resilience but as one of those magnificent works of art coming from someone who balanced technical inclination and emotional sensibility. Because of that, Tózé Ferreira is able to decode the phantom world of sound for anyone who cares to experience the sensation of inhabiting a version of the Future. First ever vinyl reissue, reproduction of the original artwork with an additional insert. Made in collaboration with the artist and the support of Paulo Menezes (Plancton Music), who provided valuable assistance. Remastered by Taylor Deupree.

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.

These tracks span a whole decade. bOkOr and Cannibal 2012 were made around the time feroX released the infamous Gargoyles EP on Black Acre, which was hammered by everyone from Skream to Gilles Peterson at the time.

Pulled off a defunct hard drive, resurrected and remastered. Complete with two new tracks the mighty Mondo! Mondo! and Aum, we have another ground-breaking, genre defying EP for 2024. We are proud to have had support on promo from Richie Hawtin and Marcel Dettmann on this release, which speaks volumes for its quality.

** CASSETTE RELEASE

Spanish-born producer Digge Shim relocated to Malmö, Sweden a few years back and found his calling in the reincarnation of electro through his relentless output of acid-flavored 303 jams. Besides establishing the Malmø Traxx label he also ran the city’s foremost record shop for electronic dance music.

For his first release on @blundar.co the producer has sourced tracks from his archive of tapes and found a batch of unreleased gems that seemed to fit nicely together in a sort of megamix style. On Side I, he collects some indica-infused ambient and goes all in on Gregorian chants and samples of political speeches. Side II is a head nodding trip through leftfield experiments in downtempo, dubby disco and the tropical ghosts of boom bap.

The Dancefloor Records reissues on Emotional Rescue comes in the form a true House classic. Produced and released by the Chicago legend Andrew Komis, It’s You is an original Deep House bomb and an education to those increasingly misusing the term today.

Essentially a cover / updated version of the all-time early House classic in ESP’s Its You, this 1989 update shows how much the scene was progressing in just 3 years with a tougher, heavier and deeper 12” that was all about rocking club sound systems.

Coming out on Komis’ own (Dancefloor subsidiary) Big Shot Records, this might not of been as big as Dionne’s Come Get My Lovin’, but has long been an ‘in the bag’ record for the likes of Derrick Carter and Solar. Just one listen spread across the time-defining “Mixes” and it’s clear why.

The stepping bass of the New York – London Mix was so indicative of the time. As the latter’s ascent as a clubbing capital took hold, ears were pinned to what was emanating from across the seas, especially the clubs of NYC and ‘Windy City’. Trademark Komis bass and hats ride are all here to allow the breathy vocals space to do their magic.

However it is the Free House Mix that really shows where things were at. Skipping hats, electro-meets-Belgian bass and a dark synth line pull the track down before acid touches take the song to a much deeper place and has long been the favourite version for the discerning DJ.

Ending with what was indicative of the time, the title says it all with the NU Style Mix. A drum heavy work out, taking in elements of successful records of the time, we get Break 4 Love percussion arranged around a NYC influenced Konder’s style quick cut-up editing for a more 'freestyle' mix to round out what is simply, an underground bomb and therefore, worthy of what this label has always been about, bringing great records to new ears.

NOTON and The Vinyl Factory are pleased to announce the release of the new edition of Carsten Nicolai’s ∞ (Endless Loop Color Edition), under his alias Noto.

This new limited edition box set celebrates Carsten Nicolai’s beloved interactive installation, bausatz noto, currently featured at The Vinyl Factory: Reverb exhibition at 180 Studios.

The exhibition features an expanded version of Nicolai’s artwork bausatz noto (1998) – an interactive piece centered around four Technics SL-1210 turntables and a selection of colored vinyl records. Visitors are invited to select and play the records, each of which has been cut with 9 or 8 unique locked grooves on each side. As Nicolai explains, “the different colors indicate different sound material, from the very abstract to the graphic” that users can loop and layer to create infinite permutations and combinations.

Previously released as a sold-out signed edition with a hardback book, this 2024 box set edition brings the installation into your own space. Comprised of twelve 10” colored vinyl records, each featuring 18 or 16 unique locked grooves (9 or 8 per side), the concept remains the same: Nicolai provides the tools to build your own soundscapes.

The records are sleeved in twelve custom-made archive folders, housed in a handmade box with artwork. Limited to 1000 copies worldwide.

