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“Sleep Deprivation” began in 2006, during a time when our sleep patterns were drastically altered by constant travel and late-night gigs. This relentless cycle of broken sleep became a persistent part of our lives, and over time, we noticed something remarkable: our music became more emotional, raw, and vulnerable. Sleep, or the lack of it, affects every aspect of life, and its influence on our creative process was undeniable. For this album, we chose to embrace that emotional intensity, allowing it to take centre stage over traditional arrangements. Sleep deprivation blurs the lines of logic, and the part of the brain that usually handles structure and order begins to falter. In that haze, deeper feelings rise to the surface, unfiltered and honest. With this album, we surrendered to that experience, letting the emotional chaos shape the music, and the result is an exploration of what happens when you’re pushed to your limits, both physically and creatively.

A sense of destiny hangs over Sentir Que No Sabes, Mabe Fratti’s fourth solo-credited album released in a five year span. Her work has always possessed a finely tuned sense of drama capable of expressing a range of emotional states, and across this new album, she conveys the struggle to process various relationships or situations–and the actions that come next. Sentir Que No Sabes is urgent and clear, poppy, generous and approachable, while showcasing a considerable emotional hinterland. It is also, as Fratti is quick to mention, “groovy.”

Written and recorded with her partner, multi-instrumentalist, and co-composer Héctor Tosta (I.La Católica, Titanic), Sentir Que No Sabes is the result of an intense, detail-oriented process. Fueled by a new confidence gained in their collaborative project, Titanic, and its critically acclaimed 2023 LP, Vidrio, the two hunkered down in the familiarity of their studio (aka Tinho Studios) to bash out the initial sonic coordinates of her new record. “We talked and talked, and discussed ways of playing and recording, until things became inevitable,” Fratti explains. “We recorded a bunch of demos at our home studio and that meant we had a lot of time to re-edit and experiment. We really dug in. We were super focused on detail.” Tosta also took up the controls as producer and arranger-in-chief for all additional instruments. The album was later completed at Willem Twee Studios in Den Bosch in the Netherlands, and Pedro y el Lobo Studios and Soy Sauce Studios, in Mexico City.

For the final studio recordings, the pair were joined by drummer Gibran Andrade and trumpetist Jacob Wick to fill out and expand on Tosta’s percussion and brass arrangements. This small group of friends were able to work quickly and openly, and without fear: a testament to the exhaustive groundwork put in at Tinho Studios. This can be heard in three short, intermediary tracks that also manage to be the most aggressive on the record: “Kitana” (a scratch-laden instrumental that acts as a strange prelude for the last track, “Angel nuevo”) and a pair of two-minute instrumental interludes, “Elastica” I and II. None are throwaway mood pieces; rather they act as emotional cue cards, and hint at the way Fratti and Tosta created the overall atmosphere of Sentir Que No Sabes.

A strong sense of rhythm irrigates the sound from the jump, as heard on the glorious opening track, “Kravitz.” Here, the brilliant plucked cello line acts as a bassline and props up the steady thump of the kick drum. The cello’s growl serves as a conduit for a set of slightly paranoid lyrics that tell us “Quizás haya oídos en el techo” (“maybe there are ears in the ceiling”), while the song also introduces another staple of the record: the clever brass stabs, whistles, parps, and other interjections that paint a canvas of traffic in a city. It’s a postmodern, widescreen sound that for some might recall The Blue Nile’s Hats.

Sentir Que No Sabes is a record full to the brim with a modern pop sensibility, invoked by the sort of magpie spirit that ensnares anything it can find, repositioning sounds for the here and now. The keys and melody on the melancholy “Pantalla azul” (“Blue screen error”) transport us back to the glossy mid-1980s. “Oídos” (“Ears”) is a beautiful slice of contemporary, hybrid pop, in which Fratti’s vocal lines delicately spin themselves around the lean structures erected by the brass and drums, and the descending “plink” of a set of piano chords. Then we have a gloriously strong ending with the swell of “Angel nuevo” (“New angel”), another cinematic track full of gentle, instrument-rich swells and eddies that manages to be almost endless in its range–and yet intensely personal, as Fratti’s voice is close, almost whispering in your ear. A much needed lullaby for our fractious times.

The lyrics, for their part, have a stop-start quality to them, and hint at the small, incremental emotional taxes we pay through just living our lives. They circle around the music like birds waiting to swoop. There is something of the spiritual in all of Fratti’s work that expresses itself in a form of yearning: she looks to new horizons while personal dramas find themselves internalized, contextualized, and then dealt with through metaphor. Here, she was keen to mention Tosta’s constant encouragement in her finding a path to best sing or phrase her words to impart their maximum effect. “Hector was super inquisitive about my lyrics and asked me questions about what I meant, which sometimes is something you don't wonder so much about in isolation,” Fratti explains. “Besides, he is a great poet, and you can see that in what he did on the Titanic record. This made me go deeper into my lyric writing and definitely transformed it into something that I feel super happy about now.”

Take “Enfrente” (“In Front”), a track that initially comes across as a languid, glossy number, with plucked cello strings standing in for a bass line and brittle synth parts. Soon we catch on to a brilliant minor chord switch, which mirrors the fear and doubt expressed in the lyrics as someone “trembles up to the podium” in a “search for meaning.” There’s also the startling introduction of a vocoder in “Quieras o no” (“Whether you want it or not”); it comes precisely at the point Fratti sings “Quieras o no es un desastre” (“Whether you want it or not, it's a disaster”). Moments like these leave room for interpretation and, over time, create a strong bond between the listener and the record.

In fact, across Sentir Que No Sabes, each phrase–whether instrumental or vocal–becomes at some level emblematic of acts and moods that impart deep emotional significance. We see this best on “Intento fallido” (“Failed attempt”), which could be the score to feeling trapped in self-doubt, only to suddenly be sprung free by the song’s gloriously upbeat ending. On “Márgen del índice” (“Index margin”), the quicksilver switch between initial disharmony and a beautiful melody is breathtaking, all augmented by evocative arrangements, textured production, and the slightly playful, gnomic lyrics. The track’s emotional ecosystem allows another brilliant ending, which uses the simple repeated phrase, “Cómo lo va a ver?” (“How are you going to see it?”).

So what to make of Sentir Que No Sabes? High gloss Pastoralism? The sound of a city-bound, post-post modern soulscape? No matter the emotions evoked, it's the work of an artist coming into their own, and creating a benchmark record.

The long-awaited return of the techno trance wizard Asymetric80 is finally here. You can once again expect his unique vision of what a dancefloor banger should be: powerful low drums and mesmerizing melodies dancing around the perfect bass to energize any dancefloor. Presented in a ONE-OFF truly limited edition of 300 copies lacquered pressed on 180 gr. high quality solid BLACK vinyl. All tracks have been specially mastered for vinyl by Daniel Hallhuber at Young and Cold Studios (Germany).

