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2x12" + DL Repress

NOTE: ALL FORMATS CONTAIN THE FULL VERSION OF "RAUSCH". THE ALBUM IS MEANT TO BE HEARD FROM BEGINNING TO END AS A WHOLE. IT HAS BEEN TRACK MARKED OR SEPARATED DUE TO FORMAT RESTRICTIONS

Rausch with no name / My beautiful shine / You are the sun / This is where I want to be / Rausch with no morning / This is where we burn / The Stars sparkle / In a sea of flames / Horns and fanfares / Fanfares of joy / Fanfares of fear / The wine we drink through the eyes / The moon pours down at night in waves / Careful with that axe Eugene / Personal Jesus / No beginning no end / Eighteenth of Oktember / The night falls / The king comes / The hunt starts / Freude schöner Götterfunken / The long march through the underwood / Trust me there's nothing / Once upon a time there was a bandit / Who loved a prince / That was long ago / Spring Summer Fall and Gas / There is a train heading to Nowhere / Drums and Trumpets / Future without mankind / Warm snow / Alles ist gut / The bells toll / You are not alone / The murmur in the forest / The murmur in the head / Light as mist / Heavy as lead / Music happens / To flow like gas / A clearing / Heavy baggage / Debut in the afterlife / Death has seven cats / World heritage Rausch / Finally infinite

Wolfgang Voigt 2018

Rausch ohne Namen / Mein schöner Schein / Du bist die Sonne / Hier will ich sein / Rausch ohne Morgen / Wir brennen hier / Die Sterne funkeln / Im Flammenmeer / Hörner und Fanfaren / Fanfaren der Freude / Fanfaren der Angst / Den Wein den man mit Augen trinkt / Gießt Nachts der Mond in Wogen nieder / Vorsicht mit der Axt Eugene / Personal Jesus / Kein Anfang Kein Ende / Achtzehnter Oktember / Die Nacht bricht an / Der König kommt / Die Jagd beginnt / Freude schöner Götterfunken / Der lange Marsch durchs Unterholz / Glaub mir da ist nichts / Es war einmal ein Räuber / Der liebte einen Prinzen / Das ist lange her / Frühling Sommer Herbst und Gas / Es fährt ein Zug nach Nirgendwo / Pauken und Trompeten / Zukunft ohne Menschen / Warmer Schnee / Alles ist gut / Die Glocken läuten / Du bist nicht allein / Das Rauschen im Wald / Das Rauschen im Kopf / Leicht wie Nebel / Schwer wie Blei / Musik ergibt sich / Strömt wie Gas / Eine Lichtung / Schweres Gepäck / Einstand im Jenseits / Der Tod hat sieben Katzen / Weltkulturerbe Rausch / Endlich Unendlich

Wolfgang Voigt 2018

Hawkwind have always been associated with music festivals, most notably the free festivals, where Dave Brock has said that, at

those events, the band is not shackled to appease an audience by giving them what they expect and have paid to see. With that obligation removed, the band can relax and experiment more than usual and gigs become even more fun. Their sessions, where they played for free, sometimes with the Pink Fairies, at Canvas City, outside the official site of the Isle Of White Festival in 1970, are a matter of legend and Nik Turner gained much attention when he painted his face silver and was much photographed as a result. During his set, Jimi Hendrix referred to him as 'the cat with the silver face'. However, when we think of Hawkwind and festivals, the word Stonehenge leaps to the fore.

The band always loved being there, enjoying the whole event as well as the freedom of how and when they played. This was not a time of business, but a time of fun. The most important one of these was Stonehenge 1984, which proved to be the last festival before the authorities moved in the following year to block the festival from being set up and Hawkwind ended up playing a few miles away instead. It was the sad end to an era. It had taken place twelve times and, had it been allowed one more time, it would have become a public event and the powers that be were determined to prevent that from happening. Happily, the 1984 festival was recorded and filmed and the Hawkwind Solstice Eve and Solstice Morning were both preserved...and we should be grateful for that.


The fact that Hawkwind were playing for free didn't mean it was a basic show. As well as the line-up of Dave Brock, Harvey Bainbridge, Huw Lloyd Langton (who played the evening session, but not the following morning), Nik Turner, Alan Davey and Danny Thompson, there were half a dozen dancers, a mime artist and fire spitting. A free event, it was the ideal time to introduce the new rhythm section to the band in the form of Danny Thompson on drums and Alan Davey on bass, with Harvey moved to keyboards. A move which was to have a long term affect in the way he made music, leading to his solo career, as well as years playing synths for Hawklords, in years to come, after his stint as the Hawkwind keyboards player came to an end.. Danny fitted the bill comfortably and drummed for the band until he left in 1988, to be replaced by Richard Chadwick. Danny went on to play for other bands including Bedouin and Pre Med. He also recorded a cassette album called Skinwalker. Alan made a good team alongside Dave Brock and it can be seen on the video just how pleased he was to be playing alongside Dave Brock, a man whom he had only met for the first time in November 1982, backstage at the Ipswich Gaumont. He went on to be the longest serving Hawkwind bass player, before moving on to pursue solo projects and form a nmber of bands. So in terms of the line-up, Stonehenge 1984 had a notable impact on the formation of the band for a number of years and, indeed, the destinies of Harvey, Danny and Alan. As if that were not enough to make the event special in the annals of Hawkwind, they played an interesting and varied main set in the evening, featuring a blend of old and new Hawkwind songs, along with numbers from Inner City Unit and

Bob Calvert's Lucky Leif And The Starfighters album. In keeping with the relaxed atmosphere, there was a considerably extended

version of Ghost Dance, lasting around ten minutes. The sunrise set was special too, with a long, laid-back, jam at dawn, in fitting with the occasion.



A lovely and relaxing start to the day and the kind of jam they couldn't really play to a paying audience. It's good to have the

memories of this significant festival gathered together in three formats.

Enjoy this special set, which commemorates a special event, not only in the history of Hawkwind, but of the saga of Stonehenge festivals.

A guitarry hybrid of AZITA’s edgy rock / soul / R&B sound. Grooving good times, acerbic exchanges overheard in the street, shifts in community, the losses you will carry always, dark recesses late at night that echo with a wonder you've never felt before. Life.
All instruments played by AZITA; the wackest, most AZITA-harmonious sounding pop album yet.
For those who find the passage of time a one-way process of attrition, here’s good news for you. In the eight years since AZITA’s last long-player her fevered brain has barely rested and the proof is a new album of unbounded physical and mental activity, music and entertainment, entitled ‘Glen Echo’.
The worlds of the previous AZITAs have left their unmistakable essence. Her singular conception of pop music - the idiosyncratic songs, singing and playing that have graced seven acclaimed releases - is in verdant recurrence on ‘Glen Echo’, blossoming anew, cutting sharply in the spirit and image of her everevolving, always questioning style.
Writing and arranging on keyboards since the time of her solo debut, AZITA focused on guitars for this set of songs. Not simply for swagger or a fresh approach to soloing but as part of a way to elide expected singer-songwriter tropes, to democratically populate the sound-stage in equal partnership instead.
This is a key aspect of the ‘Glen Echo’ sound, one that determined another new choice - AZITA playing everything on the album herself.
Previous long-players ‘Enantiodromia’, ‘Life On the Fly’ and ‘How Will You?’ were achieved via close work with players and engineers who took the compositions from the demo to a finished form. Invariably though, something would get lost in the transmigration somewhere. With ‘Glen Echo’, AZITA comes through fully, jaggedly, most vividly, owning her intention entirely in the dialogue of singing and playing her rock and rhythm and blues.
The lyric sheet is riddled with language that circles, through the many moments of life, aspects of the passage of time, the pre-empted dreams and strangeness of the present and the way we invent an idealized past in response to the changes, guiding the narrative... where? It’s all banded together by AZITA’s wit, equal parts droll and dire, her dispassionate view of fates and outcomes for all of us here together on the planet, textured with unique, cinematic details and sudden dives into a deeply felt, utterly OG sense of soul.
In ‘Glen Echo’ are a multitude of sounds - all the moments in a life: the good time grooves, acerbic exchanges in the street, shifts in community and generosity, moments of loss you know you will carry forever, reflection upon unknown futures and pasts, the dark recesses late at night that echo with a wonder you’ve never felt before. You name it, AZITA’s got some sweet and sour theme music for it.

