Suche:oblique

The Invisible Road: Original Recordings, 1985–1990 compiles an unheard, previously unreleased body of recordings by Sussan Deyhim and Richard Horowitz, dissidents from diametric backgrounds who met during the heady days of Downtown New York in the 1980s. This collection reveals the creative and life partners’ radical shared vision of avant-garde pop in all of its boundary pushing freedom, combining Deyhim’s singular approach to vocalization, Horowitz’s invention of new musical languages, and touchstones of traditional music from around the world, creating a new music that ultimately retains a voice entirely its own. Despite their difference in backgrounds and respective journeys, at the time of their meeting in the early 1980s in New York City, Sussan Deyhim and Richard Horowitz were both products of the search for freedom and understanding (and resultant awakenings) that swept the globe and helped culturally define the late 1960s and 70s. Deyhim, born and raised in Tehran, spent her teens dancing with Iran’s Pars National Ballet company, performing weekly on Iranian national television, and travelling her home country studying with master folk musicians and dancers, before relocating to Belgium and joining Maurice Béjart’s prestigious Béjart Ballet of the 20th Century. Horowitz, born and raised in Buffalo, New York, had spent much of the decade before abroad, first departing for Paris under the shadows of the Vietnam War, where he studied piano, Eastern philosophy, and became entrenched the city’s free jazz scene, playing with the likes of Steve Lacy, Anthony Braxton, and Alan Silva, before embarking south to Morocco where his friendship with Paul Bowles helped cultivate a deep passion for the country’s musical traditions and a shift in his musical practice.



The pair met by chance sometime in 1981 at Noise New York, a small studio on West 34th Street founded by the musician and recording engineer, Frank Eaton, as a utopian creative laboratory that beckoned artists and bands like Arthur Russell, Christian Marclay, Liquid Liquid and Butthole Surfers into its orbit. Both artists had recently relocated to the city, Horowitz having recently released his debut album, Oblique Sequences (Solo Nai Improvisations), on the legendary Paris based imprint Shandar, and fallen in with members of New York avant-garde like La Monte Young, Jon Hassell, David Byrne, and Brian Eno, and Deyhim having begun to more actively incorporate singing into her practice, notably recording a vocal score for choreography she was doing at La MaMa Experimental Theatre.



Initially bonding over a cassette tape of field recordings made by Paul Bowles that had been given to mutual friend and writer Brian Cullman (seeking answers for Ornette Coleman’s question “what is the sound of sound”), their earliest collaboration was documented on Horowitz’s 1981 album, Eros In Arabia, with Deyhim contributing vocals to the track “Queen Of Saba.” Over the coming years, their deep connection would routinely gravitate them into the studio, culminating in the body of recordings that would appear on their 1986 album for Crammed Discs, Desert Equations: Azax Attra. Unknown to nearly all but the artists, laying in wait over the decades on numerous multi-track and stereo reels, DAT tapes, and reference cassettes, were a vast array of recordings made by Deyhim and Horowitz bookending Desert Equations. The 13 pieces represented on The Invisible Road: Original Recordings, 1985–1990 were recorded largely between Noise New York and Daylight Studio in Brussels, during a period that Deyhim describes the partnership between herself and Horowitz’s as seeking a music “free of any specific cultural reference, with a personal musical signature,” blossoming into a body of sonority that embraced the energy of contemporary boundary pushing pop and the avant garde, filtered through their mutual love and study of various musical traditions from across the globe and deep engagement with the ideas and tactics of experimental music.



Undeniably rooted in Horowitz’s study of the North Africa ney and the music of the Berber and Gnawa cultures during his time in Morocco, Deyhim’s deep engagement with the folk traditions of Iran, and the couple’s immersion in the interconnected Downtown underground music scenes, each piece on The Invisible Road offers its own vision creative and cultural hybridity. Deyhim sings in both English and Farsi, as well as a composite tongue that she developed by drawing upon numerous indigenous vocal techniques from around the world, intuitively responding to Horowitz’s simultaneous sound syntax forming and combining a wide range synthetic and acoustic instrumentation, and experimental tape techniques, within a visionary series of free-standing expressions.

Citirax's next outing takes the form of a debut album from Los Angeles-based duo OP-ART. This pair, like so much great music of recent times, is born out of the creative isolation of lockdown and features Andrew Clinco, who you may know for his work with Drab Majesty. The alias they have adopted is an acronym of "Oblique Pleasures Amidst Rough Times" which they say reflected the challenges of their formation. Musically the duo is inspired by the 1960s visual art movement so embraces layered, psychedelic soundscapes with a minimalist approach and takes cues from New Wave artists like John Foxx and early OMD. OP-ART in particular focuses on analogue synthesis and gear like the Arp Odyssey and Moog Rogue while exploring time, romance, and existential themes with real emotional depth.

Ruby Wine Vinyl. Manchester UK's Space Afrika make music of what they term "overlapping moments" - oblique mosaics of dialogue, rhythm, texture, and shadow, half-heard through a bus window on a rainy night. Honest Labour, the group's first full-length since 2020's landmark hybtwibt? (have you been through what i've been through?) mixtape, expands the project's palette with classical strings, shimmering guitar, and visionary vocal cameos, leaning further into their enigmatic fusion of ambient unrest and cosmic downtempo. It's a sound both fogged and fragmented, at the axis of song craft and sound design, born from and for the yearning solitudes of life under lockdown.The album title is tiered, alluding to a legendary patriarch from co-founder Joshua Inyang's Nigerian family tree (who was lovingly called "Honest Labour" for his loyalty and resilience) as well as the nature of self-designated work, such as Space Afrika's music - a "labor of love" in its truest sense. With fellow co-founder Joshua Reid recently relocated to Berlin, the pair began sharing files last fall, piecing together poetic vignettes of looping haze and found sound, inspired by the notion of "records that leave an impression, and help the listener deal with their life." As the isolation of Covid compounded with the worsening winter, the songs skewed increasingly introspective and emotive, reflecting a mood of dissipating futures and the infinite nocturnal unknown.The artists cite two core motivations for Honest Labour: to transcend the sum of their influences, and "to show what we're capable of." Both ambitions are entirely realized. The collection's 19 tracks flow with a synergy and sophistication as rare as they are radical, untethered to the dusty dub-techno templates of Space Afrika's early years. These are interstitial anthems, expressionistic and open-ended, delirious but deliberate, attuned to the drift and dreamstate of the present moment: "Ultimately this is an homage to U.K. energy, and an album about love and loss."

On their seventh long player The Breaks - their second for Joyful Noise Recordings - SUUNS are lost in limbo. For some artists, being caught in flux may result in songs that are either naive, out of touch or both, simply as a consequence of being cut off from human civilization. But for SUUNS, a band who have grown more than comfortable in the oblique and the intermediate, it actually had the opposite effect. The Breaks marks the Montreal experimental rock outfit's most emotionally resonant and tonally rich collection of music to date. The trio of Ben Shemie, Joseph Yarmush and Liam O' Neill leans more zealously than ever into their pop instincts. Yet remarkably enough, with that same dauntless abandon, SUUNS have mined a more extreme sonic palette this time around, one that stretches far beyond their core fundamentals as a band. The Breaks finds Shemie, O'Neill and Yarmush gleefully experimenting with loops, synths, samples and MIDI-instruments like a post-millennial Tangerine Dream messing with downtempo triphop beats. O' Neill took point in the producer's chair for The Breaks, arranging, structuring and editing many of Shemie and Yarmush's ideas from sporadic rehearsal sessions into Pro Tools, reimagining the songs over and over during a two-year time frame. Forged between countless plane rides, road trips, van tours and text threads, The Breaks became a product of endurance and a lot of trial-and-error. It's a record forged in tight fissions of freedom, where spells of whispered intimacy - like on the stunning ballad "Doreen" - are allowed to branch out into the vast glacial dreamscapes of the album's majestic title track. It captures SUUNS at their most panoramic, curious and exuberant: a constant relay of being adrift and enlightened anew, geared up to eleven. And guess what: the wheels keep on spinning.

Labels Theory Therapy and co:clear come together to release the debut album by Italy-based artist CHANTSSSS (with a special feature from k2dj, aka Ben Bondy).