Soela is the DJ and production alias of Elina Shorokhova, a Russia-born Berlin-based experienced pianist and vocalist who has made a hugely impactful transition into electronic music. Having released material on such labels as Kompakt, Dial, Shall Not Fade, Lost Palms, E-Beamz, Red Ember Records, Sushitech, and others, Soela joins the ranks of Scissor & Thread for this exquisite album - Dark Portrait.
The album opens in a typically understated manner with Unsuitable - a melancholic trip-hop adjacent track that sets the tone for the next 8 pieces. As Soela explains, “I was dealing with some very complex feelings, so I came up with this album, which helped me not to despair, to work on myself, to grow internally, and to start listening to myself. It helped me to keep sane when my country invaded Ukraine with a full scale war. It absolutely broke my heart, and music was one of my main salvations.”
This complex mix of emotions plays out across the album with tracks that utilize her beautiful musicality (Through the Windows feat. Francis Harris and Philipp Priebe, Drowning feat. Module One) and ear for details with skittering beats, ambient soundscapes (Spirits, Lost In The Fog) and lose-yourself dancefloor moments such as the collaboration with Lawrence on February Is Not Going To Be Forever. The title track Dark Portrait combines dubby elements with affecting pads and melodic touches, while the lead single Even If I Ask You Stay delves into multiple feelings around escaping toxic situations, and battling depression. It features a powerful vocal from Soela supported by a deeply affecting arrangement. The closing track The Darkest Hour Before Sunrise brings a sense of hope and light, balancing subdued keys and strings with ethereal tones and atmospheres

The word Asapani is part of the artistic vocabulary of Paolo "Batà" Bianconcini, percussionist of the La Scimmia Records collective, founding member of the Circolo Psiconautico and part of the Neapolitan bands Parbleu, Funkin' Machine and Nu Genea. This ancient-sounding term is a creation of the artist, who defines it as a word of nature, but also the (italian) acronym of Listen to the Silence, Listen to the Peace, Listen to the Inner Nothingness. More than a simple term, an exhortation.

The music contained in Asapani was written and produced between 2022 and part of 2023 by Paolo “Batà” Bianconcini who together with the Circolo Psiconautico (Paolo Petrella on bass and synth, Pietro Santangelo on wind instruments and Roberto Porzio on synths) and takes shape from observation of time and the infinite possibility we have of blocking its fragments and making them our own and then sharing them in another form. The intent is to transport the listener outside of himself, through sound vibrations, during the span of four long tracks that melt into each other feeling like one singular body of work.

This album spans several genres, but at the same time is unique in its style. Spiritual jazz blended with primitive settings, achieving a sensation of sonic primitivism. The listener is projected into a circle of musicians who, sitting around a fireplace, are transported towards infinity by their internal vibrations.The research starts from the four elements of nature (water, fire, earth and air) and thus uniting and fusing with each other they make us question our existence, our depths.
As Batà himself explains, starting from the four fundamental elements in order to keep the search for the fifth element constant.

A location, Melizzano, on the western slopes of Monte Taburno, where the Batahaus stands, the physical and spiritual home of Batà, a magical place in which the Circolo Psiconautico meets, with the aim of navigating the waves of the unconscious and composing music which, through contamination and experimentation, captures the moods of the moment and projects images and colours from the inside out that speak to everyone. Like a real club, the Psiconauti come together to give each other the chance to explore together, create suggestions and get excited among friends.

The Lovely Eggs return with new single 'My Mood Wave' to be released February 9th digitally & on a 7" single to follow March 15th. New album due in May. It's been four years since the world heard any new music from our heroes in psych-punk-power duo The Lovely Eggs. Four long years since the release of their Number 1 Independent Chart topper, 'I Am Moron'. But it's not like they've been lazy, oh no. They made their own TV series EGGS TV and hosted it on YouTube, they duetted with Iggy Pop, piled into their van and played a load of sold out gigs and festivals, spent two years fighting to save Lancaster Music Co-Op (a community rehearsal rooms and recording studio where they live), and then they got their heads down and wrote a new album_ Due in May, the new Lovely Eggs album was recorded by the band at home in Lancaster with production work from Flaming Lips producer Dave Fridmann. They flew to America in December 2023 to mix the album in Fridmann's studio in upstate New York and we'll all get the chance to hear the first results of these sessions on the 9th of February, when the band will unveil the album's first single, 'My Mood Wave'. "My Mood Wave is kind of an internal thought monologue," says Eggs singer and guitarist Holly. "It's a brain on a surfboard, trying to navigate the barrage of daily shit that gets washed up each day. It's a coping mechanism handbook for people who sometimes find the world too much." 'My Mood Wave' has an uplifting contemporary feel, haunted by a West Coast retro vibe that pulses and shimmers with a gorgeously addictive melody that will float around your head for days. Although the single will be released digitally on February 9th, there will also be a physical 7" with the customary mind-bulging artwork from Casey Raymond, and an exclusive track tantalisingly titled 'Crab Shell' on the flipside. The 7" will be released on Aquamarine transparent vinyl and in true Lovely Eggs style. More details on The Lovely Eggs new album to follow...

'Bruno & The Birds' is an album by Jullian Gomes that dives into the depths of the internal battles we face and the courage required to break free from our comfort zones. With forward thinking production and introspective messages in the music, the album takes listeners on a transformative journey of self-discovery. Throughout the album, Jullian Gomes skilfully weaves a narrative centred around the character, Bruno, who serves as a metaphor for the struggles and conflicts we encounter within ourselves. The songs delve into the inner demons that individuals face, representing the personal challenges and doubts that affect us all. The album is thought-provoking and emotive, resonating with the universal themes of self-doubt, fear, and the quest for personal growth.

With its dynamic soundscapes and diverse musical influences, 'Bruno & The Bird' invites listeners to embark on their own introspective voyage. Jullian Gomes combines elements of electronic soul and jazz, and pushes the ideas of traditional house music, creating a rich and immersive sonic experience.

The album features the likes of Jordan Arts, Sio, Kuniyuki Takahashi, Sabrina Chyld, Dwson, NLite, Robin Fassie & KJM Cornetist which all add their unique touch to this soul-stirring album.