It doesn't happen too often that you come across someone with Sam's composure and artistry at such a young age. 22 year old Sam De Nef has been in music for a while as lead singer of indie outfit 'Danny Blue and the Old Socks', but It wasn't until last year he started thinking of a solo career. Influenced by a generation of songwriters he listens to every day, Sam felt an urge to follow his own path and write genuine songs he could play all by himself and at any time, unadorned and without pretence.

He started recording demo's during the March lockdown, swiftly landed a record deal and started recording his debut with Nicolas Rombouts (Dez Mona, Ottla, Stef Kamil Carlens) and PJ Decraene (Rhinos are People too) - also his live band - in an old house in the French Vosges mountains.

The first tracks he released did not go unnoticed at national radio, press and streaming playlists alike. Sam is a prolific writer and lyricist, he recorded a 7 track debut mini album, expected in February. We are instantly struck by his stunning vocals, his versatility and maturity as a songwriter, embracing the classics but never without transcending their influence.

Sam De Nef's first solo project is a vehicle to tell his own stories and write songs that come to him in the most natural way. His debut mini album is an inspired collection of visceral folk and singer songwriter tunes, drenched in nostalgia. He's inspired by the likes of Dylan, Jack Kerouac, Leonard Cohen and Karen Dalton, but displays a unique voice and decidedly steers clear of platitudes.

"On my first trip to Serbia, visiting my girlfriends family, I discovered a whole new world in music. People played their songs around the diner table. What I saw was a family sharing food, alcohol and stories everyone could relate to. This experience opened up a new window, the wind blowing inspiration. I want to tell stories and touch people with simple songs and colorful language."

There is a directness and intimacy throughout each of the record's 23 minutes, which both sparks universal melancholy and makes Sam De Nef's debut very personal.

Das zweite Tensnake-Studioalbum "L.A." erscheint nun endlich auf Vinyl. Benannt nach der Metropole an der US-Westküste, in der der Hamburger DJ und Produzent sechs Jahre lang eine Liebesbeziehung erlebte, huldigt Tensnake mit den 14 Tracks seine Liebe zum Pop, was sich besonders in dem Pointer Sisters-Cover "Automatic" widerspiegelt, das allein auf Spotify bereits über 5 Mio. Streams zählt und damit - nach seinem Klassiker "Coma Cat" (2010) - sein zweitmeistgestreamter Hit ist. Tensnakes Zeit in L.A. brachte ein exzellentes House-Pop-Album mit zahlreichen Vocal-Ohrwürmern und entspannten Instrumentals hervor.

Clive Phillips, Dominic Goodman, Peter Blundell are Mosquitoes, a somewhat inscrutable London-based outfit in operation for something close to seven years now, and have released music across a host of celebrated and broad-minded underground labels. Give or take the occasional interview in the less-straight parts of the music press, this is as much formal biography as their music has thus far allowed, for there's something essentially unknowable at the centre of what makes Mosquitoes what they are. So murky is their early history in fact, the first two self-released Mosquitoes records seemed to disappear from sight before really becoming visible. As more records have emerged, those first communications accumulate new meanings, acting as vital documents in tracking the evolution of a band who stand at the vanguard of contemporary British music.

The second of these records, recorded to tape in summer 2016 and first released as a single-sided 12" under the name MOS-002, is arguably the first true iteration of Mosquitoes. Now fittingly renamed Mosquitoes for its reissue as a dubplate-style 10" on World of Echo on 5th March, these five cryptically titled, shape-shifting tracks, see the trio embrace a near-genre-less fluidity, and in doing so express a unique combination of both freedom and intent. By design or instinct, Mosquitoes stand at their own inverted rock nexus, presenting a music that's turned inside out, and in doing so, music that twists the listener the same way.

In that sense, Mosquitoes plug into a long lineage of DIY savant iconoclasts, those outliers who would deny orthodoxy in order to excavate new languages and ideas - The Dead C, This Heat, the anti-formalism of No Wave, David Toop's General Strike. As such, Mosquitoes rely on a musical pluralism in order to take it apart - you must know how something is made before you reassemble it anew. Labelling this an EP may possibly underplay the breadth and ambition of what's on show. Later records would arguably be more cohesive, but what stands as particularly startling with this early work is their fearless and all-encompassing dive into the avant garde. Consider the anti-rockism of the scorched earth 90s re-imagined through a distinctly avant filter of free jazz and dub aesthetics. And it's the latter which perhaps shapes Mosquitoes most, dub the perfect vehicle for the articulation of such wilful anti-formalism. Make no mistake, this is music that's unafraid to be tough, to demand something of the listener and to not ask permission. And to bear witness to a rejection of formalism so aggressively pursued is to be reconciled.

Previously unreleased recordings by various lineups drawn from Derek Bailey, Tristan Honsinger, Christine Jeffrey, Toshinori Kondo, Charlie Morrow, David Toop, Maarten Altena, Georgie Born, Lindsay Cooper, Steve Lacy, Radu Malfatti and Jamie Muir.

Journalists often make the brief history of Free Improvisation conform to the idea that the history of music is a nice straight line from past to present: Beethoven… Brahms… Boulez. Thus Derek Bailey, Evan Parker and John Stevens — together with Brötzmann and co across the Channel — were the trailblazing ‘first generation’, forging a wholly new language alongside contemporary avant-garde and free jazz. Figures like Toshinori Kondo and David Toop, willing as they were to incorporate snippets of all kinds of music, were the pesky ‘second generation’, happily cocking a snook at the ‘ideological purity’ of Bailey’s non-idiomatic improvisation.
‘Company 1981’ shows up the foolishness — the wrongness — of such storylines. Check the eclectic collection of guests Bailey invited to Company Weeks over the years. He had clear ideas about the music, but he was no ideological purist.

One of the founders of Fluxus, Charlie Morrow injects blasts of Cageian fun into half the recordings here, whether blurting military fanfares from his trumpet, or intoning far-flung scraps of speech. Cellist Tristan Honsinger and vocalist Christine Jeffrey join in the joyful glossolalia, while Bailey, Toop and Kondo contribute delicious, delicate, hooligan arabesques, by turns.
The remainder are performed by a different ensemble: Bailey, bassist Maarten Altena, former Henry Cow members Georgie Born and Lindsay Cooper on cello and bassoon, the insanely inventive Jamie Muir on percussion, and trombonist Radu Malfatti, showing his mastery of extended technique. Were that not enough, there’s the inimitable purity of Steve Lacy’s soprano ringing high and clear above the melee. Glorious!

There’s always been this idea that Free Improvisation is somehow Difficult Listening, but when the doors of perception are thrown open and prejudice cast aside, you realise that it’s not difficult at all. “Is it that easy?” chirps Morrow, at one point. Indeed it is.
Enjoy yourself.

At an age of plastic and digital screen reigning, when it is almost impossible to feel anything in front of a contemporary art piece, it is still possible to be moved by a drum machine …. and a keyboard……

There are still artisans and sunday painters who will put a little of their troubles and their humanity at the service of their art. Certainly a merchant of colors in a previous life, Med paints his songs with a Benedictine patience, distilling its doubts in its small pop compositions with soft water reflections where everyone could see themselves as in a mirror.

