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After two decades, the indietronic veteran returns with a powerful sonic reflection on today’s sociopolitical climate and a poignant reminder of music’s enduring ability to heal, unite, and inspire. Blending experimental electronics with krautrock sensibilities, the album thrives on spontaneity, collaboration, and the beauty of ‘happy accidents’.

While many of Nitrada’s sonic trademarks remain — intricate, rickety beats; enigmatic field recordings; and gut-punching string melodies — EVERYTHING THAT IS NOT COUNTED WILL BE LOST marks a shift in approach. Experimenting with different constellations of musical machines, Christophe Stoll, the mind behind Nitrada, recorded hours of improvisations (some shared on his Instagram). These sketches became the raw material for more elaborate, carefully structured arrangements.

True to his collaborative spirit, Stoll brought in like-minded artists to shape the final album: Jan Sturm (aka STURM) lends his touch to the shimmering FRAGMENTS OF LIGHT. The euphoric dystopian WE DANCE IN THE CHAOS features Landobe (Marco Heinle) and Patrick Siegfried Zimmer on vocals. Luca di Mira (of Giardini di Mirò fame) contributes synths, cello, and delicate textures to some tracks, while Johannes Schardt’s guitar work brings a visceral, post-rock edge to NO HYMN FOR NOBODY and IL ROMANTICISMO DELL’APOCALISSE, nodding to Stoll’s roots in punk and indie.

“The goal is to take listeners on a journey through different timbres and sonic landscapes — a collage of diverse ideas and inspirations,” says Stoll about his album which effortlessly juxtaposes experimental ambient soundscapes, heavy jagged guitars, and minimal techno pulses, making them feel as though they’ve always belonged together. Because, in the end, they do – all part of the shared vocabulary of our universal language: MUSIC.

"Wind, Again" is Sary Moussa’s fourth studio album and second album on Other People. Based between France and Lebanon, Moussa returns with a riveting electro-acoustic album informed by his ever-changing relationships to space, listening, and resonance as well as his growing interest in the study of harmonics in electronic and electro-acoustic music.

Years in the making, “Wind, Again” approaches distinct musical worlds and languages by bringing together improvisations by musicians performing on Western and West Asian instruments such as the Hammond organ, clarinet, saz, and buzuk with electronic arrangements and textures. Rather than force a rapprochement of these musical worlds through the instruments, and keenly aware of the weighty sonic histories they carry, Moussa proposes another way through which they can exist together in contemporary electronic composition.

Composed of six tracks, each of which demonstrate an array of recording and processing techniques, the album generates moments of tension produced by the synthesis of textural, tonal, and harmonic encounters that Moussa calls “shadows”, which outline an impressionistic musical language, existing at the edge of familiarity. Such moments permeate tracks like “Everywhere at once” and “Violence” that open with the Hammond organ and the saz respectively and slowly reveal an expansive field of sounds that showcases each of the musicians’ characteristic performances and Moussa’s densely layered textures. It is a latent yet unrelenting tension through which the composer invokes rather than represents a collective experiential state, especially familiar to those who know his environment. In “Wind, Again” these shadows are articulations of sounds steeped in traditions they are never quite tethered to. Such articulations are implied and alluded to, they play within a musical reference without the latter explicitly existing in the recording, always teetering, never completely here nor there.
Sonically and musically, the album is fueled by the cultural, social, and personal realities that Moussa was brought up and lives in.

Both personal and musical ties with the musicians who feature on the album is central to Moussa’s practice. In the title track “I will never write a song about you”, musician Julia Sabra opens with rolled piano chords, followed by Paed Conca on clarinet and Abed Kobeissy on buzuk, before Moussa’s electronic processing pieces together, lifts, and sustains the melodic direction of the track that emerged from the musicians’ separate improvisations. For Moussa: “The initial connection between the three performances was made on a track that no longer existed, the original recording was both an obstacle and necessary step for the track we hear on the record. It’s as if we were all telling different stories and I pulled on the thread that held them together”. The track, and more generally the record, is tinged with a melancholy of things lost, though it never fully succumbs to it.
“Everything inside a circle”, Moussa’s most personal track and for which he provides the only vocals on the record, harkens back to a childhood memory of listening to music with his mother in a car: “There was a sound I was looking for — a memory of a sound and how I first heard it. This track is a hybrid of that memory and what I wanted to make of it”. The track relies heavily on generativesystems and perhaps embodies most the ambiguous quality of the record’s music in its refusal to be pinned down by one musical tradition or another.
“Wind, Again” is both familiar and alien, cold and warm; it pays homage to the mechanics, materials, and tactility of the instruments and converges acoustic and synthetic spaces. What anchors the sound of the album are the elements of a whole that cannot find its own idiosyncrasy and that is precisely why Moussa’s album is a tour de force.

"6-track house finesse from Amsterdam mainstay Beraber, topped off with a killer remix by Brazilian artist Zopelar. Expect six melodic tracks for the body & mind. Beraber returns to United Identities with Gentle Actions, setting the tone for long summer evenings and sun-soaked days. The Amsterdam based producer and DJ organically blends Chicago's classically-schooled keys and machine backdrops with subtle, atmospheric textures. This long-awaited record by Beraber (Baris Akardere) is a deeply personal collection of music, encapsulating a period of creative and personal growth. Rather than a concept record, it serves as a document of the past years, bundling some of most cherished productions into a cohesive and heartfelt gift to the audience. This EP marks the first time the producer has used his own vocals in his productions, next to vocal contributions from Barcelona-based artist Ivy Barkakati, whose lyrics perfectly resonate with the journey of the EP. Gentle Actions opens with Between Us, a calm builder, gracefully layered with meandering pads. Distant Language picks us up with its dubbed-out groove, guiding our feet on a journey through melodic landscapes. It flows into Responsibility, an introspective track with a powerful message about turning dreams into reality, before continuing with Lost in Loops, a loose and soulful house cut featuring his own vocals. The journey ends with the more upbeat, instrumental Good Company, topped off with a deep, nocturnal remix by Zopelar. Written and produced entirely in his Amsterdam studio -- housed in the same building that once held De School -- Beraber continues to rely on a deeply analog and outboard gear-heavy approach. The result is a record that stays true to his soulful and introspective signature, mirroring the sonic identity of his acclaimed radio show, Gentle Actions on Amsterdam's online radio station RRFM."

Soul Jazz Records’ new Secret Superstar Sounds brings together a wealth of incredibly catchy tunes from late-70s/early-80s British groups that you have probably never heard of! Powerpop mixed together a love of lyrical and melodically beautiful 60s pop and garage sounds, together with the energy and attitude of 70s punk. Almost completely out of kilter with the fashions of the day (punk, new wave and post-punk) these bands managed to fall between the musical cracks at almost every step of the way – leaving them practically unknown to all but a few.

Inspired by the D-I-Y messaging of bands like The Desperate Bicycles, Sniffing Glue fanzine and early UK punk labels like Stiff, Chiswick and Rough Trade, these bands chose mainly to go into a studio and make their own private press/D-I-Y records themselves – then try to work out everything else (promotion, marketing, etc) afterwards. As mainly outsiders to the mainstream music industry, and usually unable to make any inroads into it, save for sending their own record to John Peel, most of these bands fell at the first hurdle.

These records remain both beautifully crafted 3-minute musical gems, and long-lost micro-histories of an essentially hidden genre.
Featured bands here include The Squares, The Meanies, The Monitors, Plummet Airline, Tours, Gobblinz, Krypton Tunes and more. Most of these records were self-published D-I-Y releases made in very limited-editions and were often the only tracks ever released by these groups.

Discover the groundbreaking sound of Los Texao, a legendary Peruvian rock band that helped shape the music scene in the 1970s. Born in the culturally rich city of Arequipa, Los Texao's journey to stardom was paved with innovation, passion, and an undeniable connection to their roots. Their music fused the energy of psychedelic rock with Latin American influences, captivating audiences across their native Peru, Los Texao's psychedelic phase was marked by experimentation with new sounds and instruments. This release comprises their complete recordings, including all their singles and also covers of some of the most influential rock bands of the era, most of them previously unavailable on vinyl. Formed in 1969, the band took their name from Arequipa's emblematic flower, the nasturtium, and made an immediate impact with their debut at a local band contest. Soon after, they recorded their first 45 RPM single, which included covers of tracks by Chilean group Los Beat 4. But it was in the early 70s when Los Texao truly found their voice. With a dynamic lineup, including the talented Fernando "Feño" Humbser and Juan Núñez on guitar, Víctor Dibán on vocals and bass, and Edgar "Chito" Manrique on drums, their musical evolution began to take shape. The addition of Julio Torres, a keyboardist and guitarist from the iconic bands Los Beatniks and Los Dig It, further elevated their sound. Los Texao's psychedelic phase was marked by experimentation with new sounds and instruments. They embraced the emerging trend of playing rock in English, despite the language barrier, and incorporated cutting-edge gear. With the help of the legendary Peruvian jazz musician Jaime Delgado Aparicio, they created hypnotic tracks like 'Algún día' and 'Nunca cambias,' capturing the essence of 70s rock with swirling textures and atmospheric vibes. But it wasn't just the melodies that set them apart - their electrifying rhythms and powerful arrangements, like those heard in 'Stone' and 'La pelea del gobernador,' showcased their refined musicianship and intense dedication. Los Texao quickly became a sensation in Peru, performing in cities like Puno, Moquegua, and Arica (Chile), and sharing stages with iconic bands like Los Shain's, Traffic Sound, and Telegraph Avenue. Their infamous hit 'La pelea del gobernador' tells a tale of generational conflict and rebellious youth, captured in a live performance that still resonates with audiences today. The band's wild live shows became the stuff of legend, with fans packing into intimate venues to experience the raw energy of their loud, unapologetic rock. In addition to their 45s, Los Texao also recorded covers of some of the most influential rock bands of the era, including Cream, Steppenwolf, and The Guess Who, showcasing their versatility and love for classic rock. Unfortunately, this session remained lost for years and some of these covers have never been available on vinyl before. Despite their growing success, Los Texao eventually disbanded in 1975 due to personal and professional challenges. But their legacy never faded.

The Crystal Hum is the debut vinyl release by Taiwan-based artist Yuching Huang and her first release for Night School.
A beguiling dreamscape of crackles, spluttering, love-struck Casios presided over by the the spectral vocal and guitar work of Huang, Yuching sings love songs at the end of this world and the beginning of the next. Recorded during a hiatus from her group Aemong (a duo with artist Henrique Uba) in Berlin, these songs elevate Huang’s unique vocal style and grasp of atmospherics. The Crystal Hum deconstructs balladry, Garage, guitar music and reforms it into a
unified ghostly otherworld version of these languages.

The Crystal Hum thrums with buried desire, trails of nocturnal reverb seeping out of apartment windows, diaristic vocal performances and deeply emotive, evocative Western-style strings. Formulated by Yuching Huang after periods of frustration and experimentation, the album is an exercise in minimalism and paring back, with some tracks like JohnJohn featuring little else than an elastic bass, spring reverb trails, an interjecting vocal and swelling, dislocated synths. The effect is spellbinding, the soundtrack to getting lost in the labyrinthine, closed streets of Venice, Taipei, Hong Kong, or mirror versions of them in the imagination.

On opener Fly! Little Black Thing, a subterranean funk bassline roots Huang’s singing, a rudimentary, unreliable beat floundering in whimsy underneath. Demure, dream Dance music, Huang references classic lo fi experimenters Suicide and Arthur Russell as well as Night School label mates The Space Lady and Ela Orleans. In fact, after the release of Aemong’s third album Crimson, Huang credits the direction of The Crystal Hum to being enchanted by The Space Lady’s Greatest Hits,
the landmark lo-fi recording made by Susan Dietrich Schneider in 1990. The new, minimalist approach to her sound world reveals and shrouds in equal measure. On the heart-melter Love, a sultry mid-tempo Casio + bass backing drops into the ether with Huang’s vocal swimming in preternatural void before emerging anew, in awe at the world. Every chord change heralds new perspectives, every guitar flurry swells and drips emotion, nothing is wasted and space billows out from between the grooves.
Huang never reveals more than necessary, making this an in-between love album: the right amount of mystery and darkened mirror shines wanely on The Crystal Hum while remaining fragile and vulnerable in the sweet spots. Turning over in pillowing smoke and night in the dark corners, Huang sings in both Mandarin and English. The songs speak of earthly matters seemingly at the edge of dissipating into nothing. Distorted, beguiling Sambas warble like sweating dancehalls in an imagined Lynchian 60s, as on Thoughts. Closer You, An Illusion warps a classic 60s Girlgroup bassline beloved of the likes of Les Rallizes

Denudes into a slight ballad on the edge of the void, held back by the teary-eyed, wistful and enveloping vocal cooed by Huang. Each song feels like a love song dedicated to the bits between worlds, between beats, the negative space between people where desires, feelings and loss hangs in the air, resolute and unresolved.

