Search:out there wild

The promise of a Florry show, a now familiar caravan that has been honed over ambitiously trekked zig zags across America and Europe since the release of Dear Life Records debut The Holey Bible, is the redemptive promise and prodigal joy of rock and roll guitar music. Bred in the crackling warmth of the Philadelphia DIY scene, and forged with the alloys of community action, queer liberation and bedroom poetry, bandleader Francie Medosch and her absolute unit of collaborators have put in the work of sharpening their homespun tools to take up the mantle of the great lip-puckering rock and roll tradition pioneered by the likes of The Band and the Rolling Stones, but with proudly displayed Aimee Mann and Yo La Tengo bumper stickers on the rusty frame of the truck. At any second, the wheels could come off but they are steering just fine. For 'Sounds Like' Florry's sophomore effort as a fully realized band, Medosch and co. decamped to Drop of Sun studios in the nest of the Blue Ridge Mountains to record with Asheville wunderkind Colin Miller, a critical voice behind the records of MJ Lenderman, Wednesday and Merce Lemon and a powerful songwriter in his own right. Three powerhouse days in late 2023 solidified writing work done by the band earlier that summer in the now defunct Haw Creek compound under Miller's guiding suggestion. The result is a portrait of a ripping band cresting towards the height of their powers, uniquely equipped to capture a wildly loving, barn-burning camcorder clip of a turbulent trip with your best friends, without dipping into nostalgia bait. Lyrically, Medosch's utterances are both careful and excessive, the product of sifting through the rubble of classic good-time media, and finding what works for both her and her community to reach the heights of abandon. "The Jackass theme song was actually a really big influence on the new album" The expansive personnel and continent spanning footprint of Florry casts a wide net for this community. Florry the band rolls deep in the heard of North American DIY, featuring Jon Cox (Sadurn, Son of Barb) on pedal steel, John Murray on electric guitar, Collin Dennen on bass, Will Henriksen on fiddle, Katya Malison (Doll Spirit Vessel) on Vox, and Joey Sullivan (Bark Culture) on drums. Medosch's recent move to Burlington Vermont entrenches the Philly born project firmly within the ranks of fellow alt-country upstarts Lily Seabird and Greg Freeman, and gives them a vantage just outside of Pennsylvania at the thresholds of New England and the Midwest. There is a new life breathed into this music that confirms Florry as equally rooted in place work, and at home on the vast roads of America. For listeners who fell in love with Florry's infectious charm on sweeping tours with the likes of Kurt Vile, Real Estate, MJ Lenderman, Greg Freeman and Fust, 'Sounds Like', provides a refreshing memento of the band that surely left them smiling. If the support behind 'The Holey Bible' provided validation for the insistent vision of these young artists, 'Sounds Like' finds them reveling in and honing their vocabulary. Praise from outlets like Pitchfork, Stereogum, Paste, and Brooklyn Vegan touched on the potential of their wild idiosyncrasies, and accurately predicted that their next steps would see them continuing to write their own story, like a 10 car pileup that you can't take your eyes off if you tried. Florry proves that they can let the car spin just out of control whenever they want, and you are welcome to ride shotgun while Medosch does donuts in the WaWa parking lot. The ceiling, it turns out, is truly the roof.

It's 2022. The world lockdown is finally over. Imagine a picturesque lake in Tuscany. Now imagine a floating state of the art studio on that lake with two maverick rock icons creating a wild, alchemical concept album: Hugo Race, frontman of Australian post-punk legends The Wreckery and guitarist for the Bad Seeds and leader of True Spirit and Fatalists, and Gianni 'Marok' Maroccolo, producer of Italian alternative music and film soundtracks since the 1980s Florence darkwave scene with Litfiba, CSI & CCCP. Together, they fuse an existential narrative made up of individual stories in the style of Boccaccio's Decameron with psychedelic soundscapes framed by experimental electronica, rock instrumentation and decades of experience as cutting edge musicians and studio producers to bring you an album that defies categorization - The Vigil… "We all knew the situation was inauspicious, the planets lined up overhead like a firing squad and this empty silence roaming around our town, cut off from the other mountain towns by an electrical blackout. Without power, there was no way of knowing what was happening anywhere else. Left alone with our thoughts until help came from outside, a group of us gathered around a blazing fire in the abandoned city hall, feeding it with documents and broken furniture. Scientific progress had long told us we were parcels of dumb atoms and that consciousness and the soul were merely human projections. Now science had failed itself..."

En pakt med naturen is Tusmorke's first ever live album, recorded live at Oslo's biggest independent record store Big Dipper, as part of their 25th anniversary celebration last October. "We knew we had to do something special with Tusmorke. Benediktator and Krizla have since the early 2000s been building their record collections and releasing their own music simultaneously. We like to think the records we sold them in our store somewhat influenced their musical output, at least we know that the albums they released had a huge impact on us!" (Andreas Leine Jakobsen, Gerenal Manager, Big Dipper Musikk & Hi-Fi "Is this Folk Horror? Silly question, perhaps, but we need you to mutter certain phrases while listening: Bucoloc, acoustic, ancient, uncanny; acid, pagan, peasant, occult; wildness, wilderness, wildestness, Wicker Man. Ever since the start of Tusmorke, we've wanted to make an acoustic album. In Skien, Telemark in the 90s, we wanted to record in an ancient loghouse with an open hearth (årestue) in the local folk museum Brekkeparken. Years passed and line-ups changed. Then, when we supported Ved Buens Ende at Blå in the Autumn of 2021, we were joined by Åsa and Dauinghorn. They played some of the arrangements that we finally managed to record here, after several attempts to find a suitable time and place to make it happen. Again, time had passed and line-ups had changed, but the spirit of Folk Horror remained. We ask you to close your eyes and picture yourself in a windowless low dwelling, open to the sky through a hole in the roof. Acrid smoke curls upward and occasional sparks fly from the smoldering fire. Music wafts through the gloom in this serene scene of timeless primitivism. There is no electricity. There are no synthesizers. I won't even mention digital things, because they don't exist. There is only Folk Horror and you are in League with Nature." (Benediktator)

