Suche:only human

Sub Pop and Pissed Jeans mark 15 years of King of Jeans, Pissed Jeans' thunderous third album, with a fresh clear-vinyl pressing, limited to 1,000 copies. If 2005's Shallow was Pissed Jeans coping with moving out of their parents' homes, and 2007's Hope for Men their initial reaction to the mechanical lifestyle of a wage-earner, King of Jeans is their formal and uneasy acceptance of adulthood, by way of one hell of a rock record. Working with renowned producer Alex Newport (who holds a Fudge Tunnel pedigree and has worked with such luminaries as At the Drive-In, The Locust and Sepultura), Pissed Jeans have pushed further into the raw, minimal core of heavy rock music with King of Jeans. Masters of the mundane, beasts of the banal, high priests of the humdrum: these four, white, male high school graduates hardly look further than their own appendages for artistic inspiration, content to execute their own brand of brash and heavy punk music in the Joe Carducci-approved standard rock formation of guitar, bass, drums and vocals. From simple minds and simple fabrics comes this King of Jeans. And there can be only one.

The Ghentian skyline has low peaks and hides its horrors in full view ~ walk streamside and you’ll quickly be confronted with façades that leer with their tales and secrets, the angels and demons that built this city holding up its mortar and stone in an inextricable embrace. It is within this incongruous backdrop that Benoît Monsieurs has fostered the Venediktos Tempelboom persona. Using the 12-string guitar as his main instrument, the self-taught musician creates passages that take fingerpicking Americana and Eastern transcendence into the Flanders fields, with winding compositions that distill the essence of giants like John Fahey, Robbie Basho and Jack Rose and folds them into the dark drone melancholia of Funeral Folk/KRAAK stalwarts like Silvester Anfang, Helvete and Ignatz. The results are ringing meditations of awe and terror, flamboyant and grotesque yet utterly mesmerizing in their unrooted sonic imagery.

In his debut LP, Syne Vuyle Hoeck, the Tempelboom amalgamates his influences - East, West and deep Flanders alike - into a flurry of acid-drenched tracks that spread out into a distinctive musical iconography. Each composition carries a facet, highlighting angel and demon in equal measure: the solemn opener “De woelige rit op een roze wolkje” is a threading of melodies that carry pensive heft and hopeful asides, as hints of ragtime buoyancy lead into sullen ruminations in a fully lucid change of course; “Ocharme Ochgod” is a sober penitence, slowly and almost imperceptibly building up into a tangle of lines that inexorably coil back into their brooding backbone; the echoing tape loop of “In Flock” reverberates and torments, steel sharpness and frayed magnetic disintegration finding improbable common ground; “El Contrario” swerves unforgivingly in an Eastern-infused openness reminiscent of Six Organs’ rawer days and unnervingly giving way to a forceful - dare we say upbeat - conclusion. And so one treks into the depths of the Tempelboomian universe, a place of high drama and low morals inhabited by a prankster creator who deploys euphoria and distress in equal measure. Just as the strings of his guitar are left to echo like sparkles in the dark, so his music lingers in the soil of our humanity, redolent of the kind of peace one can only make with the demons of the self.

Dance and drama began for Paulo Alvarado in 1992 when Sabrina Castillo, Bettina Barckhausen, Joam Solo, Xavier Pacheco, and Alfredo Porras invited him to create the music for their choreographic and theatrical productions as an ethereal actor who is not seen but heard; a sound that is not merely an occasion to "musicalize" the stage production; music that does not merely adorn or incidentally accompany the movement and text, but that acts.

This is how he soon had the opportunity to work on the stage production of Sophocles’ OEDIPUS REX (Edipo Rey), the first of several plays for which Alvarado composed music at the request of Luis Tuchán one of the revered theatrical directors from Guatemala. With him, they also worked on Shakespeare’s Macbeth, which carried the subtitle "Asesino del Sueño" (Sleep Murderer). Later, as an example of another area of action, and at the request of Dennis Leder one of Guatemala's leading artists from the past three decades and Ana Asturias who had worked with the Guatemalan Dance Company, he created the music for a dance-installation called, fittingly, "Lederana" mixing both words from their name. Around that time, he also began composing and presenting music for productions by Guatemalan authors, such as the drama by Rubén Nájera, "Sacra Conversación", directed by Joam Solo.

These pieces, contained on Side A of the album, represent only a very brief sample of an era immersed in theatre and other performative projects where more than forty theatrical and choreographic pieces where created in a span of three decades, and consist of his valuable contribution to the soundtrack of dramatic theater and contemporary dance in Guatemala.

Separately, the title piece of this album, ANTIGUA, found on Side B, was designed for the exhibition of
engravings, lithographs, and digital prints by Roberto Godoy, Antigua Estampa de la Vida Mía. It gathers musical extemporizations for the dance we invented at the moment of inaugurating the photographic exhibition by Rocío Villanueva, Los Mutantes de los Apegos; the fifth movement of my String Quartet No. 5 (version for six cellos); Exiliados en Tierra Propia(introduction to my song Púrpura de Vida y Sentimiento); and Las 56 (from the film Después del Fuego), dedicated to the young women wounded and killed on March 8, 2018, in a so-called "safe home" in Guatemala City. This LP unites many of Paulo's most experimental works and serve as a small tribute to his life, trajectory and to all those who, without reservation, dedicated and invested resources in his music catalogued by himself as one of the main ways to celebrate human life: art.

Makhunik Records is thrilled to announce the much anticipated second vinyl only release from the talented DJ, producer, and live performer, Generali Minerali. Known for his distinctive blend of raw electro/break sounds and techno, Generali Minerali has established himself as a prominent figure in the electronic music scene with a string of successful releases on esteemed record labels. With a discography that includes 8 EPs, 1 LP, and numerous contributions to various VA compilations, Generali Minerali brings a wealth of experience and expertise to his music. His productions are characterized by their immersive textures and dynamic rhythms, drawing inspiration from a wide range of electronic dance music genres such as Techno, Electro, Break, and Acid. As a crew member and resident artist of the TES Club, Generali Minerali has solidified his place as a driving force in the electronic music community, captivating audiences with his unparalleled live performances and DJ sets that span a diverse spectrum of sounds and vibes. The upcoming release, Dance In Factory EP, invites listeners to embark on a sonic journey through the depths of the mind. Each track on the EP, from the mesmerizing K Driver to the introspective Phase In Head, is a testament to Generali Mineralis skillful production and innovative approach to sound design. The concept behind Dance In Factory reflects the interconnected nature of humanity, where we are all integral parts of a larger whole, dancing to the rhythms of life. Through tracks like River and Transformer Fox, Generali Minerali invites listeners to explore the depths of their consciousness and experience a world of boundless creativity and imagination.

"This is the time that we, who have benefitted from the Last Poets shouldbe able to say, 'it's the Last Poets. It's them we should be honouring, because we did not honour them for so many years_"

KRS One wasn't just addressing the hip hop fraternity when he uttered
those words by way of introducing the video for Invocation - a poem
written thirty years ago, around the time of the Last Poets' last significant comeback. He was speaking to everyone who's been affected by the word, sound and power issuing from the most revolutionary poetry ever witnessed, and that the Last Poets had introduced to the world outside of Harlem at the dawn of the seventies.

In 2018 the two remaining Last Poets, Abiodun Oyewole and Umar Bin
Hassan, embarked on another memorable return with an album -
Understand What Black Is - that earned favourable comparison with theirseminal works of the past, whilst showcasing their undimmed passion andlyrical brilliance in an entirely new setting - that of reggae music. Trackslike Rain Of Terror ("America is a terrorist") and How Many Bullets demonstrated that they'd lost none of their fire or anger, and their essential raison d'etre remained the same.

"The Last Poets' mission was to pull the people out of the rubble o f their lives," wrote their biographer Kim Green. "They knew, deep down that poetry could save the people - that if black people could see and hear themselves and their struggles through the spoken word, they would be moved to change."