I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a musical career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

“I Talk To Water”, das fünfte Album des dänischen Produzenten Kölsch für Kompakt, ist zweifellos das persönlichste Statement des Künstlers bislang. Während alle Markenzeichen, die seine Musik so beliebt und kraftvoll machen, immer noch präsent sind – üppige, melodische Techno-Tracks; schwebende, tranceartige Elemente; sinnliche, fiebrige Texturen – ist “I Talk To Water” auch eine tiefe und intime Annäherung an Familie und Geschichte. Es ist ein wunderschönes, fein ausgearbeitetes Dokument des Verlusts und der Erinnerung, und es verfolgt den langen, ungebrochenen Faden der Trauer, der durch unser Leben läuft, sobald wir diejenigen verloren haben, die wir liebten.

Der emotionale Kern von “I Talk To Water” besteht aus Aufnahmen von Kölschs Vater, Patrick Reilly, der 2003 an Hirnkrebs verstarb. Durch die Pandemie und ihre damit verbundenen Lockdowns, die plötzlichen, entfremdenden Veränderungen im Alltag, fand Kölsch sich in Gedanken an den Tod seines Vaters und seine fortwährende spirituelle Präsenz wieder. Er überlegte, wie er eine so bedeutende Figur in seinem eigenen Leben am besten verewigen könnte. Diese Aufnahmen öffneten ihm sozusagen ein Portal, um Vergangenheit und Gegenwart miteinander zu verbinden und sie auf sensible und poetische Weise zu verweben.

Kölschs Vater war Musiker – “er tourte in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren, vor allem im Nahen Osten, auf dem Hippie Trail, spielte Gitarre und schrieb im Laufe der Jahre einige Songs”, erinnert sich Kölsch. “Aber alles in allem entschied er sich, sich auf die Familie zu konzentrieren, anstatt eine musikalische Karriere zu verfolgen.” Reilly spielte und schrieb jedoch im Laufe der Jahre weiterhin Musik, obwohl Kölsch das Material lange Zeit nicht angehört hatte: “Ich hatte nie den Mut, es anzuhören, weil ich mich einfach zu zerbrechlich fühlte, seine Stimme anzuhören. Es ist so schwer, das durchzustehen.”

Während der Pandemie hörte sich Kölsch jedoch durch das fragmentierte Werk, das sein Vater im Laufe der Jahre produziert hatte. “Ich beschloss, die Musik meines Vaters zwanzig Jahre nach seinem Tod endlich zu veröffentlichen”, reflektiert er. “Dieses ganze Album handelt von dem Verlustprozess, welcher für mich generell eine der Hauptantriebskräfte in meinem musikalischen Leben ist. Der ganze emotionale Aspekt von dem, was ich getan habe, basierte auf dem Gefühl, dass er nicht mehr da ist.”

Auf “I Talk To Water” sind Aufnahmen von Reilly in drei Songs zu hören. Seine Gitarren ziehen nachdenklich durch “Grape”, bieten einen üppigen Melodiefaden, den Kölsch mit klickenden, treibenden Rhythmen und dröhnendem, melancholischem Bass umwickelt. “Tell Me” ist ein schönes dreiminütiges Kunstlied, eine traurig-schöne Reflexion, minimal geschmückt mit sanften Tasten und einem gedämpften Puls. Und auf dem Abschlusstrack “It Ends Where It Began” lässt Kölsch die akustische Gitarre seines Vaters im Mittelpunkt stehen, ein überraschend folkiger Klagegesang, den Reilly ursprünglich 1996 aufgenommen hatte. “Er hat es tatsächlich für mein erstes Album aufgenommen, das nie veröffentlicht wurde”, enthüllt Kölsch, “und ich hatte es ewig liegen.”

Diese drei erdachten Kollaborationen zwischen Vater und Sohn sind ausgewogen und zart. Aber ihre Beziehung prägt auch die wunderschöne Musik, die Kölsch im Rest von “I Talk To Water” geschaffen hat, angefangen bei dem nervösen, aber üppigen “Pet Sound” (benannt als Hommage an eines von Reillys Lieblingsalben), den flimmernden Synthesizern und sehnsüchtigen Vocal-Samples in “Khenpo”, den ekstatischen Erschütterungen in “Only Get Better” oder den langsamen Schwenks und subtilen Enthüllungen in “Implant”.

Es gibt auch den Titelsong, in dem Kölsch von Gast Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros) begleitet wird, der ein Mantra für die innere Reflexion singt: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrells Auftritt bringt eine weitere Klangfarbe, einen weiteren Geist in das Album, der gut zu seinem jüngsten Interesse an elektronischer Musik passt. “Er war völlig fasziniert von der Idee, mit Wasser zu sprechen”, sagt Kölsch und denkt darüber nach, wie wir kollektiv zur Natur als Trost, Zuhörer, Führer durch die Trauer neigen, um die Gelände des Herzens zu kartieren. Diese Kartierung ist etwas, in dem Kölsch im Laufe der Jahre erstaunlich geschickt war; Tanzmusik für Körper und Geist, sowohl für das Hier und Jetzt, als auch für das Leben danach.

Life has changed in the eight years since the release of II. In ours, yours and Gala Drop themselves. Most times without noticing it, partly due to those two years of a semi-existence that still resonates and with the ongoing predatory gentrification process changing the landscape and life of Lisbon, home to the band since ever. Close to a decade and a half of existence, with various mutations along the way enacting new perspectives and moments of stillness and reflection to a sound that's been mutating itself to its own internal rhythm and agency under the guiding light of the core duo of Afonso Simões and Nélson Gomes. Now a trio, with Rui Dâmaso transitioning from II after the departure of Jerry the Cat and Guilherme Canhão, Gala Drop sound even more focused as a working band, with their new album title Amizade – friendship in Portuguese – making perfect sense in a celebration of their, by now, patented soundworld of cosmic inspiration: krautrock's endless and hypnotic potential, dub's sense of transient space, the throb of house, balearic dreams, polyrhythms and a communal sense of belonging.

Again, this sprawling sphere of influence opens itself to new shapes and inspirations, but there's a deeper sense of accuracy and direction, with the band channeling those legacies into something we can only grasp as the Gala Drop sound. An organic outcome of working steadily as a trio, made possible by a residency promoted by gnration in Braga, Amizade dwells on the psychedelic nature of the group through seven tracks made up of dreamy synth washes, loads of percussion, echoes, chilled guitars under a radiant aura. Gala Drop have never sounded as openly dubby as on 'Dub da Meia Noite' and 'Areal Dub' or capable of converging different tropes of the hardcore continuum – rave stabs and cut up vocals – on a slow burner as memorable as 'Monte do Ouro'. Or given free reign to electricity as on the narcotic guitars of 'Guitarra Voadora' – excepting the one off with Ben Chasny on 2012's Broda. 'Amizade' points towards all of that with comforting escapism and wrapping things up 'Raio' turns dubstep's original bass weight meditations into a cosmic funk workout. One last hug before we leave. An album that feels like a collective moment of celebration, just when we most need it.