As Jess Sylvester finished his Hardly Art debut as Marinero in the fall of 2020, he realized it was time for a change. Sylvester grew up in Marin County, on the doorstep of San Francisco. It was a nurturing community for a high-school punk with a pompadour and, later, for a sober songwriter with a proclivity for moody psychedelia. But he wanted to be challenged and inspired by a new setting and scenario around strangers who prompted him to approach his music in unexpected ways. So in September 2020, as the world continued to reel in lockdown, Sylvester headed several hours south to Los Angeles, a city that, despite the relative proximity, the film buff knew largely from classic and cult films situated there. When he arrived, he kept digging into that cinematic past-Robert Altman's The Long Goodbye, with John Williams' classic theme, or classic 90s movies about East LA, many featuring Edward James Olmos. They shaped his understanding of his new town just as it began to open. This is one pillar of the multivalent and endlessly lush La La La, Marinero's new album about sobriety, identity, and fantasy that is playfully named both for the city that helped shape it and the sophisticated pop it contains. Sylvester wrote about characters outside of himself, whether considering the heroine reckoning with her own version of keeping clean or the screenwriters whose work was deemed communist simply as a political convenience. He linked those songs with motivational anthems about self-acceptance and playful numbers about flirting through food, shaping a 12-song set rich with humor, empathy, and encouragement. Sure, La La La is a continuation of the slippery genre play Sylvester started with 2021's Hella Love, 2019's Trópico de Cáncer, or even before that. But it also feels like a fresh beginning for Marinero, as Sylvester realizes how boundless this project can be. He began to think about the music of his childhood, how his mother is from San Francisco with Mexican roots, and how he'd heard so much salsa growing up as an impetuous teenager. So he wrote "Taquero," a red-hot salsa tune that uses tacos and their trappings as a source of endless metaphors for come-ons. And then there was the Ray Barreto or Santana-inspired "Pocha Pachanga," with organ gliding and percussion pulsing beneath his yearning vocals, warped as if by desert winds. In Los Angeles, he found a wealth of players who spoke this music like language itself (including Chicano Batman's Eduardo Arenas), all ready to play with and push these familiar forms. Sylvester has also been sober for 21 years, since a cross-country sojourn to attend college in Boston ended in a chemical haze. Today, he sees friends facing the same decisions he made two decades ago, and he brings bits of that experience to bear in songs that feel like self-help anthems. Recorded with a musical hero (and labelmate) of his, Chris Cohen, "Sea Changes" feels like sunshine breaking through dark clouds, as Sylvester acknowledges the newfound confidence and clarity in a friend who has stepped away from destructive habits. In the past, Sylvester has been intractably linked to his identity as a Mexican-American, born to parents from Mexico and Irish- American descent who settled in San Francisco. That can be limiting, of course, tying him to notions of sound and style that aren't always correct. On La La La, he simultaneously steps into and out of those preconceptions, singing tracks above salsa in joyous Spanish or pondering the dynamics of the Hollywood Ten and blacklists above mysterious lap steel and teasing trumpet. His identity, then, should now be clear: He is a Californian, making music shaped by the diversity of encounters and experiences that are a central part of that state's fabric. Never before has he presented himself so fully and unabashedly on tape as with La La La, an album Sylvester built with new inspirations to deliver new charms.

Limited edition classic black vinyl mini-album of cathartic slowcore by The Declining Winter, the new vehicle of Richard Adams, formerly of Domino Records post-rockers, Hood. The next release on the acclaimed boutique English independent label, Second Language Music, will be ‘Last April,’ the new mini-album by The Declining Winter, a raw, deeply emotional monument of loss, grief and heartbreak that treads in the footsteps of Red House Painters’ ‘Down Colorful Hill,’ Low’s ‘I Could Live In Hope’ and Songs: Ohia’s ‘Didn’t It Rain.’ This is not a heart-on-your-sleeve record. It does away with the sleeve and goes straight for carving a heart on the arm. Recordings which emerged out of a period of shock, grief and trauma, these six songs were all written on the same night and form a stately tribute to a loved one lost. The Declining Winter strip things back to just Richard Adams’ plaintive voice and acoustic guitar, alongside the beautiful, irrefutably melancholy string arrangements/playing of Sarah Kemp (Brave Timbers). There’s been no attempt to plane off any rough edges – here and there, the creak of a chair, a guitar note missed, a voice almost cracking with emotion – these recordings are like cathartic scrawls in a diary. Only this one has been left out for anyone to read. As with his previous band, Hood, Adams has a way of evoking a particularly pastoral, English melancholy, of lonely morning hikes in inclement weathers, of rain on slate in the West Yorkshire streets where he was raised and still lives.

Dienne creates hazy pieces of music full of the melancholy of remembrance and loss combining analogue instruments with reverb-drenched vocals and shimmers of processed electronic sources. Her new album "Conducturis" emerges as a sensory exploration of the human spirit and the boundless horizons of artificial intelligence.

"Abundant in beauty and rich in disturbances" serves as the guiding principle for Belgian composer, Dienne, as she builds songs and soundscapes that portray the images and stories that play behind her eyes.

Combining analogue instruments like the oboe, the piano, and the flute with reverb-drenched vocals and shimmers of processed electronic sources, she creates hazy pieces of music full of the melancholy of remembrance and loss.

Her debut album Addio (2022) was released on Nicolás Jaar's Other People imprint. Addio is a 32-minute study on loss and mourning. Following the death of her grandmother due to Covid-19, and unable to say a proper goodbye due to travel restrictions, Dienne set out to give her "Addio" through musical form. The result is a deeply intimate work that channels classical instrumentation through foggy electronic experimentation.

Memories, biographies, and family histories merge in this simultaneously somber and optimistic work which plays out like a universal and comforting ode to lost loved ones. Her second album, Conducturis, accompanies an immersive film installation delving into speculative fiction, conceptualized by Mira Sanders and Cédric Noël. Conducturis will be released on Cortizona at the end of January 2025.

Conducturis is an immersive film installation project that delves into the realms of speculative fiction, employing the cinematic language of the road movie to envision the ramifications of constructing an artificial brain within the Swiss landscape.

Following their encounters with key figures in the Human Brain Project during an art research expedition in Geneva from 2019 to 2020, conceptualized by Cédric Noël & Mira Sanders, they stumbled upon a remarkable discovery: a hidden fiber-optic cable linking Geneva to Lugano.

Anchored at both ends by the Human Brain Project in Geneva and the CSCS (Centre Suisse de Calcul Scientifique) in Lugano, this conduit facilitated the transmission of intricate brain simulations from the imposing computational hub in Lugano to Geneva via a 'superconductor' cable.

While the nuances of this fiber network eluded the naked eye, Sanders & Noël meticulously pored over maps, gathered endless data, and traversed the terrain. In crafting "Conducturis", they chose to portray an immersive journey along this IT infrastructure connecting Geneva and Lugano, exploring the curious allure of dreaming about artificial landscapes.

The accompanying originalscore by Dienne invites audiences to delve into the intersection of human creativity and machine intelligence. Guided by the principle of being "abundant in beauty and rich in disturbances", Dienne embarks on a sonic exploration of the Swiss landscape, translating its ethereal beauty and technological wonders into evocative musical compositions.

"How can a human sound like a machine?"

This intriguing question lies at the heart of Dienne's artistic endeavor. For her, the soundtrack of "Conducturis'' transcends mere musical notes; it embodies a profound philosophical exploration into the essence of human creativity amidst the rise of artificial intelligence.

Similarly, "How can a human being compose like a machine?" serves as a pivotal inquiry guiding Dienne's creative journey. As she navigates the delicate boundary between human expression and machine cognition, she skillfully intertwines the pulsating rhythms of data transmission with the haunting melodies inspired by artificial landscapes.

Drawing inspiration from the cinematic aesthetics of the road movie genre, as envisioned by Sanders & Noël in their speculation on the construction of an artificial brain, Dienne weaves a sonic tapestry that transports listeners on a contemplative journey through mountains, lakes, and cities.

Each track for "Conducturis" becomes a testament to the fusion of brain and landscape, inviting audiences to ponder the limitless potential of human imagination.

As audiences immerse themselves in the evocative world of "Conducturis", Dienne's soundtrack serves as a guiding force and perfect companion, leading them through a transcendental experience where reality and imagination merge, and the symphony of human and machine harmonizes seamlessly.

"Conducturis" emerges as a sensory exploration of the human spirit and the boundless horizons of artificial intelligence. With Dienne's soundtrack as its heartbeat, this project invites audiences to embark on a voyage of discovery, where the echoes of human creativity reverberate across the digital frontier.

Born and raised in Argentina, Morita Vargas is an experimental artist and producer based in Buenos Aires. She manipulates her voice through reverbs, delays and whispers, singing in a self-invented 'language'. The sound of Morita’s voice is a portal into her thriving, dreamlike world brimming, shimmering and beating with unrefined natural sensations which stimulate something primordial yet strangely contemporary.

As far back as 2014 she began work on her first productions - early sketches which later became the basis for ‘8’. It all started off as voice memos on her phone (recorded while roaming the streets and riding the trains of Greater Buenos Aires). Later on, Morita introduced various instruments into her vision: kalimba, harmonica, keyboard, flute, tambourine, chajchas, and cajón. Composed and performed from that period until its original release in 2018, ’8’ features 10 original voice-led compositions that in scope recall evocative portraits of synthesized landscapes and rainforests, attuned to a vibrant modern pulse and enchanting vocals. Morita Vargas “8” has achieved a kind of polyphonic soundscape which evokes unfamiliar realities through voyages within and between the realms of ambient and experimental music.

In numerology the number 8 symbolizes the transition between heaven and earth, the illumination of our infinite capacity for various metamorphoses. Tackling ideas of transformation, mutation, cyclical processes, death, creation, melancholy, and joy, the album you are holding is a monumental and deeply personal statement. You are invited to walk barefoot down the mystical path and indulge in the process of spiritual expulsion and renewal that is ‘8’. The path lies along the route of infinite meanings, somewhere on the border between dream and reality.

En Esch's corrosive new album decimates both standards and dance floors alike.

Anyone familiar with industrial luminary En Esch and his essential work in groups like KMFDM and PIG knows he is no stranger to political statements through his art. Now, on his first LP in eight years, Dance Hall Putsch, Esch decimates your standards and dance floors with vitriol. With carefully-sown and complimenting features from fellow KMFDM alumnus Raymond Watts, Guenter Schulz and Mark Durante, plus Vas Kallas (Hanzel und Gretyl), Mea Fisher and Erica Dilanjian (Lords of Acid), Hope Nicholls (Pigface) and more, Dance Hall Putsch delivers everything an industrial fan could want. From opener "Get Lost," with its categorically punishing industrial-metal riffs to the slicing EBM electronics of "Yum Yum Beauty & The Nasty Thief," it's all here and in no less than four languages throughout. En Esch's signature rasp is often contrasted by the sparkling vocals of his female counterparts, and the album is lush with brutal honesty, humor, and even a bonus En Esch-lullaby.

"I began work on Dance Hall Putsch in the early days of Covid-19. I was trying to create an upbeat, rather positive and very danceable album to leave the pandemic days behind us. Then it happened that a war began near where I live with tens of thousands of civilians killed and wounded so far. Everyone was caught by surprise and it influenced me, especially lyrically. "This current conflict is just 500 miles away from Berlin, and while that does not make it more horrific than other wars, it is very close to home. From living with this 'war next door,' the album turned out much more sinister than originally planned. It became a rather political album that reflects on the senselessness and nastiness of all the current wars around us. It's always the innocent and those who hold no power that suffer the most. Their fate isn't always death, but many times indescribable and long-term suffering. We must not forget them or turn a blind eye. "I’m very pleased that I had the opportunity to collaborate with different and interesting colleagues here. Thanx everybody for your interest in my musical works and for your love and support."