Several years later and the follow-up is now with us. The project started when Tony Allen, the Nigerian master drummer whose unique polyrhythms had driven much of Fela Kuti's best work, dropped by Prince Fatty's Brighton studio and laid down a selection of drum patterns to die for. That was back in 2019, but then the pandemic struck. Once it had passed, the label booked a studio in Brooklyn, where the two Poets voiced four tracks apiece and breathed fresh energy, fire and outrage into some of the most enduring landmarks of their career. Abiodun, who was one of the original Last Poets who'd gathered in East Harlem's Mount Morris Park to celebrate Malcolm X's birthday in May 1968, chose four poems that first appeared on the group's 1970 debut album, called simply The Last Poets. He'd written When The Revolution Comes aged twenty, whilst living in Jamaica, Queens. "We were getting ready for a revolution," he told Green. "There wasn't any question about whether there was going to be one or not. The truth was many of us still saw ourselves as "niggers" and slaves. This was a mindset that had to change if there was ever to be Black Power." He and writer Amiri Baraka were deep in conversation one day when Baraka became distracted by a pretty girl walking by. "You're a gash man," Abiodun told him. The poem inspired by that incident, Gash Man, is revisited on the new album, and exposes the heartless nature of sexual acts shorn of intimacy or affection. "Instead of the vagina being the entrance to heaven," he says, "it too often becomes a gash, an injury, a wound_" Two Little Boys meanwhile, was inspired after seeing two young boys aged around 11 or 12 "stuffing chicken and cornbread down their tasteless mouths, trying to revive shrinking lungs and a wasted mind." They'd walked into Sylvia's soul food restaurant in Harlem, ordered big meals, then bolted them down and run out the door. No one chased after them, knowing that they probably hadn't eaten in days. Fifty years later and children are still going hungry in major cities across America and elsewhere. Abiodun's poem hasn't lost any relevance at all, and neither has New York, New York, The Big Apple. "Although this was written in 1968, New York hasn't changed a bit," he admits, except "today, people just mistake her sickness for fashion." Umar is originally from Akron, Ohio, but had arrived in Harlem in early 1969 after seeing Abiodun and the other Last Poets at a Black Arts Festival in Cleveland. That's where he first witnessed what Amiri Baraka once called "the rhythmic animation of word, poem, image as word- music" - a creative force that redefined the concept of performance poetry and stripped it bare until it became a howl of rage, hurt and anger, saved from destruction by mockery and love for humanity. When Umar's father, who was a musician, was jailed for armed robbery he took to the streets from an early age where he shined shoes and raised whatever money he could to help feed his eight brothers and sisters. By the time he saw the Last Poets he'd joined the Black United Front and was ready to join the struggle. Once in Harlem, Abiodun asked him what he'd learnt in the few weeks since he'd got there. "Niggers are scared of revolution," Umar replied. "Write it down" urged Abiodun. That poem still gives off searing heat more than fifty years later. In Umar's own words, "it became a prayer, a call to arms, a spiritual pond to bathe and cleanse in because niggers are not just vile and disgusting and shiftless. Niggers are human beings lost in someone else's system of values and morals." And there you have it. It's not just race or religion that hold us back, but an economic system that keeps millions in poverty and living in fear - a system born from political choice and that's now become so entrenched, so bloated on its own success that it's put mankind in mortal danger. It was many black people's acceptance of the status quo that inspired Just Because, which like Niggers Are Scared Of Revolution, was included on that seminal first album. Along with their revolutionary rhetoric, it was the Last Poets' use of the "n word" that proved so shocking, but it would be wrong to suggest that they reclaimed it, since it never belonged to black people in the first place. There's never any hiding place when it comes to the Last Poets. They use words like weapons, and that force all who listen to decide who they are and where they stand. Umar's two remaining tracks find him revisiting poems first unleashed on the Poets' second album This Is Madness! Abiodun had left for North Carolina by then where he became more deeply enmeshed in revolutionary activities and spent almost four years in jail for armed robbery after attempting to seize funds related to the Klu Klux Klan. Meanwhile, the 21 year old Umar was squatting in Brooklyn and had developed close ties with the Dar-ul Islam Movement. A longing for purity and time-honoured spiritual values underpins Related to What, whilst This Is Madness is a call for freedom "by any means necessary," and that paints a feverish landscape peopled by prominent black leaders but that quickly descends into chaos. "All my dreams have been turned into psychedelic nightmares," he wails, over a groove now powered by Tony Allen's ferocious drumming. Those sessions lasted just two days, and we can only imagine the atmosphere in that room as the hip hop godfathers exchanged the conga drums of Harlem for the explosive sounds of authentic Afrobeat. Once they'd finished, the recordings and momentum returned to Prince Fatty's studio, since relocated from Brighton to SE London. This was stage three of the project, and who better to fill out the rhythm tracks than two key musicians from Seun Anikulapo Kuti's band Egypt 80? Enter guitarist Akinola Adio Oyebola and bassist Kunle Justice, who upon hearing Allen's trademark grooves exclaimed, "oh, the Father_ we are home!" Such joy and enthusiasm resulted in the perfect fusion of Nigerian Afrobeat and revolutionary poetry, but the vision for the album wasn't yet complete. He wanted to create a new kind of soundscape - one that reunited the Poets with the progressive jazz movement they'd once shared with musicians like Sun Ra and Pharoah Sanders. It was at that point they recruited exciting jazz talents based in the UK like Joe Armon Jones from Mercury Prize winners Ezra Collective, also widely acclaimed producer/remixer and keyboard player Kaidi Tatham, who's been likened to Herbie Hancock, and British jazz legend Courtney Pine, whose genius on the saxophone and influence on the UK's now vibrant jazz scene is beyond question. The instrumental tracks on Africanism are in many ways as revelatory and exciting as the Last Poets' own. It's important to remember that the kaleidoscope of styles and influences we're presented with here aren't the result of sampling but were played "live" by musicians responding to sounds made by other musicians. That's where the magic comes from, aided by Prince Fatty's peerless mixing which allows us to hear everything with such clarity. Music fans today have grown accustomed to listening to all kinds of different genres. Their tastes have never been so broad or all- encompassing, and so the music on this new Last Poets' album is as groundbreaking as their lyrics, and perfectly suited to the era that we're now living in. John Masouri

"Waxwork Records is honored to present the release of the Original Motion Picture Soundtrack to George A. Romero’s horror classic, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. Written, filmed, and released in 1968 by a rag tag group of Pittsburgh based misfits, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD is an American independent horror film that follows the story of seven people trapped in a rural farmhouse that is besieged by a large and growing group of living dead ghouls. The film is regarded as a cult classic by critics, film scholars, and fans and has garnered critical acclaim. The film has been selected by the Library Of Congress for preservation in the National Film Registry and is deemed “culturally, historically, and aesthetically significant”.

Filmed and released on a shoestring budget, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD became a smashing success earning over 250 times its budget. The film is a first of its kind and ushered in a new way of writing, directing, and filming horror films. The overused script of romantic, fantastical tales of otherworldly monsters and creatures was completely flipped and tossed aside by visionary George A. Romero. As the film’s writer and director, Romero created a new, obvious threat, and one that is universally recognizable - Our very own neighbors. Due to an unseen force beyond man’s control, the recently deceased arise from the dead in seek of living human victims. These ghouls kill and feast upon the flesh of their victims, and the only way of stopping them is by destroying their brains.

From 2015 to 2018, Waxwork Records worked closely with the remaining members of the independent production company that made NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, Image Ten, to produce a definitive soundtrack album featuring all music from the film. Much of the film’s music was thought to be lost or destroyed but was located in its entirety and faithfully restored and re-mastered for vinyl. This special release of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD features the complete soundtrack, double LP “Black & White Hand Poured” colored vinyl, all new artwork by Robert Sammelin, a booklet featuring never before seen production photos, liner notes by Daniel Kraus (co-author of THE SHAPE OF WATER with Guillermo Del Toro), liner notes by Night Of The Living Dead’s dialogue recorder and sound engineer, Gary Streiner, and deluxe packaging."

Who is Isabelle Lewis, anyway?

What kind of music does she make? Is she an opera singer? Does she write pop songs? Does she compose ethereal ambient soundscapes? Does she play chamber music on the violin? Is she producing dark, electronic beats?

Well… yes. But Isabelle Lewis is not so much a person as a project. Isabelle’s debut album, Greetings, credits a trio of composer–performers at its heart: producer Valgeir Sigurðsson, vocalist Benjamin Abel Meirhaeghe, and violinist Elisabeth Klinck. The sound of the elusive Isabelle Lewis is heard most clearly in the push and pull between them, the three-way tension that gives the album its musical and emotional drive.

Each of the three brings more to the collaboration than those epithets might imply. Elisabeth’s solo performance practice incorporates composition, improvisation, live electronics, and a close command of bowing and fingering techniques that make her fiddle sing, whisper or whistle as required. Benjamin is a self-taught countertenor - keening, crooning, and swelling to a voluptuous sensuality—but also an interdisciplinary stage director and performer. Well known for his work as a producer and studio collaborator, and as a composer of scores for film and stage, Valgeir’s solo discography interweaves meticulously crafted electronics, drones, noise, and other digital elements with acoustic instruments and vocals recorded with naked, unflinching clarity.

But the extravagant theatricality Benjamin brings to the aptly titled “Drama”—also featuring a heroic violin solo from Elisabeth—grapples against the thudding bass of the implacable digital backdrop. On “Mother, Shelter Me” Valgeir’s austere and detailed production throws the hushed violin and vocals into stark relief. The result is an exquisitely uncanny juxtaposition of past and present, human and mechanical, like a Rococo treasure viewed under cold fluorescent lights, or an 18th-century automaton slowly opening its clockwork eyes.

Even the lyrics seem somehow out of time. On “O Solitude,” Benjamin goes so far as to quote an entire song by the first great English opera composer, Henry Purcell, verbatim. No stranger to Purcell’s music, which has made its way into Benjamin’s theatrical productions as well, here Isabelle Lewis removes Purcell’s melodies and harmonies and sets the text, Katherine Phillips’s 17th century translation of a poem by Antoine Girard de Saint-Amant, to new music whose heightened, archaic character nevertheless seems haunted by Baroque ghosts.

Throughout the album, the outsized emotions and timeless archetypes of Benjamin’s lyrics feel like relics from some half-forgotten past—from the neatly rhymed couplets of “Fisherman,” a seemingly straightforward (but still somewhat askew) character study, to the abstraction of “Moonshell,” whose words seem like the fragments of some ancient, lost lament. It is just another of many ways in which Isabelle Lewis carefully distorts the listener’s notions of time. On a more micro level, time can stop for a moment of weightless, drifting ambience, and then plunge forward as the cloud of harmonies suddenly lock into tempo with the drop of the bass or the change of a chord. Or else that weightless moment is allowed to be, as in the aptly named prologue and epilogue to these Greetings (“Voicemail”/“…and farewell”), or in the interstitial tracks that bind the album together, connecting its dramatic peaks with expanses of meditative stasis.

The album as a whole is elegantly shaped, swelling from an intimate, interpersonal statement into something deeper and more spacious. The first half of the album leans slightly towards self-contained pop songcraft and ticking beats, while side B jumps off from “O Solitude” into the almost symphonic grandeur of songs like “Moonshell” or the instrumental “Not the water, air, or the dirt.”

But as it progresses, the contrasts only grow more sublime: antique and postmodern, human and machinelike. The ominous weight of the droning sub-bass and trombone (guest player Helgi Hrafn Jónsson) only makes the interplay between vocals and violins (guest player Daniel Pioro joining Elisabeth) seem more delicate and vulnerable. The ethereal string tremolos of “Moonshell” seem to pull against the heavy, shuddering electronics and layers of crooning vocals.

And that, in short, is where you will find Isabelle Lewis. Like an ancient stone archway, or a delicate house of cards, the architecture of Greetings is held together by the tension between opposing forces. Not just in Elisabeth’s playing, Benjamin’s singing, or Valgeir’s arrangements and production but in the conflict and contrast that generates the synergy between them.

Oh—Isabelle says hi, by the way. She’s looking forward to meeting you.

This band, and this album, function as critical missing links that takes one from The Fall to Yard Act, from Television and The Minutemen to Parquet Courts and Sleaford Mods, from punk as a sound to punk purely as an ethos. While any Van Pelt album is a stand alone album, the unique approach they take begs one to enter their world and dig deep in.

RELATED TO: The Lapse, Native Nod, St Vincent, Blonde Redhead, Enon, Jets to Brazil, Vague Angels, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, American Football, Texas is the Reason.