Afonso Simões - Drums, percussion and synthesizers
Nelson Gomes - Electric guitar and electronics
Rui Dâmaso - Electric bass & guitar and synthesizer

Recorded by Budda Guedes at Estúdio Mobydick, Braga
Mixed by Gala Drop and Hugo Valverde at Estúdio Cão Andaluz, Lisboa
Mastered by Anne Taegert at Dubplates & Mastering, Berlim
Cover photo by Sara Graça
Design by Nicolai Sarbib

2023 Repress

Following Robert Hood's remixes of his Floorplan tracks 'Never Grow Old' and 'Phobia' in May, he's back with new edits of 'Protein Valve', originally released on M-Plant in 1994, the year of the label's inception. As well as other early releases like 'Internal Empire', 'Music Data' and 'Moveable Parts', 'Protein Valve' helped set the standard for his M-Plant label becoming synonymous with a stripped down, tough and rhythmic raw sound that many artists still try to emulate. The original 'Protein Valve EP' is a classic in the annals of Techno, which still gets played today and sounds as fresh as it did some 20 years ago. Nevertheless Robert Hood takes an introspective look back and delivers these three incredible new edits! Focussing on the bass elements these fresh versions keep the M-Plant ethos at their core with their pure efficiency and Hood's mastery at getting right to the point of a track, with his focus always on the groove.

Mahalia is set to release her brand-new, sophomore album titled ‘IRL’ on July 14th with the pre-order set to go live on May 11th.The album will feature the singles ‘Terms and Conditions’, ‘Cheat’ and ‘In My Bag’ with album features including Stormzy, JoJo, Joyce Wrice and Kojey Radical.

Aptly titled IRL, Mahalia is particularly incessant on doubling down on vulnerability, internal reflection, and a desire to feel, in the realms of love specifically as demonstrated on her last project. “I feel like there’s even more personality on IRL. I want people to see me how I see myself.” Emboldened by her inflections, insights and young adulthood, Mahalia is not only breaking the mould on IRL, but determined to live life cognizantly. “This is a real reflection of the journeys I've had, what actually happened and a celebration of everyone who got me there. There are names and family members I mention because it all helped in shaping who I am,” Mahalia rationalises. With an innocent, yet assured gleam appearing on her face, “I’m so proud of this project, and so proud of how much I challenged myself to just let those stories out.”

Christened in many Grammy, BRIT, Soul Train and MTV Push nominations over the years, as well as two MOBO-wins for Best Female Act, and Best R&B/Soul Act, Mahalia still proves that beyond the accolades, an overarching dedication to persistence is what’s driven her to look inward, grow and ultimately challenge herself with each and every release to date. Standing as one of British R&B’s most successful contemporary faces, Mahalia continues to grow and establish herself in both her tact as an artist, but in building more robust ruminations sonically. As she evolves, her success becomes even more bonafide, both on home turf, but abroad too (she’s cracked the US Adult R&B Charts three times to date).

With her legion of 3.3M monthly Spotify listeners, the penultimate Saturday slot on the West Holts stage at this year’s Glastonbury festival and an opener performance for Adele at Hyde Park last summer, as well as a stellar prime-time Commonwealth Games closing ceremony set, there’s more territory to break. “I’m almost glad Love and Compromise didn’t go completely sky high, it’s given me room to keep developing, keep growing and go higher than I’ve ever been before. I’m so ready to bridge the gap now, I feel like I’m absolutely playing the long-game.”

On May 12th 2023, Helsinki-based duo Ya Tosiba will release their second album, ASAP Inşallah. The album will be led by two singles, ‘Mənəm’ and ‘Pul’, due for release on March 2nd and April 13th respectively.

A collaboration between Finnish electro producer Tatu Metsätähti (also known as Mesak and Mr Velcro Fastener, and of the Scandinavian skweee scene) and Azerbaijani musician and vocalist Zuzu Zakaria, Ya Tosiba absorbs electronics, live instrumentation and folkloric poetry of Caucasus into a spirited, groovy sound.

The follow up to their 2017 debut album Love Party, Ya Tosiba’s ASAP Inşallah plays with tension of living in a world of contradictions.

Across the 10 tracks musical and lyrical collaboration takes the listener on a global trek. Sonically, features come from Norway’s Center of the Universe, France’s Poborsk, Ukraine’s Zavoloka, Sweden’s Pavan and Daniel Savio, Azerbaijan’s Rahman Memmedli, plus Patric Catani and Debmaster from Berlin. As Zuzu sings in Azerbaijani, the storytelling of ASAP Inşallah comes alive. All of the album’s lyrics are taken directly from poetry and texts: with tales of romance and war, sex and gender, nature and machine, politics and society. Though the stories are varied, and some are historical, they all tap into that tension; it’s the weight of history versus the promise of tomorrow. After collecting myriad stories during her field studies, some of which are over 100 years old, Zuzu was stunned by their contemporary relevance.

When Ya Tosiba wrote ASAP Inşallah, it started with these texts-as-lyrics; melodies and music were built out from their internal rhythms and vocalpossibilities. With a range of electronic hardware and software, Zuzu and Tatu went back-and-forth, creating taut loops and clips out of Zuzu’s vocals, drums and keyboards, with samples of their collaborators instruments and Tatu’s productions.

In chopping up recordings of the live players into their electronic beats, Ya Tosiba creates an effect of tradition and modernity “being samples from the same record, taking it apart and looping it to sound like one machine.” The patchwork nature of their process, alongside the ambitious and danceable sonics, invites the listener into Ya Tosiba’s unique perspective.

“Somaesthesia” is for the body, for how the body feels and how the body communicates with its soul. It was written through a year of growth and sickness, which stimmed inflection to a body at rest, a body aroused, a body communicating needs, a body happy, a homeostatic body, a friend body.

These four songs drift through different dimensions of somatic sensation. Deep corporal sensuality, spectrums of control of self, identity, and their relation to others, plateau, release, extra sensorial touch, extraterrestrial encounter, novelty, experiment, finding self where you thought you stood alone, finding self in bass, basing self in body.
Do not disembody, hold closeness to body, trust body, body as a litmus, body as a truth, truth as unmovable, unmovable as grounded, rooted, dense body, flesh body, REAL body, this is your body, feel your body feel.

Somaesthesia: the faculty of bodily perception; sensory systems associated with the body; includes skin senses and proprioception and the internal organs

Berlin based sound artist Sa Pa delivers AI-33, titled ‘Atmospheric Fragments’. Originally intended as a soundtrack to accompany ten short experimental films as part of a physical exhibition in 2020 curated by Manon Bernard, Atmospheric Fragments was alternatively premiered online as a digital showroom - with its music performed and recorded both live and independently in 2021. 