MED is Médéric Gontier, guitarist of Tahiti 80, first solo effort. Where the band had not often ventured outside English, Med uses the French language and caresses it in the direction of its melodies. Produced with the help of Pedro Resende, these are ten pieces both aerial and aquatic, light but finally of a real consistency.

Immediately pop («Dans ses yeux»), reminiscent of the great French composers of the sixties («Avec toi») and with them that of the English of Broadcast to Vanishing Twin («Muzak»).

It’s a bit time for the Norman to make a pause and for that, to put his nose out, it’s freetime, the one of those who will never claim to be better than the others but whose records will be kept close to the heart.

With his new album, Year Of The Living Dead, Vienna-born and LA-based producer John Tejada finds a blissful extended moment of balance between the new and the familiar. Anyone who’s followed his career to date, which has included four previous albums for Kompakt, outings for storied labels like Plug Research, Playhouse and Cocoon, and numerous remixes and collaborations – most recently, his Wajatta duo with actor and musician Reggie Watts – will immediately sense the warmth and eloquence that Tejada brings to his gilded, pliant techno and electro hybrids. But there’s more here, too; an explorer’s glimmer in the producer’s eye, as he gets to grips with new ways of working and being, while offering a reflective opening for the listener, something echoed in artwork by graphic designer and ‘contemplative artist’ David Grey.

“The album was started using tools I was unfamiliar with, which became an interesting exploratory process,” Tejada says. “Staying away from the obvious and having to re-learn simple things was a fun challenge.” You can hear these new creative pulsions pushing the eight tracks on Year Of The Living Dead ever-forward; the album has an unique cast, and though there are trace elements of the genres Tejada has indulged previously, he’s never quite put them together this way before. There’s the dubwise glitter sprinkled across the moody opener “The Haunting Of Earth”, the kind caresses found amongst the deftly woven textures of “Sheltered”, and the churchy melancholy, all hymnal and golden, of “Echoes Of Life”.

Year Of The Living Dead also speaks obliquely to its moment, though Tejada works this implicitly, allowing the strange circumstances of 2020 to cast their inevitable shadow without being obvious or didactic. “The production process began right before lockdown and continued through what felt like a very serious time for all of us,” he recalls. “Not being able to see or touch our loved ones made me feel we are all like ghosts. We can observe from a distance but cannot really be there. We are isolated and alone.” And yet, Year Of The Living Dead’s tenderness offers an out for that anxiety and loneliness, its intimate immensities gifting the album a redemptive and compassionate core. Compact and glistening, Year Of The Living Dead sculpts unassuming beauty.

Mit seinem neuen Album “Year Of The Living Dead“ findet der in Wien geborene und in Los Angeles lebende Produzent John Tejada die richtige Balance zwischen Neuem und Vertrautem. Wer seine bisherige Karriere verfolgt hat, seine vier Alben für Kompakt, Beiträge für Labels wie Plug Research, Playhouse und Cocoon, zahlreiche Remixe und Kollaborationen wie zuletzt das Projekt Wajatta zusammen mit dem Schauspieler und Musiker Reggie Watts, spürt sofort wieder die Wärme und Eloquenz, die Tejada in seine geschmeidigen Techno-Elektro-Hybride einbringt. Doch es geht auch noch einen Schritt weiter. Da ist dieses Aufblitzen des Entdeckers im Auge eines Produzenten, der sich mit neuen Arbeits- und Seinsweisen auseinandersetzt und dem Zuhörer gleichzeitig etwas sehr Offenes und Nachdenkliches anbietet, etwas, das im Artwork des Grafikdesigners und "kontemplativen Künstlers" David Grey nachklingt.

"Ich hatte angefangen, das Album mit mir noch unbekannten Tools zu produzieren, was sich zu einem interessanten Forschungsprozess für mich entwickelte", sagt Tejada. "Sich vom allzu Offensichtlichen zu trennen und einfache mal Dinge neu lernen zu müssen, war eine recht spaßige Herausforderung.“ Man kann diese neuen kreativen Impulse hören, die “Year Of The Living Dead“ auf einer Länge von 8 Tracks nach vorne treiben; das Album hat einen einzigartigen Ansatz, denn obwohl es Elemente der Genres gibt, denen Tejada zuvor gefrönt hat, hatte er sie doch noch nie zuvor so zusammengefügt wie hier. Da ist dieses dubbige Glitzern im atmosphärischen Opener "The Haunting Of Earth", die freundlichen Zärtlichkeiten, die man in den Texturen von "Sheltered" findet, und schließlich die heilige Melancholie im hymnischen "Echoes Of Life".

Auch “Year Of The Living Dead“ enthält Andeutungen auf die momentane Situation und erlaubt es, den seltsamen Umständen des Jahres 2020, ihren unvermeidlichen Schatten zu werfen, ohne dabei zu offensichtlich oder gar belehrend zu sein. "Der Produktionsprozess begann kurz vor dem (ersten) Lockdown und setzte sich in einer Zeit fort, die sich für uns alle als eine sehr ernste Zeit anfühlte", erinnert er sich. "Da wir nicht in der Lage waren, unsere Lieben zu sehen oder zu berühren, hatte ich das Gefühl, dass wir alle wie Geister sind. Wir können nur distanzierte Beobachter sein, aber wir können nicht wirklich anwesend sein. Wir sind isoliert und allein." Und doch scheint die Zärtlichkeit von "Year Of The Living Dead" einen Ausweg aus dieser Angst und Einsamkeit anzubieten, die grenzenlose Intimität des Albums enthält einen erlösenden und mitfühlenden Kern. Derart konsistent und schillernd formt "Year Of The Living Dead" eine unprätentiöse Schönheit.

Mouse on Mars, the Berlin-based duo of Jan St. Werner and Andi Toma, approach electronic music with an inexhaustible curiosity and unparalleled ingenuity. ‘AAI’ (Anarchic Artificial Intelligence) takes their fascination with technology and undogmatic exploration a quantum leap further.
Emerging from a primordial ooze of rolling bass and skittering electronics, hypnotic polyrhythms and pulsing synthesizers propel the listener across the
record’s expanse. Hidden in the duo’s hyper-detailed productions is a kind of meta-narrative.
Working with AI tech collective Birds on Mars and former Soundcloud
programmers Ranny Keddo and Derrek Kindle, the duo collaborated on the creation of bespoke software capable of modelling speech; text and voice from writer and scholar of African Studies Louis Chude-Sokei and DJ/producer Yağmur Uçkunkaya were fed into the software as a model, allowing Toma and Werner to control parameters like speed or mood, thereby creating a kind of speech
instrument they could control and play as they would a synthesizer.
The album’s narrative is quite literally mirrored in the music - the sound of an artificial intelligence growing, learning and speaking. This exploration of artificial intelligence as both a narrative framework and compositional tool, allowing the duo to summon their most explicitly science-fiction work to date. Original artwork by Casey Reas, inventor of the computer graphics language Processing.
Recently, Mouse on Mars received the 2020 Holger Czukay Prize for Pop Music.
Mouse on Mars have been regularly streaming performances throughout 2020, partnering with organizations like Goethe-Institut, Haus der Kulturen der Welt, Conditions of a Necessity and others and will continue these in 2021.
‘AAI’ is available on grey or black double LP packaged in a single sleeve with full colour insert / lyrics. CD comes with 8-panel poster booklet.
“Andi Toma and Jan St. Werner continue to create soundscapes that blur the line between programming and live musicianship, and sometimes between Earth and outer space.” - AV Club
“Enthralling and impossible to categorize.” - Pitchfork
“Sustained and ephemeral electronic sounds conjure unearthly open spaces… It’s not a song; it’s sound as a temporal phenomenon, a few minutes of sculpted attention.” - The New York Times

Vampa were just kids, 13-14 years old, when they recorded and released their raw and very Iron Maidenesque 45 back in 1982. DIY all by themselves… The lyrics (sung in Swedish) is the ultimate hate for school-anthem. The boredom and frustration of (barely) teenage kids totally sick of school and its teachers has rarely been captured in a better and more enjoyable way. Even though the lyrics are in Swedish the language that grabs the listener as the needle is dropped into the groove is universal. Original 45 is near impossible to find. On The Dole Records found the members, got loads of rare photos that fills up the printed inner sleeve.
Comes with new original artwork by Swedish artist Oscar Nordblom, the guy behind the notorious Jobcentre Rejects-drawings
File under: ”beyond essential to any serious rock’n’roll fan”.