‘The lines between post-hardcore, indie rock, and emo blurred on the two mid-’90s full-lengths from the Van Pelt.’ Pitchfork

‘New York City’s The Van Pelt are an influential, but too often overlooked indie rock band -- cult favorites for many an emo-inclined crate digger.’ Consequence of Sound

‘...should be mentioned a lot more than they are when you talk about the history of emo.’
Washed Up Emo

Back in the day there was this thing called an A&R guy. They would hang out at small venues looking to throw money at the next big thing. In the early 90s, everyone was looking for the next Nirvana of course. NYC's The Van Pelt had just released an album of anthems called "Stealing From Our Favorite Thieves" that seemed to be just that. The only thing is, they didn't want to sign. Legend has it $2 million was turned down over pierogies and coffee one Monday morning because The Van Pelt didn't want to risk crashing and burning. Instead, they were gunning for a long and stable stride even if that meant they would largely remain out of the public's eye forever.

Lack of willingness to play the game didn't mean people weren't waiting with baited breath for their follow up album though. In 1997 The Van Pelt released "Sultans of Sentiment", an album nearly devoid of the anthems and licks people were expecting. In fact, it's a complete bummer of an album that subjects the listener to the point on life's curve where the hubris of youth gives way to a cresting crashing defeat no kid with heart could ever have seen coming. Seeing as humanity are sick fuckers who revel in the misery of both themselves and others, the popularity of Sultans grew and grew and continues to win new loyal fans even today. It's for this classic album The Van Pelt has never fallen off the radar.

That being said, their swan song "The Speeding Train" was recorded while they were working on their third album. In any other age, in any other way, this song would have been a hit. The Van Pelt broke up mid-recording, released Speeding Train as a single, and the rest of the songs from that session didn't see the light of day until they were released in 2014 as the "Imaginary Third" lp.

Why are we here talking about them today in 2023? Because in preparation for the release of "Imaginary Third" The Van Pelt started playing some reunion shows. Soundchecks revealed to them that this band has a voice that was prematurely muted by their inability to see clearly in the thick of it. Returning to explore just what that is 25 years later has led to this first collection of 9 songs, "Artisans & Merchants". This is not a reunion album. This is vindication for that decision made over pierogies and coffee decades ago. The Van Pelt is a band in it for the long haul, free from whatever trappings the mayflies of trends and markets may bring.

For lovers of The Van Pelt, listening to "Artisans & Merchants" is like hearing the voice of a dear friend you haven't seen in years, a friend you used to share countless beers with over banter that went nowhere other than delivering a solid night. Your friend is older, they've changed. In some ways you're worried for them, looks like they might be teetering on the brink of something. In other ways it's the same old them, a nugget of a soul too unique to ever be altered. It's for those unfamiliar with The Van Pelt though for whom we should be truly jealous. This is a stand alone album, incredible vital song writing in and of itself regardless of the long history this band has. The climax of the single "Image of Health" perhaps describes the beautiful desperation best: "And you never felt more alive / Than when the priest came to read you your rites!"

Stornoway release "Best of Unplucked", featuring hand-picked versions of their much loved "unplucked" recordings from their career to date. Featuring brand new versions of favourites including "Zorbing" and "Farewell Appalachia", as well as Talking Heads" "This Must Be The Place" and Depeche Mode"s "Enjoy The Silence", plus recordings from the 4AD vault ("Beachcombers Windowsill" and Tales From Terra Firma"), live favourite "The Only Way Is Up" ("Bonxie Unplucked"), and "Dig The Mountain!" Shed Sessions, this is Stornoway in their most natural form, and perhaps their most beautiful.

Direct follow up to OKC noise rock band’s 2022’s breakthrough album God’s Country. Mixed by Benjamin Green (Uniform, Portrayal of Guilt, Drab Majesty). Mastered by Matt Coloton (The Rolling Stones, Blur, Nick Cave, Sunn O)). Full US tour in 2024, EU early 2025, with more dates to come. Like the towering mounds of toxic waste from which it gets its namesake, the music of Oklahoma City noise rock quartet Chat Pile is a suffocating, grotesque embodiment of the existential anguish that has defined the 21st Century. It figures that a band with this abrasive, unrelenting, and outlandish of a sound has stuck as strong of a chord as it has. Dread has replaced the American dream, and Chat Pile’s music is a poignant reminder of that shift—a portrait of an American rock band molded by a society defined by its cold and cruel power systems. Though very much on-brand with Chat Pile’s signature flavor of cacophonous, sludgy noise rock, the band’s shift to a global thematic focus on Cool World not only compliments the broader experimentations it employs with their songwriting but also how they dissect the album’s core theme of violence. Melded into the band’s twisted foundational sound are traces of other eclectic genre stylings, with examples of gazy, goth-tinged dirges to abrasive yet anthemic alt/indie-esque hooks and off-kilter metal grooves only scratching the surface of what can be heard in the album’s ten tracks. Besides stylistically stretching the boundaries of the Chat Pile sound, Cool World is also the band’s first record to have someone else handle mixing duties, with Ben Greenberg (Uniform) capturing and further amplifying the quartet’s unmistakably outsider and folk-art edge. While Chat Pile’s debut album was plenty disturbing with its B-movie-inspired interpretation of a “real American horror story”, what the band depicts on Cool World is unsettling not just from its visceral noise rock onslaught, but from depicting how all sorts of atrocities are pretty much standard parts of modern existence. In film terms, think something like a Criterion arthouse film by way of schlocky grindhouse splatterfest: undeniably gratuitous and thrilling in the moment but leaving a looming dread in the back of one’s mind for how close the horrors depicted mirror reality.

'Mei Semones' sweetly evocative blend of jazz, bossa nova and math-y indie rock is not only a way for her to find solace in her favorite genres, but is an intuitive means of catharsis. "Blending everything that I like together and trying to make something new - that's what feels most natural to me," says the 23-year-old Brooklyn-based singersongwriter and guitarist. "It's what feels most true to who I am as an artist." `Tsukino', Mei's debut, self-released EP, is being released physically for the first time ever on Bayonet Records! The EP will be released by itself on CD & Tape formats, and will be included in a vinyl pressing on the B-side of Semones' landmark EP, `Kebutomushi'! Plinking guitar tones and asymmetrical time signatures exemplify Semones' forays into angular indie rock more now than ever before. Originally from Ann Arbor, Michigan, Semones began playing music at a young age, starting out on piano at age four before moving to electric guitar at age eleven. After playing jazz guitar in high school, she went on to study guitar performance with a jazz focus at Berklee College of Music. College is where she met her current bandmates, including string players Noah Leong and Claudius Agrippa, whose respective viola and violin add softness and multidimensionality to Mei's intricate guitar work. After releasing a slew of singles and an EP in 2022, coinciding with her move to New York City, Mei and her band have since gone on to collaborate with post-bossa balladeer John Roseboro and embark on their first-ever tour with the melodic rock outfit Raavi. Semones chronicles infatuation, devotion, and vulnerability in her songs, complete with sweeping strings, virtuosic guitar-playing and heartfelt lyrics sung in both English and Japanese, that have all become part of her sonic trademark: ornately catchy, genrefusing compositions serving as the backdrop to tender lyrics touching on the universalities of human emotion.

8/10 FULL-PAGE LEAD REVIEW IN UNCUT: “TALENTED ARTISTS SUCH AS ALDOUS HARDING , DELANEY DAVIDSON, IVY ROSSITER AND MARLON WILLIAMS REPRESENT A FRESH COUNTRY-FOLK/AMERICANA MOVEMENT IN AND AROUND CHRISTCHURCH AND DUNEDIN. NADIA REID'S IMPECCABLE DEBUT WILL MAYBE SET A WIDER ORBIT IN MOTION.”
4/5 LEAD REVIEW IN MOJO: “INSPIRED DEBUT BY A YOUNG NEW ZEALAND SINGER-SONGWRITER YOU'LL FEEL YOU'VE KNOWN FOREVER. A WONDERFUL ALBUM"

SUNDAY TIMES DEBUT OF THE WEEK: "SHE RANKS ALONGSIDE LOW AND THE COWBOY JUNKIES FOR DELIVERING SLOW-BURN EMOTION"
"It has all that well-smoked wisdom, that mingling of strength and yearning that seems to charge the work of all my favourite female artists – Laura Marling, The Weather Station, Sharon Van Etten and Tift Merritt, to name but four. Reid is just 23, and since I am loathe to run that “old beyond her years” line, let us simply say that when I hear a young artist making an album as soulful and rich and self-possessed as Listen to Formation, Look for the Signs, I feel so thrilled not only for the existence of that record but for all the music they will make over all the years to come.” THE GUARDIAN PLAYLIST
6MUSIC ALBUM OF THE WEEK
A richness of voice; a depth of emotion; and wise beyond her years; with Listen To Formation, Look For the Signs, 23-year-old New Zealand native Nadia Reid has claimed her place as one of the country’s most evocative and profound young songwriters. Her music traces the sharp mountain peaks, azure coastline, and mirrored images of the land and sky that pinpoint her home country’s vast open landscapes.
Whether nerding about with friends, stunning audiences into silence with her spellbinding live shows or unwinding in the tranquillity of her favourite hometown spot overlooking Port Chalmers’ harbour through her large-rimmed spectacles, Nadia Reid has achieved a gloriously fresh and eloquent new folk sound. “I’ve been in New Zealand my whole life and guess at times I take for granted the serene beauty that I live so closely with,” she says of her music’s majestic affiliation with nature. Mapping out tales of change and loss, whilst drawing inspiration from reading, writing, the human condition, falling in and out of love, death, and birth - it all lends to a superbly balanced album that moves surreptitiously between sparse and fragile melancholia to beautifully brutal lyricism with a philosophical maturity that bellies her years.
Born in Auckland, Nadia’s acoustic roots stem from an upbringing in a musical household where attending folk clubs and festivals were regular occurrences on the family calendar. “I was lucky to witness a lot of live music and theatre performances because my mum was an actress. I was encouraged to learn piano and guitar, and attended a Steiner school where we spent a lot of time in nature, singing songs.” Before long Nadia was listening to The Be Good Tanyas with friend and fellow recording artist Aldous Harding, which spurred her chosen career path. “There was something spiritual about the Tanyas’ records - I vividly remember the goose-bump feelings up my arms, a true connection to the lyrics and vocals,” she recalls. “Aldous was the first person who told me I had a good voice and I thank her for that. I admire her as an artist and writer, and we like to keep up with what each other is up to.”
Creating her own enchanting wonderworld, each of Nadia’s songs explores the elements; truly organic, her vocals ebb, flow and soar but are always ignited with fire from the gut. Her lyrics clearly reference lush landscapes but equally reflect alienation provided by the surrounding Pacific Ocean and mortality of living in such close proximity to Mother Nature’s wrath, as experienced whilst living in Christchurch at the time of 2011’s devastating earthquake. “It shook the city to its core,” Nadia recalls. “I’m sure living through it has shaped my personality and writing. My first EP was recorded just months afterwards, it was a strange time. We were all quite fragile, but I was braver somehow.”
Boldly infusing folk with full flavour, Listen To Formation, Look For The Signs was produced by Ben Edwards, owner of Lyttelton Records in his Sitting Room studios with Nadia’s band consisting bassist Richie Pickard, guitarist Sam Taylor and percussionist Joe McCallum. Whilst 'Reaching Through’s rich but unhurried nature evokes She Hangs Brightly -era Mazzy Star and intricate nuances of Beth Orton are recalled on lead single ‘Call The Days’ which talks of moving to a new town and was the first song penned after Nadia moved from Christchurch to Wellington; spurred on by a “panic attack” and being “worried about making the right choices in life”. Elsewhere ‘Runway’ and ‘Some Are Lucky’ immediately channel Nadia’s love of TBGT’s Jolie Holland and appreciation for New Zealand’s Maori music by Maisey Rika and Anika Moa, plus the inspirational narratives of Kenyan-born Somali poet Warsan Shire.