Atmospheric Fragments was conceived as a collaborative audio-visual project, positing the viewer inside a sonic boom of introspective parenthesis and offering a place for internal dialogues under the circumstances of a largely unknown and rapidly changing modern world. 

Sa Pa’s work presents a fresh sonic reinterpretation of urban landscapes, skylines and modern environments, procuring from its source material a whole new kaleidoscopic world of its own. The record consists of two mixes - ‘Studio’ and ‘Live’ - which demonstrate a deep explorational study of our everyday surroundings, plunging the listener into a realm of heightened sense experience and microscopic detail. Where the ‘Studio’ mix embodies the precision and management of the studio workspace and is more ambient in nature, such intricacies are exchanged for a larger, livelier sound stage and alternative sonic material in the ‘Live’ mix. 

A nebulous ocean of shifting spaces and effervescent textures, Sa Pa augments and modulates field recordings into a fluid and ever-evolving narrative. Seen through a viewfinder of deep and immersive observation, new transients, momentary artefacts and poetry in motion begin to reveal itself. In a world caught in momentary stasis, Atmospheric Fragments is a forensic inquiry into our perceptive environment, with its augmented lens placing us on the cusp of the ungraspable.

Salomo brings a double EP of tech and progressive house to R.A.N.D. Muzik Recordings. This disc, RM12018.1 (Water) takes you deep down into the depths before before RM12018.2 (Land) takes you back up for a cruise through unknown lands. Both EPs are pieces of an entire work but are availably individually.

AI-31 sees the debut release from a new collaboration between Samuel van Dijk (Netherlands) and Rasmus Hedlund (Finland). Both key proponents to the scene in Northern Europe, they come together with mutual understanding and a common vision to sound. Dialog acts as a conversational exchange that sees the interplay of dynamic frequencies, evocative imagery and contemporary sonic art. Spread across four sides, the album as a whole exists as a kind of metaphysical process, eternally growing and contracting — change is the only constant, marked by a continuous progression of sound and space.  

Expansive, deep, and at moments arresting, Dialog unfolds with sweeping soundscapes and shimmers with tactile sonic details. A chasmic rift of scintillating drone structures, each layer exposes a series of ever-deeper shades. In a play of dynamic dualities, the pair harnesses both earthly materials as well as access to more ethereal dimensions in the music. Side A begins with sub-terrestrial ruptures, gestating in a process of constant elemental changes. Rattling hits sputter amongst a state of nascent chaos, yet continues to be maintained in self-regulating stasis. Side B sets a more introspective tone, whispering with ghostly artefacts and bubbling synth lines, before building into a driving energy of layered field recordings and mechanistic timbres. The essence of form continues to be contested, until it subsides into momentary calm on side C. A cleansing period of soft drones float into the space and the pace slows, washing away remnants of past. The journey continues with side D’s conclusion - a solemn contour that reaches its internal extent, to then finally return to its source. 

2025 Repress

On his fourth album proper, Now Here No Where, Danish producer Kölsch (aka Rune Reilly Kölsch) is charting new terrain. Fans of his ‘years trilogy’ – 1977, 1983 and 1989, released on Kompakt over the past decade – were privy to a kind of sonic diary, an autobiography, tracking the artist’s early years through three albums of superior, meticulously rendered techno. Calling in collaborators where needed – most notably, the strings of Gregor Schwellenbach – there was still something deeply personal going down, not quite hermetic, but internally focused; the albums proved not only Kölsch’s mastery of his chosen form, but also his capacity to make techno personal, individual, and to trace histories of the self through music. But on Now Here No Where, Kölsch finds his feet firmly planted in the present. Reflecting on his new album, he notes, “It is fascinating to write about memories and feelings that have had years to manifest and develop, but how would I approach current emotions?” It’s a good question: our past coheres through the narratives we build around memories, but the moment we’re in, the newness of the now-ness, is harder to navigate; this story is as yet untold. For Kölsch, this makes Nowhere Now Here “an album about life in the year 2020. A time defined by confusion, misinformation and environmental challenges. It is an emotional interpretation of personal and mental challenges, observations and personal growth.” Kölsch does this with music that effortlessly balances emotional heft with the dancefloor’s brimming desires. It’s a space that Kölsch has navigated for a while now – one of techno’s breakthrough acts, an in-demand DJ across the globe and a prolific and restlessly creative producer, he’s also Kompakt’s biggest-selling act – but Now Here No Where ratchets up the lushness, making for a delirious drift across twelve tracks that are at once perfectly poised and deeply trippy. “Great Escape” is an elegant swoon, an opener that pivots on a sigh and a prayer; then “Shoulder Of Giants” bustles into view, subliminal clatter and an aching violin line giving way to a riff that glows with fluorescence and iridescence. “Remind You” combines an odd ECM jazziness with notes from a twenty-first century torch song; “Sleeper Must Awaken” mines huge buzzing synths and lets them float, in and out of sync, with reduced, ticking beats; “Traumfabrik” (dream factory – there’s a giveaway) is oddly lush, the tones malleable and plastic, morphing across a glitching undertow. There are sad, emotional washes of strings throughout the penultimate “While Waiting For Something To Care About”, while “Romtech User Manual”’s patterns twist and shape in the light. Throughout, Kölsch never keeps his eye off the dancefloor, and you can tell this is his still his home. “The amount of energy and joy I experience every time I perform, has a profound effect on me. It has inspired me so much of late and has become an integral part of my musicality.” “The way we join in expressing our hope for the future every weekend has given me so much,” Kölsch concludes. The club as a temporary autonomous zone, as a space both of freedom and of politics; somehow, that’s all here, Now Here No Where. “Most of all, it is an album about hope.”

Auf seinem vierten Album “Now Here No Where” betritt der dänische Produzent Kölsch (alias Rune Reilly Kölsch) neues Terrain. Seine Trilogie mit den Jahreszahlen 1977, 1983 und 1989, die in den letzten zehn Jahren bei Kompakt erschienen war, hatte seine Fans durch eine Art akustisches Tagebuch, eine Autobiografie geführt, die die frühen Jahre des Künstlers über die Länge von drei großartig produzierten Techno-Alben nachgezeichnet hatte. Wo es nötig war, wurden Kollaborateure hinzugezogen - allen voran für die Streicher, arrangiert von Gregor Schwellenbach -, dennoch zeichnete die Musik immer auch etwas zutiefst Persönliches aus, etwas nicht Hermetisches, auf eine bestimmte Art immer auch nach Innen fokussiert. Die Alben bewiesen nicht nur, wie sehr Kölsch die von ihm gewählte äußere Form beherrscht, sondern auch seine Fähigkeit, Techno zu etwas Persönlichem und Individuellem zu machen und der eigene Geschichte durch Musik näher zu kommen.