‘Shyness’ suggests something subtle, intricate and ethereal – but it also demands your attention. Over 10 tracks of spacious, sub-aquatic ambience, CHANTSSSS pulls you deep into his vaporous sound world. The songs themselves, a blend of ambient pop, chamber music and pulsing low end rhythms, feel cloaked in mystery. Layers of reverb and zonked vocals float in the atmosphere, moving between and through one another, mist on mist. It’s not necessarily a quiet record, the low end can shake a room if you turn the volume up, but it does feel extremely intimate – proof that some art speaks loudest in its quietest moments.

Credits:

Written & Produced by CHANTSSSS

Mastered by Ike Zwanikken

Lacquer cut by Henry Rudkins

Artwork & Design by Lucas Dupuy

Acid-washed motorik drone with buried vocals from experimental duo.
Follows up, thirteen years later, from critically acclaimed album Common Era.

Realistic IX, the third full-length by the duo of Michael Jones and Turk Dietrich aka Belong, is both an expansion and excavation of their signature acid-washed songcraft.

Bleached guitars, metronomic drums, and buried voices rev, swirl, and seethe across shifting gradients of haze and hypnosis, alternately driving and diffuse. Melodies surge closer to the surface, flexing their form before resubmerging into quickening currents of feedback. Elsewhere the elements dissipate into a dusk of murk and microtonalities, electricity liberated back into infinite night.
Although it’s been thirteen years since Belong’s prior Kranky offering, Common Era, none of the duo’s rare synergy has decayed in the interim. Jones and Dietrich’s commitment to oblique states of motorik drone and liminal emotion continues to evolve and unfold, increasingly tactile and unreal, an alluring glow glimpsed through fogged windows at witching hours.

Gregory T.S. Walker’s Minstrels & Minimoogs was self-published by a young, nomadic composer and virtuoso in 1988 to accompany an immersive multimedia performance at the University of Colorado Boulder’s Fiske Planetarium. Created with this outer, and other, world setting in mind, the four tracks find Walker stretching toward an ancient-to-future vision where Egyptian myths and Hieronymus Bosch-ian tableaus are rendered in a screaming three dimensional circuitry of electronic drums, synth guitars, and, of course, Minimoog. Given the musical terrains and outmoded topics traversed, and that this entirely DIY effort was originally released as a micro one-sided 12” edition, Minstrels & Minimoogs is as perplexing and euphoric a document lost-to-time as it is now found.

Born in 1961 into an intensely musical family spanning four generations, Gregory’s mother Helen Walker-Hill was a noted musicologist specializing in the rediscovery and work of historical Black female composers, while his father, George Walker, was the first African American composer to win the Pulitzer Prize for music. Both parents studied with the famed (and famously strict) Nadia Boulanger in Paris in the 1950s, and held to lofty aesthetic standards in their home life. Walker began studying the violin as a child, but when a burgeoning interest in the electric guitar and rock music as a teen manifested, it was largely verboten in the household. The rule was that the music played in the home was to be acoustic and classical. Although the elder Walkers eventually relented and allowed Gregory’s guitar to be plugged in for a brief interval on the weekends, the remaining days he settled for strumming it sans amplification.

Gregory, conditioned and eager for a life in music but looking to get out from under the influence and yoke of his famous composer father, ultimately chose to study computer music at the University of California at San Diego, where he earned a Master of Arts. This was followed by another MA in electronic music composition at that hotbed of West Coast experimental music, Mills College. Intermedia and multimedia in the arts was the rage in the 1980s, and Mills was one of the centers for it; audacious spectacle meeting visionary performance, such as one of the realizations for Anthony Braxton’s music for multiple orchestras a young Gregory performed in with his violin.

After a series of solo synthesizer concerts around California, Gregory followed a girlfriend on a mid-country move to Boulder, Colorado. After picking up yet another composition degree at University of Colorado Boulder, his life as a composer really started, writing a piece for extended technique for guitar, a passacaglia for vocoder and orchestra, as well as Minstrels & Minimoogs.

Envisioned as a multimedia performance such as the kind he’d experienced at Mills (which was all but unknown in Boulder at the time), Gregory roped in a number of college going or aged friends of varying skill levels and musical sympathies to accompany him with distorted sax or oblique spoken interludes. Confronted with a lack of finances, but driven to get his ideas captured in a complete musical package, the album was recorded in his brother’s apartment. If not every player assembled was on Gregory’s virtuosic level, so be it; it was more about capturing the spirit of his intentions and embracing the serendipity of mistakes.

An inspired attempt at world building, Minstrels & Minimoogs draws on the deep well of musical knowledge Gregory gathered from his parents and teachers, but all the while subverting that historical basis by incorporating mutant strains of prog and pop music. The work accumulated is not unlike the playful 1980s work of Gregorio Paniagua, where medieval estampies and rondeaus are wrenched into an anachronistic present where Hildegard Von Bingen and Kate Bush are contemporaries. Ars nova, new art, a 20th century minimalist jester and troubadour.

A one sided LP was the cheapest option Gregory found to have Minstrels & Minimoogs memorialized on vinyl, so somewhere between 50 to 100 copies were pressed. There was no distribution, outside of copies that were handed out to friends or sold at the performances at the planetarium. Gregory T.S. Walker’s cosmic-futuristic forays into oblique pop and baroque subversion could forever reside perfectly in both the domed simulacrum of our universe for which it was composed, in the formats it is being reintoduced now, and our own biblical firmament. For in the words of Gregory, straight from the original liner notes: “God Is A Minimoog”

Gregory T.S. Walker’s Minstrels & Minimoogs arrives again August 23, 2024 on vinyl and digitally 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.

From the furnaces of Stoke-On-Trent comes the super-limited debut EP from Formal Sppeedwear, a wonky new wave teacup ready to be sipped.

Taking creative cues from Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies and Conny Plank’s experimental recording techniques to flesh out synthpop-oriented melodies, the EP stomps along with Scary Monsters-era Bowie guitar lines, early 80s Numan basslines and surreal lyrics - “Ready, set on my mark: Tesco Extra, Marks and Sparks” cries Clewlow on 6 Lofty Ash. There’s a versatility to the tracks; with the jolting staccato of The Line counter punched by EP closer and highlight Dismount’s soaring synth slow burn.

Defying the seas of young musicians moving to London and Manchester to find their path, Beck Clewlow (Bass, Vocals, Synthesisers) Charlie Ball (Guitar, synthesisers), and Connor Wells (Drums, Guitar, Synthesisers) stuck it out in Stoke, using the city as a blank canvas - devoting their spare time to writing and experimenting, building their own studio out of charity shop finds and cash-converter synths and recording equipment.

Out in the creative wilderness of Staffordshire there’s a healthy DIY scene brewing with bands waiting to make their mark; fly posting their own shows, making one-off merch for each gig, sharing lineups with one another. “There is no sense of geographical confinement here, there’s a wealth of talent who act indifferently to their surroundings. It’s particularly nice that some of our friends from here are starting to receive attention from elsewhere” say the band. As fellow locals University and Christian Music start to garner attention from the rest of the UK, it’s time for Formal Sppeedwear to follow suit.

Stoke-on-Trent might not be the first place you’d look to find your favourite new band - The Bootleg Beatles are one of its finest exports if you ask Google - but Formal Sppeedwear are here to show you the kilns are alright.