Less than a year after Botanical Illustration takes patience and Skill EP, Giovanni Natalini aka CO-PILOT, comes back on Simona Faraone’s label, New Interplanetary Melodies, with the Green Machine album, which is its natural prosecution: inside it we also find the three tracks previously published by the same label in audio cassette format only (NIM001- MC).

Green Machine is a concept album, which takes up and develops the ecological issues already treated by the artist in his previous work, namely the increasingly tricky dichotomy between nature and machine and the harmful impact of humans on it.

The A side opens with the already published Botanical Illustration takes patience and Skill (A1), an 8 minutes suite in which the powerful Live drum breaks are perfectly combined with synths and vocal samples, transporting us to the tops of exotic mountains, to continue with the ecstatic Himawari (A2) that sounds like a “desert session” made on Mount Fuji, for a result of pure musical mysticism and finally, Mother Love Nature pt.1 (A3), a track that takes us back to more familiar territories, winking at the most experimental British trip hop of recent memory and Mother Love Nature pt.2 (A4) characterized by a background of modular synths and nature sounds effects that precede Giovanni’s powerful drums, underlining once again this perfect fusion of organic and synthesized sounds.

Side B opens with the psychedelic choruses of Dancing Like Fela (B1) supported by synthetic arpeggios and a frenetic drumline sounds like a breakbeat. Continuing along this side, we come to the unsettling use of vocal samples on the beautiful Halo (B2), the ethereal and danceable art-pop of Lost You - In Translation - (B3) to conclude with the evocative Playing the Zurna in Ulan Bator (B4), a track with a pressing rhythm and elegant arrangements that once again underlines Giovanni Natalini’s mastery in mixing sounds and suggestions that are apparently far away but that always find the right place.

Green Machine sounds like a valid attempt to finally find a “solid” balance between humans and nature, but it also demonstrates how the continuous mixing of sounds is the most effective way to escape from the homologation that is increasingly widespread in contemporary society.

Recital presents a newly unearthed recording of an interview between Sun Ra and composer Charlie Morrow recorded at his New York studio in 1989. This voice-only recording develops more like a kaleidoscopic sermon than any standard interview.

Charlie Morrow recalls:
My 1989 Summer Solstice Celebration featured Sun Ra and his Arkestra. On March 29, 1989, ahead of this historical performance, Sun Ra came to New York to plan the performance and do an interview with me in the Charles Morrow Associates studio. There were members of the Sun Ra Arkestra, some of my team, and a photographer present. Once in the sound studio, Sun Ra wanted to record the discussion. What he says is so much more than anyone expected. I pushed record on the tape recorder, which quietly took it all in.

What Sun Ra recorded is a breathtaking expression of his feelings and strong convictions, illustrated with personal memories and stories. My few questions to him about the upcoming Solstice and about the sun and his thoughts about a dawn event triggered his mind. He launched into a nonstop journey of ricocheting stories and concepts, climaxing when I started jamming with Sun Ra on conch horn. Our duo drives to a climactic peak with explosive conch breath sounds giving line-by-line affirmations to Sun Ra’s points.

The 1989 Summer Solstice event brought together Sun Ra and his constellation of musicians and fans with my large-scale gatherings and work with the New Wilderness Foundation. Here in 2023 and beyond, the events live again. Sean McCann of Recital was drawn to Sun Ra’s words, which inspired the production of this edition. Sun Ra’s words seem to have an even greater resonance in present time. Ra is calling out the turbulence of the bad actions of the righteous and the good actions that an evil man, as he dubs himself, can perform, all the time believing that music has the possibility to bring all humans to a better place.

Charlie Morrow, 2023 / Helsinki, Finland

One-time pressing of 425 copies, includes 12-page booklet with rare photos and full transcription of interview, 24”x18” poster of Sun Ra 1989 Solstice performance photograph

Born Xavier Amin Dphrepaulezz, by now much has been made of Fantastic Negrito's own unique story--his early years growing up in an orthodox Muslim household, the doomed major label deal that turned him off of the music industry altogether, the near-fatal car crash that permanently damaged his guitar playing hand--as well as the remarkable redemption arc that began in 2015, when he won the first ever NPR Tiny Desk Contest. In the years that followed, Negrito would go on to take home three consecutive GRAMMY Awards for Best Contemporary Blues Album, tour with everyone from Sturgill Simpson to Chris Cornell to Bruce Springsteen, collaborate in the studio with the likes of Sting and E-40, launch his own Storefront Records label, perform at Lollapalooza, WOMAD, Glastonbury, Newport Folk, Byron Bay Blues, and nearly every other major festival on the map, and found the Revolution Plantation, an urban farm aimed at youth education and empowerment. Son of a Broken Man sees Fantastic Negrito encapsulating the inimitable elements of his celebrated body of work to date, from hard-hitting distorted guitar riffs to melodic and expressive ballads, all fueled by the unexpected twists that have become his trademark. The album stands as perhaps Fantastic Negrito's most personal thus far, exploring family, deception, and the human desire to hide the true self as he dives deep into one of the oldest conflicts in human history, the struggle between father and son. Beginning at a young age, Negrito was served untruths by his father. A made-up last name, a fabricated ancestry, and a fake Somali accent. Why lie? Why create this false narrative? Those are the questions Negrito had to ask himself and the questions that lie at the heart of Son of a Broken Man.

There is NO LIGHT at the end of this tunnel! BROWN ACID: The Nineteenth Trip fires ten more savage nails deep into the coffin of ‘60s psychedelic idealism. This series is THE premier top dog journey into the rarest and most wasted early local eruptions of heavy rock, unleashed at a time when harsh reality, human nature and disillusionment drove prevailing underground rock glimpses of a ‘better’ world into ever darker selfabsorbed comedowns. Mind expanding ’60s love energies transform into toxic aggression right before your ears! The great thing is that these moves are totally justified, ‘we are all one’ is cosmically good in theory but ‘get it while you can’ ends up perhaps better advice in the light of human history. Both of those angles of awareness can coexist, some of these bands deliver unrelenting sideways positive energy but they aren’t over-thinking it, they are youthfully driven by hunger for life and satisfying the undeniable urges their DNA thrusts upon them. Sonically, the results in the BROWN ACID series never fail to breathe hot and heavy, the guitars kill it every time, the variety of approaches these tracks take keep the scenery shifting into new places. The key element that makes this stuff so potent is that THEY (the bands) are in control. Captured genuinely with no compromise, right out of the gate. No doubt they had ambition with high hopes for the future when they laid down these primal efforts, the fact that they captured their energy so vividly at a moment in time when the only direction imaginable was UP creates a hard hitting life affirming subtext to the proceedings. That is the core energy of blues and rock and roll, dealing with the struggles of existence by flipping a gigantic ‘what the fuck’ high energy bird right in the face of the moronic defective reality these bands were born into. If you take this stuff too ‘seriously’ you are utterly missing the point, it is beyond analysis, it is life itself! No amount of thinking will get you there quicker! BROWN ACID: The Nineteenth Trip is scary... the bottomless pit of deranged vintage heavy rock the series presents continually expands over time... one deadly dose too many and you might be trapped in the bad trip loop forever... enjoy it or lose your mind!

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.

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

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

SYML—Welsh for “simple”—makes music that taps into the instincts that drive us to places of sanctuary, whether that be a place or a person. Born and raised in Seattle, Brian Fennell studied piano and became a self-taught producer, programmer, and guitarist. This May marked the fifth anniversary of his self-titled debut album, which included the platinum-selling song “Where’s My Love” and the Gold Record fan favorite, “Girl,” and one year since his sophomore album, The Day My Father Died, which was recorded and produced with fellow Seattle-native Phil Ek (Band of Horses, Father John Misty, Fleet Foxes) and features Elbow’s Guy Garvey, Lucius, Sara Watkins of Nickel Creek, and Charlotte Lawrence. In the last year, he was also featured on Lana Del Rey’s song, “Paris, TX,” from her Grammy-nominated album Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd, and realized several other notable collaborations including UK-electronic artist George Fitzgerald, Latin Grammy-nominated Colombian artist Elsa Y Elmar. In February 2024, he launched his imprint, FIN. Recordings, a new venture in collaboration with his label, Nettwerk Music Group, and management team, Good Harbor Music. Says Fennell about Infinity, “Sometimes, songs are wandering souls with no home, and it’s not until enough of them are written that the home is realized. I have a proud obsession with all things apocalyptic and the doom and wonder of an ever-expanding universe. This group of songs is an ode to the absurdity of human existence and my fondness for it. My inspirations were very cinematic ranging from big blaring soundscapes to more gentle, dusty settings like Ennio Morricone was so gifted in painting. I am fascinated by what humans are capable of, especially the stories we tell ourselves to explain our world and the space around it. Importantly, I am thankful for the creative space to make art without rules or expectation.

