Buscar:out of the basement

Although many a vibe has shifted since the days of dubbing NNF001 one at a time on the floor of a Koreatown bachelor apartment in February of 2004, using stolen photocopies and tie-dyeing J-cards with wine, the label’s essential premise has not. Then, as now, the vision was to elevate and enshrine outsiders, foragers, hidden gems, and hybrid sounds on cheap tapes or affordable records, to be savoured and shared in the here and now. 399 catalogue titles later, the centre still holds.

To toast the label’s 20th anniversary and 400th release, we commissioned a gold roll call of alumni and affiliates: Alley Of The Sun. Named in homage to the Malibu mystic music fountainhead, skewed through a smoggy sideways lens, the 16-song, 90-minute, double LP suite spans every shade of NNF’s Pacific palette: rainforest ceremony, skyway motorik, Tascam rapture, silhouette shoegaze, basement vapour, astral ascension, jazz shadows, 5th world tropics, lucid dream drone, desert quests, prophecy electronics, ritual wreckage.

Equal parts snapshot, tapestry, and time capsule, the compilation reflects the breadth of NNF’s two-decade exploration and evolution, from simple soil to a sea of dunes. True undergrounds have no set sound or fixed polarity, only flashes of transient magic and forking paths, to be cherished and championed for as long as the candle lasts.

Record includes 2 page insert and download

Flipping rhythms from Guadeloupe, Cuba, Senegal and Puerto Rico, Time Capsule founder Kay Suzuki releases an acid-soaked collection of remixes that transcends time and space.

From the blacked-out basement of Plastic People to the psychedelic dancefloor of Beauty and the Beat, Kay Suzuki’s musical world has been shaped by some of London’s most iconic sound systems. High quality audio, he says, can open portals to new universes. Rhythm is time made plastic and beauty is the space between the beats.

Spanning over fifteen years of music from the prolific DJ, producer, Time Capsule label boss and one time Brilliant Corners sushi chef, this collection of remixes is the logical conclusion of Kay Suzuki’s musical thinking. Drawn to unique percussive or syncopated rhythms, he describes remixes as conversations between the original artist’s sense of time and his own. Weaving broken beat, house and dub influences into rhythms from across the Black Atlantic, these four tracks find each other kinship on the dance floor.

The A-side begins with a dubbed-out rework of the Gwoka celebration rhythm ‘A Ka Titine’ by Guadeloupe’s Gaoulé Mizik that was originally released by Beauty and the Beat in 2022. Layering electronic flares, dub sirens and space echo reverb across the shuffling toumblak beat, Suzuki leans into the track’s creole heritage, turning the track into a sought-after dancefloor jam, played by everyone from Colleen Cosmo Murphy and John Gomez to Yu-Su and Bradley Zero.

Skipping to Puerto Rico, Broki’s ‘Es Que Lo Es’ emerged from a collaboration between Bugz in the Attic’s Afronaut and Seiji and local musicians. Here Suzuki reworks the Afro-Latin percussion into a subtle bruk, conjuring a third space between London and San Juan that remains both of and outside the era in which it was made.

Blackbush Orchestra’s ‘Sortez, Les Filles!’ opens the B-side, taking apart the original and kneading the Senegalese percussion into a chugging Balearic house track, buoyant and full of life. Also first released by Beauty and the Beat, the track features new synth and structural elements that bring out the innate dancefloor potential beneath the surface of the original.

The final track on the collection heads back to the Caribbean and the island of Cuba, where Sunlightsquare a.k.a. Claudio Passavanti worked with vocalist Rene Alvarez and expert in Afro-Cuban percussion, Giovanni Imparato, on ‘Oyelo’. Here, Suzuki strips out the kick completely, leaving an implied rhythm which he calls an “imaginary four-to-the-floor” - a groove that is felt rather than heard, leaving the listener floating in another universe entirely.

Village Of The Sun return today with the announcement of their highly anticipated debut LP “First Light”. Due out 4th November on heavyweight vinyl via London analogue specialists Gearbox Records, the record follows their widely acclaimed double A-side single “Village Of The Sun / “Ted”. Village Of The Sun is an enigmatic collaboration between UK jazz virtuosos Binker Golding & Moses Boyd and electronic music legend Simon Ratcliffe of Basement Jaxx fame. Born out of a shared passion for improvised instrumental music, the new project sees all three of the artists steps into relatively new territory, combining their respective sensibilities to create something all at once atmospheric and danceable. Evocative of some of Simon’s inspirations such as Alice Coltrane, Airto Moreira and Masters at Work, Village Of The Sun embodies a hybrid of electronic beats, heady jazz improvisation, and sheer, raw energy, breaking ground between pseudo-Samba rhythms, dreamy ambient textures, and explosive sax and percussion. The new single “The Spanish Master” is a total embodiment of what Village Of The Sun is at it’s heart. Combining atmospheric synth lines with percussive electronics, which gently ebb around Boyd’s intricate drumming and Golding’s expressive sax. With tension building around every element the track careens into a movement of frenetic drumming, electronic idiosyncrasies, and fervent sax breakouts, which find the trio performing at their energetic, adrenaline-fuelled best. The album is truly a project of passion and exploration, and one that refuses to follow just one path. Tracks such as “Cesca” and “Tigris” emphasise Ratcliffe’s ability to weave shapeshifting keys and electronics around Golding and Boyd’s interplay, changing the mood and direction of the track at a moment’s notice. Whereas the title track “First Light” channels the sound of the current UK jazz scene with Ratcliffe imbuing a sense of dramatic tension and release with electronic atmospherics and keys that ferment alongside the almost shamanic, semi-free sax lines and uncomprimising drums. As part of one of British dance music’s biggest ever acts, Basement Jaxx, Ratcliffe and collaborator Felix Buxton led the progressive house sound in the 90s/00s with ground-breaking albums Remedy and Rooty, and by releasing a string of Top 10 singles including Red Alert, Rendez-Vu, Romeo, and Where’s Your Head At?. Ratcliffe’s own solo work includes the 1995 EP City Dreams and the 2011 EP Dorus Rijkers - both releases prove his musical versatility and virtuosity. Speaking about the Village of the Sun collaboration, Simon says, “I’ve always liked improvised instrumental music. It has this intensity and eccentricity that takes me places.

Wunderhorse is the alias of British musician Jacob Slater Jacob fronted The Dead Pretties, a London band who arrived in a haze of hedonism and hype, bowing out before the dust had time to settle. Blink and you'd have missed them. Time- stamped yet timeless. If there's any justice, he'll soon be played out live in sticky basement rooms up and down the country, limbs everywhere, sweat dripping from the walls. An absolute mess, but what a beautiful one.

Prairiewolf make easy listening music for an age of fracture. They almost do it in spite of themselves. No one can seriously question the head music bona fides of the members of this Colorado-based trio.

Guitarist Stefan Beck has already assembled a formidable discography of jewel-toned guitar zone-outs under his Golden Brown moniker. And keyboardist and guitarist Jeremy Erwin and bassist Tyler Wilcox have both made their reputations as chroniclers of the vast world of out-music. Erwin helms the indispensable Heat Warps blog, a performance-by-performance archive of Miles Davis’s labyrinthine electric period. And Wilcox has been covering the ragged edges of psychedelia and experimental rock at Aquarium Drunkard and other publications, not to mention his own virtual basement for heads, the great bootleg blog Doom and Gloom from the Tomb.