When we last heard from Bay Area producer DEAD PERRY, he was riding high on the critical success of "The Art Of Re-Animation" album. That album was a re-imagining of legendary Hieroglyphics crew emcee Casual's work from his "Big Head Science" album.

However on the forthcoming "Acoustic Shadows" album, as the title implies things get a bit dark. As he relays "when I made (The Art Of Reanimation) with Cas, I wanted to cater to the specific sound that Hieroglyphics has, but put my spin on it without making it too dark (though there are a couple of dark gems sprinkled throughout). I knew that my next album was going to be a solo LP and I wanted it to be something special. Dark and grimy has always been my style of beat making so I wanted to showcase that with this record."

However, the title also has a double meaning to the producer. "The term Acoustic Shadows comes from a Civil War phenomenon that refers to a sonic blind spot. Due to geographical obstructions disrupting sound waves you could think you are a great distance from the battlefield while you could already be in it. It also refers to my style keeping to the shadows and out of the limelight, when I only appear in photos wearing a mask, it's not because I'm on that post MF Doom craze, it's because I came from graffiti and graffiti artists let their art be their only face to the public."

That style is showcased throughout the forthcoming album, including his choice of collaborators include Casual, Daniel Son, Estee Nack, Al Divino, Raz Fresco, Ill Bill, Goretex, Hus Kingpin, Crimeapple, Planet Asia, Da Flyy Hooligan, Izrell, P-Dirt, J-Spliff and cuts from DJ Eclipse. Concepts also lent itself to the grime including the John Carpenter-esque synth laden "Call Me Snake" track, which inadvertently inspired the emcees. As DEAD PERRY relates "I give the beats a place-holder title until the track is done so this one was 'Die Kurt Russ.' P-Dirt chose to create the concept off the beat title. Crafting that song was a fun experience." It also has a full circle moment as DEAD PERRY and Casual expand their "White Crown" single from their previous project on this release enlisting Planet Asia to drop an additional Afro-Centric verse.

When we last heard from Bay Area producer DEAD PERRY, he was riding high on the critical success of "The Art Of Re-Animation" album. That album was a re-imagining of legendary Hieroglyphics crew emcee Casual's work from his "Big Head Science" album.

However on the forthcoming "Acoustic Shadows" album, as the title implies things get a bit dark. As he relays "when I made (The Art Of Reanimation) with Cas, I wanted to cater to the specific sound that Hieroglyphics has, but put my spin on it without making it too dark (though there are a couple of dark gems sprinkled throughout). I knew that my next album was going to be a solo LP and I wanted it to be something special. Dark and grimy has always been my style of beat making so I wanted to showcase that with this record."

However, the title also has a double meaning to the producer. "The term Acoustic Shadows comes from a Civil War phenomenon that refers to a sonic blind spot. Due to geographical obstructions disrupting sound waves you could think you are a great distance from the battlefield while you could already be in it. It also refers to my style keeping to the shadows and out of the limelight, when I only appear in photos wearing a mask, it's not because I'm on that post MF Doom craze, it's because I came from graffiti and graffiti artists let their art be their only face to the public."

That style is showcased throughout the forthcoming album, including his choice of collaborators include Casual, Daniel Son, Estee Nack, Al Divino, Raz Fresco, Ill Bill, Goretex, Hus Kingpin, Crimeapple, Planet Asia, Da Flyy Hooligan, Izrell, P-Dirt, J-Spliff and cuts from DJ Eclipse. Concepts also lent itself to the grime including the John Carpenter-esque synth laden "Call Me Snake" track, which inadvertently inspired the emcees. As DEAD PERRY relates "I give the beats a place-holder title until the track is done so this one was 'Die Kurt Russ.' P-Dirt chose to create the concept off the beat title. Crafting that song was a fun experience." It also has a full circle moment as DEAD PERRY and Casual expand their "White Crown" single from their previous project on this release enlisting Planet Asia to drop an additional Afro-Centric verse.

When we last heard from Bay Area producer DEAD PERRY, he was riding high on the critical success of "The Art Of Re-Animation" album. That album was a re-imagining of legendary Hieroglyphics crew emcee Casual's work from his "Big Head Science" album.

However on the forthcoming "Acoustic Shadows" album, as the title implies things get a bit dark. As he relays "when I made (The Art Of Reanimation) with Cas, I wanted to cater to the specific sound that Hieroglyphics has, but put my spin on it without making it too dark (though there are a couple of dark gems sprinkled throughout). I knew that my next album was going to be a solo LP and I wanted it to be something special. Dark and grimy has always been my style of beat making so I wanted to showcase that with this record."

However, the title also has a double meaning to the producer. "The term Acoustic Shadows comes from a Civil War phenomenon that refers to a sonic blind spot. Due to geographical obstructions disrupting sound waves you could think you are a great distance from the battlefield while you could already be in it. It also refers to my style keeping to the shadows and out of the limelight, when I only appear in photos wearing a mask, it's not because I'm on that post MF Doom craze, it's because I came from graffiti and graffiti artists let their art be their only face to the public."