In the heart of Offenbach, where the city's pulse synchronizes with the beat of the night, stands the illustrious Robert Johnson Club. For a quarter of a century, it has stood as a bastion of sonic exploration, a sanctuary for those who seek solace in the rhythm, and a beacon of inspiration for the global electronic music community. As it proudly raises its glass to toast 25 years of unrivaled musical excellence, the echoes of countless memories reverberate through its storied halls. To honor this landmark anniversary, „Live at Robert Johnson“ presents a kinda like masters blueprint of sound: "Tell Me Something Good - 25 Years of Famous When Dead!" This compilation, aptly named after the club's mantra, serves not only as a celebration of its rich history but also as a testament to the enduring legacy of the artists who have graced its stage. Crafted with meticulous attention to detail, each track on the compilation is a sonic journey unto itself—a symphony of beats and melodies that weave together to tell the story of Robert Johnson's evolution over the past quarter-century. From the pulsating rhythms of underground techno to the ethereal melodies of deep house, the compilation encapsulates the club's eclectic spirit and unwavering commitment to pushing the boundaries of electronic music. But beyond the music lies something deeper—an intangible energy that permeates every aspect of Robert Johnson's existence. It's the sense of camaraderie that binds together the club's patrons and artists alike, the shared experience of losing oneself in the music, and the profound sense of belonging that transcends language and culture. As the compilation reverberates through the speakers, it serves as a rallying cry—a call to arms for all who have ever felt the transformative power of music. It's a reminder that, even in the darkest of times, there is beauty to be found in the simple act of coming together and losing oneself in the rhythm of the night. So let us raise our voices in celebration of Robert Johnson Club and the indelible mark it has left on the world of electronic music. Here's to 25 years of passion, of creativity, and of "something good" that will echo through the ages for generations to come.

Where would a painter paint if it were not on a white canvas? Where would a composer compose if it were not on the stave and the spaces in between the lines? How would a musician play his instrument if there were no melodies composed, written down, painted for him to follow?

The magic of art needs a frame, a somewhat solid container to hold the freedom that can only be found once we integrate some form of structure. And that also holds in every other area of life. We all need a frame, a structure, a rhythm, or else, we fall apart. This human form needs the body, and yet it transcends the limitations of the body - through art.

Consistency being one of them seems oftentimes less tangible, for it resides more in the act of doing, and showing up for the practice, for devoting energy and presence. Strangely, if we consistently show up for our practice, regardless of its form, the solid frame of the hour we devote to playing the instrument, learning a language, doing the sport, sitting silently for that meditation: It feels different every single time. It feels new every single time.

The repetitive consistency in being present again and again allows for nothing short of magic to happen. Magic feeds consistency. Consistency feeds magic. Consistency sets a foundation that strengthens over time. It allows us to slowly but surely develop any kind of skill, to find and hence to embody expertise. On the fertile grounds of such a solid foundation, creativity fosters, and innovation blossoms.

Establishing consistent rituals and routines can bring a sense of comfort and safety into every-day-life. For routine beholds repetition and its frame enables our experience within to change. In the familiar, we dare to explore, maybe even experiment, merely because a part of us remembers we depart from, and always return to, a safe space. We do not get lost. We do not fall apart. As we practice, again and again, we build resilience in overcoming obstacles or literally persevering through challenging situations and stretches of time.

While consistency gifts steadiness and stability, its overdose risks to result in what may appear as uniformity. It feels like constantly - consistently - dancing on the fine line of freedom within a structure. Life is filled with unexpected twists and turns, adjustments need to be made to accommodate change and avoid rigidity. By striking a balance between consistency and flexibility, we can create harmony in our lives, just like a beautiful melody that flows smoothly from one note to the next.

Within the magical waves of music, skills are needed, too. Consistency is key to show up and do the work. It frames the freedom of magic that resides beyond and only beyond effort. Learning to play an instrument, learning to sing, does never happen within the blink of the eye. It takes time. Time to show up for the practice, to do precisely that: practice. Again and again, every single time, again and again. Precision feeds perfection that falls apart inside the structure of a song, a line, a rhythm, dissolving into magic.

Consistency in practicing, in composing and sharing music with the world regardless of the form allows any musician to refine his style, to carve out his uniqueness. For any artistic expression is, after all: Unique. And this uniqueness is born inside the vessel of any structure, over and over again. Sharing music in the form of new releases and public performances nourishes the bond between artist and audience. And for that to unfold, both parties need to show up - while the underlying beat of this never-ending practice is presence fuelled by consistency.

It's been nearly a decade since Montreal's PYPY (pronounced like 'π π'...with a long 'i' rather than long 'e', thank you very much) landed with their debut Pagan Day (Slovenly), but the same lunatics behind CPC Gangbangs, Red Mass and Duchess Says are back with Sacred Times on Goner Records. One might recall the thunderous pop of their banger "She's Gone" carving out a place for itself in the high-end fashion world, becoming the soundtrack to Yves Saint Laurent's 2016 show. If that album bounced, punched and clawed like Delta 5 covered in dirt and trying to get somewhere in a booted vehicle while dodging lightning rod guitar licks the whole way, Sacred Times takes things to somewhere far beyond the proverbial "next level."

Co-vocalist/founder/multi-instrumentalist Annie-Claude Deschênes' (Duchess Says) signature howl and vocal acrobatics are present but so is a tendency towards beautiful melodies. Bassist Philippe Clement's (Duchess Says) brings a nastier bottom end that locks onto Simon Besré's drumming with a death grip for the entire affair. And guitarist/co-vocalist Roy Vucino (Red Mass, CPC Gangbangs, Black Leather Rose, Les Sexareenos, a gazillion others) goes bonkers with wildass blown-out guitar that's like hornets caught in yr hair.

"Lonely Striped Sock" grooves along like "Earthbeat"-era Slits/ESG until the chorus transforms PYPY into something else entirely. Something huge. Something with monster riffs and wah wah that pins you to the back wall. So there is clearly a brilliance with dynamics here, and it proves to be a not-so-secret-weapon that repays the "ear-vestment" in dividends throughout. "Ear-vestment"? Yikes. Then it's time for "She's Back," a sort of part 2/continuation (maybe a trilogy is in the works?) of Pagan Day's best-known gem (the aforementioned "She's Gone"). This one packs a hook that'll make your brain take out a restraining order. Looking for lost keys? Jury duty? Underwater welding? Negotiating a hostage situation? It doesn't matter...nothing will stop it from invading your thoughts. They say the only way to get a song unstuck from the noodle is to listen to it from start to finish, but you'll be doing that anyway. A lot. "Erase" is a (synth) noise-punk nugget; revealing a need for Brainiac-meets-Blondie we didn't know we had...deceptively kicking off with a no-fi drum machine that is immediately lost in the massive pop din that seemingly includes everything within reach. "Poodle Escape" is two minutes of perfect (and perfectly distorted) synth-punk and "I Am A Simulation" – with lead vox from Vucino – is yet another hit that deviates from the noise a bit and pays homage to both Devo and classic late-70's (big) power-pop (ex: the first Cars LP), but with a manic nature that is 150% circa right now. "15 Sec" (actually 3:38 in duration, thankfully) serves up a stanky-brown bass line, Deschênes' gorgeous vocals, wonderfully combative white hot, pin-the-meters Oh Sees/early Comets on Fire guitar rips, and a stunning coda that seems to utilize everything great about this band over its final minute. The album's title track is a love letter to Hawkwind in the musical language already established here. "Vanishing Blinds" is like being chased through the rain-soaked streets in an unknown dystopian nightmare from 40+ years ago. The album closes with the brooding if not playful menace of "Poodle Escape,” which, like its predecessors, is completely unlike every track before it.

Beloved Spanish indie rockers Hinds are back with their utterly triumphant fourth album, VIVA HINDS. Written by the band’s co-founders, co-vocalists, co-guitarists and co-songwriters Carlotta Cosials and Ana Perrote, it features their first-ever fully Spanish language songs, as well as first collaborations with the likes of Beck and Fontaines D.C.’s Grian Chatten. Recorded in rural France, the album was produced by Pete Robertson (Beabadoobee), engineered by the GRAMMY-nominated Tom Roach, and mixed by GRAMMY-winning engineer Caesar Edmunds (The Killers, Wet Leg).

Shortly after the band made their debut ten years ago, they hit what felt like an insurmountable obstacle – they had to change their name from Deers to Hinds for legal reasons. But, as their fans began to greet them at shows by cheering “¡VIVA HINDS!”, the band soon realized that what initially felt like an ending was actually just the beginning. Fast forward to 2023, and VIVA HINDS was written by Cosials and Perrote after a series of endings. They hit a creative rut after releasing their 2020 album The Prettiest Curse, and their bassist and drummer devastatingly decided to leave the band. They also split with their management team, lost touring revenue due to lockdowns, and were without a label for the first time. But when Perrote and Cosials got together to write again it became clear that their connection, one so special that they call themselves “millionaires in friendship,” would be all they needed to get them through. VIVA HINDS – the most accomplished, sonically adventurous, honest and celebratory record of Hinds’ career – is only the beginning.

PRESS/ONLINE: “The track, though signaling a new era for Hinds, arrives rapturous and catchy, as Perrote and Cosials trade verses and riffs. ...'Coffee' is a sweeping first chapter of where the duo aims to
“‘Coffee’ is a a gorgeous punk-indie cross contamination, instantly memorable, grungy” - Wonderland


“They bring the energy of a thousand rock bands, entrancing the crowd with their searing indie riffs, the constant interlocking of guitars and smiles, and deeply charming banter” - Rolling Stone

“The Prettiest Curse is an evolution. It is striking, complex, uncompromising indie-pop. More than that, it makes a bold statement: it canonises Spanish indie-rock” – Loud and Quiet 9/10
“They’ve taken their sound and unashamedly experimented with it. They’re all the better for it” – NME 4/5

“The Spanish group’s second album displays the superior songcraft of the band, as vocalists Ana Perrote and Carlotta Cosials wade through love’s messy feelings with confidence and exuberance” - Pitchfork

Beloved Spanish indie rockers Hinds are back with their utterly triumphant fourth album, VIVA HINDS. Written by the band’s co-founders, co-vocalists, co-guitarists and co-songwriters Carlotta Cosials and Ana Perrote, it features their first-ever fully Spanish language songs, as well as first collaborations with the likes of Beck and Fontaines D.C.’s Grian Chatten. Recorded in rural France, the album was produced by Pete Robertson (Beabadoobee), engineered by the GRAMMY-nominated Tom Roach, and mixed by GRAMMY-winning engineer Caesar Edmunds (The Killers, Wet Leg).

Shortly after the band made their debut ten years ago, they hit what felt like an insurmountable obstacle – they had to change their name from Deers to Hinds for legal reasons. But, as their fans began to greet them at shows by cheering “¡VIVA HINDS!”, the band soon realized that what initially felt like an ending was actually just the beginning. Fast forward to 2023, and VIVA HINDS was written by Cosials and Perrote after a series of endings. They hit a creative rut after releasing their 2020 album The Prettiest Curse, and their bassist and drummer devastatingly decided to leave the band. They also split with their management team, lost touring revenue due to lockdowns, and were without a label for the first time. But when Perrote and Cosials got together to write again it became clear that their connection, one so special that they call themselves “millionaires in friendship,” would be all they needed to get them through. VIVA HINDS – the most accomplished, sonically adventurous, honest and celebratory record of Hinds’ career – is only the beginning.

PRESS/ONLINE: “The track, though signaling a new era for Hinds, arrives rapturous and catchy, as Perrote and Cosials trade verses and riffs. ...'Coffee' is a sweeping first chapter of where the duo aims to
“‘Coffee’ is a a gorgeous punk-indie cross contamination, instantly memorable, grungy” - Wonderland


“They bring the energy of a thousand rock bands, entrancing the crowd with their searing indie riffs, the constant interlocking of guitars and smiles, and deeply charming banter” - Rolling Stone

“The Prettiest Curse is an evolution. It is striking, complex, uncompromising indie-pop. More than that, it makes a bold statement: it canonises Spanish indie-rock” – Loud and Quiet 9/10
“They’ve taken their sound and unashamedly experimented with it. They’re all the better for it” – NME 4/5

“The Spanish group’s second album displays the superior songcraft of the band, as vocalists Ana Perrote and Carlotta Cosials wade through love’s messy feelings with confidence and exuberance” - Pitchfork

Nonesuch Records releases Laurie Anderson’s Amelia, the 2024 Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award recipient's first new album since 2018’s Grammy-winning Landfall. The record comprises 22 tracks about renowned female aviator Amelia Earhart’s tragic last flight. Anderson, who Pitchfork says, ‘sees the future, but she starts by paying attention’, wrote the music and lyrics for this subjective narrative piece. On the album, she is joined by the Czech orchestra Filharmonie Brno, conducted by Dennis Russell Davies, and Anohni, Gabriel Cabezas, Rob Moose, Ryan Kelly, Martha Mooke, Marc Ribot, Tony Scherr, Nadia Sirota, and Kenny Wolleson.