These guys come by it honestly. And yet, given their backgrounds, Prairiewolf’s self-titled debut last spring was remarkably free of face-melters, brown acid blowouts, and ascendant spiritual jazz odysseys. Instead, they dropped a record of beautiful, elegant, low-key cosmic groovers that sounded like the piped-in background music to a resort hotel on Jupiter. It was an unlikely psychedelia, brocaded with mid-twentieth century sonic threading from the hi-fi era: vintage synthesizers, smears of spaghetti western, luxe tropical details, the faint schmaltz of space age pop. Imagine something like a Harmonia residency in the airport lounge. And yet somehow it all worked brilliantly. Prairiewolf became last summer’s cool-down standard. After a year woodshedding around Colorado’s Front Range region, the Prairiewolf boys have fired up their trusty Korg SR-120 drum machine for another outstanding collection of suborbital exotica. The appropriately titled Deep Time operates in its own chronology, unspooling at its unhurried pace. All its incongruous period and stylistic references—the new age pulses, Hawaiian steel, shaggy hippie rambles, lysergic guitar spirals, and orchestral synthesizer flourishes—float atop the album’s own singular temporality. Deep Time makes its own time.

From the moment Beck folds his slide guitar, origami-like, into a sound resembling the call of gulls on the tranquil album opener, “Peach Blossom Paradise,” there is a sense of departure from everyday life. The shimmering “Lighthouse” has a similar sunbaked nonchalance, like an afternoon passed day-drinking in a seaside bar. That they named their lush, kaleidoscopic downtempo track “The Meander” pretty much says it all. The ranging, propulsive “Saying Yes to Everything” seems like a nod in the direction of Rose City Band’s brand of wookie krautrock. And the motorik noir of “Demon Cicadas in the Night” also goes hard. Beck and Erwin’s intertwined guitar jam on the eerie album standout “The Cold Curve” evolves into something that sounds like primitive computer music. A genteel bassline from Wilcox on another album highlight, “Revisionist Mystery,” sets the stage for a loopy space jazz turn from guest clarinettist Matt Loewen of Rayonism. The title of post-rock cowboy tune “Another Tomorrow” might refer to the alternative future that so many critics heard in the music of Prairiewolf’s first album. Or it might simply refer to the persistence of time, however deep. Either way,

I’m thankful for the way Prairiewolf make each of their tunes a little oasis or sanctuary, each subsisting according to its own crystalline little logic for a few minutes. It is no simple task to filter out the omnipresent anger and anxiety of everyday life these days. But Prairiewolf are out here making it seem easy.

Brent S. Sirota

The Other Sound of Music is Edition Hawara’s first compilation of forgotten Austrian treasures from the 1980s. Plucked from dusty basements, flea markets and bespoke stores across the small Alpine country, it features eight quirky and charming pieces that afford a glimpse into largely unknown but surprisingly rich musical subcultures. The lovingly curated selection brings to light early soul, boogie and proto-house productions, as well as some of the most balearic tracks that have ever been made in a landlocked country. Finally giving this music the stage it deserves, The Other Sound of Music is the definitive guide to the outer limits of the Austrian underground.

ON SAND COLOUR VINYL FOR FIRST TIME

Post-Punk? Indie-Rock? Post-Hardcore? The Van Pelt walked between all these worlds. Spoken/sung vocals, anthemic pop hooks, fiery guitars and a tightly wound rhythm section made them stand outs of the DIY basement scene they emerged from.
RELATED TO: The Lapse, Native Nod, St Vincent, Blonde Redhead, Enon, Jets to Brazil, Vague Angels.

ABOUT “STEALING FROM OUR FAVORITE THIEVES”:
90s NYC indie heroes The Van Pelt have had a lasting power far greater than so many of the other once bigger bands of that era have had. The sort of interest that has neither waxed nor waned over the decades since they disbanded, yet just mysteriously continues on despite their discography being out of print since the end of the last millennium. So what is it that sets them apart? Too soft to have ran with the AmRep or Touch and Go crowds, not hip enough to have made sense on Matador or Merge, ernest yet not histrionic enough to make it onto the “best emo bands” lists, not weird enough to be on bills with Arto Lindsay and Thurston Moore, etc. In a sense, their outsider status comes not from the wings, but from the dead center eye of the storm. The 90s were happening all around them, they were witnesses thereof, yet they emerged transcendent of it all. You Follow? Maybe it’s worth having a listen to see what I mean.
Barcelona’s La Castanya records is treating us with the first ever rerelease of the two Van Pelt albums to mark the 20th anniversary of Sultans of Sentiment, their benchmark album. They teased us in 2014 that this might be on the docket with the release of Imaginary Third, a collection of singles and unreleased Van Pelt tracks which were originally intended to have been the components of their third album, including the alt-famous “Speeding Train”. Now we’ll finally have access to their entire discography. The first album, Stealing From Our Favorite Thieves is an explosion of anthems belted out as if the war was already lost yet they were hoisting that tattered banner anyhow until there wasn’t a shred to salvage. The momentum coming out of that album had every major label in the States salivating at the possibility of turning them into the next Nirvana. Instead, The Van Pelt followed it up by pulling the van into the garage, leaving the engine running, funneling the exhaust into their lungs, and blissfully deciding to bow out of the race with the epic Sultans of Sentiment. Of course as the story goes, their intended financial flop was the exact opus that jettisoned them into the history books. Buy both albums. You’ll need them both.

cLOUDDEAD's debut album, compiling six 10" EPs that appeared between 2000-2001, is aurally dense and obscured. A sprawling mass of miniature beat-suites and Dadaist lyrics, this strange and beautiful 3xLP would influence a myriad of sub-genres (cloud rap, hauntology, lo-fi hip-hop, etc.) in the two decades since its initial release.

Only the three members of cLOUDDEAD – Why?, Doseone and Odd Nosdam – can speak to the group's origins, but in the context of underground hip-hop towards the end of the 20th century, their arrival makes perfect sense. Cincinnati had a vital scene; home to Scribble Jam, an annual confluence of MCs, DJs, B-boys and graffiti artists. While the trio soon relocated to the Bay Area where they co-founded the Anticon collective, their Midwestern roots – in ramshackle basements of off-campus hovels, as the "cerberus of Southern Ohio" – would remain the atomic heart of their early recordings.

As Chris Martins writes in the liner notes, "The only reason we know their names today is because of how loudly and curiously they aired their insularity. They rewrote the entire world as they knew it through their own fucked perspective, and when those mysterious 10-inches started popping up in record shops, it wasn't just a puzzle to investigate: there seemed to be a whole cosmology hidden in those grooves."

Each side of the album represents one of those elusive 10-inches, each embodying a universe unto itself. Opening salvo "Apt. A" and "And All You Can Do Is Laugh" are perhaps most emblematic of the cLOUDDEAD experience. Why? and Dose create a new language through boundless non-sequiturs, sing-song non-choruses and call-and-response hooks, while Nosdam's dexterous production shifts from crackling ambience of Flying Saucer Attack to tight Ohio Players drum breaks and oblique film samples.

Taken all together, cLOUDDEAD is an original interpretation of hip-hop in the surreal Y2K glow – a bizarre meeting point between William Basinski's Disintegration Loops and MF DOOM's Operation: Doomsday. All it took was a Dr. Sample SP-202, Tascam cassette eight-track and cheap RadioShack mic. There's truly nothing like it.