That style is showcased throughout the forthcoming album, including his choice of collaborators include Casual, Daniel Son, Estee Nack, Al Divino, Raz Fresco, Ill Bill, Goretex, Hus Kingpin, Crimeapple, Planet Asia, Da Flyy Hooligan, Izrell, P-Dirt, J-Spliff and cuts from DJ Eclipse. Concepts also lent itself to the grime including the John Carpenter-esque synth laden "Call Me Snake" track, which inadvertently inspired the emcees. As DEAD PERRY relates "I give the beats a place-holder title until the track is done so this one was 'Die Kurt Russ.' P-Dirt chose to create the concept off the beat title. Crafting that song was a fun experience." It also has a full circle moment as DEAD PERRY and Casual expand their "White Crown" single from their previous project on this release enlisting Planet Asia to drop an additional Afro-Centric verse.

Lael Neale's minimalist drone pop draws inspiration from the Transcendentalists, the alienation of modern life, and a rich array of musical influences-ranging from Dionne Warwick and John Lennon to primitive American gospel and Spacemen 3. Her expansive new record, Altogether Stranger, due May 2, was written and recorded in the early morning quiet of Los Angeles. Clocking in at just 32 minutes, the 9-song LP covers an unexpected breadth of musical and lyrical terrain-from garage rock nursery rhymes and creation myths to Motorik dance dirges and solitary Omnichord meditations. A brilliant lyricist, Neale has a unique ability to uncover the extraordinary within the mundane, tackling themes of polarity that recur throughout her work-country vs. city, humanity vs. technology, isolation vs. society. This album is her third collaboration with producer Guy Blakeslee who helps expand the tonal palette while staying true to Neale's commitment to the raw immediacy and hand-made intimacy of home recording. Altogether Stranger - a stunning album filled with dreamlike reverie, Neale's crystalline voice, and echoes of the Velvet Underground - was conceived after four years of oscillating between rural solitude and urban chaos. It finds Neale perched at the piano in a hilltop bungalow, looking down on a rare curve of Sunset Blvd. Here, in this daily ritual of writing, singing, and painting-what David Lynch referred to as "the Art Life"-she creates the space for her most adventurous work to date. Born and raised in Virginia's idyllic countryside, Neale brought the high-lonesome sound of her home state with her when she moved to California to pursue music. After years of writing songs on guitar and playing small venues in Los Angeles, she discovered the Omnichord in 2019, which sparked a new creative direction. This led to her 2021 Sub Pop debut album, Acquainted With Night. That album's 2023 follow-up, Star Eaters Delight, deepened the collaboration with Blakeslee, infusing minimalist soundscapes with a heightened electric energy. The album found a devoted audience, and Neale's subsequent tour included sold-out shows in Los Angeles, New York City, London, and Paris, multiple trips across Europe, and a West Coast run supporting kindred spirit Weyes Blood. This marked yet another return to Los Angeles. Indeed, Los Angeles is not just the backdrop of Altogether Stranger but a lead character. The album's accompanying film - created with Neale's faithful Sony Handycam - builds on her ongoing series of videos, telling the story of Neale as an alien in a suit of mirrors stranded on Earth. Wandering through modern-day LA, she finds both absurdity and beauty in our fragile, untenable way of life. Over the long year it took to write Altogether Stranger, Neale vacillated between childlike optimism and existential melancholy. While she may not have been able to reconcile these opposing states, Altogether Stranger represents an ambitious breakthrough for this singular, self-sufficient artist.

“Trustworthy”. is the meaning of “danama”, this Bambara word from Mali. Believing in oneself, in others, in the word given, in desirable futures. Advocating optimism, momentum towards the future, collective strength and the wise magic of cultural blending… especially during these troubled times of endless wars, of nationalist withdrawals or the abundance of naturals disasters, all encouraged by a carnivorous capitalism?

So confidence, we need tons of it. Maintained by the flame, the phlegm and the stratagem of these afro-groove scientists, without ignoring their sorrows nor the scandals of History. This is the athletic art of Arat Kilo, who remain without question the best ethio-jazz orchestra in France, on the trail of this fifth album recorded in the Spring of 2024. Confidence was also needed to change the way things worked. For all the previous albums, the band came together in the studio to play each track together, all in the same room, in the romantic idea of a warm, lively, organic gesture, in the manner of the great Ethiopian masters of the 60s and 70s.

For Danama, the music was initially collected in tandem: guitar/bass, drums/percussion, saxophone/trumpet, and the two voices. A few new instruments were added along the way : dark synthesizers, a bass clarinet, a tiny guitalélé (similar to the ukulele) and a Malian n'goni (sometimes described as ‘the griot's lute’). Then, and above all, there was the question of experimenting with real sound production, using sound design, multi-track exploration and effects applied to the textures collected over eight days at the Gong studios in Montreuil and OneTwoPassIt in Bagnolet just outside Paris.

In this way the band, all growing up influenced by the hip French Radio Nova's ‘Grand Mix’, were completely free to express their natural taste for fusion between genres. Borrowing from the frantic rhythms of Newark's jersey club, English 2-step or New Orleans brass bands, grafted onto Arat Kilo's musical base: tezeta, the famous minor pentatonic scale typical of Ethiopian jazz, melancholic to perfection. The result is layers of sound, collages of emotions, like the album cover, created by artist Clément Laurentin from multicoloured fragments of posters torn up in the street.