A fixture on Copenhagen's music scene for nearly two decades, Nikolaj Jakobsen, aka Sugar, has to date thrived on concentrating - usually to the point of obsession - on one type of music at a time. Early on, it was punk: from his mid-teens he lived in the legendary squat and artistic community Ungdomshuset, toured worldwide with punk and metal bands, and was completely immersed in and dedicated to the city's DIY punk and metal scene.

Then in 2012 he set foot in a techno club for the first time, and his laser-like focus turned in that direction. Jakobsen began producing fast techno under the Sugar alias, and co-founded Fast Forward Productions, an agency and party that has gathered together the city's previously disparate band of fast techno and trance producers, DJs and collectives. Fast Forward has been instrumental in launching the careers of the likes of Schacke, Repro, Funeral Future and Rune Bagge, as well as Jakobsen himself.

Now Jakobsen is launching a new label that, even down to its name, is an open challenge to himself to focus on multiple musical styles at once. Perfumery, of which the Eyes Cream EP is the inaugural release, will be a home for his productions under the Sugar name and other aliases, as well as collaborative efforts with others. The label's open remit defies definitive categorisation of is to come, but its second release will be an abstract, atmospheric album by the cimbalom and tuba player and composer Anders Bo Eriksen, aka OPICA. On that record's heels will be collaborative projects with D.Dan and HVAD, as well as an experimental-minded debut LP by Jakobsen as Sugar.

Though Perfumery will be a platform for the exploration of new musical territories, Eyes Cream comprises four fast-techno hardware jams in Jakobsen's signature style. As well as showing off his knack for punning in a second language, opener Bright Side Of The Spoon is a classic Copenhagen splicing of darkness and light, with insistent, ominous bass waves leavened by twinkling synth textures. On the surface the middle two tracks, Eyes Cream and Try Me, are harder, flintier, Detroit-referencing tools. Just beneath, however, lurks the texture and warmth that is one of Copenhagen techno's prime calling cards. Perhaps the greatest treat of the EP is saved for last: Once And For No One is a gorgeous, gauzy, end-of-the-night banger that packs a hefty emotional punch.

All proceeds from physical and digital sales of the first EP on Perfumery will go to Sea-Watch.Org, a German NGO dedicated to saving migrants trying to reach Europe on stricken vessels in the Mediterranean.

Conceived and produced by Luciano Cantone, co-founder of Schema Records, and written by Alex Puddu, The Afro Soul Prophecy is a musical project that stands out of time and trends and that finally releases a full-length after some 2017 singles/Ep's. "Heat in the City" is an almost completely instrumental black funk music-based album, that often indulges in afrobeat, latin, disco and urban blaxploitation music. The multi-ethnic nature of this project ensures a multi-faceted work, where the music language has been able to unite musicians from all over the world.

‘Dekalb Works’ is the collaborative project of Austin Peru (Vision Fortune) & Daniel Creahan (Sweat Equity / Alien D). Born out of a shared deep sociological interest of dialects and cultural frameworks, and the effects these have on meaning within modes of speech, the pair here delve into the dialects of their own beginnings, mining US/British regional accents and weaving these situational scenes through a textured, intentionally disjointed, hand made soundscape of bass tension and fleeting, glistening melody – adding additional layers of emotion and meaning to everyday observations of language.

‘Duologue’ intends to blur the lines between perceived and constructed reality, occupying a gauzy, dreamlike space shared by the likes of Hype Williams & James Ferraro, where foggy sonars & deep subs provide the backbone to both eccentric and mundane ephemeral flutters of dialect.

‘Duologue’ revels in its variance of linguistic stylings – from the deep US south religious lament of ‘of a’ hovering above an ambience of Zither & Bells, to the doom laden sax skronk and vocal stutter of ‘with’, to the creeping stripped micro dub of ‘only’ which allows the familiar hue of the British news reader and typical West Midlands dialectical moments to clash – aptly documenting of an impending collision.

This is certainly one for heads into all things slow & spacious - for sure there’s a lot to digest and get lost in here across the records quite intentionally intoxicating ark, where touch points and historical nods range from Laraaji’s signature ambience to Ernest Hood’s visionary ‘Neighbourhoods’, filtered through modern outer sound explorers such as John T. Gast, Mark Lecky, and the bass minimalism of SND.

Katy Kirby is a Texas-based songwriter and indie rock practitioner with an affinity for unspoken rules, misunderstanding and boredom. She was born, raised and homeschooled by two ex-cheerleaders in small-town Texas and started singing in church, amidst the pasteurised-pop choruses of evangelical worship. Like many bible belt late-millennials, Katy grew up on a strict diet of this dependably uncool genre and accordingly, Cool Dry Place finds her dismantling it. "I can hear myself fighting that deeply internalized impulse to make things that are super pleasant or approachable," she says. Though Katy hasn't fully overcome the itch to please, it's to a listener's benefit. Instead of eradicating the pop sensibilities of her past, she warps them, lacing sugary hooks with sneaky rage, twisting affectionate tones into matter-of-fact reproach, and planting seemingly serene melodies with sonic jabs. The fun is in the clash. The nine tracks that make up Cool Dry Place are miscellaneous in subject (motherhood, late capitalism, disintegrating relationships) but unified by the angle from which they're told: from a person re-learning to process life with intense attention. Each song is a catalogue of fragments, the number of segments in an orange or the cut of an obsessively-worn shirt, distilled into meditations on the bizarre and microscopic exchanges that make up modern life - a relationship splintering, an uncomfortable pause, an understanding finally found. These emotional dioramas are moderated by the angular storytelling that unites Gillian Welch and Phoebe Bridgers, a favour for the conventions of short fiction over confession.

Katy Kirby is a Texas-based songwriter and indie rock practitioner with an affinity for unspoken rules, misunderstanding and boredom. She was born, raised and homeschooled by two ex-cheerleaders in small-town Texas and started singing in church, amidst the pasteurised-pop choruses of evangelical worship. Like many bible belt late-millennials, Katy grew up on a strict diet of this dependably uncool genre and accordingly, Cool Dry Place finds her dismantling it. "I can hear myself fighting that deeply internalized impulse to make things that are super pleasant or approachable," she says. Though Katy hasn't fully overcome the itch to please, it's to a listener's benefit. Instead of eradicating the pop sensibilities of her past, she warps them, lacing sugary hooks with sneaky rage, twisting affectionate tones into matter-of-fact reproach, and planting seemingly serene melodies with sonic jabs. The fun is in the clash. The nine tracks that make up Cool Dry Place are miscellaneous in subject (motherhood, late capitalism, disintegrating relationships) but unified by the angle from which they're told: from a person re-learning to process life with intense attention. Each song is a catalogue of fragments, the number of segments in an orange or the cut of an obsessively-worn shirt, distilled into meditations on the bizarre and microscopic exchanges that make up modern life - a relationship splintering, an uncomfortable pause, an understanding finally found. These emotional dioramas are moderated by the angular storytelling that unites Gillian Welch and Phoebe Bridgers, a favour for the conventions of short fiction over confession.