This edition has been faithfully restored by Nosdam. European exclusive version comes on clear vinyl, incl. fold-out poster and liner notes insert.

Originally released in 1997, 'Unfuckwithable' by Kent, Ohio's basement noise art punks was a mid 90s classic. Out of print for over 25 years, this repress has been remixed and remastered from the original tapes and comes with enhanced artwork and a new 12" x 36" insert on colored vinyl.

Originally released in 1997, 'Unfuckwithable' by Kent, Ohio's basement noise art punks was a mid 90s classic. Out of print for over 25 years, this repress has been remixed and remastered from the original tapes and comes with enhanced artwork and a new 12" x 36" insert on colored vinyl.

Black Cherry. Fiddlehead's debut LP Springtime and Blind is an exploration of grief both introspective and through the insight of others. Following the release of their Out of the Bloom EP on Lockin Out Records, the Boston-based band have created a debut LP that shares an anguishing, relatable story of love and loss through the catharsis of spirited, loud indie rock. Consisting of guitarist Alex Henery (also of Basement), vocalist Patrick Flynn and drummer Shawn Costa (both of Have Heart), Fiddlehead explore musical styles different from their other projects while bringing a familiar energetic and emotional core to the collaboration. Springtime and Blind stemmed from Pat's loss of his father. Flynn looks at how his mother coped with the situation- losing her spouse, her center of gravity -writing the lyrics as an emotional catharsis for both of them. While the process of writing and recording helped Flynn cope with his personal loss there's no doubt it carries a universal message that can help ease others' loneliness. A contrast to itself, Springtime and Blind is a multidimensional and relatable journey through its cathartic message and spirited instrumentals.

Leng’s San Francisco connection has long been strong, with the 40 Thieves collective – and their friend Cole Odin – providing some of the label’s most memorable releases of the last decade. That Bay Area connection comes to the fore once more on the imprint’s latest release, which sees Odin join forces with fellow San Francisco resident Marshall Watson, a long-serving producer, engineer and live performer known globally for his Balearic-minded productions.
‘Voyager’, the pair’s first collaborative single, is a genuine meeting of minds. It combines Odin’s love of low-slung dub disco, dancefloor psychedelia and low-tempo cosmic house with Watson’s
picturesque Balearic synths, sparkling piano riffs and immersive sound design. It’s this blend that dominates on the EP-opening Original Mix, an infectious workout that gets progressively more blissed-out and saucer-eyed as it progresses. Listen carefully and you’ll hear some suitably psychedelic guitar solos nestling amongst the heady washes of sound, sun-bright piano riffs and weighty bass.


Those languid, stretched-out guitar parts naturally take a more prominent role on the Extended
Guitar Mix. On this alternative take, the pair deliver a lightly tweaked take on the original groove, stretching it out while overlaying eyes-closed guitar solos, pots-and-pans percussion and a more DJ-friendly outro. It’s effectively an extended club mix – the club in question being a Bay Area basement at 5am. To round off the EP, Odin and Watson dust off their dancing shoes and pay tribute to San Francisco great Patrick Cowley. On the appropriately titled Cosmic Rave Mix, the pair swap their bass guitar for a pulsating sequenced bassline, trance-inducing synth sounds, and locked-in electronic loops designed to take you to a higher state of consciousness. By the time the track’s familiar piano refrain drops midway through, you’ll be reaching for the lasers in no time at all.

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

Transparent Blue Vinyl. After years of preparation, Marcus Drake emerges from the basement networks of the resistance underground to claim the first save point along his quest ahead. Welcome to Save Point 1, a universe where popular forms of the past collide at warp speed with Marcus's mutant inspirations to produce sounds and genres hitherto unknown. Save Point 1 is a visionary and singular Debut work of Avant Rock & Pop Alchemy, blown apart and reassembled under the laws of Quantum Musical Mechanics. Written, Produced & Performed by Marcus Drake, the album eludes classification, but sounds like a sci-fi fusion of musical DNA from Nine Inch Nails, Prefab Sprout, Nobuo Uematsu (the Final Fantasy video game composer), Animal Collective, Prince, Mr. Bungle, Liars, The Mars Volta, and Lil Ugly Mane. The album marks the first release under Drake's own name, and the latest since his 2017 release as Anthony Fremont's Garden Solutions_his idiosyncratic side-project with Water From Your Eyes' Nate Amos, Options' Seth Engel, and NNAMDI. He has also since scored for film and video, including the Adult Swim short Thoron the Conqueror. Save Point 1 isn't just a new beginning, but a reintroduction to Marcus Drake the artist and composer. Drake experimented with new techniques and approaches for many years while recording Save Point 1, a process that transformed his sound, voice, and artistic identity. The resulting oeuvre is giddy and dreamy, an Olympic-height diving board from which to descend through indie rock and videogame soundtracks, thrilling math-rock riffs that turn experimental, and synths that glow in rainbow hues. Just turn to the glitchpop of "Heaven's in the Rot" or the slow-motion acoustic glitter that is "Dragon It Out" to hear it in motion. And note the two-part "Haunted" suite that funnels his unpredictable experimentation into darker, weirder directions.

Heated Garage is a sonic snapshot of what happened when boundless musical energy and middle American moxie combined to create a cultural phenomenon. The tracks are drawn from a vast archive of Kay Bank master tapes - some are ultra rarities you’d be hard pressed to snatch from the collectors’ market without mortgaging a kidney. Others are alternate versions and outtakes never before released in any form! “The joke was, some bands didn’t become garage bands because it was too damn cold...you can’t go outside when it’s 25 below zero. So, a lot of people are honing their craft in their basements.” High Spirits guitarist Owen Husney explains. Knowing more about them is not only unnecessary, it would mar their mystique. They exist forever in a moment of raw rock ‘n’ roll glory that transcends time, a space shared by their Heated Garage brethren. Looking back on The Pagans’ songs, for example, Kip Sullivan says, “They feel sacred to me.” Recollecting his High Spirits adventures, Owen Husney sighs, “I would go back to those heydays in a minute.” Now he can. And we can all come along.

Repress!

The seventh release on M.A.D Records - label bosses Make A Dance are back.

The El U Vee E.P sees the London duo serve up an eclectic mix of influences from across the board. ‘Cool Girls’ opens with italo arps, gated snares and seductive vocal samples. Title track ‘El U Vee’ follows, blending house heat with a dash of Latin spice. This is a love-song body groover.

Flip it over and find the percussive basement jam ‘Oh Yeah’, before ‘No Way Out’ rounds off the EP with an acid tinged, new beat blend of M.A.D.ness.

The 1980 space disco hit you probably never heard of. Now officially remastered including new stunning edits by Peaking Lights and Korkut Elbay. Picture sleeve with an outstanding painting by Antonia Freisburger.

'Inside' with loads of synths and some vocoder on top is a wild jam that is propelling more and more into a frenzy during its course.

Following the orginal is a dancefloor-edit by Korkut Elbay which puts the vocal part into focus. Korkut Elbay, part of the Cómeme camp and an integral part of Cologne's electronic music scene for over 20 years, crafted an edit in its purest form.

On the flipside Aaron Coyes of the California-based duo Peaking Lights stretches out the original and reaches higher grounds with his stomping rework. He gently adds some more keys and puts you into a trance with his soothing melodies. Now dance!