Earhart was a passionate pioneer of early aviation, achieving fame as the first woman to cross the Atlantic, in 1932. Five years later, she embarked on a flight around the world. Before she could complete the voyage, her plane disappeared without a trace; it has never been found. “The words used in Amelia are inspired by her pilot diaries, the telegrams she wrote to her husband, and my idea of what a woman flying around the world might think about,” Anderson says. First premiered at Carnegie Hall in 2000, the updated piece was recently performed across Europe.



Laurie Anderson is one of America’s most renowned – and daring – creative pioneers. Her work, which encompasses music, visual art, poetry, film, and photography, has challenged and delighted audiences around the world for more than 40 years. In a recent 60 Minutes profile, Anderson Cooper said she ‘is a pioneer of the avant-garde, but ... that doesn’t begin to describe what she creates. Her work isn’t sold in galleries. It’s experienced by audiences who come to see her perform: singing, telling stories, and playing strange violins of her own invention... she blends the beautiful and the bizarre, challenging audiences with homilies and humor. She blurs boundaries across music, theater, dance, and film.’ The Washington Post has said she ‘doesn’t just tell stories; she draws out every word with a kind of physical pleasure, tasting its flavor as she probes the everyday mysteries of life,’ and the Guardian has called Anderson ‘one of the great popular artists and storytellers of our time.’



Anderson released her first album with Nonesuch Records in 2001, the critically lauded Life on a String. Her subsequent releases on the label include Live in New York (2002), Homeland (2010), the soundtrack to Anderson’s acclaimed film Heart of a Dog (2015), and her Grammy-winning collaboration with Kronos Quartet, Landfall (2018). Additionally, Anderson’s virtual-reality film La Camera Insabbiata, with Hsin-Chien Huang, won the 2017 Venice Film Festival Award for Best VR Experience, and, in 2018, Skira Rizzoli published her book All the Things I Lost in the Flood: Essays on Pictures, Language and Code, the most comprehensive collection of her artwork to date.



Recent exhibitions and installations of Anderson’s work include Habeas Corpus at New York’s Park Avenue Armory; her largest exhibition to date, The Weather, at Washington, DC’s Smithsonian’s Hirshhorn Museum of Modern Art; and Looking into a Mirror Sideways at Stockholm’s Moderna Museet, which was her largest European exhibition to date. Anderson recently toured with Sex Mob, performing her piece Let X=X. Earlier this year, she was awarded the 2024 Stephen Hawking Medal for Science Communication, along with Christopher Nolan and David Attenborough, and the International Astronomical Union named a minor planet in her honour: Asteroid 270588, Laurieanderson.



Nonesuch released a re-mastered edition of Anderson’s landmark 1982 album Big Science in 2007 for its 25th anniversary, followed by a vinyl LP re-issue in 2021; its beloved single, ‘O Superman’, became a surprise viral hit on TikTok earlier this year.

*REMASTERED ROUGH TRADE DEBUT LP LIMITED TO JUST 500 COPIES WITH EMBOSSED OUTER SLEEVE AND ORIGINAL INNER SLEEVE ON BLACK VINYL*

Dream POP, they called it. Given AR Kane’s Alex Ayuli once worked for advertising agency Saatchi & Saatchi, it’s no surprise that he and collaborator Rudy Tambala invented their own genre before critics could stick their oar in. It was a canny move, but more importantly, it was accurate: the music of AR Kane was made for dreamers, by dreamers, and its languor and longing made it particularly bewitching listening; their music is often smeared and blurry, happily lost in its own indefinable pleasures. “We wanted dream pop,” Tambala says, “that feeling of a dream where the rules are different. Dream logic.”
-UNCUT REISSUE OF THE MONTH

"A.R. Kane carved out a unique musical path, welding elements of pop, psych, dub, electronica, funk, noise, jazz, ambient and more in a way that had never been done before. Or since. Their debut in particular is a work of unbridled brilliance."
*Electronic Sound*

‘Sixty Nine’ the group’s debut LP that emerged in 1988 had critics and listeners struggling to fit language around A.R. Kane’s sound. As a title it was telling - the year of ‘Bitches Brew’, the year of ‘In A Silent Way’, the erotic möbius between two lovers - and as originally coined by the band themselves, ‘dream pop’ (before it became a free-floating signifier of vague import) was entirely apposite for the music A.R. Kane were making. Crafted in a dark small basement studio in which Tambala recalls the duo had “complete freedom - We wanted to go as far out as we could, and in doing so we discovered the point where it stops being music”. There was an irresistibly dreamy, somnambulant, sensual and almost surreal flow to ‘sixty nine’s sound, but also real darkness/dankness, the ruptures of the primordial and the reverberations of the subconscious, within the grooves of remarkable songs like ‘Dizzy’ and ‘Crazy Blue’. Alex’s plangent vocals floated and surged amidst exquisite peals of refracted feedback but crucially there was BASS here, lugubrious and funky and full of dread, sonic pleasure and sonic disturbance crushed together to make music with a center so deep it felt subcutaneous, music constructed from both the accidental and the deliberate, generous enough to dance with both serendipity and chaos. ‘sixty nine’ remains - especially in this remastered iteration - ravishing, revolutionary – Neil Kulkarni


"A.R. Kane made some of the most exciting, forward-thinking, and science fictional music of their era".s*

*REMASTERED ROUGH TRADE DEBUT LP LIMITED TO JUST 500 COPIES WITH EMBOSSED OUTER SLEEVE AND ORIGINAL INNER SLEEVE ON BLACK VINYL*

Dream POP, they called it. Given AR Kane’s Alex Ayuli once worked for advertising agency Saatchi & Saatchi, it’s no surprise that he and collaborator Rudy Tambala invented their own genre before critics could stick their oar in. It was a canny move, but more importantly, it was accurate: the music of AR Kane was made for dreamers, by dreamers, and its languor and longing made it particularly bewitching listening; their music is often smeared and blurry, happily lost in its own indefinable pleasures. “We wanted dream pop,” Tambala says, “that feeling of a dream where the rules are different. Dream logic.”
-UNCUT REISSUE OF THE MONTH

"A.R. Kane carved out a unique musical path, welding elements of pop, psych, dub, electronica, funk, noise, jazz, ambient and more in a way that had never been done before. Or since. Their debut in particular is a work of unbridled brilliance."
*Electronic Sound*

‘Sixty Nine’ the group’s debut LP that emerged in 1988 had critics and listeners struggling to fit language around A.R. Kane’s sound. As a title it was telling - the year of ‘Bitches Brew’, the year of ‘In A Silent Way’, the erotic möbius between two lovers - and as originally coined by the band themselves,
‘dream pop’ (before it became a free-floating signifier of vague import) was entirely apposite for the music A.R. Kane were making. Crafted in a dark small basement studio in which Tambala recalls the duo had “complete freedom - We wanted to go as far out as we could, and in doing so we discovered the point where it stops being music”. There was an irresistibly dreamy, somnambulant, sensual and almost surreal flow to ‘sixty nine’s sound, but also real darkness/dankness, the ruptures of the primordial and the reverberations of the subconscious, within the grooves of remarkable songs like ‘Dizzy’ and ‘Crazy Blue’. Alex’s plangent vocals floated and surged amidst exquisite peals of refracted feedback but crucially there was BASS here, lugubrious and funky and full of dread, sonic pleasure and sonic disturbance crushed together to make music with a center so deep it felt subcutaneous, music constructed from both the accidental and the deliberate, generous enough to dance with both serendipity and chaos. ‘sixty nine’ remains - especially in this remastered iteration - ravishing, revolutionary – Neil Kulkarni


"A.R. Kane made some of the most exciting, forward-thinking, and science fictional music of their era".
*Reissue Of The Week In The Quietus*

The large and humanistic ensemble Black Lives , led by bassist Reggie Washington (brother of drummer Kenny Washington) and his wife Stefany Calembert, is working to fulfil a dream - some would say a utopia - that is as much musical as it is social. Musicians from the U.S., Africa, the Caribbean, and Europe are united by a common language in their fight for equality and justice. It's about the future of our societies, which are lost in the excesses of all-consuming materialism and mistrust of others. A natural convergence of musical and cultural aesthetics - jazz, soul, funk, hip hop, blues - is shaping a declaration of love and an act of resistance. Hearts beat fast and fists are raised high! The watchwords call for a world of unity, peace, and freedom. It's a strong belief in tomorrow. 'If you unite and struggle, it's possible to change.'

An exciting new collaboration between New Mastersounds Hammond organist and Madrid based guitarist Lucas De Mulder plus drummer Luke Flowers (Cinematic Orchestra). Recorded at Joe's home studio on his cherished C3 Hammond (where The New Mastersounds' latest album "Old School" was recorded Galáctico will delight vintage jazz-funk fans with nods to Jimmy Mcgriff, Dr Lonnie Smith,George Benson etc etc. Joe and Lucas worked together on Lucas's album "Feel the spirit" in 2019 on Color Red label based in Denver.
The trio will be launching the record at the Saint Paul Soul Jazz festival in the south of France on 7th July and continue to play a series of other fgigs through-out the summer
The album starts with the frenetic James Brown groove of Double Take - a catch jazz guitar head that builds moving up in key to a frenetic hammond solo punctuated by The Haggis Horns.
Track 2 is the Meters-esque "Hey!" The only English language vocal track on the record and at that only one word
Next up is "El Gato" featuring Sam Bell on Congas and Atholl Ransome and Malcolm Strachan from the Haggis Horns a latin four to the floor vibe with solos traded throughout
Guinnee Drop is a swaggering funk jam with Luke Flowers funk drums breaks a feature
The only cover on the album is Sixto Rodriguez' Sugarman - Lucas and Joe were both inspired by his story and loved the song so much it had to go on the album with a mellow instrumental twist
The title track "Galáctico" is has funky soundtrack tune - the horns are back and take the track out with some blistering solos
"Retiro" inspired by the park near Lucas's pad in Madrid is a laid back boogaloo vibe and has Sam Bell on Congas and an upright piano solo from Tatton
"Dame Lo Que Tienes" - The first single from Joe Tatton's second album "Give me what you got!"- led by a funky guitar riff followed by a cutting hammond melody - a little "Meters, Booker T, The Crusaders "!
"Moonbow" a hypnotic slower tune with a nod to Khurangbin
The final track on the album is "Lost on You" A Breezy George Benson nod along
Out on vinyl, CD and digital on 5th July !

Baby Blue & Halloween Orange Vinyl. In their decade-plus together, the four-piece_Julia Shapiro (guitar, vocals), Lydia Lund (guitar, vocals), Gretchen Grimm (drums, vocals), and Annie Truscott (bass, vocals)_have created a resonant body of work. Live Laugh Love is a natural continuation. Against the bizarre backdrop of the past few years, Chastity Belt remained a supportive space for the members to grow and experiment, drawing on the ingredients most essential to their process since the beginning: authenticity and levity. Recorded over three sessions in as many years (January 2020, November 2021 and 2022), the focus became more about enjoying their time together in the studio than making it feel like work. Their ease and familiarity with engineer Samur Khouja in LA, who also recorded their last album, made for a particularly enjoyable process. Once completed, they returned to renowned engineer Heba Kadry who mastered the album.Album opener "Hollow" sets the tone with a gently driving rhythm while guitar layers stream like sun rays through an open car window. A warmth radiates through Shapiro's voice, even while grappling with feeling lost and stuck. "The older I get," Shapiro says of the lyrics, "the more I realize that I might just always feel this way, and it's more about sitting with the feeling and accepting it, rather than trying to fight it." That wisdom seems to anchor Live Laugh Love. Chastity Belt has never shied from navigating the spectrum of difficult emotions, and an existential thread weaves throughout the subject matter. And yet the songs feel more grounded than ever; there's a sense of quiet confidence and self-assurance that comes with being less numb and more present. Facing discomfort takes more fortitude, after all.Live Laugh Love finds the members in their prime as musicians. Their parts trace intricate patterns over one another, but there's room to breathe between the layers. Everyone contributes to the writing, sometimes switching instruments, and for the first time, all four members sing a song. It's never been more apparent that they are creative siblings, cut from the same belt. "We've been playing music with each other for over a decade," says Shapiro, "so it really does feel like we're all fluent in the same language, and a lot of it just happens naturally.""Laugh" seeks in the balm of friendship, aware of the anticipatory nostalgia that hits during a good time that you're already missing before it's gone; the heavier guitar tones on "Chemtrails" streak ominous chord progressions over Grimm's precision timekeeping, lamenting memories that won't fade easily. During a transitional time, Truscott came across a note in their phone that read, "it's not hard all day, just sometimes," which inspired a poignant line in the chorus of "Kool-Aid," their first song as lead vocalist on a Chastity Belt recording. Another standout, "I-90 Bridge" shines with a silvery melody that soars as Lund belts one of the most resounding moments on the album: "Tell your girlfriend she's got nothing to fear/I'm set in my head/My body's a different story." The track "Blue" saunters nonchalantly with a wink; you can almost hear Shapiro's smile as she sings "Faking it big time/So I can hit my stride/Man, it feels good to be alive," channeling early Chastity Belt channeling early '90s before channeling the late Elliott Smith in a spiral of distortion and insight: "Don't get upset about it/It's gonna pass/Tell all your friends about it/They're gonna laugh.""We have such a strong sense of each other's musical inclinations" says Lund. "I think this allows for a lot of playfulness_we can kinda surprise each other, like a good punchline would."