2024 Reissue

The second album of songs resulting from the collaboration between Teho Teardo and Blixa Bargeld was released in 2016, three years after the celebrated debut with "Still Smiling". Often the nature of collaborations is fleeting, usually not involving a sequel; in this case, however, we are faced with the evident settling of a bond, human and artistic, that is no longer occasional but has reinvented itself to explore other territories and will not stop there either. The album cover is inspired by the famous 1533 painting by Holbein the Younger, "The Ambassadors": a work celebrating an official visit, a meeting between two friends, the pride of their gazes still strong despite time, distance, despite everything. Teho and Blixa return with an album of new songs, sung in German, English and Italian. "Nerissimo" is the superlative of black in Italian and there is something rather black about the music on this album. Not in the sense of dark, an adjective often used to define certain sounds, but just as it happens with the colour black, which contains all other colours, so this music contains a multitude of possibilities."Nerissimo" is also the title of the track in English that opens the album and closes it, as if between two parentheses, in Italian. A temporal passage between languages that links Rome and Berlin, where the album was recorded, ever more intimately. A crossing of the last three years of work together for Teho and Blixa. This record is also a nocturnal story of apparitions, of colours that disappear from the world just by naming them, of aeroplane flights with the lights off in the cabin, of objects whose symbolism represents the passions and interests of the two artists (starting with the objects reproduced on the cover); a sort of tale through objects, continuous movements and the discovery of sounds, even random ones. Sounds intercepted in the space of these three years and which ended up on the disc as interferences that challenged the structure of some songs, resulting in their adaptation to the invasion of foreign sound bodies. "Nerissimo" does not only contain songs but also features experimental tracks, such as "Ulgæ", in which the lyrics explain, like a subtitle, the sounds that follow one another in a story.

NOW Music is proud to present the newest addition to the ‘Yearbook’ series: NOW – Yearbook 1981. NOW – Yearbook 1981; a celebration of the eclectic and creative brilliance of the year in pop. 4 CDs of 85 tracks that defined the charts in 1981. Available on a 4CD special edition which is housed in ‘hard-back book’ packaging, including a 28-page booklet with a summary of the year, a track-by-track guide, a quiz, and original singles artwork, and as a standard 4-CD package. A limited edition 3LP set pressed in translucent red vinyl, limited to 3,000 units and a 4CD set

In collaboration with musicians and parody artists Auralnauts, Stumpy Frog Records has pressed the soundtrack to their ongoing series of ‘As Seen on TV’ parodies known as the ‘Infomercial Wars’. During an unspecified point in time, a faceless dystopian company pushes out products under the guise of improving the quality of life for humanity. The commercials have a sexy presentation to them, designed to lull the viewer into a hypnotic state and gloss over what is really being sold to them: enslavement to an evil entity. The true purpose of these products is clear to anyone with an iron will: to imprison your mind, strip away your humanity and weaponize what remains. Humanity’s only hope is a scrappy group of freedom fighters whose key to success is convincing you to buy their products instead of the enemy’s. May the best infomercial win. Beyond humanity. Beyond Copper. The parody series is made up of real life infomercials with complete audio makeovers. The products themselves vary from one commercial to the next, but a popular trend in these ads is the seemingly unlimited uses for copper, which is taken even further by the parody versions. The bubbly pitchman from the source material has been replaced by a soothing, yet vaguely threatening alien presence. This mysterious voice paints a picture of a world that would make David Cronenberg and James Cameron blush, and all of it is held together by a dystopian soundtrack that is perfect for ushering humanity into the next step of this forced evolution. Side A of the album contains six full length studio versions of the music featured in each ad. 1) 300% More Human 2) Techromancer 3) Full Body Copper System 4) Master of Reality 5) Final Boss (Sock Defense Grid) 6) Beyond Copper Side B features the ads themselves, presented faithfully as they appear on the Auralnauts Youtube channel.

Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water, the self-titled debut from the duo of trumpeter Will Evans and guitarist, synthesist, producer and multi-instrumentalist Theo Trump, arrives like a vault revelation. It feels like a decades-old yet newly unearthed masterwork of gorgeous ambient improvisation, the sort of thing scholars live to research and shepherd into deluxe reissue.

The patient, crystalline chords that swell and resonate like a series of confessions; the textured brass murmurs that suggest a ’60s or ’70s Fire Music master at their most poignant. Provocative found-sound experiments threading arcane religious recordings through dystopian soundscapes. Ear-shattering free-noise tumult. Where and when did this music come from? Who are these voices?

As it turns out, Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water springs from an engrossing human story, though it isn’t necessarily the one you’d expect. This work of stunning maturity is in fact an entrance by two little-known explorers in their early 20s, who grew up together in Virginia, in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It documents one of those perfect, sparkling moments in post-adolescence when big decisions and responsibilities are right around the corner, but for a spell, two young artists are able to create among the comforts and nostalgia of their shared past.

It also represents a reunion of sorts, as Evans and Trump connected as toddlers, became inseparable as boys, then pursued independent lives and creative paths as young adults. “Theo is my oldest friend,” Evans says, “and I feel like that’s what this band is — us meeting right in the middle of our interests.”

Now, having conjured this magic, they’ve detached once again: Evans, whose other works include the indie/avant-jazz unit Angelica X, is currently based in New York City. Trump recently moved to England, where he’d participated in his family’s theatre company, to go to school and further his solo ambient project. “This album didn’t start out as something super ambitious,” Evans explains. “It was more just an excuse to spend time together again and make music.”

***

In conversation, Evans and Trump are a delight, especially for cynics who might think that Gen-Z is only capable of doomscrolling. They come across as kindly young intellectuals who grew up using the internet as it was intended, for exposure to ideas and art across genres and generations. Trump points to indie-folk and the oracular post-rock of late Talk Talk, Bark Psychosis and Gastr del Sol. Pressed for his guitar heroes, he cites Bill Orcutt, Mary Halvorson and Marc Ribot, and mentions his devotion to alt-country. Heyday electro-industrial stuff like Skinny Puppy and Nine Inch Nails also meant a lot to him.

Evans is equally intrepid, though his background has a greater jazz focus. Ambrose Akinmusire, among today’s most thoughtfully commanding trumpeters, is a favorite. As for the soulful murmur he offers throughout Forgetting You, Pharoah Sanders’ wistful and lyrical contributions to Floating Points’ work is a touchstone.

The two grew up down the street from each other in the northern Piedmont town of Batesville, Virginia. Their families were friends, holidays were celebrated together and they became the most loyal of pals. As children they had a pretend band.

Then life unfolded, they attended different schools and their paths diverged. Evans discovered John Coltrane and became a jazz obsessive, as Trump found punk and hardcore and later began making ambient music. As a dedicated jazz trumpeter, Evans studied formally and widely; Trump was an autodidact, teaching himself guitar and absorbing synthesis and production techniques. The late teens and very early 20s brought moves away from home and back to home, as well as plenty of listening and learning. The Covid pandemic meant an opportunity to reconnect on long walks. Through it all, together and apart, they remained reverent of each other.

By early 2023, they found themselves living again among the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the evening, after giving trumpet lessons in Charlottesville, Evans would make the eerily beautiful trek “over the mountain” to Trump’s home in Staunton, Virginia. They’d talk and eat and begin to improvise, deep into the night. Evans played trumpet and sometimes drums. (Given the wee-hours recording schedule, the neighbors didn’t appreciate the latter.) Trump plugged a rickety, junk-store Telecaster-style guitar into a cheap solid-state amp and explored open tunings; he also layered on lap steel, electric bass, synths and electronics.

They locked in and relished each other’s gifts. In Trump, those include patience and intentionality and sonic decision-making; for Evans, a distinctive trumpet sound that both musicians think of as a singer’s voice. “Will’s playing is so thoughtful and well placed,” Trump says. “My goal from a producer’s mindset is that the trumpet will occupy the space that vocals would take.”

Often, they got lost in the best way. “The thing I look for most when I’m playing is that feeling of disappearing into what you’re doing,” Evans says. “Usually when that happens, the music is good.”

By the same token, they didn’t pursue free improvisation as an ethic, or as a pure process. Their goal was something closer to spontaneous composition. “We were trying to make good songs,” Evans says simply. Later, Trump did brilliant post-production work, expanding a modest setup into an enthralling soundworld. Under his judicious editorship, music that was wholly improvised sounds at times like a carefully composed new-music commission.

The results speak for themselves. “A Happy Death” summons up a swath of American desolation through the viewfinder of Wim Wenders. “Flesh of Lost Summers” and “Partings” are highlights from an essential ECM LP that never was. “A Collapse of Horses” infuses those seminal post-rock influences with the plod of doom metal or slowcore. The album’s final track, “The Mountains Are a Dream That Calls to Me,” was in fact the first thing the duo recorded, as an evocation of those twilit drives across the Blue Ridge Mountains. “Looking back at what we chose to name the songs,” Evans says, “and some of the sounds and how they make me feel, there is an air of impermanence and loss to this album.”

“I’m excited for everything that’s to come,” he adds, “but I recently thought, ‘Damn — that’s not going to happen again.’ It was a privilege for us to have that time together.”

"Waxwork Records is honored to present the release of the Original Motion Picture Soundtrack to George A. Romero’s horror classic, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. Written, filmed, and released in 1968 by a rag tag group of Pittsburgh based misfits, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD is an American independent horror film that follows the story of seven people trapped in a rural farmhouse that is besieged by a large and growing group of living dead ghouls. The film is regarded as a cult classic by critics, film scholars, and fans and has garnered critical acclaim. The film has been selected by the Library Of Congress for preservation in the National Film Registry and is deemed “culturally, historically, and aesthetically significant”.

Filmed and released on a shoestring budget, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD became a smashing success earning over 250 times its budget. The film is a first of its kind and ushered in a new way of writing, directing, and filming horror films. The overused script of romantic, fantastical tales of otherworldly monsters and creatures was completely flipped and tossed aside by visionary George A. Romero. As the film’s writer and director, Romero created a new, obvious threat, and one that is universally recognizable - Our very own neighbors. Due to an unseen force beyond man’s control, the recently deceased arise from the dead in seek of living human victims. These ghouls kill and feast upon the flesh of their victims, and the only way of stopping them is by destroying their brains.