But what's the story behind this unearthed gem stone? In the late 1970s a marketing company owner faced an increasing competitve market and wanted to work indepently from the professional studios which were charging high rates for commercials back then. The solution was to build his own sound studio. So he set one up in the basement of his company in Saarbrücken, Germany. He hired a studio operator and a composer that got quite a reputation in the local scence back then and besides daily job routines 'Inside' was created.

In partnership with Hollywood Records and Regency Enterprises, Waxwork Records is thrilled to present BARBARIAN Original Motion Picture Music by Anna Drubich. Barbarian is a 2022 American Horror film written and directed by Zach Cregger in his solo screen writing and directorial debut. The film stars Georgina Campbell, Bill Skarsgård, and Justin Long. The plot follows a woman finding out that the rental home she has reserved has been accidentally double-booked by a man, not knowing of a dark secret within the dwelling. Anna Drubich is an award-winning film composer from Moscow. Her diverse body of work includes live action features, animated features, television series, documentaries, and plays and concert halls across the world. Anna has score over 35 major film and TV projects including a co-score with Oscar-nominated composer Marco Beltrami on the Guillermo Del Toro adaptation of Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark, Netflix's hit feature Fear Street: 1994, the horror-comedy Werewolves Within, and more. Waxwork Records is proud to present BARBARIAN Original Motion Picture Music as a deluxe vinyl album featuring 180 gram "Mother's Milk & Blood" splatter colored vinyl, heavyweight gatefold jackets with matte satin coating and UV spot-gloss varnish, new artwork by Steven Reeves, and an 11"x11" art print insert!

Nach der allerersten Vinylauflage im Dezember 2023 (Forest Green Vinyl), folgt nun eine weitere Vinyledition des dritten Albums THE COLD STILL (2010) der britischen Indie-Rock-Band The Boxer Rebellion, diesmal auf Green Swirled Vinyl. Produziert wurde THE COLD STILL von Ethan Johns (Kings Of Leon, Rufus Wainwright, Ryan Adams) in Peter Gabriels Real World Studios.

US House Music legend Teddy Douglas of Basement Boys and Jasper St. Co. fame gets set to unleash his first solo artist album, ‘I’m Here’, on the iconic label, Nervous Records. Teddy has gone all out to deliver one of his most creative and musically diverse albums to date. ‘I’m Here’ is a colourful pallet of meaningful songs and grooves that reach far beyond Teddy’s signature soulful Baltimore House sound, with added infusions of Funk, Rock and Jazz, yet still loaded with plenty of Teddy’s trademark House and Disco sounds that we all know and love.

Across the album he’s pulled together an array of heavyweight international vocal talent including; UK vocal diva Pauline Taylor; Danish award winning Folk and Blues artist, Richard Farrell; Chi Town Hip House legend, Fast Eddie; dance music’s legendary No.1 vocal queen, Ultra Naté; up and coming Brit Soul talent, Sipho; and Buckshot from Blackmoon appearing as BDI Thug. From the shimmering cover of The Frontline Orchestra’s ‘Don’t Turn Your Back On Me’ with Pauline Taylor on the vocals, to the downtempo rocky vibes of ‘Help!’ with Sipho delivering a spine-tingling gravelly vocal, ‘I’m Here’ is testament to Teddy’s finely tuned expert musicianship and impeccable knack for penning great songs and delivering vibrant covers.

Baltimore’s Teddy Douglas has produced everyone from Michael Jackson, Lenny Kravitz, Crystal Waters, Erykah Badu, Martha Wash and Ultra Nate’ and was an important figure in the development of the Baltimore “House” Sound. Teddy has held down a long and successful DJ career since 1983 staring out in Baltimore and spreading his wings globally gracing the decks at clubs such as Yellow in Japan to London’s Ministry of Sound and beyond. In 1985 he met Jay Steinhour and Thommy Davis, who later formed The Basement Boys production company. The Basement Boys have produced countless dance classics like Crystal Waters’ 1991 Gold single, ‘Gypsy Woman’. In the mid 90’s Teddy Douglas and Jay Steinhour opened Basement Boys Records and released club anthems from Teddy Douglas, Jasper St. Co., Ann Nesby, Those Guys, DJ Spen, Byron Stingly, Karizma, Kenny Bobien, Taja Seville and more

"A group of tried-and-true musicians got together and found the sort of camaraderie and kinship you typically only find once in a lifetime. They didn’t overthink it. They didn’t waste a second. They simply left their blood, sweat, and tears on tape—like they’ve always done. For as much as Better Lovers represents the union of former Every Time I Die members Jordan Buckley guitar,Steve Micciche [bass], and Clayton “Goose” Holyoak [drums] with The Dillinger Escape Plan and Killer Be Killed frontman Greg Puciato [vocals],and musician (Fit For An Autopsy/END) and GRAMMY® Award-winning producer, Will Putney [guitar], it really cements the bond of five friends around a shared vision. That vision is as uncompromising, unapologetic, and undeniable as anything they’ve individually done, yet it’s refined by experience and a commitment to a future together. They’re in it for the long haul... “To me, this band is refreshing,” exclaims Jordan. “Looking back, I’m so happy everything got me to where I am. The pandemic and the last few years made me hungrier and more grateful. This isn’t a hobby. This isn’t temporary. This is the next evolution for each of us. Greg and Will rejuvenated me and made me even more confident.



Now, everybody needs to know we’re a wild animal that just broke out of the zoo—there’s no trying to put it back in the cage.” “Better Lovers definitely feels like its own thing,” states Greg. “I’m in so many lanes right now, so it was important that one lane didn’t step on another. However, nothing I’m doing is this vicious. This is full-on scathing. It’s been really fun. I forgot how much I liked that.” As the story goes, Jordan ended up back in Buffalo, NY, jamming in a basement rehearsal spot with Steve and Goose during the winter of 2022. After working with Will on the last two Every Time I Die records, they shared a handful of early demos with him to produce. As the year progressed, Jordan caught Greg on the road with Jerry Cantrell in Las Vegas, mentioning the new music. Once ideas solidified, he shared them with the vocalist who replied at 3am one night in December. “The text said, ‘Let’s give these motherfuckers what they want’,”chuckles Jordan. “I went to bed smiling and laughing. There is no one like Greg on stage, off stage, or over text. Once I told Will, he was like, ‘Can I play?’ We said, ‘Of course!’ That’s how it was born.” “Once I pick up the scent, I’ll go for the kill,” smiles Greg. “We’ve all hung out, gotten to know each other, and it’s all fire now. Everyone has already been through shit. You know yourself better. Your ego isn’t as big as it used to be. You can share your opinions. It’s a cool dynamic.” Fittingly, they introduce this era with the single “30 Under 13.” A seasick guitar groove bleeds into an incisive riff punctuated by Greg’s vitriolic and venomous screams, “Hold onto me, try to let go of me, let go of what you’ll never be. ”This barrage unpredictably subsides on a haunting clean vocal, only to ramp back up into a pit-splitting thrash crescendo and rapid-fire solo played at warp speed. “We always try to up our game,” notes Jordan. “This is the next step for all of us. There’s just constant forward motion, and we don’t want to compromise that. We want to keep going. We’re doing a lot of shit we haven’t done before in Better Lovers. I’m not going to spoil it for you, but get ready.” “For some reason, this song got me,” recalls Greg. “Once that happens, you have the toe of the dinosaur skeleton in the dirt. You start brushing it away, and soon you have a fucking T-Rex.” The name might give you a hint of what’s coming—or it might not. So, what does the future hold for Better Lovers? Well, it’s entirely in their control. Expect a lot of touring. Expect more music. Expect these five guys to leave a trail of destruction in their wake—really would you want anything less? “We feel like we’re going to explode if we sit around any longer,” Jordan leaves off. “This is my life’s work. I learned all of my lessons, passed all of the tests, and took all of the right turns and the wrong turns. It turns out what I thought were wrong turns got me here, and that’s all that matters. I have no regrets. I know this is what I’m supposed to be doing.” “I just want you to view this on its own merits,” Greg concludes. “I hope it reaches some new people. For me, the enjoyment is making the music and putting it out. The second it’s released, I don’t look back. You drop the bomb and keep flying the plane. You don’t circle back to see how much destruction you cause. You keep moving, which is what we’re going to do.” "

This year is set to be another vivid chapter for Rarefied, whose special brand of Dubstep has stretched the genre into outer-national and psychedelic headspaces with transmissions from Soukah, T.A.R and Sibla.