Darren Hayman New Starts are a spikey, fresh sounding band recalling the poppier ends of new wave and angular guitar rock. Their influences include The Cars, Breeders, Bay City Rollers, The Velvet Underground and ZZ Top. Lead singer Darren Hayman has his own long career running from the late 90s with John Peel faves Hefner to his more recent thematic and historical albums dealing with the English Civil War, William Morris and forgotten rural idylls. “I wanted a band again,” says Hayman, “and not a band that just backed me up and played my old songs. When we form our first bands in our teens we just find some friends and work through the musical differences. I usually look for players who play in a way I’m used to. This time I looked for variance and was led by people’s personality.” Guitarist Joely Smith of South London’s noise-pop adults and recently DIY-punks Fresh was recommended by a mutual friend who said, ‘She makes everything better’. Hayman and Smith shared a coffee and agreed on the correct number of guitar pedals and decided to proceed without an audition. “There is a tendency for me to make my chords too pretty. Joely cuts against that and plays in the opposite direction.” Hayman is a fan of rules and constraints and employed a new, oblique strategy on this record. “Even though I wrote all the songs, I wanted the songs to belong to everyone during arrangement. I decided that I would say ‘yes’ to every suggestion from the band, regardless of my instinct.” This made the songs warp and bend into new shapes and ensured that the record was the product of four individuals. Bassist Giles Barrett and drummer Will Connor come from funky afro beat influenced band Tigercats. “Pretty much the only rhythm I use, left to my own devices, is the ‘road runner’ rhythm. Will takes to care to find where the drum beat can be and we always end up somewhere I didn’t expect.” More Break Up Songs is a collection of 12 Break Up songs because Darren broke up with someone. Again. “I suck’, he says, “But it’s never anyone’s fault. It makes me very sad but I do have to work through these things in song and there’s always something to learn. I try to make songs about breakups that could be understood by both parties. I’m not interested in nasty songs.” Opening song ‘Little Stone in my Heart’ blisters along with Joely’s wildest guitars. The protagonist will do anything to make things right, but nothing ever is. ‘Under the Striplights’ has driving, choppy, incessant riffs, and is about the need to be anywhere but somewhere other than here. We could be under the moon or under the strip lights as long as we have each other. Another barely kept rule that Darren instigated on this album was that each song would be a tonal equivalent to one from The Velvet Underground’s third album. To that end ‘Don’t Need Persuading’ is this record’s ‘Pale Blue Eyes’ with the narrator being unable to break free of a vortex, knowing they will stay the night against all better judgment. ‘I’ve had a long standing distrust of the guitar,’ says Darren, ‘despite it being my primary instrument for twenty years. I thought it was time I made a record with two guitars and drums and bass. I wanted it to be bright, immediate and young sounding, despite the fact I’m old. We recorded it in four days and I think this might be the record a lot of my audience has wanted me to make for a long time.’ “bold and unique" The Sunday Times. // “Hayman has hit a creative purple patch… a treat” Mojo // “uniquely intimate and very satisfying”

Fourth Drawer Down is a compilation album by the Scottish post-punk and new wave band the Associates, released in October 1981. It compiles the A- and B-sides from the six singles the band released that year. The songs that appeared on Fourth Drawer Down had a notably darker and more experimental edge than their debut studio album The Affectionate Punch. The album was well received by music critics, with reviewers commenting on the band's increased experimentalism. Alastair McKay of Uncut called Fourth Drawer Down ""an extraordinary document on which the sense of mystery deepens, and the commitment to sonic experiment becomes more pronounced."" Fourth Drawer Down is available as a limited edition of 750 individually numbered copies on translucent blue coloured vinyl and is housed in a gatefold sleeve.

Fera’s trajectory sticks out like a sore thumb, you need to invest time, carefully divided between body & mind, to truly take a deep dive into his audacious output. After the acclaimed ‘Stupidamutaforma’ and ‘Corpo Senza Carne’, Fera is back with ‘Psiche Liberata’, an oblique, imperfect and broken record, in other words, exactly the type of magical voyage you want to be on. The mind, finally liberated.

Fera is Andrea De Franco, electronic composer from Southern Italy now residing in Bologna, also known for his work as visual artist/designer and member of the Undicesimacasa collective. His musical cosmos is profound and imaginative, intergalactic atmospheres that condense fragmented IDM, scintillating textures, distorted synthscapes, crunchy technoid rhythms and swirling abstractions that weave gently, sometimes moody and stark, more often celestial and awe-inspiring.

Mixed in Berlin by Steve Scanu ‘Psiche Liberata’ encapsulates Fera’s dense and intricate thought process in contrast with his simple and direct approach to writing and recording that finds its more natural output in his rapturous live sets where a mono signal runs through a few analog pedals transforming instantly into menacing alien grooves and fluid ecstasis.

Like ‘Psiche Liberata’s artwork, hand-drawn by Fera, every detailed miniature leads to a single cell of sound, tracks collide against each other in a psychotic kaleidoscope where every safe space is confronted with subsequent noise, alterations or interruptions. The black terror of ‘Celestial Anacusma’ is followed by the space-jazz banquet of ‘Milk Tears In The Hug Chamber’ doped up cyber Sun Ra extravaganza featuring Laura Agnusdei and Luigi Monteanni (Artetetra) on saxophones and flutes; ‘Silenzio Solare’ sprinkles Mille Plateaux era minimalism all over hallucinations, while ‘Diluvia’ crosses industrial acid with perpetual motion; title track ‘Psiche Liberata’ murmurs mechanically, a downtempo drifter for the wide-eyed 7AM comedown: ‘Simulacrima’ melts Boards Of Canada’s mellow pastoralism with dystopian meta-level dreamland and ‘Riposa’ showcases an overwhelming melancholy executed with elegance in a slo-mo world where the ineffable transcends notions of ambient and becomes a warm embrace.

Created on a Monotribe, MS20 & Volca Sample/fm, ‘Psiche Liberata’s velvet heaviness was achieved by re-amping many of the instruments through a Leslie Rotary Speaker and a reel-to-reel Telefunken. Fera’s sonic tapestry is in constant flux, underlying themes of love longing and affection run through the record but in a turbulent, volcanic, unleashed fashion, almost on the brink of utter noise or complete silence, reminding us that this is an artist like no other amidst the ever changing electronic scene. These are transmissions from the gutter, where the inevitable meets the unattainable and collapses.

"Fera’s tarnished materials are destined for ruin; “Stupida,” full of longing and regret, sounds like an elegy for a fallen world." Pitchfork

"A cut of dark magic that fits like a glove to overcast days, wild winds and lashing rains. Insistent, the treacle-thick bassline oozes out, soaking the space between the melancholic synth lines." Inverted Audio

"The songs on Stupidamutaforma feel hypnotizing...it establishes De Franco as a composer who uses space and time to create a set of rich, immersive works." Bandcamp 'Album Of The Day'

French saxophonist Musina Ebobissé unveils ARMAUN, his third release under the Blendreed name. ARMAUN – Ambient Resistance Music Against Urban Noise – takes a stand against the interference of invasive irritants with sublime slow motion music. Its four pieces evoke an ecstatic peace, allowing both artist and listener to breathe deeply. As the compositions unfold, each exhalation resonates at the frequency of the human mind in repose.

Layers of treated and reverberant saxophone fuse into a hypnagogic whole, as elongated melodies interact with their own fragmented and transformed echoes. In a semi dream state, existence is experienced at a languid pace, as each phrase decays into a haze of crosscurrents.

If ARMAUN recalls the fourth world music of Jon Hassell and Eno, it equally finds oblique kinship with André 3000's "New Blue Sun". Likewise, it shares essential DNA with vaporwave and the tape-loop experiments of Terry Riley. Conceived as a confluence of acoustic and electronic elements, Blendreed explores the intersection of jazz, ambient, post-rock and experimental music.

This is work of exquisite beauty with a direct function. It provides an antidote to the bombardment of our senses. After unhooking your mind from temporal entanglements, ARMAUN will absorb your soul.

Pushing the boundaries of intelligent dance music higher into experimental-adjacent analogue territories, where abstract serenity and complex analogue developments entangle in an organic symbiosis of sorts, Noordens newest puzzle in sound comes courtesy of two label habitues, Orion Moustache and Panta Rex. Staying true to their genre-unbound DNA and innovative vision, both artists each contribute a trio of oblique sound equations, conjuring up both identifiable rhythmic patterns and off-piste downtempo digressions to shape a grammar truly their own - not quite your usual function-oriented DJ tool, but not floor-opposed either. Hybrid and agile, this co-op between Orion Moustache and Panta Rex oozes inspirational spaciousness and ascetic sophistication thru and thru.

Pål Waaktaar-Savoy has explained that much of the atmosphere and the lyrical themes of Savoy’s seventh album “Under” are drawn from his move with his fellow songwriter and wife Lauren Savoy to Los Angeles, where they found themselves surrounded by loneliness.

Waaktaar-Savoy is one of the most prolific and impressive songwriters of the twentieth century and beyond, and having been working at the very top of the music industry for as long as he has, it is no surprise that the record is well-crafted. The production is good, with careful arrangements and instrumentation. Every instrument’s voice is given room and there is space in the mix. Only occasionally does this slip over into over-production, as with the treated strings on the opening track “Lonely Surfer” or the treatment of Lauren’s vocals, which sound overly processed.

It is also true that the record exhibits a fair measure of melancholy. The chords and melody lines are dark in places, and there is a hint of sadness in the lyrics, many of which have a retrospective quality, describing moments in the past. However, beyond this, the understated feel of the record is just that – understated. Many of songs feel a few RPM too slow and the delivery of the vocal lines too underplayed to give them any emotional authority. At times, it also seems like the arrangement has to step in to bolster the songwriting or lyrics, by filling space with strings or brass, or the counterpoint of the instrumentation on “Camden Palace Chronicles” which distracts from some fairly mediocre words. It is important to emphasise that this is a joint songwriting exercise for Pål and Lauren, so we should not compare the output to the work of a-ha, but still, the themes lean in the direction of suburban banality, far from Pål’s more oblique or allegorical writing.