Don't judge a book by its cover. Judge a record by its cover.

And, perhaps, its title.

Cedar Walton's Mobius is as outrageously, disorientatingly brilliant as the stunning jacket design, featuring the legendary jazz pianist morphing into a mobius strip, set against a beautiful sky filled with cumulus clouds. A proper jazz-funk fusion slapfest, Mobius is a stellar electric set from - essentially - one *hell* of a SUPERBAND.

Yes, in addition to Walton's Fender Rhodes wizardry, Mobius is elevated by Ryo Kawasaki's stinging electric guitar, pristinely clear vocals by Adrienne Albert and Lani Groves, rootsy percussion by Ray Mantilla and Omar Clay, alto and baritone from Charles Davis, trumpet from Roy Burrowes, Gordon Edwards on bass and Frank Foster's tenor sax. Oh and did we mention STEVE GADD ON DRUMS?!?!

Gem after gem of looping, bliss-inducing gold, it's an incredibly revelatory album. It presents a thrilling synthesis of R&B, funk, blues and hard bop (with a hint of rock), all driven by an idiosyncratic electronic keyboard. Walton, a giant in the jazz world, got quite the workout every time he played, from piano to arp synthesizer to clarinet to electric piano to mini-moog and back again.

Mobius was Cedar Walton's debut for RCA in 1975. The versatile artist confirmed his abilities as a player, composer, interpreter and arranger with this stunning record, and his own bright compositions offered a springboard for the improvisations of the different soloists. Coltrane's "Blue Trane" is the first classic to be given the funkafied Mobius treatment, Ryo Kawasaki let loose all over neck-snapping Gadd-drum gold before the horns take a fiery turn and subsequently give way to Cedar's virtuosity. A sparkling b-boy break version of Thelonious Monk's "Off Minor" (featuring an absolutely *fire* solo from Walton) really sets proceedings alight. Of the three original pieces, the shuffling, percussive power of "Soho" is just absolutely mind bending Latin-influenced jazzy soul whilst the mellow vibes of "The Maestro" bring elegant, sumptuous soul. And then there's the effortlessly funky "Road Island Red". Just too, too good.

Cedar Walton was born in Dallas, Texas, on January 17, 1934 and began his professional career in 1959 when he began touring for several years with the J.J. Johnson Quintet. He later joined the Art Farmer-Benny Golson Jazztet and then Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers. Pretty solid credentials, right? While based in New York City, Cedar played with such luminaries as Donald Byrd, Eddie Harris, Blue Mitchell, Kenny Dorham, Lee Morgan, Freddie Hubbard, Jimmy Heath and Milt Jackson. Without question, he was one of the most complete and gifted musicians of his time and Mobius provides proof of that. The fresh, danceable tracks, all firmly rooted in the living tradition of blues and gospel, are skilfully presented by a master who enjoyed keeping abreast of contemporary tastes and was always keen to renew his language.

As the album notes state: “Mobius, which is the theoretical shape of the infinite universe, makes use of the most modern recording techniques and synthesizers. We mastered and mixed so that it’s hotter than the competition, which should help radio play and in-store demonstration.” Indeed. Mobius is really gorgeous mid-70s fusion, ranging from the funky to the ecstatic. It's an absolute MONSTER that will completely blow you away; and, yes, it's as wild and hypnotic as the cover. The audio for Mobius has been carefully remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring it sounds better than ever. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry in Holland. The original, iconic sleeve has been restored here at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.

Daga Voladora's last album came out in 2016. To alleviate such a long wait, only a couple of celebrated singles. Now, finally, Cristina Plaza (identity gracefully hidden under the Daga Voladora name that was before Gran Aparato Eléctrico and also a quarter of Los Eterno and half of Clovis) releases an album and does it, for the first time, in vinyl format. "Los manantiales" is the title of the happy and long-awaited return of an artist that never completely left.

"Los manantiales" ("The Springs") refers to all those sources from which I drink to make my songs: Stereolab, Broadcast, Galaxie 500, Cate Le Bon... And also some of the flamenco language. Flamenco in my own way, of course," explains Plaza. "Los manantiales" will also bring echoes of acts that the artist has not practiced as much such as Esclarecidos, Vainica Doble, Ana D or Kikí d'Akí. Deep voices for songs with substance.

But there is also that other idea of the spring that gushes forth when it can no longer be contained. "It has taken me so many years to make this album because I had a prejudice related to the previous one "Primer segundo" in which there was a coherence. Not finding that concept or thinking that this or that wasn't Daga Voladora, I couldn't get into it. Until I decided that maybe I didn't have to impose such a rigid direction on myself..."

Sketched in a town bordering Ávila where Plaza decided to get lost in the summer of 2022 and then finished off in a basement in Madrid for several months, the nine songs of "Los manantiales" make up a short album, premeditatedly short ("I don't like the songs to be longer than 2:50") but, above all, varied. Because, as can be sensed in the song Quise ser ( "I wanted to be a fictional hero, an expressionist painter, a promising actress"), here are all the imagined Cristinas and their different lives ("The song Lejos de la multitud is that longing of mine to be a vagabond"), an unmistakable sign that, as the artist confesses, "I am my own spring". And all this joyful dispersion comes from the premise with which Plaza approached the album: "I said to myself: 'Let's play'. I set out to have a good time. Suddenly, I wanted to do a dub track and I came up with Fosforito or a rock song like Lou Reed in the 80s and there was 'Me vi penando'. I wanted a rock record, an experimental record, something like Broadcast, and a musical! I wanted to do a thousand things!"

The result is a playful album, very enjoyable; but above all elegant and extremely precise. In both form and substance. Thus, the melodies are so rounded at first listen; the music would work perfectly on its own, stripped of lyrics that respond to the maxim, so often ignored, that there is really only one way to say things. "I have tried to refine the texts a lot. There are some phrases taken from Steinbeck, other things that emerge in a somewhat magical way. There's also Gary Snyder, Kerouac and his Dharma Bums, echoes of California..."

It's an album made, as usual with her, in the most absolute solitude (except for the collaboration of Andrés Arregui on sax and the final mix by Fino Oyonarte). Bareback. "I recorded everything with my computer, with my instruments, my analog keyboards, my rhythm boxes, little noises I make around... I don't make demos. I just do it. In a rough way. What I do do is repeat. The good thing about this method is that many things happen spontaneously and that's where they stay".

An album that, for all of the above, responds to the best notion of caprice. A whimsical whim, signed and finished off by the splendid cover designed by Beatriz Lobo, which feartures a painting ('La chica del King Creole') by the legendary artist Javier de Juan.

In "Los manantiales" there are many possible worlds, as many dreamed ones. Of course, those of Daga Voladora (not in vain, the album opens with a song titled Cristinópolis), but also those of any curious and sensitive listener who, by the way, will find more than one musical wink along the way. You just have to be attentive.

decade-plus together, the four-piece - Julia Shapiro (guitar, vocals), Lydia Lund (guitar, vocals), Gretchen Grimm (drums, vocals), and Annie Truscott (bass, vocals) - have created a resonant body of work. Live Laugh Love is a natural continuation. Against the bizarre backdrop of the past few years, Chastity Belt remained a supportive space for the members to grow and experiment, drawing on the ingredients most essential to their process since the beginning: authenticity and levity. Recorded over three sessions in as many years (January 2020, November 2021 and 2022), the focus became more about enjoying their time together in the studio than making it feel like work. Their ease and familiarity with engineer Samur Khouja in LA, who also recorded their last album, made for a particularly enjoyable process. Once completed, they returned to renowned engineer Heba Kadry who mastered the album. Album opener "Hollow" sets the tone with a gently driving rhythm while guitar layers stream like sun rays through an open car window. A warmth radiates through Shapiro's voice, even while grappling with feeling lost and stuck. "The older I get," Shapiro says of the lyrics, "the more I realize that I might just always feel this way, and it's more about sitting with the feeling and accepting it, rather than trying to fight it." That wisdom seems to anchor Live Laugh Love . Chastity Belt has never shied from navigating the spectrum of difficult emotions, and an existential thread weaves throughout the subject matter. And yet the songs feel more grounded than ever; there's a sense of quiet confidence and self-assurance that comes with being less numb and more present. Facing discomfort takes more fortitude, after all. Live Laugh Love finds the members in their prime as musicians. Their parts trace intricate patterns over one another, but there's room to breathe between the layers. Everyone contributes to the writing, sometimes switching instruments, and for the first time, all four members sing a song. It's never been more apparent that they are creative siblings, cut from the same belt. "We've been playing music with each other for over a decade," says Shapiro, "so it really does feel like we're all fluent in the same language, and a lot of it just happens naturally." "Laugh" seeks in the balm of friendship, aware of the anticipatory nostalgia that hits during a good time that you're already missing before it's gone; the heavier guitar tones on "Chemtrails" streak ominous chord progressions over Grimm's precision timekeeping, lamenting memories that won't fade easily. During a transitional time, Truscott came across a note in their phone that read, "it's not hard all day, just sometimes," which inspired a poignant line in the chorus of "Kool-Aid," their first song as lead vocalist on a Chastity Belt recording. Another standout, "1-90 Bridge" shines with a silvery melody that soars as Lund belts one of the most resounding moments on the album: "Tell your girlfriend she's got nothing to fear/I'm set in my head/My body's a different story." The track "Blue" saunters nonchalantly with a wink; you can almost hear Shapiro's smile as she sings "Faking it big time/So I can hit my stride/Man, it feels good to be alive," channeling early Chastity Belt channeling early '90s before channeling the late Elliott Smith in a spiral of distortion and insight: "Don't get upset about it/It's gonna pass/Tell all your friends about it/They're gonna laugh." "We have such a strong sense of each other's musical inclinations" says Lund. "I think this allows for a lot of playfulness...we can kinda surprise each other, like a good punchline would."

Danielle Boutet’s P »Pièces« is a mysterious artifact of Quebecois marginalia, self-released in 1985. Moving from languid ennui to high drama, »Pièces« is a dreamy gestalt, an album that borders Chanson, spoken-word, jazz noir, and minimalism, conjured from the chasm between acoustic and electronic realms. »Pièces« allows us a window into the highly intimate songcraft and compositional skill of an artist who longed to linger not in the public eye, but in relation with others and the world around her.

Born in Quebec City, Boutet studied music at the University of Montreal, where she focused on composition and percussion, before becoming involved in Montreal’s feminist and lesbian art scene. Primarily written, performed, and recorded by Boutet, with voice, guitar work, and technical assistance by Sylvie Gagnon, Pièces was created during a paradigm shift in home recording. Originally composed for the piano, Boutet and Gagnon utilized a consumer-friendly Tascam 4-track Portastudio and versatile Yamaha DX-7, alongside guitar, bass, marimba, and the human voice, to expand and contemporize the original composition’s scope.

Inspired by prog rock and British poet and musician Anne Clark, »Pièces« translates Boutet’s influence by moving between sunny, wistful fairytale and dark, wintry dirge. Filled with longing marimba, vertiginous, startling synth pads, and folk guitar, each track on Pièces offers a wholly unique proposition. Some are modal and rife with the ethereal psychological tension of a sci-fi soundtrack, while others are more like entering a smoke-laced lounge, the entertainer embodying seduction.

With the sprechgesang of artists like Serge Gainsbourg, there is an intense intimacy to Boutet’s delivery, sometimes as if she is performing for an audience of one. As one lyric goes, translated to English from French: “Like holograms/ Images from a world/ That inhales souls/ And exudes drama.” Another song contains an excerpt from The Tao of Physics: “The eastern sages specify clearly that they do not identify an ordinary void, but rather, a void having an infinite creative potential.”