Die Hot Rats waren Gaz Coombes (Supergrass) und Danny Goffey die sich den Spaß machten Songs ihrer Jugend zu covern. Überwacht hat das Ganze dann noch Star-Producer Nigel Godrich. Neben Songs von Bowie, Kinks, Velvet Underground, Sex Pistols u.a.. 180 Gr. und Clear Vinyl ersetzen die längst vergriffene Doppel-10" zum RecordStore Day 2020.

Running Circle presents China-born DJ and producer Guohan, with his debut LP Lost Sound Book.
The 16 track publication charters an otherworldly inward journey, with influences ranging from ancestral rock carvings to bustling city streets, mythical tales to sunrise and sunset. Guohan draws from many places and cultures, hiphop and jazz, traditional music and everyday life, documenting the moods and colours left out from today’s society.
The fractured rhythms and harmonies on Lost Sound Book feel like a reconstruction of memories and missing links.

Eternal Tears of Sorrow's long career kicked off with the more thrash metalish debut album in 1997, but it was on the 1998 follow-up Vilda Mánnu ("Wild Moon" in the Sami language of indigenous Lapplandish people) that the band really carved their own niche amid the crowded metal scene. Hailing from Finnish Lappland, ETOS are best known for well-crafted, fierce but melancholic melodic death metal with symphonic overtones, of which this album, their Spinefarm Records debut, is a prime example. This pressing comes in a gatefold sleeve and has been carefully remastered for vinyl.

Culminating at 430m of altitude, mount Aïdour has been looking over the city of Oran for centuries. Legendary tales and myths are born in this place that have been inspiring writers through generations. It is there that the seeds and the roots of this record were planted, inspiring me to tell a story as well. 4 tracks about 4 destinations through a country of splendor. From North to South, East to West, from one century to another.Based on local field recordings associated with modern machines, this is the continuation of the legends started generations ago.

Bab is a member of French collectives 404 and Pardonnez Nous. He's currently making a documentary about Algerian Raï music which led him to visit the country multiple times recently and inspired him to do this dark and haunted EP, reminiscing of Muslimgauze.

Hunt & Gather’s debut vinyl release comes by way of Pezzner’s cryptic moniker “The Native Language”. Written as a quasi-homeless man living off the rich in the San Juan Islands who writes music once per year to suffice his own delusions.

Walking the streets in these damp, anxious days that all run together lately, I was approached by a man who would blend right into the neighborhood, layered in flannel and sweatshirts for sleeping.

Rough, but for his shoes. (Never cheap out on anything that separates you from the ground.) “Pezzner,” he called out, from a safe distance. “What did the mangrove say to the marauding hordes.” My soul left my body for a moment and my voice responded on its own. “Petrichor.”

He caught my eye, nodded, left a padded envelope on the ground and vanished. The envelope had passed through many hands, slipped into the bed of a ferry-bound truck, passed from one fellow traveler to another, stashed under the counters of anarchist bookstores, left tucked between books at Little Free Libraries. The greenish stains suggested that at one point it had been swum across a lake. Another DAT, contents encoded here unabridged, and a letter from someone who called himself The Sentinel.

The Vessel lived out his days on Shaw Island, under a canopy of trees that gets smaller and smaller every season. His condition the same, any electricity lit his brain on fire, could only bring himself to compose one day a year, only at night, out of sight. Until he met The Angel, an eccentric with means, who built for him a device.

A Faraday Cage to block all electromagnetic emissions. Burlap walls, for atmosphere. A system of pulleys and levers, wood and rope, all running into a box that sat outside. An entirely mechanical control surface. No electrons in here. The Vessel lit fires, watched the shadows dance, closed his eyes and disappeared into the motion for hours at a time. The Sentinel came every morning to change the tapes. The Angel watched and pondered, his plans unknown.

The box sat sealed, bare except for another set of ideograms, scratched in day by day over time. Inside, the usual bedroom-producer shit. Outside, the ideograms told a story, passed from the Vessel to the Sentinel and drawn by the Angel, of a man who became another creature. Alert to the lowest frequencies, feeling music deep in the soil below their feet. Music that brings messages, from distant friends, warning of new creatures and the danger they brought. Skin alive to the world, so sensitive it can detect the landing of a single fly. A mind capable of keeping a map of the world inside. A mind that can look in a mirror and see a soul it knows well. A mind that can grieve.

After processing its contents, I filled the envelope with granola bars and walked it down to the market. The clerk gave me a knowing look as I placed it on the counter behind a stack of pork rinds from the previous century. As I walked out, a young man carrying a plastic bag and wearing impeccable shoes walked in.

Angel Tears in Sunlight is Pauline Anna Strom's first album in over thirty years; an assemblage of music that refracts the expansiveness, and minutiae, of imagined realms while embracing the kaleidoscopic echoes of our distant epochs. The capacity to collapse time might elucidate the enigma of Pauline Anna Strom. A mystic force in music, emerging during the dawn of new age as the Trans-Millenia Consort, the pioneering synthesist channelled primordial energies into future-facing sound through a series of full-length releases between 1982 and 1988. Little was known about her, except by a constellation of devoted followers who saw a unique legacy forming amidst the (mostly male) synthesist canon of the time. Following the 2017 release of Trans-Millenia Music, an anthology revitalizing the most evocative parts of Strom's catalog, the Bay Area visionary sensed the universe telling her to return to music. As with her work in the 80s, Angel Tears in Sunlight was composed and recorded in the same San Francisco apartment where Strom has lived for almost four decades in synthesis with her machines and "dinosaurs." Populated by a compact array of modern instruments that streamline the sound of her analog past and her beloved iguanas, Little Soulstice and Ms Huff, the terrarium of her home forms an intimate yet limitless ecosystem that defies the constraints of the outside world. Within this sanctuary, Strom becomes lost in time, drawing on the ancient energies of her inner visions. Her hardware forms the crux of translating these ideas into sound. "It's the only way this stuff can be pulled out of myself, the universe, Little Soulstice, an ammonite_," Strom notes. "It couldn't be done without this machinery, because there's no other way to draw and capture these frequencies into sonic interpretation." Strom's process of recording transient live-takes enriches the mystery of her work. She renders the machinery a composer itself, a cohabitation with a living other. "Many musicians wouldn't go that far because of ego," Strom muses. "The equipment has to become part of you and your creativity. That's how I think it all comes together." Music-making becomes a harmonic language of intuition with an instrument, where Strom cultivates sound for a harvest that defies season. Shaped by circadian contours, Angel Tears in Sunlight is a celestial observatory of earthborn phonic mosaics. Strom uncovers a symbiosis between hardware frequencies and apparitions of nature in the record's arena of organic tones, emulating the melodic pulses of primeval terrain. The album transcends both shadow and light, falling to hushed stretches of sound as if not to awaken antediluvian animals, before soaring through the treetops where ancient skies peer over reptilian traffic and unsparing rains.

Katy Kirby is a Texas-based songwriter and indie rock practitioner with an affinity for unspoken rules, misunderstanding and boredom. She was born, raised and homeschooled by two ex-cheerleaders in small-town Texas and started singing in church, amidst the pasteurised-pop choruses of evangelical worship. Like many bible belt late-millennials, Katy grew up on a strict diet of this dependably uncool genre and accordingly, Cool Dry Place finds her dismantling it. "I can hear myself fighting that deeply internalized impulse to make things that are super pleasant or approachable," she says. Though Katy hasn't fully overcome the itch to please, it's to a listener's benefit. Instead of eradicating the pop sensibilities of her past, she warps them, lacing sugary hooks with sneaky rage, twisting affectionate tones into matter-of-fact reproach, and planting seemingly serene melodies with sonic jabs. The fun is in the clash. The nine tracks that make up Cool Dry Place are miscellaneous in subject (motherhood, late capitalism, disintegrating relationships) but unified by the angle from which they're told: from a person re-learning to process life with intense attention. Each song is a catalogue of fragments, the number of segments in an orange or the cut of an obsessively-worn shirt, distilled into meditations on the bizarre and microscopic exchanges that make up modern life - a relationship splintering, an uncomfortable pause, an understanding finally found. These emotional dioramas are moderated by the angular storytelling that unites Gillian Welch and Phoebe Bridgers, a favour for the conventions of short fiction over confession.