Lacquers created by Lupo / Calyx Mastering

2024 Repress

Micron Audio embodies a hub for a modern and futuristic electro sound, led by its master DJ Stingray 313. The imprint beckons intense electronic sounds, roughened textures and geometries that speak to a guiding principle of making technological advancement accessible to the people. These technoid adventures of sci-fi sound design and arrays of unabating rhythm, draw its listeners through warped microworlds and wicked contortions. Behind the sounds, it exists as a display of artistic responsibility, making statements and providing solutions from socio-political commentaries.? The first Micron Audio physical release emerged in 2011, with DJ Stingray 313's Electronic Countermeasures EP, following a digital-only compilation that is no longer available. Tracks from the Micron Audio hemisphere have featured in several compilation records released by the likes of Rush Hour and Creme Organization, including Stringray's Urban Tribe project. It represents a crisply defiant and firmly electronic approach, drawing in the infective indicators of video games. Relaunching afresh in 2021, Micron Audio is working with new artists and is stepping not only further into the future but into the foreground, where its clear scientific intention and political attitude is entrenched through top-shelf sound design and pumping rhythms.

Indulge in the smooth vibes of Luke Beats' latest album, 'Cream', dropping now on Little Beat More.
Inspired by the Italian saying 'ci sta una crema' ('as good as cream'), which indicates the utmost satisfaction, this work is the perfect dessert for your musical gluttony, kneaded by the skilful hands of Luke Beats for all hip hop lovers. In a world where the saying 'Cash rules everything around me' (once again: C.R.E.A.M!) still resonates loudly from the days when Method Man and the Wu-Tang rapped it, the love and passion for music can continue to shine.
With nods to sounds that have defined this genre in its origins, especially in the melodic and synthesiser parts, 'Cream' blends tradition and novelty, love for the classic and curiosity for the contemporary, creating a dreamy, mellow atmosphere that takes listeners on a creamy journey.
The 18-track album features the collaboration of drummer Federico Romeo on '404 Fun 4 Days' and guitarist Danny Bronzini on 'JamDilla', while Luke Beats himself played bass parts on 'P.T.H', 'JamDilla', 'Cookin' and 'The D'.

Once again, Matteo Baracco's artwork adorns the EP, with a closed but squashed tube of tempera, which perfectly complements the nostalgic yet fresh sounds within, telling of an approach to production and beatmaking still anchored in the “old school” sound craft principles in which getting one's hands dirty is the prerogative needed to shape a sound that is personal and respectful of its history.

A further tribute to the golden era of hip hop is provided by the format of the release, in an iconic timeless audio cassette to dust off your ghettoblaster!

Hybrid is a word used indiscriminately in our daily lives. This record isn't a hybrid; it's beyond hybrid, post-hybrid, so to speak. Does this phrase sound complicated to you, and are you never overly convinced by music theory and its caricatural aspect? Then forget what you’ve just read and listen to both sides of this record. You'll soon realise that these tracks are deliciously deft, drawing their essence from dub while leaving room for some skillful jazz writing. For those of you intrigued by melodies, the art of musique concrète or the exploration of dub music’s deviant angles, this record will easily find its place on your turntable.

The two sides of the record are cut with play, improvisation and effects, while leaving room for themes and ideas. If this record’s first chapter was born from a request to remix and pay homage to Jackie Mittoo, its themes tell another story. They have been declined and even reduced to an explosion point. The tracks are also driven by subtle details of musique concrète, giving the record the effect of an intimate musical production – but, above all, one of uncategorisable beauty.

In Androo’s case, this is hardly surprising. He is a craftsman who is unassailable in every respect, a poetic dynamiter and, for this reason, one of the most unpredictable musicians in Geneva (and beyond). His appetite for dynamite is perhaps an indication of his conception of music as, first and foremost, an experience. His highly personal and inventive tribute to figures from free jazz and contemporary music proves the point. But perhaps it is also an indication of his attachment to Jean-Luc Godard. You'd have to imagine Androo at his mixing desk without a pre-written script. The idea of editing infuses the record. The two sides are very much in this style and spirit: (un-)shot, meticulous, (ir-)reverent. In this respect, this record is a formidable proposition, and perhaps difficult to understand, but not striving to be understood.

Its combination of improvisation and composition is underpinned by a razor-sharp precision and dexterity that's hard to ignore, especially if you're curious about the art of sound mixing and the romantic accidents. It has a dexterity that transforms musical grids into romantic essays and sketches. A romanticism in which Androo takes us on a liberating musical experience that makes us forget the inertia of the ramping formatting of the record industry. In any case, this record is an invitation to (un-)think the category, and will delight any ear curious to wander into territories of intuition where the word hybrid no longer makes sense.