To English-language audiences, the album’s title, »Pièces«, might seem to simply refer to the eleven different pieces. The title can also, of course, refer to parts of a larger whole, but Boutet is keen to point out that there is also another meaning: In French, a pièce is a room. On the cover of the original cassette, Boutet is seen sitting on a chair, alone in an empty apartment, a cable snaking at her feet. Listening to »Pièces« is like entering eleven different rooms: whether a study encased in shadow, a greenhouse left to wither in an eternal frost, or a divine nave.

Boutet sold a few dozen copies around Montreal, a scene mostly occupied by the new wave explosion de rigueur, but the inclusion of Pièces in the 1987 issue of Ladyslipper—the North Carolina-based mail order catalog that championed women musicians of all calibers and careers—led to more exposure throughout North America. “In the catalog,” Boutet says, “they included it in the New Age section, but I was, and still am, aware that this album is relatively unclassifiable.”

Boutet would release one more album, titled Musiques Urbaines, before getting pulled in the direction of interdisciplinary art and theory. “Although I never stopped making music, I lost all interest in public diffusion or performance,” Boutet says. Despite her departure from performance and publicly releasing music, she left behind a strange and enthralling document of Montreal’s 1980s feminist fringe, an aural document of the historic moment when self-recorded music and its practical potential became a prismatic reality.

Danielle Boutet’s Pièces arrives February 16, 2024 as part of uncommon¢ (“uncommon sense”), an open-ended, serialized endeavor from Freedom to Spend that provides new meaning for rarefied recordings from music’s outermost fringe.

Originally released as a hand-numbered CD on New Year's Eve of 2004, Last Light captures Tor Lundvall 's hushed songcraft at its most ghostly and grayscale, stripped bare like branches bracing for winter. Initially conceived of as "a piano album with sparse electronics" (with the working title November), Lundvall's palette steadily expanded, incorporating synthesizer, samples, bass, metronomes, and his signature spectral vocals. A journal entry from the spring of 2002 proved formative to his evolving vision: "I remember watching the blueish-grey light shimmering outside and hearing distant sounds echoing far away, eventually sinking into silence and stillness." The album's 12 tracks are steeped in this sense of autumnal transience, of bearing witness to what fades. The music moves in whispered swells, between dirge, drift, and devotional. Synths chime like slow-tolling bells; percussion shuffles and shivers, icy and isolated; bass traces a low-lidded plod - it's a mode both austere and seductive, lulling the listener into its landscapes of deepening dusk. Lyrically, Lundvall's language skews observational and depressive ("through lace curtains / grey light falls / dark clouds gather / in my soul" ), with each song like a gauzy glimpse into a different tableau framing winter's descent: rust - colored leaves, frozen ponds, cold crescent moons. Lundvall has long considered Last Light a "personal favorite" in his discography, and it's easy to hear why. In texture, finesse, and pacing, it vividly evokes the rare mood of fragile, frosty pastoral noir depicted in his iconic oil paintings. His is an art of the half-seen and half-remembered, of fleeting figures, shapes and shadows, and gathering darkness. Of all that disappears, and the ghosts that never leave: "So I wait / as the years / slowly drain the magic and the light / and the girl / I never loved / haunts me through the dark roads of my life."

ME LOST ME led by Newcastle-based artist Jayne Dent announces a new album RPG via Upset The Rhythm on 7th July, and is touring across the UK including support dates with Pigs x7. RPG (recorded in Blank Studios with Sam Grant of Pigs x7) is ME LOST ME’s fourth outing as a collective, having transitioned from an ambitious solo project in 2017, Jayne now regularly collaborating with acclaimed North-East jazz musicians Faye MacCalman and John Pope.
ME LOST ME delights in experimenting with songwriting and storytelling, creating a beguiling mix of soaring vocals and atmospheric electronics that playfully weave together disparate genres, drawing influence from folk, art pop, noise, ambient and improvised music. Hauntological in part, RPG is concerned with tales and with time - are we running out of it? Does insomnia cause a time loop? Do the pressures of masculinity prevent progress? Jayne Dent asks these questions and more on RPG, her homage to worldbuilding and the story as an artform, calling back to those oral traditions around a campfire, as well as modern day video games - bringing folk music into the present day as she does so.
ME LOST ME presents sound reaching in opposite directions, straddling time towards the archaic and timeless traditions of folktales, and towards the possible and potential futures of pastoral Britain and the world at large. Part speculation, part reminiscence, what results on the new album RPG is music that sounds ultimately displaced and yet omnipresent, adjacent to a hapless Vonnegut hero whose life is scattered throughout time and history, but full of wonder and curiosity rather than fear.
On track “The Oldest Trees Hold The Earth”, we see time stretched out between the branches of impossibly old beings in the woods. This track was co-written in Aarhus, Denmark with fellow Newcastle folk musician (with Danish heritage) Ditte Elly. The pair wordlessly passed a sheet of paper between each other to write the lyrics, inspired by Højbjerg and Mosegård, the woods they were sitting in. “How long should I wait/Before the moss grows?/On my skin, on my outstretched arms,” the lyrics are sung in a round, the close harmonies delicate and detailed.

A central thesis of this album is the joy of creation, something which is paid homage to in the album’s final track, “Science And Art” (Not because we need it to last/just because we needed to make it - so we invented the words/this language). It is also reflected in the definition that Jayne gives for “folk” itself. She comments, “To me, folk is quite an expansive idea. I think of it as creative work that's often made ad-hoc, with things that are at hand and more often than not it's born of a DIY ethos. It is songs and stories of the people, as in the traditional sense, but also creative coding, game design etc. Whatever outlet someone has for their creative expression could be described as folk. It's the things we make because humans need to make things, and the stories we tell about ourselves and the world around us.”
Crucially, on latest album RPG, Dent expands her songwriting and looks towards the unreal locations of worldbuilding in video games for inspiration. She comments, “I think the main similarity is the importance of a song's setting/environment to inform its narrative and textures, I'm often most inspired when out walking in the natural landscape, in cities and travelling to places I've never been before - the environment I'm in really impacts the work I make. While writing this album, however, I found myself inspired by imaginary landscapes, those in video games, paintings, etc. I was writing stories into these unreal locations instead. Even the songs inspired by real places, like The Oldest Trees Hold the Earth, have a very surreal quality to them in the songs, like they're being warped and turned into something not of this world. I think that's the main difference for me in terms of the thematic content and inspiration behind this album - I've been getting more and more interested in balancing surreal and fantastical environmental elements with ordinary and everyday settings.”
RPG upends the concept of the eternal return - we may be in the midst of inevitable repetition, but we tell stories whilst awaiting the passage of time.
"Being familiar with, and a fan of Jayne's earlier work, it was great to get the opportunity to work with her on the production of her new record. I had in mind a sense of what the record might be, but what came of the sessions, led by the vision Jayne had for the record, totally exceeded my expectations. As far as albums go, it has a breadth of writing and a sonic depth that made it a truly brilliant record. Having Jayne join us on a leg of the Pigs x7 tour in April is going to be ace. The creative nature, the sincerity and bold strokes of ME LOST ME put it in that space outside of any genre pigeonholes, and between our two sets I imagine the audience is going to have a proper sonic bath..."
Sam Grant, Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, 2023
“The music of Me Lost Me is beguiling, idiosyncratic and cinematic - or should that be video-game-omatic? This suite of songscapes often hits the sweet spot between ancient and modern with its masterful blend of stark folk, neon electronic burbling and unusual arrangements. Jayne's singing is refreshingly straightforward and nuanced - it's exquisite! - and perfectly punctures the nebulae of synths and brass which billow around the old wooden frames of the songs. Whilst listening I had images in my mind of what Northumberland might look like through the eyes of Simon Stalenhag - foggy moors, a robot looking across the sea to Lindisfarne, twinkling lights on metal towers.... that sort of thing. It's a really great album.”
Richard Dawson, 2023

Die-cut sleeve. In the fall of 2013 Bry Webb was putting the finishing touches on his second album Free Will. Released on May 20th 2014, Bry, with his newly assembled band The Providers, spent the following few years traversing North America playing clubs, festivals and storied stages such as Toronto’s Massey Hall. Nothing new for an artist who had spent the aughts in a constant state of motion with Constantines, a band who on average had performed one of every three nights on a stage somewhere in the world. In fact, running in parallel to Bry’s solo touring schedule was a reunion with his former Constantines’ bandmates to once again present their incendiary live show and celebrate the 11th anniversary reissue of the band’s Shine A Light. It is what happened as the decade wound down that seemed out of character for an artist who had spent close to 20 years immersed in the studio and on the stage: the music stopped altogether. Bry explains his feelings at that time, “I lost the musical plot about 5 years ago and stopped playing music entirely, sold instruments and recording equipment, and committed myself to the idea that I was absolutely done”. Webb dedicated himself to his ongoing work in community radio, months turned to years and musical life seemed to be all but gone from view. Now in an unexpected turnaround 10 years on from the recording of his last studio album, there is not only a return to the stage for Bry but also a new record. Primarily composed in a season of upheaval, Run With Me contains some of Bry’s rawest sentiments. Fresh and painfully present there is an immediacy one can hear as emotional walls collapse in real time. Bry explains the context of the album’s creation: “In early 2023 my personal life exploded. In the process of dealing with that, I started writing music again and started recording at home. Advised that I needed to figure out how to ask for, and accept, help from other people, I sent early recordings of songs to friends from twenty-five years of music making - many folks I hadn’t connected with in years - and asked if they’d contribute anything to the songs. People came through in ways that overwhelmed me to the point that I cried when I wrote out the list of players for the liner notes. I felt incredibly cared for. From Andy Magoffin, who recorded the first Constantines album in 1999, to members of the Cons, to my nieces Addy and Ella playing drums, and a doppler recording of my daughter’s heartbeat, the record is a document of my creative life, and the people who made it possible to make music again.” If the cover of Run With Me looks familiar, it is with full intent. The album’s technicolor marbling and die cut text serve to signal the inclusion of the album in a trilogy started with Bry’s first record Provider. Just as that album starts with the track Asa, this new one introduces itself with the instrumental Webb. The trilogy is now completed with his daughter's first, middle and last names represented as the first tracks on each of the three albums. While the LP’s package signals its place in the collection, and tracks such as Older Than The Dirt and What I Do revisit their predecessor’s familiar sonic starkness, Run With Me is the outlier of the trio. A number of new tracks forego the quietude of Provider and Free Will, clearly recalling the rallying rhythms of Constantines’ anthems. Thunder Bay (instrumental backing courtesy of The Harbourcoats circa 2009), with its insistent kick drum and wall of electrics, support one of Webb’s most indelible melodies, and the not so subtly psychedelic Modern Mind reveal an expansion of Webb’s palette. Perhaps the furthest afield is the contextual centerpiece of the album, Goodbye, where we not only hear a joyful voice that lay dormant for years, but hear it reclaim its power. Backed by Constantines’ Will Kidman, Doug MacGregor and Dallas Wehrle, Bry belts out “I’m through with all the rage, now watch the light pour out of me.” As with all of Bry’s work, Run With Me’s lyrics take their time to settle in. Songs of self-examination, reconfigured love ballads, and songs for those who work to help others. Songs of singing abound. It’s there in Older Than The Dirt’s second verse: "Logic to the last intention, logic in the way we kept holding on forever, singing as the floor- was swept”, ten thousand birds sing a warning song in Thunder Bay and again in Goodbye’s telling of a cathartic return to one’s true self with its celebration of those “Who sing - sing all joy - all joy of language, in a single word”. Joining Bry in singing Run With Me’s songs of “death, transition and hope,” are kindred spirits Jennifer Castle, Julie Doiron, Daniel Romano and Steph Yates. All of these singers elevate the album’s healing sentiments and help express the album’s central plea; a prayer of sorts wrapped in the traditional Scottish Gaelic melody of She Is Here’s second verse: “Let the sun rise in the morning and any witness bring. Let all the blooming cosmos teach us to sing”.

Gombloh’s forgotten masterpiece

What if you have Brian Wilson and Bruce Springsteen rolled into one? And what if he came of age as an poor buskers in in Surabaya, Indonesia, but then summoned enough strength to record six albums that flew in the face of everyone in the country’s rock scene back in the early 1980s?

Genius, be they Brian Wilson or Soedjarwoto “Soemarsono” Gombloh, don’t conform to rules written for us mere mortals. They have their own way of doing things and in the case of Gombloh, writing music, conducting recording session and spending cash from his music, must be conducted on his own terms and his terms only. Studio time was expensive back in the early 1980s, yet Gombloh could be three-hour late for his session, and while engineers, session musicians and producers were jittery about the prospect of another botched session, Gombloh took his time for a nap before the recording begun.