So Arat Kilo are back: The same band, the same collective strength, the same fight for values, their new album “Danama” carries the demand for a better world even further, with words of hope from singer Mamani Keita and the social critique of American MC and poet Mike Ladd ! The result is this luminous voyage down the Danama canal. In all, eleven songs and an instrumental, mixed by Mathieu ‘Gib’ Gibert - one of French band La Fine Équipe's beatmakers - set to drive the crowds wild and remind us how to stick together again.

Japanese pianist Yumiko Morioka initially released Resonance, her first and only solo recording, on Akira Ito's ‘Green & Water’ imprint in 1987. Whilst by no means a commercial failure, the album was mostly found in the background of Japanese TV documentaries, maternity clinics and healing shops before drifting into relative obscurity.

By 1994, Morioka had relocated to America and her solo music career had given way to the joys of starting a family and her new life in California. It was, and still is, a shock for her to learn that Resonance had gained the attention of a new audience outside of Japan through blog posts and YouTube album uploads.

After hearing Resonance for the first time ourselves back in early 2017, we tried for months to track Morioka down about a reissue. This news reached her at a particularly trying time in her life following the devastating loss of her home in the 2017 California wildfires.

Her home had recently been razed, destroying all of her possessions, musical equipment, scores and recordings. Morioka was lucky to escape with her life; her quick thinking neighbour raised the alarm in the middle of the night giving her just enough time to escape safely before then tragically watching her home burn to the ground.

In the aftermath, Morioka returned to Japan in an attempt to rebuild her life. She found work writing music for commercial projects and pop acts before recently opening her own chocolate shop in the Jiyugaoka neighbourhood of Tokyo - back where it all began.

‘’Space and time moved at a different speed than now’’ – Yumiko Morioka

A lifelong student of the piano, Morioka was born in Tokyo in 1956. A child prodigy, she took up the instrument under her mother’s tutelage at just three years old and by her teens she had won multiple piano scholarships. Her talent was so obvious that she was invited to train in America, eventually graduating from the San Francisco Conservatory of Music with a piano major during John Adams’ reign as head of composition.

After graduation, Morioka returned to Japan but struggled to find her place musically, working mostly on commercial songwriting assignments. Frustrated, and at times embarrassed by her musical output, she turned to the works of Brian Eno and the surroundings of her coastal home in the Izu Peninsula south of Tokyo for inspiration. It was here that she began to work on the compositions that would eventually become Resonance.

Recorded on a Bösendorfer grand piano, much of Resonance was made in an attempt to soothe her creative soul. Constructed from unwritten improvisations with additional instrumentation added later, Resonance explores the space between notes. As such, it's a record that feels open and inviting, permeated throughout with a sense of confident serenity.

The sparse, delicately played notes are allowed to reverberate and echo through the spaces between themselves, giving each track a feeling of both grandeur and intimacy. Like the great pioneers of classical and ambient music, there's a timelessness to Resonance - a comforting, familiar feeling, as if these melodies have always existed.

Resonance drew influence from the popular environmental music culture prevalent in Japan during the late 80s, but it was also heavily inspired by Western musicians such as the avant-garde Parisian composer Erik Satie. Listening today, it still feels fresh and pertinent; a warm, contemplative reflection of a travelled woman.

Resonance has been lovingly remastered by Séance Centre's Brandon Hocura and given new artwork by Métron Records’ label head Jack Hardwicke.

Already having made his presence known with releases, 'Iron Fist', 'Retaliation', and his collaborations with Aba Ariginal on 'Ariginal Militant Steppa' and the 'Ariginal Bubbla E.P.'; Mali takes things to another level and steps into 2025 with his debut album 'Ruff & Ready – Dub Opus 1'.
This Album is an amalgamation of heavy basslines, intricate and unique melodies, striking drum patterns; mixed down with wild phasers, intense delays and expansive reverbs. It contains a selection of tracks with varying moods and styles, with 'Spiritual Trance' and 'Judgement Hall' that are mystical and otherworldly in nature, to upfront steppers tracks like 'Nebula', 'Ruff & Ready', and the album exclusive mix 'Rebellion (Unamenable Mix); even 'Know Thyself (Blak Nile Sym- phony I)' pushing the boundaries of what typically fits into dub and reggae.
This debut album offering from Mali Blakamix is sure to please fans of his previous releases, let alone all dub aficionados and reggae & dub music lovers out there. Presented to the world in the authentic 'Blak Nile Style'; be sure to listen to music and feel the vibes of Ruff & Ready – Blak Nile Dub Opus 1.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Toy Tonics Music Berlin presents "Para Mytho Disco". The 2nd "Kapote" album of label founder and creative director Mathias Modica.
Keyboarder, DJ, producer, music nerd, graphic designer, multi-instrumentalist, sub-culture impressario and artist (formerly known as Munk of Gomma records.)

Kapote & Toy Tonics
In the last years Kapote was in the spotlight mainly for building the Toy Tonics label with his friends. Developing a platform for new positive quality dance music with a human touch. Toy Tonics is the opposite of the dark, druggy Techno and Trance sounds of the last years.
The warm inclusive music of Toy Tonics represents a new vibe that a young generation of diverse, stylish and culturally intersted generation of dancers loves now. Kapote's Toy Tonics became the key label for that vibe. (In 2024 Toy Tonics made 150 Toy Tonics events in 18 countries. With more than 150.000 people dancing. 90 millions streams on their music.)
Toy Tonics is more than a music label: It's a audio - visual universe. A community, almost a movement.
Based on a new positive attitude and aesthetic diversity. Mixing musicianship with DJ culture, analogue music with electronic, ideas from the past with sounds from now. To create something new. Connecting dance music with graphic design, art and underground fashion.
Kapote and his gang release vinyl, posters, shirts, art fanzines and make exhibitions and partys.