Auf “Now Here No Where” steht Kölsch nun mit beiden Beinen fest auf dem Boden der Gegenwart. Mit Blick auf sein neues Album stellt er fest: "Es ist faszinierend, über Erinnerungen und Gefühle zu schreiben, die Zeit hatten, sich zu manifestieren und zu entwickeln, aber wie nähere ich mich meinen aktuellen Emotionen?”. Eine gute Frage: Unsere Vergangenheit wird im Innersten zusammengehalten durch Geschichten, die aus Erinnerungen entstehen, aber der Moment, in dem wir uns befinden, die Neuheit des Neuen, ist schwieriger zu beschreiben; die Geschichte ist noch nicht erzählt. Für Kölsch ist “No Here Now Where” daher "ein Album über das Leben im Jahr 2020. Eine Zeit, die von Verwirrung, Desinformation und ökologischen Herausforderungen geprägt ist. Es geht dabei um die emotionale Interpretation von persönlichen und mentalen Herausforderungen, von Beobachtungen und der eigenen, individuellen Weiterentwicklung".

Kölsch tut dies mit Musik, die mühelos kleine Gefühlsausbrüche mit den großen Sehnsüchten der Tanzfläche in Einklang bringt. Es ist dieser Zwischenraum, in dem sich Kölsch schon seit einiger Zeit bewegt, als weltweit gefragter und gefeierter Live Act, DJ und so unermüdlicher wie kreativer Produzent (nicht umsonst ist Kölsch der “biggest-selling-artist” bei Kompakt), doch “Now Here No Where” treibt all das noch weiter auf die Spitze: ein enormer Sog entsteht, der uns über zwölf Tracks hinweg gefangen hält wie ein perfekt ausbalancierter Trip. Der Opener "Great Escape" ist pure Eleganz, ein Track, der irgendwo zwischen Seufzer und Gebet hin und her schwankt; dann drängt "Shoulder Of Giants" ins Blickfeld, ein unterschwelliges Geklapper, eine wehende Geige, schließlich ein schillernder Riff, der in der Dunkelheit zu leuchten und zu glühen scheint.

"Remind You" kombiniert seltsamen ECM-Jazz mit einem sentimentalen Liebeslied des 21. Jahrhunderts; "Sleeper Must Awaken" schürft im Bergwerk riesiger Synthesizer, mal im Takt, mal aus dem Takt ticken die minimalen Beats; "Traumfabrik" ist ungewöhnlich “lush”, die einzelnen Töne, geschmeidig und modelliert, zerfließen in einem glitzernden Abgrund. Das vorletzte Stück "While Waiting For Something To Care About" wird von traurigen, emotionalen Strings untermalt, während sich die Strukturen von "Romtech User Manual" im Licht drehen und immer wieder neu formieren. Die ganze Zeit über behält Kölsch die Tanzfläche im Auge, und man merkt ihm an, dass sie immer noch sein Zuhause ist: "Die Menge an Energie und Freude, die ich bei jedem Auftritt erlebe, hat eine tiefe Wirkung auf mich. Sie hat mich gerade in letzter Zeit stark inspiriert und ist zu einem integralen Bestandteil meiner Musik geworden.”

"Die Art und Weise, wie wir an jedem Wochenende gemeinsam unsere Hoffnung auf eine bessere Zukunft zum Ausdruck bringen, hat mir viel gegeben", so Kölsch abschließend. Die Vision des Clubs als eine temporäre autonome Zone, als ein Raum von großer Freiheit aber auch von politischen Ideen, das ist irgendwie alles hier drin, Now Here No Where. "Es ist vor allem ein Album über Hoffnung."

recorded and produced by christina nemec in vienna and horner wald 2016
mastered and cut at dubplates & mastering, berlin 2017

artwork by susi klocker

On her latest release, chra aka Christina Nemec is sketching out a psychogeographical map, that guides you to the border of the internal and external world - 'on a fateful morning' lets you enter a sphere where the imaginary and the subliminal cross. Evoking abstract images that transcend reality, chra installs an autarchic time-and-space-continuum of vague, nocturnal beauty. Pastose bass drones, airy ambient synths and processed audio-samples form a hypnotic stream that lets you enter an altered state of mind. By subtly intertwining musical and non musical sounds chra is weaving an intensely atmospheric, poetic tableau of emptied spaces left to our imagination. It's the pulse of arcane memories that is filling these sonic landscapes, operating deep within our subconscious.

'on a fateful morning' is haunting music to play in the dark - conspirative, uncanny, with a dystopian smack.

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.

Leave it to Joe Claussell to tap into our current collective artificial intelligence anxiety and render the racket divine. Alan Parson’s 1977 I Robot—the LP from which these two new edits were culled—was a harbinger for all the technological sheen and humanistic distress that was to come. Drawing from heady science fiction and even headier musicality and studio sophistication, ’The Voice’ evoked Jeremy Bentham-like omniscient surveillance, while the original ‘I Wouldn’t Want To Be Like You’ explores the ambivalent rift in perspective between the two poles of flesh and metal. For Claussell, the dichotomy leaves more unanswered questions and artistic possibilities, for the truth is always tangled and ripe for potential. Our bodies are propelled by the same electrons which accumulate in capacitors; our hearts, as Milford Graves was so enthralled, likewise transmit the same electric impulses which not only sustain our bodies but soundtrack our eternal, internal rhythm. These edits, with their strings, synthesizers and distortion-ravaged guitars, are protracted to dynamic sublimity, and seem aware of this seemingly opposing dynamic. Claussell, himself a lifelong proponent and interrogator of man’s relationship with mechanized rhythm and sound, leaves our earthly toil and unease behind for something greater, something yet unnamed, shared between us all at our finest. It's almost a feeling you can touch in the air…

8-page lyric / drawing booklet, glossy poster, download card (inc. mp3s), white inner paper bags, sticker on cover.

After 7 strange years of relative silence, and 13 years of being a band, Dog Chocolate have returned with ‘So Inspired, So Done In’. Their fourth album is their most focused, cohesive and song-y yet. They still sound like a bin full of wasps, but now the bin has double-cream or a Viennetta or something at the bottom. While many of the 16 songs on here barely make it past the 3-minute mark, each one is bursting with all the textures and colours of an office cupboard: full of old sweets, fluorescent markers, and multiple ways to fix paper together.