The newest artifact from Primer is par-for-the-course. Four tracks that weave field recordings from windswept bogs, worldly sample digging from molding phonographs found in dusty basements, and loose rhythmic constructions that are a mongrel blend of contemporary rap, Croydon Dubstep, and Brainfeeder.

From the ghostly oud playing that graces across the homespun percussion of 'Nowhere and Nothing', the refracted horn sections of 'Drowned' to the shimmering addendum of 'Tal pt.II, Primer chalks a fine line between headphone moments and dance floor material. Ultimately, the melodic, hypnagogic fragility of 'I Had a Faraway Dream' is an especially poignant curtain call for Rarefied's first record of 2019.

Rarefied's Newest Sonic Assault Finds Label Mates Sibla And Zygos In Some Chthonic Dwelling Performing Occult Rites For Sub Bass Dominance. Three Prime Cuts Of Out-there Dubstep For Fans Of Moldy, Decrepit Basements, Decaying Houses In The Middle Of Woods, And Fog Drenched Nights.

the Path' Heaves Underneath Pneumatic Infrabass Pressure And A Din Of Percussion That Sounds Like A Warehouse Falling Apart. It Lurches Forward On Broken Ankles, Scanning With Cataract Eyes, For Its Next Victim.

The Aptly Named haunted' Is Built From The Ground Up On Evp Recordings, Static Hiss, And Disintegrating Tape Reels. A Lone Scream Echoes Towards Infinity Until The Mid-way Point Where Black Stars Crack The Void.

The Circle Is Complete With sigil'. Hewn Together With Horror Flick Soundtracks, Whispered Voices And A Feral Half-step Foundation. It Seems Zygos And Sibla's Golem Has Breathed Life For The First Time.

Brand new remastered version of PENTAGRAM legendary album Sub-Basement in new coloured vinyl and with a brand new cover designed by Solo Macello. Doom is made out of 666 tons heavy riffing, vocals filled with pain, regret and spite as well as leaden song-structures stretched taut to the point of ripping. PENTAGRAM embody all those virtues like no other contender in this oldest of all genres of Metal being founded by none other than Black Sabbath. Many have named PENTAGRAM the true heirs of those originators of Heavy Metal and honourably dubbed them 'the American Black Sabbath'. In this sixth incarnation of the band, Doom lord Bobby Liebling had reunited with drummer Joe Hasselvander, who had already been a member of PENTAGRAM twice before. Hasselvander played all the instruments, while Liebling added his matchless vocals. "Sub-Basement" was the second output of this line-up and is regarded as the most Rock N' Roll effort of the doomsters ever. On top of PENTAGRAM's perfect Doom sound an irresistible groove and capturing catchiness was added, which made the album an all time favourite for many fans. "Sub-Basement" will kick your ass and twist your legs.

Blue jay vinyl, limited to 400 copies. Brand new remastered version of PENTAGRAM legendary album Sub-Basement in new coloured vinyl and with a brand new cover designed by Solo Macello. Doom is made out of 666 tons heavy riffing, vocals filled with pain, regret and spite as well as leaden song-structures stretched taut to the point of ripping. PENTAGRAM embody all those virtues like no other contender in this oldest of all genres of Metal being founded by none other than Black Sabbath. Many have named PENTAGRAM the true heirs of those originators of Heavy Metal and honourably dubbed them 'the American Black Sabbath'. In this sixth incarnation of the band, Doom lord Bobby Liebling had reunited with drummer Joe Hasselvander, who had already been a member of PENTAGRAM twice before. Hasselvander played all the instruments, while Liebling added his matchless vocals. "Sub-Basement" was the second output of this line-up and is regarded as the most Rock N' Roll effort of the doomsters ever. On top of PENTAGRAM's perfect Doom sound an irresistible groove and capturing catchiness was added, which made the album an all time favourite for many fans. "Sub-Basement" will kick your ass and twist your legs.

Aesthetically, Ed Schrader’s Music Beat hates to tread water. At the same time, the Baltimore-based two-piece of vocalist Ed Schrader and bassist Devlin Rice won’t force their songs to fit a preconceived style. “The next album’s always gotta be different from the last one. We’re different people from record to record. So, writing authentically to ourselves will always bring our work to a place that we haven’t been to yet,” Rice said. Schrader added, “We’re terrified of turning into AC/DC. We never want to be married to one scene or time or sound. We want to be the Boba Fett of bands! Constantly altering the way in which we make records has been pretty key in that process.”
For Orchestra Hits, the band’s latest, that alteration was welcoming longtime musical comrade Dylan Going into the fold as a co-writer and co-producer. A songwriter in his own right, a guitar sideman for ESMB on their last two tours, and a collaborator with Rice in the noise riffage band Mandate, Going had both a unique vision and an intimate familiarity with the ESMB vibe.
“Dylan came to every show we’ve ever played in New York—no matter how weird it was,” Schrader said. “He’d be standing there ready to move an amp or feed us barbecued cactus after the gig and toss on some Golden Girls so we could decompress. It felt like family as soon as we began working, but I honestly had no idea how damn good he was at tossing out these hooks.”
According to Schrader, the songs “just poured out of us” over the course of a highly caffeinated three-day weekend in a tiny room in Devlin’s house while his cat, Sandy Goose, screamed continually. “It was like three kids hiding from the world to get into some lovely mischief,” they said. The lack of external pressure in the process gives Orchestra Hits an almost paradoxical vibe. For all of the album’s layers, that mix live and sequenced instruments, it never loses the raw energy of a small handful of friends in the same room plugging in, cranking up, and playing until they pass out.
Lyrically, the album finds Schrader, now 45, meditating on experiences in their youth to make sense of the present moment. “We are not into the garden,” Schrader wails on the relentless “Roman Candle,” a song about the sad debacle of Woodstock ’99, and a direct response to Joni Mitchell’s “Woodstock,” a utopian ode to hippie idealism. A 19-year-old Schrader, having snuck into Woodstock ’99 through a hole in the fence, was there the night members of the crowd used candles intended for a vigil for victims of the Columbine High School massacre to set fires all over the grounds. Even before the fires, Schrader remembered feeling disconnected from the music, the nostalgic cash grab, and the meatheads in the crowd. After watching a press tower collapse, they boarded a random shuttle bus and were dropped off near a Denny’s. “It was a far cry from the Garden of Eden,” Schrader said. “That experience defined what I didn’t want to be a part of, and yet America is more like Woodstock ’99 than ever.”
With percolating synthesizer arpeggios, and climbing bass grooves, “IDKS” is the album’s dance-floor slapper. “’IDKS’ is a funny one,” Schrader said. “We already had a pretty satisfying suite of songs when Dylan was packing up to head back to New York, but he missed the train because of a freak snowstorm. Realizing he’d be stuck in town another day, he says to me, ‘Here’s this other weird thing I have.’ It was ‘IDKS.’ The hooks were so good I felt like Homer Simpson at a free donut convention. I just dove right in, and we cranked that baby out in like 20 minutes.”
Lyrically, “IDKS” is a letter from the true self to public-facing self. “It’s an angry song,” Schrader said. “Because the public-facing self is always looking for an easy escape, but it forces the true self into a cage. I honestly thought my lyrics were corny and was about to change them, but Dylan was digging it just the way it was. So that’s what you hear.”
With the soaring “Daylight Commander,” the band went against all of their musty-basement-bred instincts. “I went full High School Musical with the vocals,” Schrader said. “At first it felt almost embarrassing, but I remember reading somewhere that Bowie recommended always floating a little bit above your comfort zone, and that’s what we did here.” The song is part exercise in absurdity and part pop Trojan horse. “If ever we had a ‘Shiny Happy People’ moment, I guess this is it,” Schrader said.