Though any and all vocals on De Sidera are wordless, language is central to the album. ‘I try to make my vocalisms sound like words,’ she explains, ‘but it is a kind of invented language.
Somehow the form, the signifier, is enough to express meaning, sense, emotion.’ Burelli notes that this concept has resonance with her practice in Greek and Turkish music, in which wordless vocals and instrumental improvisations are common.
This is front and center on a song like the title track ‘De Sidera,’ where Burelli’s rising and falling vocals dance atop an undulating, contemplative bassline - close your eyes, and the clear tides of the Mediterranean lap at the sand - her wordless intonations guiding you to a tranquil state.
Burelli surrenders to the natural world and the ineffability of words - on De Sidera she shares the gem of universality she discovered while doing so.

Influenced by a life split between Lima, London, and Twentynine Palms, Peru-born M. Caye Castagnetto’s Leap Second is an intriguingly personal and hard to classify debut album. The album is a thick collage of samples Caye recorded with different artists and musicians, including Beatrice Dillon and the late Aileen Bryant, that spans five years in the making. There is something in Leap Second that tracks the speed of bodies, how they approach and retreat. The ten tracks are speedy and languid, thick ruffles, and dirges. In parts it feels like one’s stumbled upon a forgotten incredible ’70s folk record but that feeling gets broken quickly by clever sleights of hand. Caye’s balladry is angular, time is elastic. Each song is a fresh cape. How dandies really mean it, so masc- that it’s fay, how the only moment is this one and it’s just passed, etcetera.“While it doesn’t really sound like anything else, there are moments that feel like a Latin-flavored Nico, that’s edging its way towards some of the outings of the Sun City Girls. In my opinion it checks all the boxes, by checking none of them.” —Bjorn Copeland, Black Dice “A truly interesting conglomeration of loose inspirations and conjurings. A hard to decipher sound all together which makes it worth every moment...a sprinkling of Catherine Ribeiro, Dr. John, Terje Rypdal and Nico. Far-out sun-soaked odysseys and moon-dappled woodland night creepers...” —John Dwyer

African-born, Baltimore-based experimental hip-hop producer Infinity Knives joins PhantomLimb for the release of his unique debut album Dear, Sudan, a vibrant and polymathic labyrinth of moods and colours.

Infinity Knives - aka producer and musician Tariq Ravelomanana - moved from Tanzania (via Kenya, South Africa and Madagascar) to Baltimore with his family as a teenager, soaking up the raw,vociferous hip hop culture around him, devouring Western classical music, and embedding himself with the city’s verdant music scene. This unique combination of life experiences and contrasting strands of musical education empowered and enabled him to create his Infinity Knives guise, allowing us a window into his singular energy with Dear, Sudan.

​Tariq writes “Music has always been my medium. Since I was a child living in Tanzania, music has been my babysitter. The one central idea I kept dwelling on was that all humans experience sorrow, but despite the fact that it's universal, we still experience it as if we were alone.”

Appropriately, Infinity Knives casts a wide and thrilling net. Dear, Sudan runs like a masterful showreel of deftly balanced disparate elements, a late night channel-hopping between multiple, vital, powerful musics. Tariq himself offers “experimental, drone, hip hop, leftfield minimalism, neo-classical and Baltimore” as his key styles. “I wanted Dear, Sudan to be a record of the things that I enjoy, the things that keep me coming back to this life and I wanted it to be in the language I understand the most. I hope that this album can be a companion to those in need.”

You could think of the collection of tracks here as a library record of sorts, and each track inhabits its own universe. Tropical fits various moods and situations, and it could soundtrack any number of activities at home or on a dancefloor - whether real, imaginary, or hallucinated. Strangely enough, it sounds like it could have been constructed from obscure Italian library breaks, when instead every instrument has been played and panned, several times over, across magnetic tape.

The genesis of many of these tracks began when CV Vision moved to Berlin in 2014. His flat had a small chamber where he could fit a drum set, so he treated the walls with foam, and in true DIY style, dived headfirst into recording these tracks. It was the natural next step on an audio adventure that first began when CV Vision picked up the guitar in his teens, and a couple years later started recording with friends in his home town of Bayreuth. Fast forward ten years and here is his debut - a culmination of practising chops and learning instruments, mastering recording techniques and fine-tuning the CV Vision sound.

It’s a sound that condenses elements of acid rock, psych soul, library funk and new wave oddities into a movie soundtrack for your mind. It’s a journey from ‘60s west coast LSD-drenched excursions to ‘80s synth and post-punk mutations. Tropical is a plunge into another time, another music you can simply swim around in and explore.

Side A opens up with Tropical Tune In, which rides in on a clave and a warm wind, blowing a distinctly herbal aroma and recalling exotica dons like Les Baxter and Martin Denny. Following on with the aural equivalent of a sea breeze through your mind, Spaziergang am Meer blows away the cobwebs and conjures some nice library moments like Stringtronics or F eelings . Next, Ba_c_k(Lava) bounces out of a cold wave post-punk melting pot and crashes through the speakers like a blazed Zebedee, with some sweet eastern synths for added flavour, before the rolling bass licks of Der Böse Schamane take us into another dimension, landing somewhere between a psych rock freak out and a Black Ark dub session. Mr Maze channels the arpeggiators of synth outsiders like Mort Garson and Bruce Haack, creating a glorious interlock of robotic electronics and freakbeat vocals. The side comes to a close with the guitars of Der Strand (außer Rand und Band) letting loose like syrupy springs, and setting a languid mood like the bedroom scene in Bedazzled (1967 version). Side B kicks off with Parallel Universum, which comes through like a woozy krautrock workout, all ducking synths with big chord shifts to create an epic deranged beehive of a soundtrack. Im Land der Ameisen evokes the spirit if not the sound of White Rabbit, when logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead, before waking up and wandering through the side alleys of Marrakech with the West Coast Pop Art Ensemble and the Electric Prunes, as Ritual (No. 4) blares out the speakers of passing tuk tuks. Ein Wasserfall plumbs the deep synth depths, like Raymond Scott in scuba gear, modular rack strapped to his back delivering oxygen as he swims between connector cables and seaweed forests through a watery underworld. Banana King sounds like a lost soundtrack to Donkey Kong or Mario Cart, if the cart radio was tuned into a synth

documentary hosted by James Pants, while Das Kloster am Berg takes the baton from Brenda Ray and her Naffi cohorts, all dubbed-out niceness and post punk swagger. The LP closes out with Tropical Drop Out, a dreamscape rather than a wake up call, coaxing you deeper into the trek across the desert of your mind.

And that’s Tropical in its essence: capsules from another time, snapshots of another sound, messages from another mind - all in the service of inducing the visions in your head.

written by Max Cole

Hot on the heels of our tentacular project "The Most Famous Unknown", Planet Phuture is proud to welcome rising French talent Cuften to the fold. A most fitting match for PP's phuture-facing vision, Damien Peltier has been pushing some of the finest techno around over the last couple of years, landing a handful memorable cuts via the likes of Parisian label Tripalium and his own imprint, Purusu. Cloaked in dim-lit atmospheres and open-ended post-apocalyptic narratives, his debut solo 12" blends in all of the elements that made his sound stand out from the crowd of releases coming up these days - traversed by dogged primitive rhythms and reassessed 303-infused Detroit'isms, but also stamped with his signature no-frills rave elegance.