Toy Tonics started in Berlin as a underground niche project. But now became the key label of the new house, wild style disco and organic dance music scene.
Probably one of Berlin's biggest electronic music phenomena along with Keinemusik and Live from Earth.

It went fast: 2020 Kapote's crew started to make small parties in Berlin's off spaces. The "Toy Tonics Jams". The parties became "talk of the town", and Berlin clubs like Griesmühle and Panorama Bar invited the crew. Then international clubs and festival called. Toy Tonics were invited to SONAR (playing the mainstage with Kaytranada and DJ Tennis), KALA festival, Montreux Jazz festival.
Now TT has a residency at Panorama Bar Berlin and sold out events in Europe leading clubs like Phonox in London, Rex Club in Paris, Tunnel in Milan.
Toy Tonics now is the reference brand of a new generation of music loving dancers. Similar to Gomma records, Kapote's former label (2003 - 2015) that was one of the key labels of the "indie dance" scene of the Y2K years (along with DFA and Output Records).

Kapote created a multi-cultural movement with graphic designers, photographers, illustrators from the Berlin scene.
They publish the Toy Tonics Pocket Poster magazine, posters and design shirts. They organize the Toy Tonics Pop Up Galleries mixing music and art. In underground venues in Berlin and in new gallery spaces and museums around Europe.
Toy Tonics has been invited by Palais de Tokio museum in Paris, Triennale Museum Berlin, Design week Milano to create events.
The new Kapote album
The 12 tracks have a very own style. Based on dance music, but going much further. "Para Mytho Disco' is a futuristic mix of sounds. It's far away from the dark monotone techno and trance music from Kapote's hometown Berlin. Instead, he creates warm friendly atmospheres full of sonic colours and little musical surprises.
Kapote's knowlege of music history and his backround as a jazz piano student and son of classic music composer is clearly inside this music. Before turning into a DJ and electronic music producer he has been playing in bands since he was 13 years old.
The album is full of emotional chord progressions played by Kapote on various keyboards. Sometimes reminding music from the past, without being retro at all. The basslines and melodies are inspired by jazz fusion from the 1970ies. And he programmed syncopated grooves that come from afro-american dance music. There are influences from Japanese electronic music (Yellow Magic Orchestra), from 1980s Synthwave and from 1990s electronica (like Squarepusher and Luke Vibert).

Kapote plays keys, bass, flutes and percussions, he plays synth solos and sings on a few tracks. The complexity of the arrangements makes this music never boring. Lot of melodies and solos that catch the listener. Colourful soundscapes that make you want to listen or dance to this album more, and discover details also after you heard it several times.

Kapote background

Before starting Toy Tonics, Kapote used to run a label called Gomma. He produced four albums under the name Munk and music for other artists.
He produced music with Peaches, Franz Ferdinand founder Nick McCarthy, with New York street art legend The Rammellzee, Italian actress Asia Argento, the first three albums of WhoMadeWho and worked with LCD Soundsystem (listen to "Kick out the chairs", the Munk song with James Murphy )
In those "Gomma days" Kapote aka Munk was also one of the main DJs for VICE magazine parties and made music for art projects and fashion brands (Margiela, Prada, Colette).
In 2015 he stopped Munk and Gomma and started Toy Tonics. He found young producers and helped to develop their sound (Coeo, Cody Currie, Gee Lane, Barbara Boeing, Sam Ruffillo). Later he founded the sublabel Kryptox to release music by Berlin based bands that make new forms of jazz or neo classical sounds.

Under the name Kapote Mathias didnt release much:
Only his Kapote debut album "What it is" (2019) and an EP called "Electric Slide" (2022) and a collabo EP with Italian producer Sam Ruffillo ("Robot Salsa").

An although his Munk and Kapote music was an underground phenomena his music has always been a favourite of many great people from the scene.
Supported by DJs like Harvey, Chromeo, Moodymann, Jennifer Cardini, Gerd Janson, MYD, Andrew Weatherall to Blessed Madonna, Justice and Laurent Garnier… to name just a few.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

"There is great power in secrecy. Detached from the world, brewed under a strict code of confidentiality, a new lifeform came into existence. Led by none other than Sonata Arctica frontman Tony Kakko, this new beast of his gained momentum in the massive shadow of his wildly successful power metal superheroes, slowly, steadily, biding its time, waiting for the right moment. This moment is now: With his self-titled debut, Tony Kakko opens the curtains into this strange new world of his just enough to take a first peek – and instantly hunger for more. A master story teller and a wizard of conjuring musical emotions, Himmelkraft stages Kakkos trademark talents in a wholly new, unexpected and thrilling way. To him, the sky truly is the limit, bestowing upon us an album that sounds like nothing else out there – brooding and dark, menacing and eerie, stomping and monumental.




This project sees Tony Kakko enter a fascinating new era. Much like the legendary Elven smiths of old, forging away in solemn silence, Kakko has stopped the wheel of time to reinvent himself and his bold musical vision. Shrouded in mystery, a new being appears in the fog, barely discernible and yet distinct the very moment Tony Kakko starts to sing.