Text by Carl Åhnebrink

On her new album, ‘Almost in Your Arms’, Claire returns to a previous successful formula: her highly experienced Swedish trio of pianist, Martin Sjöstedt, double bass player, Niklas Fernqvist and drummer, Daniel Fredriksson accompanied by several superlative guest musicians. The songs Claire has chosen for the trio indicate her wide-ranging interest and knowledge in the many sub-genre areas of popular music and jazz. Claire’s innate enthusiasm for fresh stimulus and intriguing contrasts was invested in assembling a selection of material which she, with the assistance of James McMillan, found strong personal resonance with. Claire Martin is one of the most accomplished and inspired jazz singers in the world today. Full stop. This is a statement that would find virtually universal agreement with jazz writers, reviewers, broadcasters, listeners and live-performance audiences.

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

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

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

‘Ayo Ke Disco’ (meaning ‘Let’s go to the disco’ in Malay
and Indonesian) celebrates the musical identities
emerging from the newly independent countries in
South-East Asia during the 1970s and 80s.
Soundway general manager Alice Whittington, aka
Norsicaa (DJ), selects 10 deep cuts from local labels,
officially reissued on vinyl for the first time – forming a
snapshot of the vibrant discotheques and live scenes
across Indonesia, Singapore, Thailand, Malaysia, Hong
Kong and the Philippines.

The artists featured here were known for exploring
traditional sounds alongside funk, disco, city-pop and
even political psych-rock, genres that were indicative
of the exciting but often turbulent period. But despite
the post-war backdrop of instability there came
unprecedented levels of economic prosperity. With a
hopeful buzz filling the air, the music scene was helping
lead the way in reshaping the new identities of the
region.
OVERVIEW:
FOR FANS OF:
Sound of Siam compilations, Priscilla Chan, Lovin’ Mighty
Fire compilation, Tanamur City compilation

A 2024 edition of Terry Riley's »Descending Moonshine Dervishes,« originally recorded live in Berlin in 1975 and released by Kuckuck in 1982. This will be the first time the remastered album has been available since 2016.

Using just intonation and a modified organ, Riley conjures forth a rich and layered sound that challenges the Western ear, reflecting his associations with Indian classical singer Pandit Pran Nath and La Monte Young, whose Well Tuned Piano was well underway. »Descending Moonshine Dervishes« is a virtuosic and kaleidoscopic performance, standing as one of the finest works of a revolutionary composer and musician at the height of his powers.

»Descending Moonshine Dervishes« dates from 1975 and it belongs to a larger Dervish series of compositions whose origins predate Riley’s two signature works of minimalism, »In C« (1968) and »A Rainbow In Curved Air« (1969)… the piece is structured around just intonation, which stretches the listening experience into new areas. Played on a Yamaha organ with a bit of tape delay that allows Riley to duet with himself, the music of »Descending Moonshine Dervishes« is an ear expansion that goes through skittering arpeggios and long, droning notes that indicate something of the many levels that it operates on. – Louise Gray, The Wire Magazine (March 2017)

California composer Terry Riley launched what is now known as the Minimalist movement with his revolutionary classic 'In C' in 1964. This seminal work provided a new concept in musical form based on interlocking repetitive patterns. It's impact was to change the course of 20th century music and it's influence has been heard in the works of prominent composers such as Steve Reich, Philip Glass and John Adams and in the music of rock groups such as The Who, The Soft Machine, Tangerine Dream, and many others. His hypnotic, multi-layered, polymetric, brightly orchestrated eastern flavored improvisations and compositions set the stage for the prevailing interest in a new tonality. Riley has worked with Kronos Quartet, La Monte Young, members of Fluxus, Chet Baker, Pandit Pran Nath, his son Gyan Riley, choreographer Anna Halperin, and many others over the years.

Watkins Group is a new project from one half of infamous Crust House vagrants Watkins & Almodovar, taking inspiration from the landscapes, myths and legends of ancient Scottish & Celtic culture. The title of this debut album on the newborn Frequency Consortium label, Beanntan a’ Bhròin (Mountains of Sorrow), might already give an indication as to where we’re headed here; evoking Nan Shepard’s meditations on the Cairngorms at their most isolationist & uncompromising as much as it does the creatures that occupy the crags, gullies & glens of old Caledonia. Watkins Group dive deep into fx-drenched grot and expansive somnambulant driftworks over six tracks, as spacious as they claustrophobic, recalling the works of Deathprod, early-90s Lustmord and at times even the stark soundtracks of Mica Levi.