There are other moments of real quality beyond the production and arrangement. The title track has an excellent Bowie-esque chorus (and there are echoes of his work and sound throughout, along with Beatles and Beck), “The Life and Times of a Wannabe” has some first-rate guitar work on it, edgy riffs and some good textures. Likewise, “Coming Down”, which also exemplifies Frode Unneland’s drumming on the record, which is generally prominent in the mix, and with good reason, as it carries the record along well.

With two critically acclaimed albums and a swathe of award-winning production turns under their belt, Ana Frango Elétrico present their most confident and accomplished work to date: Me Chama De Gato Que Eu Sou Sua / Call Me They That I’m Yours. Gesturing to a tradition of Brazilian boogie music, but bouncing with modern pop ebullience, the album sees the Rio artist evolve from a captivating upstart into a surefooted scene leader in full stride.

At just 25, the prolific artist and producer has already garnered worldwide admirers. Ana’s sophomore Little Electric Chicken Heart was nominated at the 2020 Latin Grammys. Since then, standalone singles have received the WME ‘Best Music Producer’ Award, recognising Ana’s deep passion for music production – a passion which has led to collaborations with nascent Brazilian stars Dora Morelenbaum, Illy and Sophia Chablau. Most recently, Ana was hailed for their co-production of Bala Desejo’s 2022 Latin Grammy-winning album Sim Sim Sim.

The new album finds Ana at their most assured and full voiced. Album opener “Electric Fish”, with funky bass and shimmering backing vocals, sets a buoyant tone. “Boy of Stranger Things” is its bombastic counterpart. It’s the grooviest Ana has ever sounded. And the most brazen. Lyrically, where Ana was once oblique on personal matters, they are now forthright – lucidly exploring their gender identity, citing accessible cultural references, and often singing in English.

“I started this album in 2021 with the intention of showing, in means of sound, understandings and feelings about queer love, subjectively exposing myself,” the non-binary artist states – before qualifying that though “feeling was its driving force, the album is really about musical production.”

“There’s so many references to different decades,” Ana explains. “Seventies drums with eighties processing … Going back, getting beyond … Testing the limits of organic sounds”. Characteristically playful, on Me Chama, Ana takes vivid and rewarding detours through funk-inflected R&B (“Dela”) and art pop (“Dr. Sabe Tudo”). “Nuvem Vermelha” is a cinematic chanson with lush strings that recalls Arthur Verocai. Then, “Coisa Maluca” loafs with the indie insouciance of Canadian slacker Mac Demarco. Later, “Let's Go Before Again”, is a full-on drum machine workout evocative of Stereolab.

Pål Waaktaar-Savoy has explained that much of the atmosphere and the lyrical themes of Savoy’s seventh album “Under” are drawn from his move with his fellow songwriter and wife Lauren Savoy to Los Angeles, where they found themselves surrounded by loneliness.

Waaktaar-Savoy is one of the most prolific and impressive songwriters of the twentieth century and beyond, and having been working at the very top of the music industry for as long as he has, it is no surprise that the record is well-crafted. The production is good, with careful arrangements and instrumentation. Every instrument’s voice is given room and there is space in the mix. Only occasionally does this slip over into over-production, as with the treated strings on the opening track “Lonely Surfer” or the treatment of Lauren’s vocals, which sound overly processed.

It is also true that the record exhibits a fair measure of melancholy. The chords and melody lines are dark in places, and there is a hint of sadness in the lyrics, many of which have a retrospective quality, describing moments in the past. However, beyond this, the understated feel of the record is just that – understated. Many of songs feel a few RPM too slow and the delivery of the vocal lines too underplayed to give them any emotional authority. At times, it also seems like the arrangement has to step in to bolster the songwriting or lyrics, by filling space with strings or brass, or the counterpoint of the instrumentation on “Camden Palace Chronicles” which distracts from some fairly mediocre words. It is important to emphasise that this is a joint songwriting exercise for Pål and Lauren, so we should not compare the output to the work of a-ha, but still, the themes lean in the direction of suburban banality, far from Pål’s more oblique or allegorical writing.

There are other moments of real quality beyond the production and arrangement. The title track has an excellent Bowie-esque chorus (and there are echoes of his work and sound throughout, along with Beatles and Beck), “The Life and Times of a Wannabe” has some first-rate guitar work on it, edgy riffs and some good textures. Likewise, “Coming Down”, which also exemplifies Frode Unneland’s drumming on the record, which is generally prominent in the mix, and with good reason, as it carries the record along well.

Pål Waaktaar-Savoy has explained that much of the atmosphere and the lyrical themes of Savoy’s seventh album “Under” are drawn from his move with his fellow songwriter and wife Lauren Savoy to Los Angeles, where they found themselves surrounded by loneliness.

Waaktaar-Savoy is one of the most prolific and impressive songwriters of the twentieth century and beyond, and having been working at the very top of the music industry for as long as he has, it is no surprise that the record is well-crafted. The production is good, with careful arrangements and instrumentation. Every instrument’s voice is given room and there is space in the mix. Only occasionally does this slip over into over-production, as with the treated strings on the opening track “Lonely Surfer” or the treatment of Lauren’s vocals, which sound overly processed.

It is also true that the record exhibits a fair measure of melancholy. The chords and melody lines are dark in places, and there is a hint of sadness in the lyrics, many of which have a retrospective quality, describing moments in the past. However, beyond this, the understated feel of the record is just that – understated. Many of songs feel a few RPM too slow and the delivery of the vocal lines too underplayed to give them any emotional authority. At times, it also seems like the arrangement has to step in to bolster the songwriting or lyrics, by filling space with strings or brass, or the counterpoint of the instrumentation on “Camden Palace Chronicles” which distracts from some fairly mediocre words. It is important to emphasise that this is a joint songwriting exercise for Pål and Lauren, so we should not compare the output to the work of a-ha, but still, the themes lean in the direction of suburban banality, far from Pål’s more oblique or allegorical writing.

There are other moments of real quality beyond the production and arrangement. The title track has an excellent Bowie-esque chorus (and there are echoes of his work and sound throughout, along with Beatles and Beck), “The Life and Times of a Wannabe” has some first-rate guitar work on it, edgy riffs and some good textures. Likewise, “Coming Down”, which also exemplifies Frode Unneland’s drumming on the record, which is generally prominent in the mix, and with good reason, as it carries the record along well.

Nick Llobet (they/them) was ready to throw in the towel. Llobet, who grew up in South Florida, learned to play guitar at a very young age, dabbling in everything from classical, blues, classic rock, and flamenco. They'd spent much of their early 20s searching for their voice as an artist and as an individual, as well as for a musical community Llobet would eventually move to Brooklyn, but after three years of looking for a hopeful artistic breakthrough, they spent much of their time in seclusion, consumed by social anxiety and imposter syndrome-and they were considering abandoning songwriting completely. One day, while commuting through Penn Station en route to their partner's family home in Virginia (that would also lead to the crucial purchase of a secondhand Tascam cassette recorder), they noticed Patti Smith sitting alone, waiting for a train. The typically shy Llobet decided to approach the icon, who was, in turn, delighted to see that Llobet was carrying a guitar. At the end of their interaction, Smith offered some parting wisdom: "She wished me luck and said, 'Practice hard, Nick.'" Llobet took her advice to heart, and this chance encounter kicked off a personal and artistic rebirth. They started performing as youbet, a play on their last name, and began "changing their vision for what a song could be." youbet's debut, Compare & Despair, a delightful gem of a record that showcases Llobet's propensity for freewheeling whimsy and emotional intensity. In May 2019, inspired by a song-a-week writing group that produced Compare & Despair, Llobet started a second club in which contributors would upload that week's song to a private Bandcamp. Invigorated by this small musical collaboration, the feedback, and the accountability, Llobet wrote 18 songs throughout the duration of the club, twelve of which became Way To Be. After this songwriting marathon, Llobet spent 2020 focusing on instrumental guitar work and political engagement. By the summer of 2021, they were ready to revisit the Way To Be tracks. Over the next year-and-a-half, Llobet worked on the record relentlessly, refining the lyrics, recording, and arrangements from their apartment. Llobet self-produced Way To Be and describes the process as an enormous, labor-intensive undertaking that felt akin to "making a whole film." Along the way, Llobet was joined by collaborators, including Julian Fader (Ava Luna), Adam Brisbin (Buck Meek), and Daniel Siles. Across Way To Be's 12 delightfully off-kilter tunes, Llobet uses wordplay and tongue-in-cheek humor to obliquely explore dysfunctional relationships, regret, self-confidence or the lack thereof, queerness, and self-discovery. Fuzzy at the edges and filled with playful, kinetic arrangements, Way To Be is a bridge into the entrancing world of youbet. You won't want to leave.