Yet, everything else remains just what it was from the very start – a mystery. Call them songs for a dying world or songs for a world reborn – either way, you will be intrigued how this extraordinary project will develop. And that’s a promise
"

Cindy Lee, Arthur Russell, Viagra Boys, On-U Sound. In the discourse around new albums from singular, world-building artists, the phrase “a big step forward” can often be a blinking red warning sign. You know you’re about to be pulled somewhere new against your will. Inertia is a hell of a thing. It’s nice here. Surely, the party’s not over yet? JJULIUS’ Vol. 3 album is a big step forward, or a step up, out of the murky basement of the preceding two volumes. There’s no time to acclimate. A spindly violin grabs you by the hand and pulls you into the pastoral bounce of “Brinna ut,” which, in spite of its meaning (“Burn out”), creates the kind of blind positivity and warm stomach feeling less cynical people might find in self-help seminars. For us, we have records like this. And, inertia be damned, Vol. 3 has charm like a balm. JJULIUS records have always arrived like meteors from another planet, an impression hammered home by the fact that they’re titled like compendiums of artifacts. And while Vols. 1 and 2 carried that notable tinge of darkness, Vol. 3 has (almost!) cast that shadow, adding elements of disco (“Dödsdisco”) and dream-pop (“Etopisk hallucination”) to his forever favorites Arthur Russell, African Head Charge, and The Fall. Some of that new car smell could be attributed to a change in process. Each song was written over beats played by Tor Sjödén of the wild-eyed Stockholm group Viagra Boys, beats that were themselves inspired by tracks from the likes of Patrick Cowley, CAN, Count Ossie, Black Devil Disco Club and others that Julius would send to him as inspiration. Unless you’re Mark E. Smith, fervor fades. Eventually we all crave a lie down in some nice grass, a few minutes to gaze at the sky and wonder if everything is actually all that bad. Vol. 3 gives you 35 of those respiting minutes. “No looking back, no misery, no talking trash, no enemies.”

“Do you still believe it?” John Ross asks that question after journeying through the wreckage. The genesis of Dulling The Horns goes back to late 2022, when Ross began workshopping new material during soundcheck on the ILYSM tour. Last summer, Wild Pink decamped to western Massachusetts to reunite with engineer Justin Pizzoferrato. Ross decided to record Dulling The Horns live in the room, in an effort to capture Wild Pink’s onstage style — rawer, grainier. Gone are the glimmering atmospherics and studio affectations of recent Wild Pink outings. Instead, Ross’ voice is haggard against the humid distortion coating every song. “I wanted to make economical songs,” Ross explains. “Music that is very much at its core three or four people rocking.” If before, Wild Pink took notes from Springsteen and Petty, they’ve now entered their Crazy Horse era. On Dulling The Horns, you can hear him rediscovering the fire in real time. Tropes discarded along the roadside, songs pulled from the formative DNA of rock music, all filtered through years of messy fog. “There is no answer to these problems,” Ross says, having eventually yielded. But as far Dulling The Horns is concerned, there’s at least one path forward: Burn it all away, and keep moving. The album was mixed by Alex Farrar in Asheville NC, mastered by Greg Obis in Chicago, IL and is out in October on Fire Talk.

f11 FLRNTN, Benjamin Duchenne - "Last Man Standing" (feat Sivan) (1:08)
f12 Nicholas Gunn & Harshil Kamdar - "Here I Am" (feat Alina Renae - Richard Durand remix) (1:08)
f13 DJ TH X TH3 ONE X Sue McLaren - "Everything To Me" (1:08)
f14 Matty Ralph - "Te Adoro" (1:08)
f15 Armin Van Buuren & Vini Vici - "Sarabande" (feat Anna Timofei) (1:08)
f16 Lilly Palmer - "Hare Ram" (1:08)
f17 David Forbes - "Techno Is My Only Drug" (1:08)
f18 Armin Van Buuren - "Blah Blah Blah" (Lilly Palmer remix) (1:08)
f19 Armin Van Buuren - "The Road To Your Destination" (A State Of Trance Year mix 2024 outro) (1:14)

The intrepid composer and field recordist Jacob Kirkegaard is no stranger to perilous and hostile regions of the world. His 4 Rooms invoked the radioactive decay through the amplification of architectural resonance in Chernobyl, Ukraine; and he has ventured to the arctic environments of Greenland on a number of occasions to document that barren, icy territory. His recurrent use of shadow and mystery through his work both as metaphor and as extended sonic technique reflects the complex, existential conditions that cross-contaminate what we consider civilization and what we consider wilderness. Waste disposal, firearms, the decomposition of dead bodies, the eerie stillness of morgues. These have also been the source material in Kirkegaard's formidable work.

With Snowblind, Kirkegaard turns to history, and a poetic, failed attempt for a team of Swedish explorers to reach the North Pole by balloon in the late 19th Century. Perhaps driven by blind adventurism, perhaps consumed by his own delusions, S.A. Andrée launched this ill-fated flight in July 1897, registering only two days in the air before crashing into the ice and ultimately failing to navigate the frigid waters and ice floes. Yet documentation of their expedition - photographic, scientific, and diaristic - survived, to be discovered some thirty years after their deaths.

"I wanted to created a cold and hostile album, where there is no escape, no warmth and no happy ending," as Kirkegaard explains about Snowblind. "Yet, I wanted to leave out any immediate drama. It is the creeping shock, the icy feeling from realizing what has been lost and that there's no escape."