From 2015 to 2018, Waxwork Records worked closely with the remaining members of the independent production company that made NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, Image Ten, to produce a definitive soundtrack album featuring all music from the film. Much of the film’s music was thought to be lost or destroyed but was located in its entirety and faithfully restored and re-mastered for vinyl. This special release of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD features the complete soundtrack, double LP “Black & White Hand Poured” colored vinyl, all new artwork by Robert Sammelin, a booklet featuring never before seen production photos, liner notes by Daniel Kraus (co-author of THE SHAPE OF WATER with Guillermo Del Toro), liner notes by Night Of The Living Dead’s dialogue recorder and sound engineer, Gary Streiner, and deluxe packaging."

Longtime enthusiasts of ambient music have much to celebrate as Rafael Anton Irisarri's cherished out-of-print cassette, "Midnight Colours," returns in a meticulously remastered edition and makes its inaugural debut on vinyl. The significance of this album's announcement is accentuated by its historical resonance, coinciding with the same day in 1952 when the world bore witness to the first-ever test of the hydrogen bomb.

"Midnight Colours" is far more than a mere album; it's an exploration of the enigmatic relationship between humanity and time. Conceived as a sonic interpretation of the Doomsday Clock, which symbolizes the world's existential vulnerabilities, Irisarri's work beckons listeners to contemplate the gravity of our existence and the delicate balance that envelops it.

"I wanted to capture the essence of humanity's relationship with time, both the anxiety and the serene beauty that coexists within the shadows of the night," explains Irisarri. "The vinyl format adds a tactile dimension to the experience, inviting listeners to physically engage with the music."

Known for his contributions to the ambient and electronic music genres, Irisarri often explores themes of introspection, nostalgia, and the interplay between sound and emotion.

Recorded in 2017, when the Clock was at 2½ minutes-to-midnight (and at the time, the second-closest to midnight since the Clock's inception in 1947), "Midnight Colours" permeates with the melancholy of memories resurfacing as one approaches the end of life: the regrets, the closure, the uncertainties, the anxieties.

Originally released as a limited tape on the beloved Atlanta-based label Geographic North, "Midnight Colours" swiftly garnered praise and acclaim within the ambient music sphere. Now, with this newly remastered edition on his own Black Knoll imprint, fans, both longstanding and newfound, can rediscover the album's captivating beauty in unprecedented clarity and depth.

"I've wanted to release 'Midnight Colours' on vinyl since it first came out, and I'm thrilled to finally be able to. The remastering process, brilliantly done by Stephan Mathieu, has breathed new life into the work, and I'm eager for listeners to experience it in this format."

The reissue of "Midnight Colours" features band-new artwork and design by the renowned Mexican visual artist Daniel Castrejón. A frequent collaborator and friend of Irisarri, Castrejón's imagery impeccably complements the album's mood and themes, extending a compelling invitation for listeners to explore its aural world visually.

This landmark release serves as a testament not only to Irisarri's enduring impact on the ambient music genre but also as a long-awaited gift to those who have patiently anticipated the album's vinyl debut.

Readers of encyclopedic tomes are obviously familiar with exploding animals – there are numerous reports of torn-apart toads (even in Hamburg, Germany!), actual ants exploding altruistically – but humans that decide to jointly detonate, and with no harm done, that’s rare: Kobe’s own o'summer vacation are unique (and volatile) like that, and they’re back to light the fuse for the second time, presenting 13 more musical quarter sticks that have already blown up venues in Europe and Japan.

“Keep it lean, keep it mean,” they say, and that’s what this band loves to take to the extreme: breakneck concision and collective combustion meet freeform noise punk hazards on o'summer vacation's second (not quite) full-length – as the Kobe-based three-piece’s “Electronic Eye” is set to arrive on October 11, 2024. Following a bunch of trips to Berlin, Munich etc., the Japanese fire starters have found a new home with Alien Transistor, and it’s the perfect launch pad for their latest set of guitarless pyrotechnics. Going right for max q (maximum dynamic pressure), “Electronic Eye” is (unlike those Starships) actually supposed to explode right after lift-off ;)

Even though there have been some line-up changes since the group recorded its sophomore album, the energy caught by producer Shinji Masuko (DMBQ, Boredoms) is still unmatched: a very physical and hard-knocking barrage of mosh-inducing madness that leaves you speechless + inevitably twitching towards the pit. Mastering was done by Masaki Oshima aka Watchman (Melt-Banana).

Opening with sizzling hi-hats and heavy ripples of breathless bass, singer Ami presents a non-sequitur kind of lullaby over the math rock-style interlocutions of “宿痾 (Shuku - A)” – which at 6+ minutes makes up more than a quarter of the album. A shapeshifting frenzy of voice (Ami), unbridled, pedal-powered bassline insanity (Mikkki, formerly Mikiiiii), and hot-blooded drums (Manu, meanwhile replaced by Karry), the album features mosh-inducing blows (previously released “Luna,” “Anti Christ 大体 Super Star”), 30-sec mini noise punk anthems (“竦(shou)”, “Days Go By Fast”), and continues to surf at breakneck pace up and down scales (“@ The”), which often feels like catharsis served with a hammer (“Ultra”). Whereas some tracks are bigger more song-y than others (“Song#2,” that full-throttle “Poodle”), “Vs I” is on time like Tierra Whack (exactly 60 seconds of pick-grinding action), and “Rage” indeed feels like Zack is about to join the party – only to see Ami wipe the floor with pure onomatopoetic fire. Finally, “Aloooooone” and “Humming” (that opening lilt!) are sure going to be live favorites, shifting up and down via hardcore speeds and various break-downs.

Quite hotheaded and terminating things on a high note, o'summer vacation point out that the quick-fire lyrics of their “songs have no meaning. It’s called onomatopoeia in English. Ami, our vocalist, does not like to communicate her thoughts through her music.” Although she considers her contribution “a part of the instrumentation,” they still have strong messages and concerns (unrest, discontent, willingness to shake, wake up, enliven anyone near the audible bomb crater): “That doesn’t mean we don’t have a point of view, but we choose to express ourselves through sound rather than words. Generally, but not exclusively, we are anti-racism, anti-war, gender-free, angry at the companies we work for and their bosses, etc., which are very common sentiments held by so-called rock bands.”

It’s only three ingredients, just like sonic gunpowder: bass, drums, voice – but they tend to explode a few bars into each new track. In a perfect world, there’d be giant colorful clouds of dust gracing the sky over each venue they descend upon.

On their third full-length album, 'The Signal', the Compact Disk Dummies keep a few interesting balls in the air. They play with the opinions and expectations of the outside world, while also confronting their own desires and doubts. This is aptly depicted on the cover with a table, a bell, two brothers and an impatient crowd: who is waiting for whom? The album is as diverse as its cover is surprising. In a mix of styles and influences ranging from retro house to funk, Lennert and Janus Coorevits demonstrate their versatility. Following their scintillating performances at Rock Werchter and Pukkelpop, and the success of the radio hits 'There's No Sex Without You' and 'fomo', 'The Signal' marks the start of a new era for the Dummies.

Lennert notes, "Pfff, I would think about everything indefinitely. And I'm not the only one, I notice. Stuck in a kind of limbo, a state of uncertainty, surrounded by signals, but still feeling a certain fear of following the signal."

On 'The Signal', 'fomo' dissects human desire, reaching for the unattainable. 'Where We Go (Calypso)' is like the shipwreck no one wants. And in the title track, the female lead character finds herself in a toxic relationship, the signs of which are obvious, at least to the outside world. While the content of 'The Signal' revolves around doubt, contemplation and acting or not acting, the musical interpretation is in direct opposition to that. The Compact Disk Dummies do not doubt; they hold their heads up and their chests out. With certainty, they mix everything that excites them musically into the blender, without grinding the identity of the Dummies themselves; actually enriching it instead. The retro house of 'Solàr' (a song about Louis the Fourteenth? Why not) flows into the rampant funk of 'Ballet Dancer' before expanding into 'Underwater'. In every track, you sense the long road the Coorevits brothers have travelled since their breakthrough - and their then angular electro-punk. This third album is Lennert and Janus' most sophisticated work in the expanding universe of the Compact Disk Dummies.

In addition to being a mix of styles, 'The Signal' is also a mix of collaborations. There is the French touch of mixer Michael Declerck and mastering engineer Alex Gopher. There is the Dutch input of Wieger Hoogendorp (Goldband) and Jens Van Der Meij (Froukje). Beautiful string sections are provided by Wietse Meys and Reinhard Vanbergen, bass licks by Boris Van Overschee and backing vocals by Isolde Lasoen and Judith Okon, among others. Producer Jasper Maekelberg always kept an eye on things. And again, for the third album in a row, after 'Mess With Us' (2013) and 'Neon Fever Dream' (2020), artist Athos Burez also provided the artwork for 'The Signal'.

But however international the music sounds, however great the contributions from other top artists, 'The Signal' remains largely the work of the Dummies, with Lennert as vocalist, lyricist and multi-instrumentalist, and Janus as engineer, producer and all-around tech wizard. The album was not made in New York, Tokyo or Berlin, but in Desselgem. Studio 87, the Coorevits family's garage converted into a studio, remains Ali Baba's cave for the Compact Disk Dummies. In their studio crammed with synths, percussion and guitars, Lennert and Janus could not ignore the signal: time to smash it!