Nick Llobet (they/them) was ready to throw in the towel. Llobet, who grew up in South Florida, learned to play guitar at a very young age, dabbling in everything from classical, blues, classic rock, and flamenco. They’d spent much of their early 20s searching for their voice as an artist and as an individual, as well as for a musical community. Llobet would eventually move to Brooklyn, but after three years of looking for a hopeful artistic breakthrough, they spent much of their time in seclusion, consumed by social anxiety and imposter syndrome—and they were considering abandoning songwriting completely. One day, while commuting through Penn Station en route to their partner’s family home in Virginia (that would also lead to the crucial purchase of a secondhand Tascam cassette recorder), they noticed Patti Smith sitting alone, waiting for a train. The typically shy Llobet decided to approach the icon, who was, in turn, delighted to see that Llobet was carrying a guitar. At the end of their interaction, Smith offered some parting wisdom: “She wished me luck and said, ‘Practice hard, Nick.’” Llobet took her advice to heart, and this chance encounter kicked off a personal and artistic rebirth. They started performing as youbet, a play on their last name, and began “changing their vision for what a song could be.” youbet’s debut, Compare & Despair, a delightful gem of a record that showcases Llobet’s propensity for freewheeling whimsy and emotional intensity. In May 2019, inspired by a song-a-week writing group that produced Compare & Despair, Llobet started a second club in which contributors would upload that week’s song to a private Bandcamp. Invigorated by this small musical collaboration, the feedback, and the accountability, Llobet wrote 18 songs throughout the duration of the club, twelve of which became Way To Be. After this songwriting marathon, Llobet spent 2020 focusing on instrumental guitar work and political engagement. By the summer of 2021, they were ready to revisit the Way To Be tracks. Over the next year-and-a-half, Llobet worked on the record relentlessly, refining the lyrics, recording, and arrangements from their apartment. Llobet self-produced Way To Be and describes the process as an enormous, labor-intensive undertaking that felt akin to “making a whole film.” Along the way, Llobet was joined by collaborators, including Julian Fader (Ava Luna), Adam Brisbin (Buck Meek), and Daniel Siles. Across Way To Be’s 12 delightfully off-kilter tunes, Llobet uses wordplay and tongue-in-cheek humor to obliquely explore dysfunctional relationships, regret, self-confidence or the lack thereof, queerness, and self-discovery. Fuzzy at the edges and filled with playful, kinetic arrangements, Way To Be is a bridge into the entrancing world of youbet. You won’t want to leave.

Turbo Recordings is proud to present the label debut of Anastasia Kristenen, with her Moments of Inertia EP. As we enter our 26th year of existence, Turbo is constantly and violently shocked that exciting techno music is still being made. After a certain point, you expect yourself to look a genre square in the face and say “Enough!” But we consider ourselves the luckiest vanity imprint on the planet to be able to harness the talent of artists like Copenhagen-based DJ-producer Anastasia Kristensen and serve it up to you in this - your darkest hour.
Escaping the massive shadow of Norway’s hip-hop scene, ‘Moments of Inertia’ captures a sound that evokes nothing but itself, as though Kristenen were recording sub-rosa dimensional machinery at oblique angles and arranging the best parts with the kind of narrative grandeur most techno artists would never dare interrogate. It should also be noted that the track “Paradox & Puzzle" shares a name with Tiga’s moderately successful escape room gastropub.
The A1 ‘I’d Love To Do It’ leads with vivacious drum programming and Kristensen’s enigmatic vocals setting the stage for 'Paradox & Puzzle’ which shares a name with Tiga’s moderately successful escape room gastropub. The title track closes the show with slamming industrial tones, summarizing Anastasia’s bespoke futuristic flow.
If you think Turbo might start slowing down in its mid-20s, we respectfully ask you to get real. And while you’re at it, get a clue. ‘Cause we know in our heart of hearts that music can and will save the day, even if it’s just for just one day.

The latest suite by composer (and Stars Of The Lid co-founder) Adam Wiltzie took shape following a move north from Brussels into the Flemish countryside, although it was initially inspired by a recurring dream wherein “if someone listened to the music I created, then they would die.”
The album uniquely evokes and evades the allure of oblivion, keening between beauty and ruin, forever unresolved. Wiltzie cites the barbiturate of the title as both muse and sacred escape: “When you are sitting face forward on the daily emotional meat grinder of life, I always wished I could have some, so I could just fall asleep automatically and the feeling would not be there anymore.”
Recorded at Wilzie’s home studio, with strings added in Budapest at the old Hungarian National radio facility (Magyar Radio), the tracks feel simultaneously intimate and infinite, unfolding vistas glimpsed in an inner space.
Robert Hampson of English drone rock icons Loop mixed the album, further lending the music a sense of cinematic expanse and oblique hypnosis.
These are fugue states as much as fugues in a literal classical music sense—smeared epiphanies of uncertain memory and spatial dislocation, coaxed from the unconscious and set aloft.

With two critically acclaimed albums and a swathe of award-winning production turns under their belt, Ana Frango Elétrico present their most confident and accomplished work to date: Me Chama De Gato Que Eu Sou Sua / Call Me They That I’m Yours. Gesturing to a tradition of Brazilian boogie music, but bouncing with modern pop ebullience, the album sees the Rio artist evolve from a captivating upstart into a surefooted scene leader in full stride.

At just 25, the prolific artist and producer has already garnered worldwide admirers. Ana’s sophomore Little Electric Chicken Heart was nominated at the 2020 Latin Grammys. Since then, standalone singles have received the WME ‘Best Music Producer’ Award, recognising Ana’s deep passion for music production – a passion which has led to collaborations with nascent Brazilian stars Dora Morelenbaum, Illy and Sophia Chablau. Most recently, Ana was hailed for their co-production of Bala Desejo’s 2022 Latin Grammy-winning album Sim Sim Sim.

The new album finds Ana at their most assured and full voiced. Album opener “Electric Fish”, with funky bass and shimmering backing vocals, sets a buoyant tone. “Boy of Stranger Things” is its bombastic counterpart. It’s the grooviest Ana has ever sounded. And the most brazen. Lyrically, where Ana was once oblique on personal matters, they are now forthright – lucidly exploring their gender identity, citing accessible cultural references, and often singing in English.

“I started this album in 2021 with the intention of showing, in means of sound, understandings and feelings about queer love, subjectively exposing myself,” the non-binary artist states – before qualifying that though “feeling was its driving force, the album is really about musical production.”

“There’s so many references to different decades,” Ana explains. “Seventies drums with eighties processing … Going back, getting beyond … Testing the limits of organic sounds”. Characteristically playful, on Me Chama, Ana takes vivid and rewarding detours through funk-inflected R&B (“Dela”) and art pop (“Dr. Sabe Tudo”). “Nuvem Vermelha” is a cinematic chanson with lush strings that recalls Arthur Verocai. Then, “Coisa Maluca” loafs with the indie insouciance of Canadian slacker Mac Demarco. Later, “Let's Go Before Again”, is a full-on drum machine workout evocative of Stereolab.

“Even if people don't find my own references here, they'll find theirs,” observes Ana. “Maybe that’s this record’s biggest goal.”

The fourth installment of the 'Tracks From The Alley' series continues to explore the oblique edges of the jackin zone, dragging recognizable primitive elements of dance music through narcotic madness; a possible soundtrack for sleepless nights at the skate park.

Involved in this 4 tracker mini-compilation are the Greek dj/producer DimDj, the Berlin-based Italian producer and part of Sons Of Traders, TANS, the Portugal-based Brazilian Unrealistic Expectations label owner Nothing Was There, and the ALLEY VERSION's brothers FLML.

Limited to 200 copies.

The oblique and annihilating transmissions emanating from the workshop of Polar Inertia have been issued intently and surely over the last decade and more. Environment Control grants access to the biggest consignment to date, with eight tracks of mesmeric play that are fraught with clinical impulsiveness and astringent rushes.