Speeding up the cosmic highway like Deckard roams San Fran's neon-splattered alleys on the hunt for replicants, Cuften takes us on a full-immersion journey into dystopian electronic soundscapes. Full-beam on, "Solar Ashes" has us drifting amidst ruins of a devastated city - its lysergic bass languidly threading its way across brutalist concrete facades and cold ember set for reignition. A more martial affair, "The Black Rain Order" pulls out the rattling drums, slo-boiling arpeggios and moebius-strips of wistful acid to score a supremely tense crescendo, both optimally tasted on and off the dance floor.

Moving up closer to the free-spirited vibe of the '90s open-air raves, "Rise Of The Neo-Humans" unleashes a baroque firestorm of sucker-punchy toms and hyperventilating shuffle, woven against an endlessly expanding corolla of hallucinogenic shapes and fluttering harmonics. Sinking further deep into all-dark dubby grounds, "Lasttt Batttle" extrudes its obsessive melody out a thick gangue of squelchy chords and bleepin' engineering to form the kind of brain-washing hybrid pumper that'll roast your last remaining neurones. Trouble-brewing isn't over though and the droney "Kjhfskjoize" shall take you to places unknown through eleven minutes of envelope-shifting shamanism, thinking noise bake-off and gravity-defying arrangements. Bend your mind.

"Don't Turn Me From Your Door" - John Lee Hooker (g, voc), Earl Hooker, Eddie Kirkland (g), a.o

John Lee Hooker is not only a mystery but also an interesting man to study. Some, like the author Jacques Demêtre called the musician from Mississippi »the most raw and African of all blues players from a musical point of view«, while the critic Net Hentoff was awestruck by Hooker’s unfiltered power of expression that could scare the pants off a listener taken unawares. The numbers on this LP bear witness to the fact that Hooker’s musical language could stir one’s emotions deeply, even without the meaty 'boom boom'. Each title is like a raw diamond, which is intentionally uncut and is to be perceived with directness. With a stutter and a slur in his speech, the singer declaims his song over a twangy guitar, which is driven along by the rhythmic meter. A final farewell is taken sluggishly and sullenly in the forthright text of "You Lost A Good Man", and even a song without words ("Misbelieving Baby") ponders a question in a purely instrumental monologue. Apart from a dash of boogie ("Pouring Down Rain") Hooker avoids all manner of sweet sounds and harmonies. He remains austerely raw, mercilessly honest, occasionally unforgiving and denies all thoughts of any kind regarding going 'back to the roots'. This sound IS the root of it all.

This Speakers Corner LP was remastered using pure analogue components only, from the master tapes through to the cutting head. More information under pure-analogue.

All royalties and mechanical rights have been paid.

Recording: 1953 in Cincinnati (OH) and July 1961 in Miami (FL)

Production: Henry Stone

The Body is a prolific musical force whose creativity is matched only by the astonishing weight of their sound. Duo Lee Buford and Chip King have established their own musical language that reimagines how rhythm, dynamics, and sonics can shape or dismantle song structure. Over the course of two decades, the duo has consistently challenged assumptions and defied categorization, redefining what it means to be a heavy band. On their new album, The Body are again pushing limits and testing the boundaries of the studio to explore the extremes and microtonality of distortion to find its maximal impact. I've Seen All I Need To See is The Body at their most incisively bleak, a towering monolith of noise.

The Body is a prolific musical force whose creativity is matched only by the astonishing weight of their sound. Duo Lee Buford and Chip King have established their own musical language that reimagines how rhythm, dynamics, and sonics can shape or dismantle song structure. Over the course of two decades, the duo has consistently challenged assumptions and defied categorization, redefining what it means to be a heavy band. On their new album, The Body are again pushing limits and testing the boundaries of the studio to explore the extremes and microtonality of distortion to find its maximal impact. I've Seen All I Need To See is The Body at their most incisively bleak, a towering monolith of noise.

‘‘I am not as other detectives!’
Presently in triple gatefold vinyl for the very first time, Dirk Gently – The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul sees Harry Enfield return as the singular detective in this full-cast BBC radio dramatisation of the novel by Douglas Adams. First broadcast on Radio 4 in 2008, these fantastically entertaining comedy sci-fi dramas are adapted and directed by Dirk Maggs, acclaimed for his dramatisations of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Good Omens, Neverwhere and many others.
When Dirk Gently’s long-suffering secretary, Janice, resigns to work in an airport, it’s the beginning of a very strange adventure for both of them. The detective takes to reading palms whilst dressed as an old gypsy woman, but meanwhile the ancient Norse God Odin has fallen into the hands of an unscrupulous advertising executive (and her husband). Bring on Odin’s son, Thor, a godlike curse that turns Janice into a vending machine, and countless other interconnected things…
Starring Harry Enfield as Dirk Gently and Olivia Colman as Janice, with Billy Boyd as Richard MacDuff, Laurel Lefkow as Kate Schechter, Stephen Moore as Odin, John Fortune as Dr Standish, Philip Jackson as the Vagrant, Jan Ravens as Cynthia Draycott and Peter Davison as Simon Draycott, with a guest cast including Rupert Degas, Morwenna Banks, Sally Grace, Jon Glover, Michael Fenton Stevens and Susan Sheridan, and music by Philip Pope. Adapted by Dirk Maggs and John Langdon from the novel of the same name by Douglas Adams. Directed by Dirk Maggs.
Three 140g coloured vinyl discs – in Holistic Red, Yellow and Blue - are presented in an illustratedc triple gatefold sleeve, with an exclusive sleeve note by Dirk Maggs.

In his essay ‘The Meaning of My Avant-Garde Hillbilly and Blues Music’, Henry Flynt talks about how his music should be analysed as an intellectual tribute to the music of the autochtone, setting aside plain folk references, but adopting academic insights to mold the music one makes as a folk creature. Much of Flynt’s discourse applies to the music of Glen Steenkiste’s Hellvete. Over the past twenty years he has been thoroughly investigating both the ethnic musical language of various regions as well as the contemporary pioneers that preceded him as a drone musician, internalizing concepts such as e.g. deep listening or just intonation. Casting off any redundant ideas or sounds, and stripping down the focus to develop singular concepts, his working method lead to pieces such as ‘Droomharmonium’, in which he shapes the endless variations on a theme, emphasizing detail and nuance rather than multitude. The Indian harmonium here serves as the main device to worship ancient ghosts and masters, and to preserve a continuum in a tradition that touches both folk and avant-garde culture. The materialisations are sustained tone compositions which become a means of appreciation of the people and cultures that paved the way for forms of mutual escapism. This might well be the core of what Hellvete’s music is about. As much as it is a form of self-entertainment – like folk music in the old days – it also invites the listener to a shared experience of sonic reverie, it is a casual gift to the community.

This is certainly true for the pieces presented on this album. They were first presented in a smoke filled and darkened art space in Ghent, Steenkiste surrounded by only a couple of candles and just enough stage light to see him erratically moving to the rhythm of the piece, occasionally twiddling the knobs of a Doepfer synth that processed the prerecorded harmonium tracks. Unlike most of his other performances this piece embraced the audience in a trance that was similar to that of an old-school rave club. Flynt writes: ‘The music should be intellectually fascinating because the listener can perceive and participate in its rhythmic and melodic intricacies, audacity of organization, etc. At the same time, the music should be kinesthetic, that is, it should encourage dancing.’ ‘Voor Harmonium’ does exactly that; it builds on the artistic ideas that have long been established in Hellvete’s oeuvre, but the ecstatic nature of these pieces merges the usual spiritual transcendence with one of determined physical bliss. It encourages both mind and body to step into the sound, to be enraptured, to celebrate.

Wretched Cuts is the new solo EP by gender-nonconforming techno artist, Projekt Gestalten. The release comes via the New York’s Mild Fantasy imprint run by DJ Elle Dee and features three original themes focusing on introspective techno plus a remix by veteran, The Lady Machine.