"With their third full-length, Washington, D.C.’s Bad Moves have expanded their founding artistic identity — a candy-coated guitar-pop shell surrounding a bitter lyrical core — by refracting their ideas through a new set of musical forms that weaponize repetition. On the new Wearing Out the Refrain, recorded once again with producer Joe Reinhart (Hop Along, Algernon Cadwallader), Bad Moves propose that the flip side of the delirious harmony of the basement show singalong is the volatile, accusatory antiphony of a community divided by strain, shouting the same desperate hook back and forth at one another.

Bad Moves’ tag-team vocals, which forgo centering anyone one member, also let the traditionally confessional “I” become the “we” of a community, or generation. Witness the ambitious climate change metaphor of “Eviction Party,” which understands the union of sugary pop and genuine angst embodied by 1960s girl-group songcraft, and uses it to expand a personal story to planetary scale. “It’s my eviction, I’ll cry if I want to” Bad Moves shouts, channeling the dawning millennial midlife crisis. The personal may be political, but what if both feel weighed down and trapped in circular, inescapable ruts?"

Slush Records are back for their second outing, remastering and rereleasing Sedona’s highly sought-after 1995 track, ‘Pulsation’. A portal to the underground of the ‘90s, Sedona’s original mixes and the remix from Robert Vaughan, fuse progressive house, trance and breakbeat, each oscillating to their own unique frequency. Not stopping there, Slush Records enlist the expertise of Seoul-born, Amsterdam-based Naone for a mesmerising new remix that harnesses all of that early ‘90s energy, with a fresh dynamism.

The story of Sedona begins with Dale Charles and Benny Blanco. As a touring DJ and buyer at Boston Beat Records in the mid ‘90s, Dale Charles was in diggers paradise. Freestyle was big business at the time and as a progressive house and breaks DJ, Dale couldn’t help but notice how good the drum programming was on some of the tracks. He spent endless hours trawling through the shops near 10,000 freestyle records, hoping to find that elusive secret weapon.

One day Dale found the break he was searching for and took it to Benny’s studio. Benny was an aspiring DJ and, more crucially, a producer with a conveniently concreted basement apartment he was slowly filling with synths, samplers and drum machines. Sampling and chopping up this gem of a break, utilising two TB-303’s that Benny recorded live for the acid lines and creating that signature throbbing arp on a Roland JD-800, the basis of ‘Pulsation’ was born.

The duo created a series of different mixes to tweak the feeling of the track. The ‘Ascending Mix’ and ‘Sinister Mix’ bookend this reissue. The former, a club-focussed cut with subtle to squelching 303 lines, rumbling sub bass frequencies and pulsating arps that anchor the track, as the sacred drum break fires your brain into trance-infused euphoria. The latter, an ominous slice of teleportational ambient electronica, sucking you into a wormhole of galactic synthesis and dream-state harps.

The first of the remixes sees Slush draft in the progressive wizardry of Naone to provide a fresh new take on the track. Leaning into the otherworldly ‘90s atmosphere of the original, Naone radiates the pulsating theme through swelling synth stabs and a driving acid bassline. Switching up the feel with an electro-tinged drum beat, she distorts the acid dials till the track explodes into a dystopian realm of twisted techno.

The second is Robert Vaughan’s ‘Test Tube’ mix from the original 12 Inch. A no-nonsense prog headspinner, that garnered plays from the likes of Sasha and Digweed. An acclaimed DJ and producer across the ‘90s, with releases on the likes of Space Records and Metropolis, Vaughan injected the track with added breakbeat energy and swirling, tripped-out breakdowns to masterful effect.

A timeless dancefloor classic, expertly remastered and reissued with a remix that both honours and updates the original.

Belarusian post-punk / synth pop group Molchat Doma have always exuded the kind of brutalist aesthetic of the architecture that adorns their album art. It's cold, gray, imposing, industrial and yet there are human hearts beating within those foundations. In the wake of their breakthrough success in 2020, the trio endured a polarity of experiences, from the nadir of an uprooted life and forced relocation away from their native Minsk to the apex of headlining massive shows across the world. It was in this headspace that the band settled into their new home of Los Angeles to finish writing their fourth album Belaya Polosa, a testament to change in difficult times, a love letter to the digital pulse of the `90s, and a technicolor reinvention of the band's somber dancefloor anthems. From the opening synth swell and drum machine throb of "Ty Zhe Ne Znaesh' Kto Ya," to the goth / post-punk austerity of "Son", to the swirling electronic textures mixed with reverb-drenched guitar flourishes, expansive space, and yearning vocals of title track "Belaya Polosa" - that suggests Depeche Mode at their most reflective or The Cure at their most downtrodden - to the sultry and seductive "Chernye Cvety"_ a track reminiscent of Duran Duran's early `90s output in its fusion of dreamy guitars and authoritative mechanized beats _ and the interwoven layers of instrumentation, soaring chorus, and melodic sophistication of "Ya Tak Ustal", it's clear that Molchat Doma are operating on another level. Molchat Doma gained following with earlier albums that sound like third-generation bootlegs of banned recordings from the Eastern Bloc made after a few key entries in the Factory Records catalog were smuggled in from the West. Belaya Polosa propels them into a new direction while retaining their cold minimalist delivery they're known for. The basement grime and dirty tape-head sound of their previous work are now making space for digital luster and shimmering production values. And while Molchat Doma's broadened aural spectrum adds a synesthetic power to Belaya Polosa, the mood remains rooted in stark and unflinching self-reflection. Molchat Doma retain the duality of being both cold and feverish in their delivery while pushing their music into expanded territories through an armory of new textures. The trio continue to harness the sound of harrowing beauty thriving under harsh realities.