Opening with a didactic panegyric to transmutation, Polar Inertia swiftly counter our recoil with an ominous display of pressure on 'Smothering Dreams'. The intensity is sustained—as if to suggest that there's now no way back—until the menace relents on 'Artic Horizon', its shimmering gravitational pull amounting to an idealism after the unease that delivered us here.

Up the mountains, deep in the forest, I found these plants that live on sound and water. They don’t need light and therefore are unlike any other plants on this planet. Their peek of activity is during the night, when they are covered with a thin, black layer of nocturnal light. Night lies on these plants like a thin membrane. Their roots absorb drops, waves of sound and its vibrational intonation. When humans eat this plant they fall asleep and start dreaming instantly.

In this dream they become these plants, who are unnamed, and are able to feel the pulsation of their — now own — roots. Many years ago, when language was more sounds than codes, these plants were everywhere to be found in the planetary landscape. Nobody knows yet why these plants are only to be found in the high mountain in its deep forest. It is said that once you enter this forest it will not be easy to find your way out. Like in a dream, you need to be guided by a strong wave of consciousness to find your way out and back to the ground.

FOLLOWING THEIR RECENT REUNION, THE DELGADOS REISSUE THEIR FOURTH STUDIO ALBUM HATE ON COLOURED VINYL AND CD TO MARK ITS 21st ANNIVERSARY

Ushering in a new era of emotionally vulnerable and cinematic songwriting for celebrated Glasgow group The Delgados, 2002’s Hate is the group’s most ambitious recorded statement to date. Recorded amidst a backdrop of personal change and international crisis, Hate’s internal alchemy transmogrifies darkness into light. It’s an enclosed universe full of tragedy and magic, a swirling galaxy of lush orchestration, misanthropy dealt with kindness and black humour. Above all it showed a band coming to terms with their fragility with a new power and grace.

In Hate, the band’s ambition saw them striving to reflect the breadth of human experience, both the joy and tragedy of living in tumultuous times. Initially commissioned by The Barbican in London to compose music for a film about artist Joe Coleman, the instrumental music that instigated Hate was laden with darkness from the outset. The Delgados’ worldview has always been informed by nuance, an oblique but incisive lyrical perspective but on Hate a new rawness is woven throughout the songs. Coleman’s original subject matter - portraits of troubled historical figures like Ed Gein, Mary Bell and Jayne Mansfield - influenced the tonality of the music but the songs were written against a backdrop of international tumult and personal life changes for the band members. Beginning writing sessions following a family bereavement in drummer Paul Savage’s family, Hate was then recorded while both Alun Woodward and co-singer/guitarist Emma Pollock were expecting new additions to their young families, the latter with drummer Paul Savage. In the background to the recording process were the attacks on the World Trade Center of September 2001 and their aftermath. In this context, it’s remarkable that an album was made at all, let alone one so grand and compassionate. It’s a masterclass in restraint and imagination.

Hate sounds like the world in all its ugly glory. Recorded in Glasgow and New York with Tony Doogan, Dave Fridmann and the band as producers and using over 20 additional musicians, Hate grabs the baton from the group’s breakthrough critical and commercial success The Great Eastern. Bolder, broader and more all-encompassing than anything the band had previously attempted, the album’s palette is furnished by a string section, brass and reed instrumentation, a choir and electronic elements augmenting the core group of Emma Pollock, Alun Woodward, Paul Savage and Stewart Henderson. Far from being over the top, the group’s skill is in attention to detail, in honing and refining each arrangement, allowing each element its space.

It’s a fine balancing act that pays massive dividends. Woodward’s new lyrical vulnerability is spotlighted on tracks like The Drowning Years, which throws elegiac string arrangements against the narrative of characters living in darkness, punctuated by couplets that bring a real-life documentary feel to the narrative. All Rise brings a black comedy to the idea of a confessional before a transcendent, choir-led refrain brings ecstatic resolution to Woodward’s vocal in its highest register. On the single All You Need Is Hate, Woodward’s trick of subverting the Beatles standard showcases the dark humour at the centre of Hate. Here The Delgados’ perversity is in full flow, nurturing a glowing light from darkness, the resolving melody and Fridmann production recalling contemporaries The Flaming Lips (whose Michael Ivins assisted in mixing) or Mercury Rev. The perversity is the surging serotonin induced by the group while singing the lines “Hate is everywhere, inside your mother’s heart and you will find it there. You ask me what you need? Hate is all you need.”

It’s a dark magic that pervades Hate, indeed it’s almost the driving force throughout the album. Flipping minor to major and back again, Favours is fuelled by fear and violence before blasting into the heavens with the gauche line “and you’re feeling fine,” operating in stark contrast to the verses’ tone. Album opener The Light Before We Land finds Emma Pollock in the aftermath of recent family trauma. Her vocal is effortless; a study in steady restraint against the massive, Fridmann-patented drum sound powering Savage’s playing and Henderson’s instantly recognisable melodic basslines. Coming In from the Cold is Pollock in full flight, lifted to the heavens by wide-screen, instrumental texture. Her presence on Hate highlights her knack for lyrical impressionism, the timbre of her voice lending itself to drama while always retaining a mystique. Never Look At The Sun, inspired by the Coleman painting The Big Bang Theory (itself an explosives-themed study), revels in paranoia, her performance ringing out in the eye of the storm conjured by the swirling arrangements. It reaches the peak of a redemptive arc while seemingly parodying the very idea of redemption.

Hate was the sound of The Delgados completely fulfilling their potential, a fully realised vision buoyed by the weight of coming through a darkness into light. For its 21st anniversary, the album is being reissued on the band’s own Chemikal Underground on coloured vinyl and CD. Hate is all you need

Obliques and Atmospheric are very happy to present their new album “Golden Apples of the Sun”. It is the result of a close cooperation between Suzanne Ciani and Jonathan Fitoussi. The American electronic music pioneer (5 time Grammy award-nominated) has joined the French composer to sign a four-hand album around mythical synthesizers like Buchla, Moog and Ems...

Mainly recorded in California, facing the Pacific Ocean, the white sound of synthesizers mixes constantly with the sound of the waves and wind.The music generated is directly blended with the surrounding elements of nature.It is both organic and live, hypnotic and rhythmical, powerful and dreamlike.

Suzanne is a five-time Grammy award-nominated composer, electronic music pioneer, and neo-classical recording artist who has released over 20 solo albums. Her work has been featured in films, games, and countless commercials as well. She was inducted into the first class of Keyboard Magazine's Hall of Fame alongside other synthluminaries. Most recently, she is the recipient of the Independent Icon Award from A2IM. Suzanne has provided the voice and sounds for Bally's groundbreaking "Xenon" pinball machine, created Coca-Cola’s pop-and-pour sound, designed logos for Fortune 500 companies, and carved out a niche as one of the most creatively successful female composers in the world.

The Avengers remains one of the great institutions of British television, a landmark series and the epitome of the swinging 60s.

This debut release on vinyl features highlights of music from the Tara King era series of The Avengers by composer Howard Blake,

taken from the CD release (2011). Following on from Johnny Dankworth and Laurie Johnson (whose classic theme opens this release),

Blake delivered his own distinctive musical style to the hippest show on TV. He was awarded the OBE in 1994,

after a music career covering everything from choral works and ballet to film and TV. His music for the Christmas perennial

The Snowman, with its magical Walking in the Air theme has become a seasonal standard.

Jake Muir's latest set of soft-focus, sensual electro-concrète, dissolves X-rated gay sleaze flick soundtracks into a shimmering suite of subdued orchestral flourishes and surreal cosmic psychedelia.

Back in 2020, Muir put together a 90-minute mix for Honey Soundsystem, blending tracks from Kelman Duran, DJ Olive, Daniel Lanois and Terre Thaemlitz with obliquely camp dialog samples from vintage gay porn. The idea was to represent queer sexuality in a looser, more experimental manner, grazing the super-sensory pleasure of the bathhouse experience and the illicit joy of cruising without getting too self-serious while doing it. The mix was so popular that Muir followed it up with a weightless sequel two years later, and began developing the concept into a proper album, using more samples of music and dialogue, eventually performing the piece at the esteemed GRM as part of their FOCUS #4 concerts alongside work by Eliane Radigue, Folke Rabe and Chris Watson.