Yes, Snowblind is a very bleak album, but one that eschews the isolationist, long-form drone of conceptually similar works by Thomas Köner, Lustmord, Werkbund, and Lull with interconnected constellations of cryptic tone, thrumming reverberation, arctic bluster, and a plethora of harrowing sonic proclamations.

Over 19 tracks, Wayfaring Strangers: Cosmic American Music mines gold from dollar bin country-rock detritus to reconstruct events as seen from the genre's wild west - Americana's vast private press substructure. As progenitor and contemptuous poster boy for the music that came to be Cosmic American, Gram Parsons found himself mired in a recording career spent mostly in scouting the perimeters of chart success. "He hated country-rock," Parsons collaborator Emmylou Harris would later reflect. "He thought that bands like the Eagles were pretty much missing the point." Parsons had been orbiting the idea of Cosmic American Music for some time. In 1968 he'd parted ways with the Byrds and was looking to take air with a new project. "It's basically a Southern soul group playing country and gospel-oriented music with a steel guitar" he told Melody Maker, on the subject of The Flying Burrito Brothers. So it was that when A&M's Burrito Brothers debut The Gilded Palace of Sin made it to shelves in February of 1969, early adherents to the Cosmic American gospel were already echoing its message from areas flanking Gram Parsons' Southern California hills and canyons. There was F.J. McMahon in coastal Santa Barbara, Mistress Mary further inland in Hacienda Heights, and Plain Jane of Albuquerque, New Mexico, each responding by committing their own private readings to tape before day one of the 1970s. Parsons himself might've disdained them, had he even been aware of such minor ripples, shimmering at the edges of his desert oasis. But these were true believers all the same, given over fully to his roots music concept, each filling vinyl grooves with non-rock instrumentation like fiddle, banjo, and pedal steel guitar, the last undoubtedly Cosmic American Music's most distinguishing stringed signifier. Only too predictably, big labels did the grunt work of confining and defining the movement, as ABC, United Artists, RCA, and more played catch-up with Asylum's raptor rock juggernaut, via backwoods crossover also-rans with names like Gladstone, American Flyer, and Silverado. Twang reigned, the shitkickers kicked shit, and the vaguely western-sounding guitar records piled up. Country-rock became "the dominant American rock style of the 1970s," as Peter Doggett's comprehensive Are You Ready for the Country put it much later. Wayfaring Strangers: Cosmic American Music picks up and dusts off golden ingots from the dollar-bin detritus of that domination, to reconstruct events as seen from the genre's real Wild West-America's one-off private press label substructure.

It’s abundantly clear from the first bars of their 5th studio album Through Other Reflection, that this is, and could only ever be, The Soundcarriers. From the enchanting vocal duets of folk-bidden Chanteuses Leonore Wheatley and Dorian Conway; to the precise bass lines of Paul Isherwood and the limber, jazz-cool, Hal Blaine-esque drums of his his co-songwriter Adam Cann; from the fairy-like flutes, 60s-garage guitars and organ sounds pilfered from the archives of exotica - listening to the Soundcarriers resembles a rediscovery of all the most prized, esoteric corners of the 1960s, all bundled up, warped and refracted through the quartet’s astutely modern cultural lens. Channelling Tropicalia, Middle Eastern psychedelic Jazz/Funk, The French Library sounds of Nino Nardini, and a whole host of lavish obscurites beside, Through Other Reflection delivers another sonic adventure from one of the most unique and distinctive voices of British Psychedelia. After an 8 year wait for their album 4 - 2022’s Wilds - it thankfully didn’t take so long for the follow-up this time round. In many ways, this feels like a companion to Wilds; recording again at their Nottingham warehouse studio, Through Other Reflection retains that same organic glow, all the passions and imperfections of a tightly clipped unit jamming out these living, breathing pop-art nuggets as if straight onto the acetate.”We wanted to keep an air of spontaneity with this album and not get too bogged with the recording process”, explains Cann, “It was more a case of getting the songs as tightly written and arranged as possible first so we could get them down quickly in the studio. It always takes longer than you think” Less packed with strident pop hooks as its predecessor however, the music of Through… has been given extra licence to breathe, stretch out, and wander more uncharted terrains. While gleaming psych-pop of tracks like ‘The City Was’, or ‘Already Over’ confidently carry on from where they left off, from the album’s 2nd track ‘Always’, the trip becomes a little less predictable. Starting out as a smoky Procol Harum-meets-French-Psych organ ballad, the music drifts, as if of its own accord into an eerie, garage trance that lingers, cycles, and hypnotises, growing ever stranger, reaching ever-further away from its point of conception. And almost every track on Through Other Reflections holds that outer-body moment, where the band fix themselves on a limber, lysergic groove, lose all grip on time and reality, and melt themselves away into a liquid state of blind euphoria. There are sequences on this record that feel more like rituals than songs, built upon a single hypnotic rhythm which, like the centre of a vortex, pulling everything under its beatific command. Take the finale to ‘What We Found’ for instance, sounding like a ghostly march across the psychedelic moors, or ‘Feel The Way’, where a single athletic drum-loop rises and rises, growing ever more urgent and suspenseful underneath its frantic harpsichords and rasping flutes. Full of such rich stylisms as these, The Soundcarriers showcase themselves as abstract storytellers par excellence by virtue of their textures and arrangements alone. Resembling Romantic composer Maurice Ravel, but if he had just a four-piece rock band at his disposal, Through Other Reflects is rich with detail; there’s shakers, rattles, clarinets, booming drums; there’s synthesiser swarms, chiming xylophones, vintage organs and experimental Cluster & Eno-esque ambiences. Within all this nuance the music flows like some undisclosed narrative swathed in a magnetic secrecy. “It almost comes across like a story in some ways”, says Cann of the album, “the music is quite sectional with elements of exotica and cinematic type layers, it's a good balance of grooves, tunes and weirdness”. No more is this “epic cinematic feel” heard more proudly than on short instrumental ‘Sonya’s Lament” - its innate, hauntological atmospheres befitting a Peter Strickland soundtrack, or the classics of Lex Baxter, the so-called ‘Founder of Exotica’ himself. On the other hand, providing a greasier undercurrent to all these bucolic sounds is a leaning towards a more “direct” lyricism referencing more “external concerns. Laying down the first tracks for the album in the wintry gloom of pre-lockdown 2020, and drawing inspiration from time spent in Berlin, Through Other Reflections returns to some of the post-apocalyptic futurism explored in 2014’s Entropicalia - a loose concept album inspired by J.G Ballard’s The Drowned World. “The songs explore a disillusionment with the way things are going particularly after 40 years of neoliberalism”, says Cann, “They follow that folk-song tradition of wanting to escape to an imagined time, but here it’s more urban than pastoral. The first couple of ideas I came up with when doing some music in Berlin and had some time to wander aimlessly. And think the atmosphere seeped in, particularly on The City Was and Already Over. He continues, “One aspect of the title, ‘Through Other Reflections’ is about synthesis and layers of influence. How things can be filtered through other things and change the perspective. This is something you get in cities as well.” Though, as with everything The Soundcarriers make, “It can mean anything. It also just sounds kind of cool.”