Yet, some of his greatest works came into being in the wake of this napping session. Recording session for Sekar Mayang is no exception, despite the fact there’s foreboding sense of doom with Gombloh being unsure about the possibility of selling enough units to help his label break even. This is, after all, this is his last record with his band Lemon Tree’s. No one knew that Gombloh was operating with all his cylinders running and what came out of this Indra Record session, in the waning days of 1980, were some of the best compositions ever committed to magnetic tapes (to wax, if now you’re holding this on vinyl).

This is Gombloh at the peak of his creative genius. You can argue that his debut album Nadia & Atmospheer (what’s with the spelling mistake?) is the most sprawling and complex album (both sonically and thematically), but Sekar Mayang certainly had the best songs and I can make the argument that this album’s 10 songs are strong contenders for biggest hits in blues, country, psychedelic rock charts. “Prahoro & Prahoro” is one of those impossible song which appears to have sprung from a bottomless well of inspiration, encompassing King Crimson’s sprawling epic, Deep Purple’s deepest blues and Genesis’ most progressive tendencies. Or “Sekaring Jagat”, which begins as Lennon-McCartney lullaby before launching a thousand ships traveling to the end of the rainbow with children choir singing heavenly melodies backed by droning harpsichord and synclavier, while a buzzing Hammond B3 tightly locks with Gombloh’s guitar strumming.

For many of his fans, Gombloh is known as generous man of the people. A Robin Hood type if you please. He spent his royalty checks to buy foods for beggars and buskers and dish out some more to buy undergarments for Surabaya’s prostitutes. In Sekar Mayang, Gombloh went full Springsteen mode in “Mitra Becakan,” a social commentary that cut so deep you can end up with tears in your eyes and lump in your throat (even if you don’t understand any of its Javanese language lyrics). This is one the most devastating social commentary ever recorded for a pop song, and even if you discount the greatness of its musical composition, you chalk this up as a great social-realism poetry. His years of hanging out with pedicab drivers, street vendors and street-bound prostitutes certainly gave him enough insight into their (in)human condition.

Yet, a record this stellar was largely forgotten. First, this record was a flop upon its release in 1981. Indra Records reportedly only did one pressing on cassette tape and be done with it. For those who were lucky enough to have come across one of songs from this album on the radio were likely growing up in East Java, where Gombloh had a massive cult following early in the 1980s. Nothing was heard from this record again.

There were only a handful of cassette tapes from the first pressing found on second-hand market and I recently stumbled upon one online with a price tag of Rp 50 million (US$3,500). It’s no longer available now.

In Sekar Mayang, Gombloh harbours an obsession for a long-lost utopia, Java’s distant past, where farmers have their barn full of rice and corn, where blacksmith working around the clock making tools and children singing and dancing in their seminaries. Or the fact that he opens the song with stanza from Serat Weddhatama, arguably the most monumental poem in neo-classic Javanese literature, could be his pledge of allegiance. The question for him is should a modern-day Indonesia, rife with poverty, corruption and environmental degradation not be an anathema to that utopia?

In the end, you don’t need to be someone fluent in Javanese to enjoy this majestic record. And if this record turns out to be the last in Elevation Records catalogue and we shut down this label tomorrow, we will be very happy. Mission accomplished!

A tech company's "senior spirit guide" finally comes to the defense of the "financially unsuccessful" Vincent van Gogh; wonders of the natural world are reimagined as "muster points for brainstorming innovators"; the "artificial char lines" on fast-food burgers are cited as if signs of the apocalypse. For the better part of three decades, Aesop Rock has used the syntax of the moment to pinpoint the fault lines in that moment's supposedly solid foundation. With his tenth album, Integrated Tech Solutions, Aes wields insidious corporatespeak as a tool to pry that parasitic worldview away from the parts of life that truly matter. A concept album about an organization offering "lifestyle- and industry-specific applications designed to curate a desired multi-experience," Integrated Tech Solutions picks apart the charlatan language that hears app inventors put themselves on continuums starting with cavemen and continuing through da Vinci. On "Mindful Solutionism," the wheel evolves seamlessly into modern agriculture - and then into atomic bombs, Agent Orange, cigarettes, and surveillance cameras. In a rare moment of transparency, the engineers Aes give voice to sum up this spiral in just a few words: "We cannot be trusted with the stuff that we come up with." Appropriately, the album sounds like the past and future at once. Largely self-produced, Integrated Tech Solutions catches Aes at his leanest and most innovative, leveraging "SolutionismÖs careening bounce against the wistful "By the River" or the slow creep of "Salt and Pepper Squid." The effect is a record that sounds itself like an organism growing, mutating, hurtling toward profitability - and then destruction. As fans have come to expect, Aes is cuttingly funny and slyly profound at once, whether recounting a childhood restaurant run-in with Mr. T ("100 Feet Tall") or quipping, on "Pigeonometry," that "white dove is a pigeon - you motherfuckers is bigots." At the same time, Integrated Tech Solutions is working on another parallel project: tracing the sprawl of modernity and cutting directly to its core. "I've been doing laps of the lost worlds," he raps on "All City Nerve Map," sounding at once wearied and reinvigorated. "I can draw a map to the raw nerve."

Originally released as a hand-numbered CD on New Year's Eve of 2004, Last Light captures Tor Lundvall 's hushed songcraft at its most ghostly and grayscale, stripped bare like branches bracing for winter. Initially conceived of as "a piano album with sparse electronics" (with the working title November), Lundvall's palette steadily expanded, incorporating synthesizer, samples, bass, metronomes, and his signature spectral vocals. A journal entry from the spring of 2002 proved formative to his evolving vision: "I remember watching the blueish-grey light shimmering outside and hearing distant sounds echoing far away, eventually sinking into silence and stillness." The album's 12 tracks are steeped in this sense of autumnal transience, of bearing witness to what fades. The music moves in whispered swells, between dirge, drift, and devotional. Synths chime like slow-tolling bells; percussion shuffles and shivers, icy and isolated; bass traces a low-lidded plod - it's a mode both austere and seductive, lulling the listener into its landscapes of deepening dusk. Lyrically, Lundvall's language skews observational and depressive ("through lace curtains / grey light falls / dark clouds gather / in my soul" ), with each song like a gauzy glimpse into a different tableau framing winter's descent: rust - colored leaves, frozen ponds, cold crescent moons. Lundvall has long considered Last Light a "personal favorite" in his discography, and it's easy to hear why. In texture, finesse, and pacing, it vividly evokes the rare mood of fragile, frosty pastoral noir depicted in his iconic oil paintings. His is an art of the half-seen and half-remembered, of fleeting figures, shapes and shadows, and gathering darkness. Of all that disappears, and the ghosts that never leave: "So I wait / as the years / slowly drain the magic and the light / and the girl / I never loved / haunts me through the dark roads of my life."

A tech company's "senior spirit guide" finally comes to the defense of the "financially unsuccessful" Vincent van Gogh; wonders of the natural world are reimagined as "muster points for brainstorming innovators"; the "artificial char lines" on fast-food burgers are cited as if signs of the apocalypse. For the better part of three decades, Aesop Rock has used the syntax of the moment to pinpoint the fault lines in that moment's supposedly solid foundation. With his tenth album, Integrated Tech Solutions, Aes wields insidious corporatespeak as a tool to pry that parasitic worldview away from the parts of life that truly matter.



A concept album about an organization offering "lifestyle- and industry-specific applications designed to curate a desired multi-experience," Integrated Tech Solutions picks apart the charlatan language that hears app inventors put themselves on continuums starting with cavemen and continuing through da Vinci. On "Mindful Solutionism," the wheel evolves seamlessly into modern agriculture—and then into atomic bombs, Agent Orange, cigarettes, and surveillance cameras. In a rare moment of transparency, the engineers Aes give voice to sum up this spiral in just a few words: "We cannot be trusted with the stuff that we come up with."



Appropriately, the album sounds like the past and future at once. Largely self-produced, Integrated Tech Solutions catches Aes at his leanest and most innovative, leveraging "Solutionism"'s careening bounce against the wistful "By the River" or the slow creep of "Salt and Pepper Squid." The effect is a record that sounds itself like an organism growing, mutating, hurtling toward profitability-and then destruction. As fans have come to expect, Aes is cuttingly funny and slyly profound at once, whether recounting a childhood restaurant run-in with Mr. T ("100 Feet Tall") or quipping, on "Pigeonome- try," that "white dove is a pigeon-you motherfuckers is bigots." At the same time, Integrated Tech Solutions is working on another parallel project: tracing the sprawl of modernity and cutting directly to its core. "I've been doing laps of the lost worlds," he raps on "All City Nerve Map," sounding at once wearied and reinvigorated. "I can draw a map to the raw nerve."






[f] Kyanite Toothpick [feat. Hanni El Khatib]




[k] Bermuda [feat. Lealani Teano]


[n] Forward Compatibility Engine [feat. Rob Sonic]



[r] Black Snow [feat. Nikki Jean]

Rico Friebe is back with the album "Faces Meet" after his recent debut "Word Value" and delivers his personal "deer in the headlight"-moment. What once appeared sparely uncertain and questioning, equalling the fragile try to overcome a state of darkness and forsakenness, now forms into a frenzy of confrontational flashes on "Faces Meet".

Like reflecting on the uncertainties presented on "Word Value", "Faces Meet" reveals some genuinely harrowing findings, creating a wholesome musical moment in time that might never happen like this again.
Besides the uncompromising statements as to find in the opener "Look At Me", refined perceptions in "Nowhere To Run" or "Fifty-One", open-hearted calls in "Do More" and "Let Go", Rico's pivotal confrontation with the irrevocable truth and emotional dissection peaks in his heartbreaking story on "The Best Talk" which marks the crucial lynchpin of the whole album.

Like faces (and therefore people) are constantly meeting everywhere, being faced with the decision how honest and open to meet at all, "Faces Meet" happens to be an even more involved metaphor about surrendering to your true inner self in a mirror-like situation.
Deeply rooted in the seeds of his debut album "Word Value", Rico follows a highly natural and severely plain musical language while implementing new and further ideas and elements throughout his sonic landscape.

"Faces Meet" is an album of insight and self-awareness and the inevitably necessary foundation for his third double LP and magnum opus "Anthems For A Lost Generation" (set to be released in Spring 2024), accelerating a lately unstoppable story into unforeseeable pathways.

Rico Friebe is back with the album "Faces Meet" after his recent debut "Word Value" and delivers his personal "deer in the headlight"-moment. What once appeared sparely uncertain and questioning, equalling the fragile try to overcome a state of darkness and forsakenness, now forms into a frenzy of confrontational flashes on "Faces Meet".

Like reflecting on the uncertainties presented on "Word Value", "Faces Meet" reveals some genuinely harrowing findings, creating a wholesome musical moment in time that might never happen like this again.
Besides the uncompromising statements as to find in the opener "Look At Me", refined perceptions in "Nowhere To Run" or "Fifty-One", open-hearted calls in "Do More" and "Let Go", Rico's pivotal confrontation with the irrevocable truth and emotional dissection peaks in his heartbreaking story on "The Best Talk" which marks the crucial lynchpin of the whole album.

Like faces (and therefore people) are constantly meeting everywhere, being faced with the decision how honest and open to meet at all, "Faces Meet" happens to be an even more involved metaphor about surrendering to your true inner self in a mirror-like situation.
Deeply rooted in the seeds of his debut album "Word Value", Rico follows a highly natural and severely plain musical language while implementing new and further ideas and elements throughout his sonic landscape.

"Faces Meet" is an album of insight and self-awareness and the inevitably necessary foundation for his third double LP and magnum opus "Anthems For A Lost Generation" (set to be released in Spring 2024), accelerating a lately unstoppable story into unforeseeable pathways.

Rico Friebe is back with the album "Faces Meet" after his recent debut "Word Value" and delivers his personal "deer in the headlight"-moment. What once appeared sparely uncertain and questioning, equalling the fragile try to overcome a state of darkness and forsakenness, now forms into a frenzy of confrontational flashes on "Faces Meet".

Like reflecting on the uncertainties presented on "Word Value", "Faces Meet" reveals some genuinely harrowing findings, creating a wholesome musical moment in time that might never happen like this again.
Besides the uncompromising statements as to find in the opener "Look At Me", refined perceptions in "Nowhere To Run" or "Fifty-One", open-hearted calls in "Do More" and "Let Go", Rico's pivotal confrontation with the irrevocable truth and emotional dissection peaks in his heartbreaking story on "The Best Talk" which marks the crucial lynchpin of the whole album.