Thematically, a lot of ground is covered, with songs tackling subject matter as diverse as overheard conversations, healing fungal toenails, the Rogerian concept of the Actualising Tendency, bronze age living conditions, dreaming songs into being and human-plant relations. Work (and anti-work) is a recurring theme, as is artistic inspiration and burnout. Dog Chocolate revel in the mundane and incidental, to explore bigger, existential questions. Recorded and mixed by POZI’s Toby Burroughs and mastered by Sofia Lopes, ‘So Inspired, So Done In’ charts a long and confusing period in the band’s collective life, marked by major life changes, losses and shifts, colouring the band’s trademark frantic, daft and anxious energy with a contemplative glaze. Dog Chocolate continue to investigate their internal and external landscapes with playful curiosity, frustration, silliness and empathy.

Pre/history of the band: In the early 2000’s Andrew (vocals), Rob (guitar, vocals) and Matthew (guitar, vocals) played together as teenagers in South-East London-based maximalist, costumed surrealist punk band Yeborobo. They met drummer Jonathan playing with his instrument-swapping masked band Limn at art space Utrophia in Deptford. Later, when both bands had split, Dog Chocolate formed with a shared desire to make a band that was simpler than their theatrical past: small amps and light guitars, no more than 2 drums at any one time, a keyboard no longer than a ruler and a shared ethos… “it’s about giving a shit, but at the same time not giving a shit, but not ‘whatever’, not giving up never!”. The band floated the term “pencilcase punk” to describe their jumbled, colourful, dense and instant music.

Dog Chocolate built on this early scrappiness, bedding into their sound over several albums. Their first “Or” (2014) was a split with Ravioli Me Away, soon followed by “Snack Fans” (2016) and “Moody Balloon Baby” (2018). Along the way they played gigs with bands as wide ranging as Deerhoof, No Age, Dry Cleaning, Palm, Daniel Wakeford, Shopping and Pozi.

With a tendency to converse with each other both lyrically and musically cultivated over many years, the members of Dog Chocolate bounce off each other, respectfully disagree, try to make each other laugh and share some of their most vulnerable feelings with each other. ‘So Inspired, So Done In’ is their own unique offering during these unsteady times: a language of friendship translated into songs.

Iñigo Medina aka M4 explores the profound convergence of two disciplines that share a common foundation: the manipulation of vibration and resonance to transform consciousness and space: Yoga and Electronic Music.
While Yoga balances the body's energetic vibrations through breath, posture, and meditation, electronic music employs sustained tones, slowly shifting sequences, and atmospheric textures that induce trance states and align with meditative brainwave patterns.
"Reset Series" is characterized by atmospheric, non-danceable soundscapes built on repetitive sequences and arpeggios that slowly evolve, often processed through delay and reverb. Both yoga sequences and M4 compositions (the full track is almost an hourlong, divided into two parts) unfold gradually over extended durations . Each practice invites a journey inward, guiding the practitioner or listener through layers of repeating motifs that subtly transform, revealing deeper states of awareness with patient attention.
Time becomes elastic; space becomes internal; vibration becomes the universal language connecting body, environment, and sound.

Steeped in nocturnal, death rock adventurism, riven with a post-punk anxiety that feels increasingly like the twitching heart of our modern age, and driven by hardcore punk intensity, the second studio album from Boston’s FINAL GASP, titled New Day Symptoms, does what all great rock records do - not only does it place itself within a lineage, summoning up and amplifying a spectrum of powers from Rock n' Roll lore, it makes them resonate in the here and now. It gives voice to those fears and frustrations lurking just under the surface of waking consciousness and turns them into a rallying cry. Throughout New Day Symptoms, FINAL GASP create a potent reaction from the furious and the forlorn, frontman Jake Murphy’s vocalizes both a supercharged howl into the void and a remorseful echo back. But where the band’s 2023 debut, Mourning Moon, was a concentrated shot of acrid, underground death rock, its propulsion tanks largely filled with references to Samhain and Killing Joke, New Day Symptoms keeps all the core urgent energy while vastly broadening its scope. Through the anthemic, acid-corroded vistas of "Look Away" and gothic tub-thumping beat of "Gifted Shame" to "No Hand To Lead" channelling "Don’t Fear The Reaper" and its loping groove, New Day Symptoms takes the familiar into uncharted territory and makes the unfamiliar instantly, internally recognisable. With new space to explore, this is an album that feels a mapping of personal trials and dark recesses. Short: Boston's FINAL GASP return with New Day Symptoms - the new album steeped in nocturnal, death rock adventurism, riven with a post-punk anxiety that feels increasingly like the twitching heart of our modern age, and driven by hardcore punk intensity! FFO: Danzig, Killing Joke, TSOL, Lathe of Heaven, Poison Ruin, Gouge Away, Tribulation

Impatience is thrilled to present Leaving Memory, the latest album-length work by Piper Spray and Lena Tsibizova. Leaving Memory is a searing distillation of the duo’s ouevre - it’s eleven prismatic electronic seances combining for a mind warping wormhole with it’s own internal (il)llogic, where pop, ambient, and industrial music convene beneath a rugged HD of digital processing and brain fog. Equally rosy with nostalgia as it is ominously forward looking, Leaving Memory defies easy categorization and makes for an astounding, confounding listen.

By turns violently abrasive and disarmingly touching, Piper and Lena deploy sounds that fracture and disintegrate, burn up and explode, synthetic supernovas that give the record an unmistakable, inimitable texture. Song structures often abide by their own blueprint - heading in one direction before making an abrupt dive elsewhere. Bursts of vibrant colour lurk below layers of grayscale noise. Unidentifiable voices deliver secret messages from the murk. When rhythm’s emerge they ground the tracks to some unknown terrain and invigorate.

Lame Line veers towards the sweeter end of their spectrum, a hazy plaintive repetition increasingly lashed with friction, before Exit erupts with clanging rhythm and shards of distortion. Diagnosis is an almost sweet alt-pop song, Lena’s vocals yearning beneath a dubby shuffle, while Keeper Of The Void’s possessed incantations open up to a ripping, fried climax. Beryl Grey releases the pressure gauge, a gently lilting drift arpeggiating as the sun sets, and Lost Cars sweats through claustrophobic drones and bird song before the clouds part on a serene scene. Leaving Memory closes with Shin, offering a genuinely sweet resolution and a gentle landing back down to earth of either footsteps or fireworks, swelling synthesized horns and woodwinds, a kiss on the cheek for making it out the other side.

On Leaving Memory, Piper Spray & Lena Tsibizova share their uniquely discordant take on freaky music for unsettled minds, an intensely energized set that offers a deeply evocative, unimaginable otherworld for adventurous ears.

Piper Spray and Lena Tsibizova have been producing music together since 2020. Leaving Memory is the first to be presented in the LP format. Piper has previously released music via Orange Milk, Hausu Mountain and Gost Zvuk, as well as his own Singapore Sling Tapes label. Lena works predominantly as a photographer, and together Piper and Lena have released music via radio.syg.ma and Kartaskvazhin. Both make music as part of Air Krew, who have released music on the Echotourist and Motion Ward labels. They’re both currently based nowhere.