Bathhouse Blues is split into two side-long pieces that wash and ripple with nervous tension and discreet salaciousness. Opening with a familiar theatre sting, there are echoes here of kosmische and experimental electronics on 'Cruisin’ 87', fashioned into puddles of syrupy, back-room ambience. Occasionally we hear lascivious words thru the fog, men mumbling to each other before sex. "That's beautiful," a voice mutters over a dusky cricket chirp on 'Pipe Dream'. "It is," another replies.

Muir's sonic treatment is suitably explicit, like a 1950s Hollywood jump-cut to a train going into a tunnel; he takes the whole-body, mutual release of queer sex and interprets it with heady gestures, peppering jazzy rhythmic frostings into basins of skewered drone and gurgling synths. His sound is coloured by the pleasure of physical touch, a mussy flux of high frequency scrapes and caresses juxtaposed with woozy, dubbed-out fondles and thrusts. Who said the GRM was buttoned up?

Over the course of 20 years, German artist Black To Comm (Marc Richter) has pushed the limits of / and merged the aesthetics of art, conceptual installations, and music, coming in a wave of innovation alongside his peers Pita, Fennesz, and later Sarah Davachi to name a few. Through it all Richter as Black to Comm has challenged assumptions, explored identity, and confronted the concept of authorship itself. At Zeenath Parallel Heavens finds Black to Comm contemplating the hybridity within each and every one of us, be it sexual, racial, cultural, or linguistic. Richter mirrors personal dualities musically with a combination of sounds he created and manipulated samples, blurring their boundaries. "I always try to blur the line between sampling and my own recordings, also between "real" instruments,MIDI, electronics, editing, between authenticity and theatrics/artificiality," says Richter. When recording he became aware of how AI text programs processing resembles his own methods. "I had the realization recently that the way I compose is not too dissimilar to what AI software is doing nowadays - especially when the AI is hallucinating (this is the term used when the AI is overloaded/overcharged/inundated and comes up with made-up results)." Human behavior reflected in a computer facsimile of human intelligence appealed to the ethos of Black to Comm, whose titles and concepts are often oblique and tongue-in-cheek.

Over the course of 20 years, German artist Black To Comm (Marc Richter) has pushed the limits of / and merged the aesthetics of art, conceptual installations, and music, coming in a wave of innovation alongside his peers Pita, Fennesz, and later Sarah Davachi to name a few. Through it all Richter as Black to Comm has challenged assumptions, explored identity, and confronted the concept of authorship itself. At Zeenath Parallel Heavens finds Black to Comm contemplating the hybridity within each and every one of us, be it sexual, racial, cultural, or linguistic. Richter mirrors personal dualities musically with a combination of sounds he created and manipulated samples, blurring their boundaries. "I always try to blur the line between sampling and my own recordings, also between "real" instruments,MIDI, electronics, editing, between authenticity and theatrics/artificiality," says Richter. When recording he became aware of how AI text programs processing resembles his own methods. "I had the realization recently that the way I compose is not too dissimilar to what AI software is doing nowadays - especially when the AI is hallucinating (this is the term used when the AI is overloaded/overcharged/inundated and comes up with made-up results)." Human behavior reflected in a computer facsimile of human intelligence appealed to the ethos of Black to Comm, whose titles and concepts are often oblique and tongue-in-cheek.

Tube Alloys have made a type of record that is in short supply these days. A record that is untethered to prevailing musical trends, punk or otherwise, in either their native Los Angeles or further afield. It's in keeping with a tradition, sure, one pioneered by bands like Wire, Swell Maps and This Heat, who sought to combine the vitality of punk music with an omnivorous ear for the avant-garde. But Tube Alloys honour this tradition with their disinterest in nostalgia and their ability to cast an irreverent eye towards our present and - crucially - our future, rather than endlessly rehashing our past. In short, Tube Alloys are adventurous where many of their contemporaries are content to play it safe. In doing so they tick a lot of boxes for those with open minds and open ears, while simultaneously making sense of the innate contradictions found in any great work of art. Their songs are muscular without being boneheaded, clever without being nerdy. A dry Australian humour is barked with an American sense of self-assuredness. Songs end before you've had a chance to digest their brilliance, or they explode right when you think they've already peaked. And just when you think you're comfortably along for the ride, the songs disappear altogether, and the record's centrepiece abruptly takes shape as an oblique spoken riff on Time. And Time it is, for something a little different. Finally! If you are in need of refreshment, then look no further, you have found your Oasis!

Three timeless tracks from the esteemed D.C. LaRue back catalogue get brand new remixes from three equally exciting producers to give a modern spin to these ‘70s classics.

LaRue joined the music industry by recording two top 40 pop records influenced by the teen-idol era. In his early adulthood, he began writing songs about the fast-growing club and bar subculture he frequented where the most outcast of society’s young and marginalized could safely congregate after being ostracized in work, church, school, and often family. In this relatively brief selection of LaRue classics, contemporary remixes paradoxically bring out the timelessness of his songs, in tone, message and musicality.

First up, ‘Do You Want the Real Thing’ gets a fresh update from re-edit royalty Opolopo in the style of the lush yet sharp Motown and Philadelphia production pieces that inspired the arrangement originally, still resonates as a nightly inner dialogue or negotiation, another of LaRue’s literary signatures.

‘Let Them Dance’ greeted in its time as a one of the breakthrough moments of new music technology, is reinterpreted by Dr Packer mainly with its live acoustic tracks, also retaining bright, rhythmic synthesizer hooks with results that are still true to his intentionally oblique lyric, a novelistic portrayal of the drug dealers, the LGBTQ+ underground community, and the powerful upper class elite that made up the multi-racial, socially integrated crowds on the dance floors at the height of disco.

Last up, ‘Indiscreet’ from LaRue’s 1976 concept album, ‘The Tea Dance,’ tells much of the story about how disco had already birthed its own far more popular and influential successor form, Hip-Hop, by the time it was declared dead by the superannuated establishments of the radio, media, and record businesses. Released in a highly limited, personally inscribed 12-inch 45 rpm edition for a select list of top disco DJs, its complex, elastic polyrhythm made it as irresistible to younger black DJs and breakdancing teens as any of the year’s other big street breakouts. Only Good Vibes Music head honchos and Scotland’s finest The Knutsens give it the magic touch for the modern dancefloor.

Bound To Rise is the quietly impressive debut album from Yorkshireman Chris Brain. His songs have a gentleness and ethereality, enhanced by his softly husky, smoky vocals coupled with delicate finger-picked guitar patterns based around his alternate tunings.

The self-composed songs draw on the pastoral and the traditional, heavily centred in natural imagery featuring both as itself and as allegory. A misty ambiguity, suggestions of layered meaning and hints of multiple interpretations permeate the lyrics. And darker moods throw long shadows across this landscape.

A pre-dawn longing for the sun in title track ‘Bound To Rise’ seems to obliquely evoke springtime, primitive beliefs and lifting mood. ‘Bird Count’ is another daybreak song hinting at other, more intimate, preoccupations, “calling out your name / never to be tame”.

‘Chance To See’ celebrates the emotional significance of a relationship, and it’s easy to interpret ‘Golden Eagle’ as its flipside partner, “but you can’t choose her, she chooses you” – or maybe it’s simply a song about birdwatching. ‘Flying On Time’ continues with rare sightings paired with impressions of human air travel and distance, “she’s due tonight / just for one night / to visit our skies”.

Non-specific doubt and uncertainty edgily patrol ‘If I Could’, whilst the cheerfully pattering guitar motif of ‘Peace And Quiet’ belies an inner melancholy, and ‘Rare Find’ charmingly bookends Mary Jane Walker’s plangent violin and Simeon Walker’s subtle piano.

‘Sunday Morn’ “lays the week to rest” amongst other things but, despite the laid-back vibe, all is not sunny and “melancholy calls to greet us once more”. Brain’s songs are intriguing shifts of light and shade, and the details improve with each listen.

Coming full circle thematically, the joyous simplicity of expression in ‘Sun Song’ makes it close kin to the mighty Bright Phoebus, “the sun was born and she’s beautiful / the sun was born from the ground”. It’s an optimistic ending to an emotionally ambiguous album.

Influenced by, among others, Nick Drake, John Martyn and Joni Mitchell, it’s not hard to see where Chris Brain is coming from. More interesting is where he’s going to. Bound To Rise makes a very promising start.

Taavi Suisalu is an Estonian media artist particularly interested into complex and adventurous sounds, field recordings and harsh audio emergencies, organized under the form of symphony or as a result of performative interactions.