[a] A1. Sluagh na marbh [Host Of The Dead]
[b] A2. Biasd Bealach Odail [The Beast Of Odal Pass]
[c] A3. Am Fear Liath Mòr [Big Grey Man Of Ben MacDhui]
[d] B1. Caoineag [The Weeper]
[e] B2. An Teàrnadh [The Escape]
[f] B3. Cait Sith [The Mysterious Black Cat]

The latest 45 from Durand Jones & The Indications out on Colemine Records features two tracks from their previous LP, Private Space. The A Side features the album's title track and is a laid-back, string-enhanced, smooth progression where guitarist Blake Rhein plays minimal but on-the-money strokes. The flip is an uptempo, drum heavy beat with lyrics depicting heartbreak and longing. "Sea of Love" delivers on that smell good, look good, feel good '70s synth sheen arrangements, lavish string charts, and double-down confidence from a band who gets to move their core expertly into a different decade.

The latest 45 from Durand Jones & The Indications out on Colemine Records features two tracks from their previous LP, Private Space. The A Side features the album's title track and is a laid-back, string-enhanced, smooth progression where guitarist Blake Rhein plays minimal but on-the-money strokes. The flip is an uptempo, drum heavy beat with lyrics depicting heartbreak and longing. "Sea of Love" delivers on that smell good, look good, feel good '70s synth sheen arrangements, lavish string charts, and double-down confidence from a band who gets to move their core expertly into a different decade.

Somewhat of an oddity in Chet Baker’s catalogue, Blood, Chet & Tears is a record of Chet’s efforts to adapt to the changing musical landscape around him in 1970. Baker leans into light and easy-listening territory. His renditions of the Beatles’ “Something” and The Archies’ “Sugar, Sugar” gives some indication as to who he was intending to appeal to. On a different note, Baker’s rendition of “Come Saturday Morning”, a song that received an Oscar nomination for Best Original Song, is moving and highlights his unique vocal approach.

‘What makes Sex Swing so powerful is that they transcend the limitations of rock music. Their sound is so full of possibilities, violence, sexuality, sacrifice, even religion. If there was a future to look forward to for heavy guitar music, this is it’ The Quietus The locals call it Sop Ruak – eighty thousand square miles of mountains and mystery and unholy medicine. “It really is an endless seam of activity,” Sex Swing frontman Dan Chandler explains of Golden Triangle – both the title of their new album and the region between Myanmar, Thailand and Laos that inspired it. To know this contradictory corner of the world is to understand fully why the cult-beloved noise-rock artisans turned to it when writing their hotly-anticipated third full-length. The real-life Golden Triangle is a groundswell of both natural wonder and drug production, and who combines beauty and narcotic brutality better than Sex Swing? For a decade now, this
collective of revered UK underground musicians, comprising members of Earth, Mugstar, The Keep and Jaaw, have been pulling audiences into drug- like slipstreams with their alchemy of pummelling rhythms, towering guitars, and unrelenting saxophone through which glimmers of light occasionally pierce through. No wonder their Golden Triangle is an album telling distortion-shrouded tales from one of the most storied, enigmatic places on the planet, with enough invention within to fill eighty thousand miles and more.
Where does this violent, hypnotic aural travelogue take you within the Sop Ruak? The seven tracks that make up The Golden Triangle see the band – completed by bassist Jason Stoll, drummer Stuart Bell, guitarist Jodie Cox, synthesist/guitarist Oli Knowles and saxophonist Colin Webster – adventure first to ‘The Confluence of the Ruak and Mekong Rivers,’ full of shimmering orchestration and feather-light ambience. Then come stops in ‘Myawaddy’, named after a small town embroiled in bloodshed on the border of Myanmar
and Thailand, and ‘Boten, Route 13’ – sparked by stories of a seemingly endless stretch of road from Laos into China. Before long, listeners are plunged into ‘Hpakant’, one of the album’s most invigorating and singular moments, lyrically inspired by a jade mine in Myanmar, where the spoils of forced labour are exchanged for prostitution and methanphetamine. The result is a mesmerising slow-burn of sax, snaking rhythms and sinister spoken word courtesy of the Scottish-born Bruce McClure, who “took the theme and turned it into a sci-fi story of exploitation and vice,” explains the frontman. It’s a track that, like the rest of Golden Triangle, underlines the evolution Sex Swing have undertaken since forming in 2014. From the raw and primitive sounds of the self-titled debut full-length, followed up by the coruscatingType II in 2020. Sex Swing’s third effort retains those early primitive elements and adds layers of structure and complexity. Golden Triangle initial formation was that of programmed beats and bedroom recordings shared electronically in the height of the pandemic. Those ideas were then completed during intensive writing sessions at a secluded farm in Oxfordshire.
Album credits consist of recording by Stanley Gravett at Holy Mountain Studios in Hackney, mixing by Wayne Adams at Bear Bites Horse, mastering from James Plotkin, and the continued aesthetic collaboration with artist Alex Bunn. Golden Triangle bristles with a rawness familiar to fans of the British sonic punishers, but adds new elements indicative of a group never resting on their laurels or sitting in one place. Why would they, after all? There’s an entire world of mountains and mystery and unholy medicine out there to be explored. The Golden Triangle, it seems, is just the beginning.