Leaving Memory was written, produced and mixed by Piper Spray and Lena Tsibizova, and mastered by Sergey Podluzhniy. Cover photo by Lena Tsibizova, design and layout by Justin Sloane.

Bryan Senti’s La Marea, out on 10th October, is a poignant new work for string orchestra that moves like the ocean. Written as a tribute to his father’s journey from Cuba to the United States, the music carries the listener across waters filled with memory, loss, and hope. Performed by the Czech National Symphony, La Marea is both intimate and cinematic, guiding the listener through a story that transports us from the mountain to the sea.

“The image that repeatedly came to mind was that of the proverbial raft, of being alone and adrift at sea. I can imagine the internal struggle: anchoring oneself to memories of the past while hoping, desperately so, to be reborn in a foreign land. That singular combination of grief and faith that brings someone to surrender to inevitable change”

The album brings together collaborators including bassist Spencer Zahn, cellist Noah Hoffeld, and Grammy-winning baritone Edward Parks, whose moving performance of Saloma (Tierra en Movimiento), set to the words of Chilean poet Antonia Torres Aguëro, is paired with a moving short film by Jared Malik Royal.

Co-produced with Grammy winner Justin Moshkevich and mixed by Francesco Donadello (Chernobyl, Tàr, The Joker).

La Marea is both a personal reflection and a universal meditation on migration and transformation.

DIESECT fearlessly navigates the turbulent realms of both internal struggles and external chaos, refusing to sugarcoat the complexities of life. From humble beginnings as Brisbane locals to their current status as national contenders, DIESECT has garnered over 2 million streams across various platforms all by themselves, showcasing their undeniable appeal to a growing audience. They've toured across the nation selling out their own shows and supporting the likes of Fit For A King (US), ERRA (US), Silent Planet (US), Currents (US), August Burns Red (US), While She Sleeps (UK), Spite (US), To The Grave and more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the first time, all the 1978 recording sessions of Lino Capra Vaccina's legendary Antico Adagio - including Frammenti da Antico Adagio and Echi Armonici da Antico Adagio - collected in one definitive deluxe edition. Minimalism, and so much more. Sheets of resonance, stunning harmonic interplay, intricate rhythms rising as one. Sidelong works of pulsing, hypnotic, ritualistic drone built from vibraphones, marimbas, gongs, bells, and cymbals, threaded by the sustained vocal tones of Juri Camisasca and Dana Matus. A trance-inducing, meditative, cosmic world of sonic interplay - the world beyond, joined with that which lays within.

Before an aberrant idea of progress ludicrously sped up our daily lives, even in hectic Milan it was possible to "play slowly" - with no pressure, simply following the path your art was showing you. This music moves between modal fascinations, ritual evocations, and states of hypnotic trance, evoking the acoustic environment of Tibetan and Zen Buddhist ceremonies and the temporal structures of Noh theatre, from which Vaccina took the name of his original label, Nō. Now, fittingly, this complete collection appears on Ubi Kū, the label of the Italian Buddhist Union.

Lino Vaccina (1953) first gained note as a member of Aktuala, creating a hybrid of rock, avant-garde, and ancient musics while incorporating sonic traditions from across the globe. After leaving in 1974, he studied at Milano's Civica Scuola di Musica, collaborating with Franco Battiato and Juri Camisasca, and forming Telaio Magnetico in 1975. In 1978 he self-released Antico Adagio in a tiny edition and wouldn't be heard from again until 1992. From 1979 to 1985 he was percussionist with the Orchestra of Teatro alla Scala under maestros such as Abbado and Ozawa. His career has been marked by an incredibly high bar of quality and a tragically slim recorded output - a rigorous and sensual language fusing Oriental, Mediterranean, and African influences with ritual elements and a cosmic sense of time.

As Massimo Torrigiani writes: "Lino Vaccina's music captivates through its internal coherence and its ability to generate states of suspension and deep listening - through undulations, small melodic fragments, dialogues between acoustic instruments and resonances that seem to evoke a phantom orchestra. An example of personal exploration, discipline and openness that speaks across time to anyone willing to be drawn into its sound."

Frammenti da Antico Adagio and Echi Armonici da Antico Adagio contain material from the original sessions, restored and issued by Die Schachtel in 2014 and 2017. The new masters, prepared by Giuseppe Ielasi, are based on those restorations and the original material. The package includes previously unpublished photographs from the May 1978 sessions and liner notes by Mauro Radice in Italian, English, and French. Cover art by Dana Matus. Printed by Legno, Milano & Mother Tongue, Verona.

Personnel: Lino Capra Vaccina (vibraphone, marimba, tablas, wooden drums, darbuka, cymbals, gong, metal sheets, bells, bass drum, tom, snare drum, piano, voice), Dana Matus (voice, percussion, cetra), Juri Camisasca (voice), Mario Garuti (violin), Roberto Mazza (oboe). Original production by Massimo Villa & Lino Vaccina with Piero Cannizzaro. Recorded May 1978 at Circle Studios, Milano.

The heights of the Italian avant-garde, at their very best.

Hello Spiral returns to the same North London block, the same triangulated geometry of balconies and courtyard, but with a shift of orientation. His previous record looked outward from the eighth floor, these four new recordings move inside, into the building’s arteries. Joe explores the hallways of the complex where he has lived and listened for years, using the same tool as before, an iPhone and its voice memo app. The recordings were made in situ, each exactly eleven minutes, captured without ceremony.

The hallways feel different. Less private, less scenic, more neutral. They are the connective tissue between hundreds of domestic units, a space of transit rather than rest. The carpet absorbs certain frequencies. The fire doors catch and release pockets of air. The lights hum. Elevators drone in soft cycles of arrival and departure. These are the institutional sounds of shared living, yet once recorded they begin to behave strangely. A kind of internal weather appears.

As with the previous album, Joe remains attentive to what is often overlooked, irrelevant or discarded. The hallways, with their scuffs and signage, their coded access and polite functionalism, provide an unexpectedly rich field. The ambience is not shaped by storms or scaffolding, not by birds or street spill. Instead the material is the building’s own breath, its mechanical rhythms, the low frequency traces of neighbours, the occasional shuffle of footsteps that pass but do not return.

Joe talks about this record as a possible middle chapter in a trilogy. If so, it sits between the exposed openness of the balcony and whatever comes next. A hinge point. These recordings continue Joe’s long practice of defamiliarization, sharpening attention to the unnoticed while withholding narrative. They invite repeated listening, not for revelation, but for the subtle shifts that occur when a familiar space is treated as an instrument.