Belarusian post-punk / synth pop group Molchat Doma have always exuded the kind of brutalist aesthetic of the architecture that adorns their album art. It's cold, gray, imposing, industrial and yet there are human hearts beating within those foundations. In the wake of their breakthrough success in 2020, the trio endured a polarity of experiences, from the nadir of an uprooted life and forced relocation away from their native Minsk to the apex of headlining massive shows across the world. It was in this headspace that the band settled into their new home of Los Angeles to finish writing their fourth album Belaya Polosa, a testament to change in difficult times, a love letter to the digital pulse of the `90s, and a technicolor reinvention of the band's somber dancefloor anthems. From the opening synth swell and drum machine throb of "Ty Zhe Ne Znaesh' Kto Ya," to the goth / post-punk austerity of "Son", to the swirling electronic textures mixed with reverb-drenched guitar flourishes, expansive space, and yearning vocals of title track "Belaya Polosa" - that suggests Depeche Mode at their most reflective or The Cure at their most downtrodden - to the sultry and seductive "Chernye Cvety"_ a track reminiscent of Duran Duran's early `90s output in its fusion of dreamy guitars and authoritative mechanized beats _ and the interwoven layers of instrumentation, soaring chorus, and melodic sophistication of "Ya Tak Ustal", it's clear that Molchat Doma are operating on another level. Molchat Doma gained following with earlier albums that sound like third-generation bootlegs of banned recordings from the Eastern Bloc made after a few key entries in the Factory Records catalog were smuggled in from the West. Belaya Polosa propels them into a new direction while retaining their cold minimalist delivery they're known for. The basement grime and dirty tape-head sound of their previous work are now making space for digital luster and shimmering production values. And while Molchat Doma's broadened aural spectrum adds a synesthetic power to Belaya Polosa, the mood remains rooted in stark and unflinching self-reflection. Molchat Doma retain the duality of being both cold and feverish in their delivery while pushing their music into expanded territories through an armory of new textures. The trio continue to harness the sound of harrowing beauty thriving under harsh realities.

Belarusian post-punk / synth pop group Molchat Doma have always exuded the kind of brutalist aesthetic of the architecture that adorns their album art. It's cold, gray, imposing, industrial and yet there are human hearts beating within those foundations. In the wake of their breakthrough success in 2020, the trio endured a polarity of experiences, from the nadir of an uprooted life and forced relocation away from their native Minsk to the apex of headlining massive shows across the world. It was in this headspace that the band settled into their new home of Los Angeles to finish writing their fourth album Belaya Polosa, a testament to change in difficult times, a love letter to the digital pulse of the `90s, and a technicolor reinvention of the band's somber dancefloor anthems. From the opening synth swell and drum machine throb of "Ty Zhe Ne Znaesh' Kto Ya," to the goth / post-punk austerity of "Son", to the swirling electronic textures mixed with reverb-drenched guitar flourishes, expansive space, and yearning vocals of title track "Belaya Polosa" - that suggests Depeche Mode at their most reflective or The Cure at their most downtrodden - to the sultry and seductive "Chernye Cvety"_ a track reminiscent of Duran Duran's early `90s output in its fusion of dreamy guitars and authoritative mechanized beats _ and the interwoven layers of instrumentation, soaring chorus, and melodic sophistication of "Ya Tak Ustal", it's clear that Molchat Doma are operating on another level. Molchat Doma gained following with earlier albums that sound like third-generation bootlegs of banned recordings from the Eastern Bloc made after a few key entries in the Factory Records catalog were smuggled in from the West. Belaya Polosa propels them into a new direction while retaining their cold minimalist delivery they're known for. The basement grime and dirty tape-head sound of their previous work are now making space for digital luster and shimmering production values. And while Molchat Doma's broadened aural spectrum adds a synesthetic power to Belaya Polosa, the mood remains rooted in stark and unflinching self-reflection. Molchat Doma retain the duality of being both cold and feverish in their delivery while pushing their music into expanded territories through an armory of new textures. The trio continue to harness the sound of harrowing beauty thriving under harsh realities.

AMERICAN ROCK `N ROLL TRIFFT FRANKFURT ROCK CITY. Bereits seit Mai 2017 steht die vom Texaner Chase Wilborn und dem Frankfurter Julian Lapp gegründete Band auf den Brettern, die die Rock-Welt bedeuten und erspielen sich mit ihrer perfekten Mischung aus melodischem Stadion Rock und einer gehörigen Ladung Alternative eine stetig wachsende Fanbase. Im Frühjahr 2022 veröffentlichten LOSING GRAVITY mit ,LIVING IN RIDDLES" die erste Single des Debüt-Albums ,HEADED SOUTH". Besser könnte der Start zum ersten Longplayer nicht laufen, denn hier rockt Bandgründer CHASE WILBORN mit keinem Geringeren im Duett, als dem ,THE NEW ROSES"-Shouter TIMMY ROUGH und das sorgte in der Szene für gehörigen Wind. Auch 2023 legten LOSING GRAVITY jede Menge Autobahnkilometer zurück, tourten mit MOLLY HATCHET durch Deutschland, supporteten namhafte Acts wie KISSIN DYNAMITE, THUNDERMOTHER, THE SWEET und BONFIRE und spielten eine sattes Paket an Headliner-Shows. Das Frühjahr 2024 gehörte ganz dem Songwriting und Recording ihres 2. Silberlings! Erneut ging es in die Hessischen Basement Studios zu Markus Teske wo nun das neue Album ,ALL IN" fertiggestellt wurde.

SWASTIKAS FOR NODDY is possibly, probably, maybe, or not, a seminal and sidereal masterpiece, the inspiration for 93,000 Masks On Nothings, none of which were Groovy. For me, well, it was my first Hallucinatory PickNick, and the skies turned Pixie Red for it.

I was given the album’s title during an Acid Trip: seeing Noddy Crucified In The Sky, I asked God what the most inappropriate BirthDay present for Noddy might be. God answered me from the Acid Whirlwind: “Swastikas!”

I recorded her in a run-down basement studio in West London, whilst I was simultaneously recording IMPERIUM. On playing the finished album to certain well-chosen friends, I was told by them that I had “destroyed Current 93”, and that it sounded like “demented children on drugs singing Simon & Garfunkel in a playground”. I then knew the album sounded exactly as I had dreamed it to sound, and as God had intended it to sound. Had I ditched the earlier darkness, and skipped into flowered fields? Great Black Time had already told me “NO!—GO!”

Remastered by The Bricoleur at Bladud Flies!, and with the original artwork refreshed and reborn by Rob Hopeye, this 12” vinyl picture-disc comes in a full-colour die-cut sleeve, which is printed on both the outside and inside.

This is one of the first 4 reissues of the entire back catalogue of C93 on picture-disc and standard vinyl, in the lead-up to the publication of my autobiography at the end of 2025, whilst I also work on many other recording, publishing, and painting projects, and Watch And Pray! Each release in the picture-disc vinyl reissues series is limited to 1,000 copies, and the titles will not be repressed as picture-discs once they have sold out.

Joe P returns this August with his new album; Garden State Vampire.

When the onset of the pandemic brought about the dissolution of the band he’d fronted since eighth grade, Joe P found himself in isolation with time to step out and experiment on his own. From the refuge of his New Jersey basement studio, he threw himself into writing, recording and producing his most personal material to date. Posting homegrown ideas to TikTok, Joe P watched as his raw acoustic videos drew millions of views and over 300K followers in just a few months. Among those new fans was Apple Music’s Zane Lowe, who kicked Joe’s career into hyperdrive by duetting alongside his self-made “Fighting In The Car” video (streaming HERE). A deal with Neon Gold/Atlantic was quickly followed by the acclaimed release of Joe P’s acclaimed debut EP, Emily Can’t Sing, highlighted by such singles as “Leaves,” “Fighting In the Car,” and “Off My Mind,” the latter of which went #1 at Triple A radio outlets nationwide.