Like faces (and therefore people) are constantly meeting everywhere, being faced with the decision how honest and open to meet at all, "Faces Meet" happens to be an even more involved metaphor about surrendering to your true inner self in a mirror-like situation.
Deeply rooted in the seeds of his debut album "Word Value", Rico follows a highly natural and severely plain musical language while implementing new and further ideas and elements throughout his sonic landscape.

"Faces Meet" is an album of insight and self-awareness and the inevitably necessary foundation for his third double LP and magnum opus "Anthems For A Lost Generation" (set to be released in Spring 2024), accelerating a lately unstoppable story into unforeseeable pathways.

A pungent ooze emanates from the subway. As a sticky drum machine sequence rolls out like thick dark fog, ice cold synth swirls rise from the depths.

Since the debut album Europe By Night, one of the main references associated with Henrik Stelzer and his Metro Riders project has been that of cinema, and particularly the European genre films of the 1980s. With its seedy subject matters manifesting both in visual style and music, the vibe of that era has crystallized over time. Passed down to us from deteriorating video cassettes, it became an invaluable key to decoding our present day reality.

And this is true for this album as well; Stelzer does not hide the fact that he builds heavily on that vibe; referencing it through track titles and utilizing a particular recording setup consisting of a Fostex and a reel to reel in order to achieve and recreate the feeling of those soundtracks — as heard on magnetic tape rather than vinyl.

The motion picture soundtrack as an arbitrary genre definition becomes, in the hands of Stelzer, a pair of X-ray specs for him to envision a kind of music that deals in grains and contrasts rath- er than hooks and choruses. And like Roddy Piper in John Carpenter's 1988 film They Live, he hands those glasses over for us to see the true face of our times.

On Lost In Reality Metro Riders maps out an emotional geography of the cities at night, wherein the cinematic haze becomes a tool by which we can view the cities with new eyes. Not steering away from the darker alleys nor the harsh realities of modern day politics masquerading as progress. Yet escapism, in the end, seems the only viable option. But not as an endgame, but rather a stepping stone for building a new vocabulary for an utopian language.

A.R. Kive collates the three most astonishing works from that most miraculous of duos - A.R. Kane - comprising the ‘Up Home’ EP from 1988 that signified the band’s dawning realisation of their own powers and possibilities, their legendary debut LP ‘sixty nine’ (1988) and its kaleidoscopic, prophetic double-LP follow up ‘i’ (1989).

In founder-member Rudy Tambala’s new remastering, the music on these pivotal transmissions from the birth of dream pop, have been reinvigorated and re-infused with a new power, a new depth and intimacy, a new height and immensity. Vivid, timeless and yet always timely whenever they’re recalled, these records still force any listener to realise that despite the habits of retrospective myth-making and the
safe neutering effects of ‘genre’, thirty years have in no way dimmed how resistant and dissident to critical habits of categorisation A.R. Kane always were. Never quite ‘avant-pop’ or ‘shoegaze’ or ‘post-rock’ or any of those sobriquets designed to file and categorise, A.R. Kive is a reminder that those genres had to be coined, had to be invented precisely to contain the astonishing sound of A.R. Kane, because
previous formulations couldn’t come close to their sui generis sound and suggestiveness. This is music that pointed towards futures which a whole generation of artists and sonic explorers would map out. Now beautifully repackaged, remastered and fleshed out with extensive sleeve notes and accompanying materials, ‘A.R. Kive’ reveals that 35 years on it’s still a struggle to defuse the revolutionary and inspirational possibility of A.R. Kane’s music.

A.R. Kane were formed in 1986 by Rudy Tambala and Alex Ayuli, two second-generation immigrants who grew up together in Stratford, East London. From the off the pair were outsiders in the culturally mixed (cockney/Irish/West Indian/Asian) milieu of the East End, with Alex and Rudy’s folks first generation immigrants from Nigeria and Malawi, respectively. The two of them quickly developed and fostered an innate and near-telepathic mutual understanding forged in musical, literary and artistic exploration. Like a lot of second-generation immigrants, they were ferocious autodidacts in all kinds of areas, especially around music and literature. Diving deep into the music of afro-futurist luminaries such as Sun Ra, Miles Davis, Lee Perry and
Hendrix, as well as devouring the explorations of lysergic noise and feedback from contemporaries like Sonic Youth and Butthole Surfers, they also thoroughly immersed themselves in the alternate literary realities of sci-fi and ancient history (the fascination with the arcane that gave the band their name), all to feed their voracious cultural thirsts and intellectual curiosity.

It was seeing the Cocteau Twins performing on Channel 4 show the Tube that spurred A.R. Kane into being - “They had no drummer. They used tapes and technology and Liz Fraser looked completely otherworldly with those big eyes. And the noise coming out of Robin’s guitar! That was the ‘Fuck! We could do that! We could express ourselves like that!’ moment”, recalls Tambala - and through a mix of
confidence, chutzpah, ad hoc almost-mythical live shows and sheer innocent will the duo debuted with the astonishing ‘When You’re Sad’ single for One Little Indian in 1986. Immediately dubbed a ‘black Jesus & Mary Chain’ by a press unsure of WHERE to put a black band clearly immersed in feedback and noise, what was immediately apparent for listeners was just how much more was going on here - a
tapping of dub’s stealth and guile, a resonant umbilicus back to fusion and jazz, the music less a conjuration of past highs than a re-summoning of lost spirits.
The run of singles and EPs that followed picked up increasingly rapt reviews in the press, but it was the ‘Up Home EP’ released in 1988 on their new home, Rough Trade that really suggested something immense was about to break. Simon Reynolds noted the EP was: Their most concentrated slab of iridescent awesomeness and a true pinnacle of an era that abounded with astounding landmarks of guitar-reinvention, A.R. Kane at their most elixir-like.

If anything, the remastered ‘Up Home’ that forms the first part of ‘A.R. Kive’ is even more dazzling, even more startling than it was when it first emerged, and listening now you again wonder not just about how many bands christened ‘shoegaze’ tried to emulate it, but how all of them fell so far short of its lambent, pellucid wonder. This remains intrinsically experimental music but with none of the frowning orthodoxy those words imply. A.R. Kane, thanks to that second generation auto-didacticism were always supremely aware about the interstices of music and magic, but at the same time gloriously free in the way they explored that connection within their own sound, fascinated always with the creation of ‘perfect mistakes’ and the possibilities inherent in informed play.

‘sixty nine’ the group’s debut LP that emerged in 1988 had
critics and listeners struggling to fit language around A.R. Kane’s sound. As a title it was telling - the year of ‘Bitches Brew’, the year of ‘In A Silent Way’, the erotic möbius between two lovers - and as originally coined by the band themselves, ‘dream pop’ (before it became a free-floating signifier of vague import) was entirely apposite for the music A.R. Kane were making. Crafted in a dark small basement studio in which Tambala recalls the duo had “complete freedom - We wanted to go as far out as we could, and in doing so we discovered the point where it stops being music”. There was an irresistibly dreamy, somnambulant, sensual and almost surreal flow to ‘sixty nine’s sound, but also real darkness/dankness, the ruptures of the primordial and the reverberations of the subconscious, within the grooves of remarkable songs like ‘Dizzy’ and ‘Crazy Blue’. Alex’s plangent vocals floated and surged amidst exquisite peals of refracted feedback but crucially there was BASS here, lugubrious and funky and full of dread, sonic pleasure and sonic disturbance crushed together to make music with a center so deep it felt subcutaneous, music constructed from both the accidental and the deliberate, generous enough to dance with both serendipity and chaos. ‘sixty nine’ remains - especially in this remastered iteration - ravishing, revolutionary.

The final part of this ‘A.R. Kive’ contains 1989’s astonishing double-LP ‘i’ which followed up on ‘sixty nine’s promise and saw the duo fully unleash their experimental pop sensibilities over 26 tracks, plunging the A.R. Kane sound into a dazzlingly kaleidoscopic vision of pop experiment and play. Suffused with new digital technologies and combining searingly sweet and danceable pop with perhaps the duo’s strangest and boundary-pushing compositions, the album did exactly what a great double-set should do - indulge the artists sprawling pursuit of their own imaginations but always with a concision and an ear for those moments where pop both transcends and toys with the listeners expectations. Jason Ankeny has noted that “In retrospect, ‘i’ now seems like a crystal ball prophesying virtually every major musical development of the 1990s; from the shimmering techno of ‘A Love from Outer Space’ to the liquid dub of ‘What’s All This Then?’, from the alien drone-pop of ‘Conundrum’ to the sinister shoegazer miasma of ‘Supervixens’ — it’s all here, an underground road map for countless bands to follow.” Perhaps the most overwhelmingly all-encompassing transmission from A.R. Kane, ‘i’ bookended a three year period in which the duo had made some of the most prophetic and revelatory music of the entire decade.

After ‘i’ the duo’s output became more sporadic with Tambala and Ayuli moving in different directions both geographically and musically, with only 1994’s ‘New Clear Child’ a crystalline re-fraction of future and past echoes of jazz, folk and soul, before the duo went their separate ways. Since then, A.R. Kane’s music has endured, not thanks to the usual sepia’d false memories that seem to maintain interest in so much of the musical past, but because those who hear A.R. Kane music and are changed irrevocably, have to share that universe which A.R. Kane opened up, with anyone else who will listen. Far more than other lauded documents of the late 80s it still sounds astonishingly fresh, astonishingly livid and vivid and necessary and NOW.

Stephen Steinbrink discovered a short YouTube video of a street magician who approaches a highschooler walking home in Barstow, California. “Here, let me show you my idea,” he says, as he places a quarter on the kid’s hand. The magician performs some relaxed flourishes, and the coin vanishes. In silence, the kid stares at his hand at the nothing where there once, indisputably, was something, until his wonder finds a single word: “Cool.” The title of Disappearing Coin, the new album from Oakland songwriter Stephen Steinbrink, comes from this short clip. “When I look at it now,” he says, “I relate to the kid, who’s obviously uneasy in his body, and going through the experience of being a teenager in the early 2000s growing up in a bleak desert town like I did. I also relate to the coin, an inanimate disc of possibility. And I relate to the magician, an absurd facilitator of sending what is tactile and concrete into the wispy conceptual realm.” “I’ve watched it probably a hundred times,” he says. “It cracked me up but also blew my mind open the feeling of wonder I experienced watching this video became a guide as I navigated new ways of staying in the realm of what’s both real and magical.” Following the 2018 release of Utopia Teased, Steinbrink completed an apprenticeship in the nearly-lost art of Stained Glass, becoming a glazier at a studio that over three years, fully restored the enormous 90-year-old windows in San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral. He committed to his Buddhist study, beginning lay monastic training before the process was thwarted by the pandemic. He dove deeper into music production for other artists, engineering two albums by Boy Scouts released on Anti- Records in 2018 and 2021. Steinbrink delighted in the way these pursuits pulled at the thread of ego’s tapestry and decentralized him from his craft, allowing him to embody a new role as a creative caretaker engaging in practices that felt communal and restorative. “As I slowly began writing for myself again, I tried to imbue my new songs with this sense of playfulness and wonder I felt while exploring these other interests.” He says. Feeling unlocked from the pressures of perfection that he often felt in his earlier work, creating Disappearing Coin felt buoyant and healing. “The album feels like an integration of all of my past musical selves zeroing in on the present,” Steinbrink explains, “I felt free to explore new ways of writing, through different perspectives, experimenting with fictional songwriting, visual archetypal language, and total collaboration.” This “total collaboration” was a joyous new venture after years of solo performing and recording. The album can be seen as a 42 minute session of show and tell, the manifestation of Steinbrink repeating the mantra of “Here, let me show you my idea” to himself over and over. Disappearing Coin is at once a welcome return for the veteran Steinbrink and the debut of a totally new artist, one who has found a new path to himself with new goals of openness, curiosity, and self-acceptance. “Recalls the magic pop purity of Arthur Russell...its minimalism manages to feel enlightened and transformative.” PITCHFORK // “Melodic and self-assured. Steinbrink delivers his knotted lyricism with a smooth lilt.

Letta Mbulu was lucky when she emigrated from South Africa, where blacks were troubled and ridiculed by the Apartheid system. She was lucky to rescue a recording deal with A&M records, and even the label's founder, Herb Albert, produced the record, Johnny Mandel did the orchestrations, and Quincy Jones wrote the liner notes. However, it wasn't only luck - Letta Mbulu's talents as a singer are such that they couldn't be overheard. Her husband, Caiphus Semenya, also from South Africa and a musician, helped her throughout. There's Music in the Air from 1976 features songs varying in tempos and moods and languages, and there's a mellow aura of purity and peace, almost innocence, that captures the listener.