‘What makes Sex Swing so powerful is that they transcend the limitations of rock music. Their sound is so full of possibilities, violence, sexuality, sacrifice, even religion. If there was a future to look forward to for heavy guitar music, this is it’ The Quietus The locals call it Sop Ruak – eighty thousand square miles of mountains and mystery and unholy medicine. “It really is an endless seam of activity,” Sex Swing frontman Dan Chandler explains of Golden Triangle – both the title of their new album and the region between Myanmar, Thailand and Laos that inspired it. To know this contradictory corner of the world is to understand fully why the cult-beloved noise-rock artisans turned to it when writing their hotly-anticipated third full-length. The real-life Golden Triangle is a groundswell of both natural wonder and drug production, and who combines beauty and narcotic brutality better than Sex Swing? For a decade now, this
collective of revered UK underground musicians, comprising members of Earth, Mugstar, The Keep and Jaaw, have been pulling audiences into drug- like slipstreams with their alchemy of pummelling rhythms, towering guitars, and unrelenting saxophone through which glimmers of light occasionally pierce through. No wonder their Golden Triangle is an album telling distortion-shrouded tales from one of the most storied, enigmatic places on the planet, with enough invention within to fill eighty thousand miles and more.
Where does this violent, hypnotic aural travelogue take you within the Sop Ruak? The seven tracks that make up The Golden Triangle see the band – completed by bassist Jason Stoll, drummer Stuart Bell, guitarist Jodie Cox, synthesist/guitarist Oli Knowles and saxophonist Colin Webster – adventure first to ‘The Confluence of the Ruak and Mekong Rivers,’ full of shimmering orchestration and feather-light ambience. Then come stops in ‘Myawaddy’, named after a small town embroiled in bloodshed on the border of Myanmar
and Thailand, and ‘Boten, Route 13’ – sparked by stories of a seemingly endless stretch of road from Laos into China. Before long, listeners are plunged into ‘Hpakant’, one of the album’s most invigorating and singular moments, lyrically inspired by a jade mine in Myanmar, where the spoils of forced labour are exchanged for prostitution and methanphetamine. The result is a mesmerising slow-burn of sax, snaking rhythms and sinister spoken word courtesy of the Scottish-born Bruce McClure, who “took the theme and turned it into a sci-fi story of exploitation and vice,” explains the frontman. It’s a track that, like the rest of Golden Triangle, underlines the evolution Sex Swing have undertaken since forming in 2014. From the raw and primitive sounds of the self-titled debut full-length, followed up by the coruscatingType II in 2020. Sex Swing’s third effort retains those early primitive elements and adds layers of structure and complexity. Golden Triangle initial formation was that of programmed beats and bedroom recordings shared electronically in the height of the pandemic. Those ideas were then completed during intensive writing sessions at a secluded farm in Oxfordshire.
Album credits consist of recording by Stanley Gravett at Holy Mountain Studios in Hackney, mixing by Wayne Adams at Bear Bites Horse, mastering from James Plotkin, and the continued aesthetic collaboration with artist Alex Bunn. Golden Triangle bristles with a rawness familiar to fans of the British sonic punishers, but adds new elements indicative of a group never resting on their laurels or sitting in one place. Why would they, after all? There’s an entire world of mountains and mystery and unholy medicine out there to be explored. The Golden Triangle, it seems, is just the beginning.