Dawn Richard and Spencer Zahn share a common collaborative ethos, a genuine sense of musical curiosity, and a cosmopolitan eagerness to escape the conventions of genre. That shared vision first brought them together on 2022's Pigments_icy and warm, stripped-down and grand, familiar and otherworldly_and now it has reunited them for Quiet in a World Full of Noise. By turns intimate, soul-baring, spectral, and startling, Quiet in a World Full of Noise blends atmospheric and orchestral soundscapes with mellifluous soul, jazz, and journalistic vocalizing_driving it all home with stark, confessional lyricism. The new album finds Richard at her most raw and exposed. This year, Richard's musician father experienced mini strokes while being diagnosed with cancer; and last year, her cousin Cisco was fatally shot seven times in New Orleans. Richard channels the emotional impact of these traumatic experiences of loss into her lyrics and vocal performances, which are left bare and human here, raw and unprocessed across the album. Quiet expands the definitions of what constitutes progressive, avant-garde R&B by rewriting them altogether. On paper, Richard and Zahn's audacious, impressionistic musical collaborations feel like a surprising match. Richard, a New Orleans-reared visionary, has had an improbable journey from late 2000s reality television and mainstream pop with girl group Danity Kane to become one of the most prolific, experimental, and visible indie R&B singer-songwriters of the last decade and a half, with seven solo albums under her belt. Zahn is an East Coast-raised multi-instrumentalist and composer working at the intersections of jazz, Americana, classical, and ambient pop. His growing solo discography includes People of the Dawn, Sunday Painter, Pale Horizon, and Statues I & II, as well as the duo's first release, Pigments. "Pigments was one of the best projects I've ever made," Richard says, "and the furthest I've ever been pushed as an artist." The album was a critical hit, hailed as Best New Music by Pitchfork and receiving praise from Stereogum as Album of the Week, NPR Music, Bandcamp Daily, The Fader, Bitter Southerner, and Edition, among many other publications. The making of its follow-up, Quiet in a World Full of Noise, began in 2023 in upstate New York. Fresh from a break-up, Zahn sat at his piano and poured himself into writing and recording instrumental compositions. "I wrote all these stream-of-consciousness pieces on piano, and they were eerie, spacious piano tracks," he said. He used a piano that had been unconventionally tuned to the room rather than to standard pitch. These oddly-tuned, eerie instrumental recordings were never intended to be an album. Six months later, he listened to the recordings again and sent them to Richard who immediately recognized their potential and said, "Oh, this is the next album." Richard went into the studio the next day and wrote and recorded melodies and lyrics to Zahn's piano recordings. Zahn brought in gifted musicians like Bryan Senti on strings (violin, viola, and violoncello da spalla) and CJ Camerieri on brass (French horn, flugelhorn, and trumpet). In some cases, like on the track "Life in Numbers," Zahn used only the original first-take piano recording and scratch vocal, resulting in an intimate close-up of both Richard and Zahn.

Carla Boregas is a Brazilian musician, composer and sound artist. By merging synthetic and acoustic instrumentation and techniques, Boregas builds up sonic scenarios driven by an invisible force, where the sensation of presence and discovery lies between density and delicacy. Her work spans composition, improvisation, performance, sound installation and radio art, and aims to transport the listener to different subjective perspectives of time and space, to invoke memories and to reflect about the nature-human relationship.

Carla Boregas writes: "Using a Tascam Portastudio 4-track cassette recorder, I invited three musicians to improvise alone with the sound recording of the sea that I did in Massaguaçu, the place where I used to live in Brasil. The recorder that I used had a defect in one of its tracks, therefore I could only invite two musicians – Vinicius Cajado (double bass) and Réka Csiszér (cello), plus the sea in another track. While listening to the tracks together, I felt a deep sense of absence ("ausência" in Portuguese). Perhaps due to their sonorous answers surrounded by the tape hiss? Because that's one of the symbolic meanings of the ocean? Maybe "saudades do mar, de estar ao seu outro lado"? Who knows – listening can be something very mysterious. Afterwards I played with and interweaved them all: the sonorous sea, Vinicius Cajado, Réka Csiszér and the absence - "Absência Tape" is the final result." – Carla Boregas, Berlin, 8 August 2024.

See You At The Maypole, the sixth full-length album in Half Waif"s prolific catalog, is a recognition of personal sadness, and a call to ecstatic togetherness. It"s gathering the colors of our spirit, in all its shades, and making something intricate and remarkable. The ceremonial folk dance performed around a maypole is filled with fauna and flora, with ribbons woven into complex braids incapable of unraveling; these dances are survivals of ancient ritual, honoring the living trees, and the return of Spring and fertility. These patterns -- this dance -- cannot be completed alone, and so, Half Waif welcomes others to join her, a collective of bleeding color. "We are so much stronger for the colorful experiences we go through," she says. "That"s where we find our humanity and find each other." While the seclusion of grief feels infinite, Rose brought the songs to her trusted friend and longtime collaborator of the past decade, Zubin Hensler. The pair worked away from others for Mythopoetics, carefully crafting each note and flourish themselves but something else was needed for See You At The Maypole. To that end, Hensler and Rose welcomed a wealth of players and friends into the world of the record: Jason Burger and Zack Levine on drums and percussion; Josh Marre (Blue Ranger) on guitar; Hannah Epperson and Elena Moon Park on violin; Kristina Teuschler on clarinet; Willem de Koch on trombone; Rebecca El-Saleh on harp; and Spencer Zahn on upright bass. Andrew Sarlo (Big Thief, Bon Iver) lent his deft mixing skills to many of the tracks, including lead single "Figurine." "This wasn"t just my story, I wanted to say. It was every story of loss-the loss of a life, the loss of a dream, the loss of trust and hope and faith. A story of finding a way back again," Rose explains. "My own avenue back to the land of the living was through my relationships with people and with the natural world. It only seemed right that these songs would invite those people in to build the very heart of the sound."

Dawn Richard and Spencer Zahn share a common collaborative ethos, a genuine sense of musical curiosity, and a cosmopolitan eagerness to escape the conventions of genre. That shared vision first brought them together on 2022’s Pigments icy and warm, stripped-down and grand, familiar and otherworldly and now it has reunited them for Quiet in a World Full of Noise. By turns intimate, soul-baring, spectral, and startling, Quiet in a World Full of Noise blends atmospheric and orchestral soundscapes with mellifluous soul, jazz, and journalistic vocalizing driving it all home with stark, confessional lyricism. The new album finds Richard at her most raw and exposed. This year, Richard’s musician father experienced mini strokes while being diagnosed with cancer; and last year, her cousin Cisco was fatally shot seven times in New Orleans. Richard channels the emotional impact of these traumatic experiences of loss into her lyrics and vocal performances, which are left bare and human here, raw and unprocessed across the album. Quiet expands the definitions of what constitutes progressive, avant-garde R&B by rewriting them altogether. On paper, Richard and Zahn’s audacious, impressionistic musical collaborations feel like a surprising match. Richard, a New Orleans–reared visionary, has had an improbable journey from late 2000s reality television and mainstream pop with girl group Danity Kane to become one of the most prolific, experimental, and visible indie R&B singer-songwriters of the last decade and a half, with seven solo albums under her belt. Zahn is an East Coast–raised multi-instrumentalist and composer working at the intersections of jazz, Americana, classical, and ambient pop. His growing solo discography includes People of the Dawn, Sunday Painter, Pale Horizon, and Statues I & II, as well as the duo’s first release, Pigments. “Pigments was one of the best projects I’ve ever made,” Richard says, “and the furthest I’ve ever been pushed as an artist.” The album was a critical hit, hailed as Best New Music by Pitchfork and receiving praise from Stereogum as Album of the Week, NPR Music, Bandcamp Daily, The Fader, Bitter Southerner, and Edition, among many other publications. The making of its follow-up, Quiet in a World Full of Noise, began in 2023 in upstate New York. Fresh from a break-up, Zahn sat at his piano and poured himself into writing and recording instrumental compositions. “I wrote all these stream-of-consciousness pieces on piano, and they were eerie, spacious piano tracks,” he said. He used a piano that had been unconventionally tuned to the room rather than to standard pitch. These oddly-tuned, eerie instrumental recordings were never intended to be an album. Six months later, he listened to the recordings again and sent them to Richard who immediately recognized their potential and said, “Oh, this is the next album.” Richard went into the studio the next day and wrote and recorded melodies and lyrics to Zahn’s piano recordings. Zahn brought in gifted musicians like Bryan Senti on strings (violin, viola, and violoncello da spalla) and CJ Camerieri on brass (French horn, flugelhorn, and trumpet). In some cases, like on the track “Life in Numbers,” Zahn used only the original first-take piano recording and scratch vocal, resulting in an intimate close-up of both Richard and Zahn.

Perpignan Burning: the Southern French capital of garage rock in search of the riff. Or as Lou Reed would put it: "You can"t beat two guitars, bass, and drums." Content: 27 previously unreleased tracks on the double LP and six digital-only bonus tracks. All tracks on this compilation were recorded in or around Perpignan, France, and go to the musical extremes of an extreme city. Whether garage punks or freakbeat mods, country punks or city rockers, whether pioneers or new to the scene: the only thing that counts is the riff. Pascal Comelade, infamous riff explorer since the 1970s, is the unlikely godfather of this bunch of punks and rockers. He opens the trip with his emblematic cover design and closes it with his own Riffifi orchestra to the ultimate riff of The Stooges" "I Wanna Be Your Dog".

For the past two decades, Dr Roman Belavkin (Solar X) has been deeply involved in AI research and mathematics at British universities. His albums from the 1990s are a testament to an era defined by the early internet-bulletin boards, FTP sites and mailing lists. In keeping with this, Solar X's music sounds surprisingly futuristic, a romantic artifact of a time eagerly anticipating tomorrow.

Following the re-issue of Solar-X's "Xrated" in 2019, GALAXIID is releasing his debut "Outre X Mer". All tracks are from the original DAT tapes and have been remastered for this release. "Pozdno Utrom", "Dileg" and "Solar X" were originally released on the "Outre X Mer EP" on Defective Records in 1995. Other tracks are out on vinyl and digital platforms for the first time.

"I was homebound for two years between 1992 and 1994, and the only way I could escape was through computer networks and writing," Belavkin recalls. Before the nasty car accident he was a member of the USSR/Russia national wushu team. Confined to his home, Belavkin started creating tracks based on ideas from his school days in the late 1980s, when he first recorded melodies on cassette tapes. This time, however, he fused those sounds with Soviet analogue synthesizers and PC sound cards. He shared these tracks via email with friends in different countries, becoming part of the "Analogue Heaven" mailing list, a community of enthusiasts united by their passion for analogue synthesis dating back to the 1960s.

During his initial pursuit of a PhD in Computer Science, Roman wanted to explore the intersection of what electronic music could offer humanity, the potential for AI to experience emotions, and whether emotions enhance or hinder intellect. These themes resonate in the music of Solar X. The album embodies ambient techno with intricate rhythms and ear caressing melodies, choppy percussion and blissful synths, making it both tranquil and danceable. Like a shimmering spaceship navigating between anxious dreams and visions, it transports the listener to a naively hopeful era yet to come.