The project reflects an array of themes using as the starting point the story of Estamira and the Brazilian documentary of the same name, telling her life story. Estamira was an incredibly enlightened older woman who scattered one of the largest landfills of Rio de Janeiro for food. Not because she had to, but because she loved that place as she loved “her own children” and enjoyed making a living out of other people’s disposable goods. Simultaneously, while dealing with schizophrenia and abuse, she believed she was a superior spiritual being whose magical powers could control time, space, and other elements of nature.

The tracks are inspired by some of her most memorable quotes and moments that made an impact on Projekt Gestalten. “Wise People In Reverse” goes into a darker approach and samples Estamira’s voice talking in a mysterious unknown language with an unrevealed force, using only a broken piece of a telephone that she had just found it in the trash. “Morte Macaca” takes a rhythmic approach towards dub techno, and “Holographic Principle” gets trippier and hallucinogenic with Projekt Gestalten’s signature acid lines. The Lady Machine’s “Wise People In Reverse” remix takes the original theme to a driving, peak hour approach and transforms it into an effective DJ tool.

“There are no more innocent people on Earth, only wise people in reverse”.

Ein einzigartiger Künstler an einem legendären Ort: Tripping with Nils Frahm dokumentiert seine transzendentalen Liveshows in der geschichtsträchtigen Kulisse des Funkhaus Berlin. Gleich vier Shows im Funkhaus Berlin gaben den Auftakt zu Nils Frahms ambitionierter All Melody Tournee Anfang 2018, die sein gleichnamiges und allseits gepriesenes Studioalbum in den nächsten zwei Jahren auf die Bühnen dieser Welt brachte. In den folgenden über 180 ausverkauften Shows war der Ausnahmekünstler unter anderem im Sydney Opera House, in der Disney Hall in Los Angeles, im Barbican in London, in der Elbphilharmonie sowie auf zahlreichen großen Festivalbühnen zu Gast. Dennoch blieben Frahm die Konzerte im ehrwürdigen und für seine großartige Akustik gerühmten Saal 1 im Funkhaus Berlin in,mm besonderer Erinnerung.

Als Frahm ein knappes Jahr später zu vier weiteren Konzerten im Funkhaus einlud, waren die Tickets binnen Stunden vergriffen. Frahms langjähriger Freund und Filmemacher Benoit Toulemonde, der unter bereits für die Film-Konzertserie La Blogothèque mit zahlreichen weltbekannten Künstler-innen und Bands zusammenarbeitete, hielt die Abende an diesem geschichtsträchtigen Ort mit einem siebenköpfigen Kamera-Team fest.

Tripping with Nils Frahm ist ein Dokument Frahms vielfach gepriesener Fähigkeiten als Komponist und passionierter Live- Musiker sowie der besonderen Stimmung und Atmosphäre seiner legendären Funkhaus-Shows. Ein außergewöhnlicher musikalischer Trip — exklusiv und intim, roh und direkt.

"It was about time to document my concerts in picture and sound, trying to freeze a moment of this period where my team and I were nomads, using any method of travel to play yet another show the next day. Maybe tonight is the night where everything works out perfectly and things fall into place? Normally things go wrong with concerts, but by combining our favorite moments of four performances, we were able to achieve what I was trying to do in

these two years of touring: getting it right! When you hear the applause on the end of the film you should know that I was smiling happily, being a tad proud and feeling blessed to share these moments with you.

Much love, Nils"

Itzhak Perlman, the supreme violinist of his time, performs the supreme works for unaccompanied violin. In preparing the Bach Sonatas and Partitas, Perlman sought authenticity through the score itself, not through musicological research: “Music is a language, and, performed responsively, with musical logic as guide, it will make sense.”

Bach’s Sonatas and Partitas are a landmark not only of the solo violin repertoire but of all music history. No composer before or since has created a comparable architectural miracle, or made better use of the violin’s polyphonic capabilities, than did Bach in this set of six works. The improvements in instrument-making introduced by such experts in the field as Niccolò Amati and his pupil Antonio Stradivari meant that performers and composers could now push the tone and power of the violin to bold new limits. The Second Partita also includes a Chaconne which appears to stand outside space and time. Its complexity, power and splendor make it in a way the keystone of the entire musical edifice — a magnificent set of variations on a single theme which exploits the violin’s full harmonic and contrapuntal potential. While the great virtuosos of the nineteenth century, Paganini chief among them, expanded the instrument’s technical capabilities, Bach had already established its limits in terms of polyphony.
Perlman made several earlier attempts at recording the set, none of which was ever released, then performed it live on stage at venues around the world. In other words, he had the wisdom to wait until he had achieved a level of excellence in both performing and understanding this music before committing it to disc. The most practised of ears may detect a subtle difference in tone between the C major and A minor Sonatas, which he recorded on the “Soil” Stradivarius, and the other four works, recorded on the Guarneri del Gesù “ex-Sauret”.

• The Creation was formed in 1966 from beat combo The Mark Four, and was quickly signed to a production deal with Shel Talmy, The Who’s producer. The first release was the urgent “Making Time”, which featured guitarist Eddie Phillips playing his guitar with a violin bow, two years before Jimmy Page started doing so.
• Creation Records founder Alan McGee named his label after the band, and named his band Biff Bang Pow after one of their songs. So perhaps it was no surprise when in 1995 he came up with the idea of The Creation recording a song called “Creation” to be released on the Creation label. In the wake of reunion shows at The Mean Fiddler in 1993 and 1995, the original line-up re-convened, and the recordings expanded into an album. “Power Surge” was released in 1996.
• The album is pressed on 140 gram clear vinyl.

Sabaturin is Charles-Émile Beullac (Galerie Stratique, Canada) and Simon Crab (Bourbonese Qualk, United Kingdom). In the spirit of old school tape exchanges that resulted in musical collaborations developed over long periods of time but informed by the infinitely easier processes of the digital age, "Kenemglev" was assembled without the musicians ever meeting.

The title "Kenemglev" means "consensus" in Breton, something which quite naturally had to be achieved between both musicians. The other consensus was a sort of virtual middle ground symbolized by the Breton language, particular to a geographical area (Brittany) that both agreed would stand for a neutral meeting point between their respective native languages and, consequently, cultures. All titles are Breton words and the name Sabaturin ("standing on one feet", "to be off-balance") expresses mainly Charles' excitement: "Simon's bold approach has been some kind of a shock therapy for my music".

The sleeve was designed by Simon Crab, using a Chladni pattern simulation based on specific pitches. Looking like stained glass, it sort of reflects the way the music is presented: although including 9 titles, the album's tracklist flows uninterrupted on each side of the vinyl, semi-mixed, blended.

Detailed electronic ambience, glitches, loops and tiny details are augmented by a sort of signature rhythmic grid we recognize from "My Government Is My Soul"-era Bourbonese Qualk. It never settles into a formula and so the music remains loose, as much Mille Plateaux as classic 80s industrial shortwave-sampling or dub, rolled into one same entity, touching base with the gorgeous glitch dub "Morgouskus". This concludes a gentle and discreet album that doesn't require the validation of being associated with any of the current keywords in the electronic music scene.

On to my short review. I have to admit that I'm biased in favour of Charles Tolliver. He plays with a combination of strength and sweetness that goes beyond mere language. The fact that he is self -taught is more miraculous. This particular recording has the best sound quality I've ever heard. The clarity is stunning and all the music is magnificent. The recording is so good, one can hear the sound of a musician's fingertips accidentally brushing across the bass strings, for example. Alvin Queen is always brilliant on the drums. This group has a synergy that just goes so deep, it feels like they're reading each others' minds. But I can't recommend this enough. It's some of the best recorded jazz I've ever experienced.