In 2014 Suisalu received the Young Estonian Artist Prize as curator of Project of In-existent Villages, an articulate exhibition full of installations and site-specific sound performances. The use of peripheral spaces and the crossovers, sometimes extremely creative, of human interactions, data, sounds and technologies, are recurring in the works of Suisalu, whose subjective perspective unconventionally investigates different social and cultural phenomena. He is always attracted by the different forms of technologies. It can be an old seismograph he reconstructs to record the underground vibrations of a volcano, or, it can be some 3D models he uses to analyze a grain of soil coming from the ancient Pompei. The results of the researches would lead to the installations. The whole set of data is often the premise of a narration, a datafiction, as in the case of the signals recorded from some abandoned satellites, who are later presented with a speed set by the position of other satellites gravitating above the gallery hosting the event.

“Noisephony of Lawn Mowers" was originally composed in 2013, but it was unreleased until now, when Staalplaat, a fundamental label for its unusual experimental connections and for the sound events performed in unconventional spaces, decided to publish it. It's a score for lawnmowers, whose making is given to a conductor and executed by a group of artists. Suisalu reminds us that historically, lawn has been a symbol of power and wealth as it required substantial upkeep and unused land. Today, it still indicates wealth, but is mainly maintained by the owners themselves. This puts us in a schizophrenic situation where we strive to be privileged by taking the role of the servants.

“Silver Meets Ted” is the other track included in the selection. It's a recording of over ten minutes, whose trend cryptically moves on and with some unsettling minimal tolls, always more metallic. Some deaf beats follow, and then we have a splash of water and some slightly hinted neighs, chirps, different spills of liquid, more intense and measured, clackings and vibrations, some hardly identifiable frequencies and again a series of punctuated metal bells. The work by Taavi Suisalu stands out as a calibrated combination of mathematical coherence and elements of surprise, automatized and causal processes, some small oblique utopias, that work well together by improving highly subjective resources and create some slightly unsettling final results.

Tape

The music of Melati ESP aka Melati Malay is a euphoric vision of megacity rhythm and rainforest escape, club breaks and weightless pop, mapping new dreams from the sound of futures passed: hipernatural.

Drawing on the music era of her teenage years growing up in Jakarta – Javanese radio Dangdut, gamelan cassettes, Moving Shadow-era liquid jungle, Japanese chill-out, etc. – as well as her current work in progressive percussion trio Asa Tone, Malay’s solo debut is boldly borderless, bridging worlds and wavelengths into a richly imagined hybrid synthetic utopia.

hipernatural is momentous linguistically, too, as Malay’s first foray into singing in Indonesian, the language of her youth. She characterizes her lyrical mode as “abstract, and a bit broken,” an intuitive collage of diaristic emotion and oblique poetry (“plant me in fleeting twilight / missing home, where is home? / I am another you”). Her voice serves as its own versatile instrument, alternately intimate and alien, sensual and sacred, shaded with the haze of hidden heavens.

Co-produced with long-time collaborator Kaazi (100% Silk, Asa Tone), the album’s 12 tracks are cohesive but eclectic, threading through temple bass music, cyber siren techno, Stereolab drum n bass, new age downtempo, and dial-up rave reveries, flecked with tactile fragments of offworld dialogue, computer hum, bubbling water, and beyond.

Malay’s technique of sampling and processing her voice into an electronic palette which she then performs on generative instruments gives the songs a bewitching artificial intelligence elegance, exquisite but uncanny. Hers is a hybridity both organic and hypermodern, deeply personal yet globally sourced – YouTube rips, nature tapes, cheap sample packs, club bootlegs. hipernatural champions a dynamic new language at the axis of then and now, of east and west

New York painter and musician exploratory industrialist Tor Lundvall initially envisioned his 14th album, Beautiful Illusions, as an entirely instrumental affair, "inspired by memories of sitting in a church or cathedral watching the shifting sunlight through stained glass." Although he ultimately chose to wreath the majority of the tracks with hushed, poetic vocals, his original muse still resonates. These are certainly songs of shadowplay and vaulted skies, the quiet grandeur of dusk deepening on the horizon. Lundvall characterizes the lyrical subject matter, too, in ways both specific and surreal, exploring "the doubts, the anxieties and even the bleak fantasies the mind spirals into during moments of isolation, separation and distance." Tricks of the eye, mind, and ear, magnified by silence and the looming long winter. Shivering pulses and muted bass lines tread the twilight while icicle synths and wiry guitar map the melody until the voice enters, narrating oblique moods of essence and absence, tenderness and truth. Glimpses of dark humor flicker in the wordplay but the greater sonic landscape is one of falling leaves and failing light, small gestures rendered as revelation, cloaked in reverb and spatial fog. Lundvall's mastery of nuance and negative space continues to heighten, whispered brushstrokes of the invisible and the unsaid, what lies beneath and what lies beyond: "Behind the shields and false fronts is usually a sadness. The heartbreaking reflections of what might have been."

Wistful, quietly positive, and a little bit melancholic; ambient artist Umber is set to release kaleidoscopic new album ‘Sometimes that light, that shine, seemed like a pretty nice thing’ on 17th March 2023. Focused on melodies that engage the heart as much as the mind, the album brings his electronic influences to the fore, combining shimmering soundscapes with a throbbing pulse of movement.

Umber, the project of Nottingham based Alex Steward, has been steadily releasing sublime music since 2011. Living in a small town provides Alex with a balance between the peace of rolling green fields and the energy of community. This life on the edge of the countryside comes across in his music, which finds the verve of night life enveloped in organic textures and environments.

Wistful, quietly positive, and a little bit melancholic; ambient artist Umber is set to release kaleidoscopic new album ‘Sometimes that light, that shine, seemed like a pretty nice thing’ on 21st April 2023. Focused on melodies that engage the heart as much as the mind, the album brings his electronic influences to the fore, combining shimmering soundscapes with a throbbing pulse of movement.

Umber, the project of Nottingham based Alex Steward, has been steadily releasing sublime music since 2011. Living in a small town provides Alex with a balance between the peace of rolling green fields and the energy of community. This life on the edge of the countryside comes across in his music, which finds the verve of night life enveloped in organic textures and environments.

Alex draws from his experience as a part time palliative care giver, which has had a significant impact on this record. He says, “Through caring for elderly patients, whose time is in short supply, I have discovered that life needs to be celebrated. Even if it’s just playing a game of Scrabble or the way that the shadows of trees dance on a living room wall on a sunny day; there is beauty everywhere. Sometimes we just need to slow down and look a little harder.”

The evocative track titles stem from phrases Alex has heard or read, with the album’s title taken from Stephen King’s book The Shining. They range from the literal (‘It Is Going To Be Ok’, ‘The Last Perfect Day’) to the oblique (‘Hologram Shut Stability’, ‘Sun House Chant’), bestowing the everydayness of fleeting inputs and thought processes to more conscious mantras.

“I feel that my music taps into a part of who we all are”, says Alex. “I try to create music that will emotionally resonate with the listener. Ultimately the album is about finding hope in the smallest actions, something that can often be overlooked or discarded in a world that doesn’t always make a lot of sense.”

Umber’s ‘Sometimes that light, that shine, seemed like a pretty nice thing’ is set to be released on vinyl and digital formats via California-based label Subtempo on 17th March 2023.

In the wake of their acclaimed comeback album Figures (2020), Aksak Maboul took a playful sideways step to create this total work, a 63-minute, continuous suite of fifteen pieces, which could be described as an experimental audio play. The thread running through Une aventure de VV (Songspiel) is Véronique Vincent"s text, an enigmatic philosophical-poetical tale unfolding through monologues and dialogues, spoken and sung by a series of characters. The music was written & arranged by Marc Hollander and features his characteristic genre-hopping tendencies: strands of electronica, pop, jazz, collage, techno, ambient, improv, krautrock, contemporary classical & systems music are merrily woven together, in the inimitable Aksak Maboul style. The album"s subtitle, Songspiel, highlights its theatrical/musical aspect: the work pays oblique homage to the those experimental radio plays that once emerged from the creative workshops of the BBC, the RTF and the RAI, and especially to those German Hörspiels which, at their best, might combine spoken word, instrumental or electronic music, songs and sonic research. The album features appearances by Alig Fodder, Audrey Ginestet & Benjamin Glibert (Aquaserge), Lætitia Sadier (Stereolab), Blaine L. Reininger (Tuxedomoon), Don The Tiger, and the members of AKsak Maboul"s current live line-up.