Nigerian electronic musician and violist Ibukun Sunday debuts on Phantom Limb with Harmony / Balance, a brooding, introspective take on Afro-ambient music that follows two acclaimed digital-only albums for Phantom Limb imprint Spirituals.


Based in Lagos, Ibukun Sunday has expertly positioned himself between the rarely-married cultures of ambient and West African musics. He entwines his compositions with field recordings from his native Nigeria and deeply considered philosophies of existence, humanity, and society. The themes of Harmony / Balance derive from Swami and Hare Krishna founder A. C. Bhaktivedanta and his work Bhagavad-Gita Eng: “As It Is”, a script on the duality of human nature. In Bhaktivedanta’s text, two cousins - warriors from the sacred Hindu text the Mahābhārata - and their armies are pitted against each other. The humility, self control, and devotion of one cousin against the arrogance, envy, and pursuit of power of the other. Bhaktivedanta writes that from this battle we see the necessity to cultivate and nurture our love and faith, but to simultaneously understand our selfishness and hubris. Appropriately, in Ibukun Sunday’s music, a heavy, apocalyptic dread contrasts fascinatingly with passages of light. The static-spiked, corrosive sound design of Harmony / Balance conjures darkness, but its skipping rhythmic patterns and melodic contours are made of beautifully vibrant colours.



Though Sunday excels in the kind of drawn-out elegance also found in the work of Kali Malone, William Basinski or Fennesz, and also in a magisterial repetition akin to Terry Riley or Manuel Göttsching, his unique practice, classical training, and core culture shine through in a pure and singular way. Scattered throughout Harmony / Balance are unexpected melodic antiphonies closely aligned with African music, interspersed between huge, spacious drones and field recordings.



Lead track “Arrayed On The Battlefield” evokes mythical and deific wars with hissing, buzzing synthesis that could be dystopian if not for a levitational, sunlit harmonic structure. It rolls and shimmers, transcendent frequencies alive with rhythm. Later, “Enemy Of My Enemy” employs shimmering, meditative chord pads and blissful negative space, while towards the end of the record, “To Fight With” could have been taken from a Denis Villeneuve sci-fi - the fizzing, fiery distortion at its peak gradually, carefully yields a rumbling, distant thunder as it closes. Throughout the record, Sunday’s education as a classical viola player is also evident. A honed musicality and developed ear for harmonic resonances lend the work a measured eloquence, even amidst deep, spiritual intuitiveness. This intensely personal and powerfully expressive creativity is key to the grace with which he crosses divides.


Ibukun Sunday is a solo electronic musician and violist based in Lagos, Nigeria. He has released two albums with Phantom Limb’s digital-only imprint Spirituals, which enjoyed rightful acclaim as unique and powerful works of experimental ambient music. He also performed at Phantom Limb’s 5th anniversary celebrations in 2023, playing alongside Richard Skelton at St. John’s on Bethnal Green in London, UK.

WE ARE WINTER'S BLUE AND RADIANT CHILDREN (WAWBARC) is the new quartet of Mat Ball (BIG|BRAVE), Efrim Manuel Menuck (Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Thee Silver Mt. Zion), and Jonathan Downs and Patch (both Ada). On "NO MORE APOCALYPSE FATHER" they present six modal lullabies drenched in seared distortion, slathered across striding electronic pulses. Ball and Menuck began creating music in and for the bleakest moments of Montréal winters: "We're honoring that idea of winter, when you come inside and your house is warm, a place that only exists because of how cold it is outside," says Menuck. They later recruited Downs and Patch to flesh out their initial ideas. Menuck met them in 2015 when recording Ada's final album at Montréal's Hotel2Tango _ where they reconvened to make this record. "NO MORE APOCALYPSE FATHER" is an album about witnessing bleakness from a place of safety. Carrying newfound descriptive depth, thanks to the quartet's open-ended songs freeing him from writing in meter, Menuck likens his lyrics to photorealism. On opener `Rats and Roses' he sings of an unnamed city struck by an unknown cataclysm, but the details are local: specifically, his neighbors inadvertently poisoning birds when tackling a rat infestation. It's backed by blown out synths and guitars reaching a soaring crescendo. "Seeing things from a distance and not being able to intervene happens a lot on the record," Menuck explains. "If you're a feeling and thinking person, that's just part of the human condition. We watch horror unfolding from afar, unable to do anything concrete to change it." A powerless witness, able to describe but not intervene. `Dangling Blanket From A Balcony (White Phosphorous)' references Michael Jackson holding his child over a hotel balcony in 2002_the bizarre media spectacle still lodged in Menuck's psyche. This and the album's closing track also elegize white phosphorous, a technology of war designed to light up battlefields but capable of inflicting horrific burns on those it touches. Illumination and horror in one, here underpinning scenes picturesque and terrifying. "The last song `(Goodnight) White Phosphorous' is deliberately like a lullaby," says Menuck. "Written from the viewpoint of watching white phosphorous falling outside your window." Scorched and tarnished and laden with harrowing imagery, "NO MORE APOCALYPSE FATHER" is also a record bathed in light: the bewilderment of hopeful spirits witnessing despair, watching a blizzard of distress unfold outside from a place of relative shelter and comfort. You could call that emotional ambivalence, maybe numbness. But those words are too passive for the weight of conflicted feeling resonating through the album. "I never know how I feel on an overcast day when the sun is still bright despite the grayness and the light is very flat. The colours become more saturated, and you see a single flower, say a morning glory, whose colour is so vibrant beneath the gray, I don't know if that's a lovely sensation or a terrible sensation. It's both," says Menuck.

Hyoga responds to Saori's call, alerted by an imminent danger. But before he can act, Saori is attacked by a divine warrior of Asgard, under the orders of Hilda of Polaris. Athena then goes to Asgard, initiating a confrontation. To save humanity, she halts the melting of the ice, but only for half a day. During this time, Seiya and his companions face the seven divine warriors of Asgard to retrieve the sapphires of Odin and free Hilda from the Nibelungen ring.

Seiji Yokoyama, the legendary composer of the entire Saint Seiya series, takes a turn towards Nordic themes and leads us straight into Scandinavian myths. The melancholy, fear, and epic nature of these background music pieces are palpable, supported by the "Andromeda Harmonic Orchestra" and the Colombia Male Choir on vocals, both of which have contributed to most of the series' iconic music.

Spectres have been stirring in the shadows for years now. Dark eyes watching from pallid faces. Siren songs calling to lost souls. In the blackest corners of the UK underground, a name whispered relentlessly amongst the faithful, first with curiosity, then soul-shuddering awe: Zetra.

Zetra is also the title of their striking debut LP. Ten tracks whose indefinable blend of shimmering shoegaze and pulsating goth-metal work deep beneath the skin, it is a masterclass in intimate dark romanticism and sweeping elemental beauty. It could be seen as a reaction to the geography of a strange new world, but also to the jagged topography of the human psyche itself. Is it a manifesto? A roadmap? A riddle waiting to be solved? Profound pleasure lies in peeling back its many layers.

Travelling alone, armed only with synths, guitar and drum-machine to compose, The Wanderers’ music could sound skeletal. Instead its early metallic bones have been fleshed-out with the electronic new-wave of Gary Numan and Pet Shop Boys and dreamy, droning guitars that hark to heroes like Slowdive and Sonic Youth as well as dark contemporaries Deafheaven and Alcest. As harsh as the truths with which they deal may be, these songs deliver beguiling brilliance.

Acolytes to spread the word of Zetra aren’t hard to find. British ‘contemporaries’ like Burner and Wallowing, Celestial Sanctuary and Employed To Serve have been dementedly singing their praises as far back as they can remember. Tours with the heavyweight likes of Creeper and Godflesh, VV and SKYND have taken their once-subterranean sounds into the spotlight. Unto Others’ Gabriel Franco (‘Moonfall’), Svalbard’s Serena Cherry (‘Starfall’) and Sólveig Matthildur Kristjánsdóttir from Iceland’s Kælan Mikla (‘Shatter The Mountain’) even crop up amongst these recordings, dissolving into the cult of Zetra themselves. But none are as important as the legions of fans Zetra are yet to reach with a dark gospel still unpicking all manner of psychological knots and existential truths.

With extensive practical and academic understanding of the ‘remix’ process, Stian Balducci takes on the role of audio architect in this refined and redesigned remix album.

His meticulous approach has not replaced, but built upon Kjetil Jerve’s piano material and boasts a thorough dedication to mood and timbre through-out. The outcome combines new strokes of colour and delicately layered textures, offering fresh perspectives to an old canvas. The aural landscape takes shape in progressive, parabolic pulsations, coupled with sparse, rhythmic heart-throbs that embody the faint silhouettes of drum reverberations. This atmospheric landscape is complimented with subtle, pensive keys from Kjetil’s piano recordings that add emotional depth to the work and pay diligent tribute to the free structures of jazz.

The final project may be understood as a window, giving view to life’s sentient and evocative themes, without ever infringing on their delicacy. The sonic progressions tap into nature’s cycles through meditative repetition and offer the listener some brief respite from innate human habits of over-thinking.

As the contents of the album unfold, we are taken reassuringly by the hand to familiar, foreign lands, filled with curious sonorous tales and subtle insights that shed light on a world of deeper perception.

In keeping with the communal ethos of Dugnad Rec, ‘Tokyo Tapes: Piano Recycle’ reflects a thoughtful exchange between Stian and Kjetil. Stian professed that the project went ahead with just one rule: “to work only with the original source material, no external samples or sound sources”. This puritan approach spotlights a shared characteristic between them; namely, a unified desire to explore vibrations and a wholistic dedication to sound experimentation.

"This Jon Favreau-directed movie stars Will Ferrell as Buddy, a human raised in the North Pole to be an elf. After discovering he`s really a human, Buddy heads to NYC to find his place in the world and to find his father.

He not only finds his family, but he also manages to rekindle Christmas spirit in the city. The soundtrack includes songs by Louis Prima, Ferrante & Tercher, Ertha Kit, Brian Setzer, Ella Fitzgerald, Wayne Newton, Stevie Wonder, Billy Preston, Johnny Osbourne, Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, Zooey Deschanel, and Leon Redbone."