Joe P has been on a roll since his 2022 project French Blonde - which was heralded by the anthemic “Happy People,” and includes the pulse-pounding title track, “French Blonde,” joined by an official live performance video, directed by longtime visual collaborator Anthony Yebra. The video for “French Blonde” can also be seen as part of the opening scene of Joe P’s short horror film, “If We Run,” starring Michael Gandolfini (The Many Saints of Newark), Kevin Interdonato (The Sopranos), and Joe P as himself.

Midwestless is the fifth and newest album from St. Louis, Missouri rock failures The Conformists. Once again recorded with Steve Albini at the majestic Electrical Audio, this album marks their first recorded output as a trio. Formed in November of 1996 deep within a basement bedroom somewhere between the corn fields and strip malls of Southern Illinois, The Conformists began as four teenagers with a desire to create Ugly Rock Music. Eventually, they grew up and now dabble in moments which could even be described as quite beautiful and melodic. Elsewhere, elements of insistent repetition with an initial appearance of stasis reveal — with multiple listens — intricate details under the surface.

ddwy the duo from London is back on Public Possession. Naomi and Ronan aka Nangi and Inner Totality continue to impress with their blend of organic, rhythmic dance music. Mystic vocals intertwine with layers of cosmic melodies. This record is a must for Balearic D.J.s, but will likely also be played out in sleazy dark basements or Pubs in the British countryside. You’ll place it, people will embrace it. That’s a guarantee!

To experience Justin R. Cruz Gallego's pulverizing Sub Pop debut is to get burned down to ashes and burst forth, born anew. Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra), the Tacoma-based artist's second album, is driven by opposing forces: noisy abstractions and tightly structured beats, anguish and dissolution at the outside world and empowerment within, apathy and catharsis. Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra) weds scouring electronics to hooky songs and Gallego's powerful drumming in a way that feels visceral and new. It's his most personal statement to date, at once playful and intent, driven and combustible, total fucking chaos mixed into glints of broken-glass beauty. Born in Tucson, Arizona, Gallego experienced culture shock as a child after relocating to the frigid climes of the Pacific Northwest. He found solace in the Seattle punk scene centered around Iron Lung Records and has since remained a fixture in the underground community. "I see this record as first and foremost a musical statement," Gallego says. "I grew up in punk and DIY subcultures, but before that I had Latin music playing in the background through my childhood and every phase of adolescence. It was surprisingly natural to incorporate. I realized I wanted to go deeper into these rhythms. I wanted to make a record that felt as experimental as much as it felt from the perspective of a Latino. When I got a glimmer of that possibility, it felt exciting." Lead single "Dogear" is a face-melting party starter that sounds like someone forced Talking Heads and Rudimentary Peni to share a practice space. "I wanted a song that felt playful in the way it attempted to be dissonant without taking itself too seriously," Gallego says. "Cholla Beat" is even more ambitious, an anthemic mix of WAR and Wire led by unruly synthesizers spiraling down a labyrinth of production. Gallego's influences for the album are vast, ranging from British documentary filmmaker Adam Curtis to electric Miles Davis to audio miscreants like Demdike Stare and Oneohtrix Point Never. But it's Gallego's assured sonic vision that resounds the loudest. And, while J.R.C.G. is a solo project, conceived and executed primarily in Gallego's home studio, he found strength in opening the project to others, starting with Seth Manchester as co-producer. Manchester's penchant for bone-rattling frequencies, as seen in his production work with The Body, Battles, and Mdou Moctar, made him a natural fit for Gallego. Together, they retained the intimacy of Gallego's home recordings while taking advantage of the hi-fi stylings of his Machines With Magnets Studio in Rhode Island. The closing song, "World i," offers a glimpse into the live experience of Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra), with upwards of seven band members blasting off. The album features a fascinating mix of supporting players, many of whom cycle through J.R.C.G.'s live lineup: Morgan Henderson (The Blood Brothers, Fleet Foxes), Jason Clackley (Dreamdecay, The Exquisites), Jon Scheid (Dreamdecay, U Sco), Erica Miller (Casual Hex, Big Bite), Veronica Dye (Terminator) Phil Cleary (U Sco), and Alex Gaziano (Dreamdecay, Kidcrash, Science Amplification). Taken as a whole, G.I.S.M. is a whirlwind of sound, pummeling, and cleansing. It's a sweaty, thrilling aural adventure and, like a great basement show, it'll leave you breathless, exhausted, and wanting to repeat it all over again. As any good mantra should.

Filipovich is one of a kind. The Belarus-born, Paris-based artist works in a multitude of media - found footage films, painting, silkscreening and performance to name a few. It's her musical output that has caught the attention of late, though, with Filipovich dropping a run of releases in recent years which began with 2021's Magnificat on Time Released Sound. Filipovich takes as much of a novel approach to her music-making as she does with her other artistic endeavours - Magnificat was centred around treated samples of Sergei Rachmaninov's All-Night Vigil, and she's also combined classical composition with contemporary electronic techniques on her subsequent drops.

For Idealized, Filipovich's debut on Sheffield's Central Processing Unit, she maintains the gothic air which characterised her previous releases and applies it to a record of widescreen contemporary techno joints. These tracks represent something of a gear shift for CPU, a label which has long made its name by delivering top-quality electro and machine-funk jams, but such is the quality of Idealized that these superbly-executed techno productions are sure to win over label fans both old and new.

Idealized is very much schooled in the German tradition of minimal/dub techno. Tracks like 'Physical', 'Wave' and 'Dance Minor' all anchor themselves on single, steady drum pulses and delay-drenched single-chord loops. Filipovich generally lets the central idea of these tracks play out across several minutes while introducing increasingly disorientating elements into the rest of the mix - wiccan atmospherics, clashing chords, spiralling delays and so forth. It's an approach at once respectful of Filipovich's predecessors - Basic Channel, Deepchord, Ellen Allien and so on - but also full of idiosyncrasies and individuality.

Many of the club cuts here hardwire us into the moody, murky environs of the darkest Berlin Basements. 'Ultra Red' rides forward on a crisp drum machine snap, a menacing burble of bassline and an eerie single-note synth whistle in the upper end of the mix; 'Dance Minor' shows off a bit of KiNK in the brain-bending modular loop that waxes and wanes at its centre; the second-half run from 'Wave' to closer 'Small Cave' travels ever-further out into deep space - the kick drums remain insistent, yet the textural elements are delivered with an edge and flair that evidences Filipovich's ability to think outside the box.

Filipovich's unusual methods, and the influence of sound art and electroacoustic composition on her music, are drawn out further when Idealized steps away from the dancefloor. 'Hydra' comes off like a more gothic version of Pole - its central pulse draws from dub techno but never quite settles into a danceable groove, and this beat is combined with the kind of unnerving keyboard work that would make John Carpenter proud. Although closer 'Small Cave' eventually locks into another dark-room techno roller, the opening section of the track delivers a weightless soundscape of bright, tinny chords and a scene-setting field recording.

Idealized, the first drop on Central Processing Unit from Paris-based Belarusian Lina Filpovich, broadens the label's horizons with a selection of finely crafted minimal/dub techno joints.

RIYL: Andy Stott, Deepchord, Ellen Allien, Moritz von Oswald