Composer and performer Stina Stjern have for over 25 years been a steady presence in the Norwegian music scene – starting out as a vocalist in the rock band Supervixen while studying jazz in Trondheim, Stjern’s road has been anything but predictable, and has over the years shown a will to experiment and explore new areas in her music making. Her new album ”Vivid Peace Restored” is perhaps her most radical musical statement yet, as the entire album is made using cassette tape. The sound sources vary from found sounds, various instruments and Stjern’s own voice, but there is no hierarchy, the different elements are given equal importance, and through considerate looping, layering, cut-ups, re-arranging the bits and pieces it forms a rich tapestry of sound. This blurring is intentional, Stjern wants us to get lost in her sound world, a place where nothing is forced or overstated. Tape hiss, subtle melody lines, distant location recordings, gentle waves of noise, and voices melt together creating lush soundscapes

THE 4TH ALBUM BY ENGLISH FOLK ROCK SONGWRITER

A COMPLETELY UNINHIBITED PLAYGROUND WHERE PSYCH-FOLK DANCES WITH FREE JAZZ AND SOUL

English musician Nick Wheeldon has been on the starting blocks in Paris since 2012, churning out bands and albums at breakneck speed, from 39th and The Nortons, Os Noctambulos and The Necessary Separations to Sex Sux. In 2021, he got off to a flying start with his first solo LP, Communication Problems (2021) followed by Gift (2022) and Waiting For Piano To Fall (2024) just a few months ago. Today he brings you Make Art, his 4th solo album, a masterful, imposing work. For Nick Wheeldon aficionados, there's the same characteristic: always the same flickering, bright light. The tracks follow one another: tunnels, dead ends, nocturnal drifts. Days in the sun, lost paths, dark roads, all engraved on 4 sides of vinyl. Make Art offers a totally uninhibited and varied playground, where free jazz and soul dance together. Mixtures hitherto unknown to Nick Wheeldon. With Make Art, you're in the middle of a psychedelic-folk funfair. The musical avenues open to Nick Wheeldon widen and are likely to sweep away even the slowest and most resistant of you. Recorded with Julien Ledru, Thomas Carpentier and Paul Trigoulet.

Late-night jams in their new studio sees Jazzbois return to their beat-tape roots on Still Blunted

Having established themselves as one of the leading live bands in Europe grooving in improvised jazz motifs and hip-hop beats, Budapest trio Jazzbois return with their fourth LP Still Blunted that sees them touch base with their beat-tape roots.

Now situated in the heart of Buda at their new studio above a club, the Hungarian trio of Bencze Molnár (Rhodes/synth), Viktor Sági (bass) and Tamás Czirják (drums) take a more considered approach to Still Blunted and offer a snapshot into the jams, sessions, and shows they have played over the past year. The new album comes after performing at the legendary Montreux Jazz Festival this summer and will be followed by a European tour in October.

Inspired by contemporaries Domi and JD Beck, Kiefer, Nala Sinephro, and the sounds of Radio Juicy, Jazzbois have been more critical of their track selection for the sequel to their Goes Blunt albums. They’ve ripped up their playbook of producing records in a matter of days and took their time to approach the record through reworking their favourite tracks recorded over the past year.

“We’re trying to keep the same formula but there was a lot of thought gone into the process of making an improvised jam sound like a song. It has to be good in the moment, and we chose the ones we felt were expressive and resonated the most with us musically. We focus on our feelings in the moment and have trust in our own taste and music visions.”

The trio’s new studio has offered them the space and time to get the best out of their creativity. “This new spot is a Jazzbois headquarters. It’s above this club, sometimes there's a DJ playing outside on the street – everyday there's something on and lots of people coming and going. We hang out for the whole day and just record anything or edit.”

Jazzbois are a part of the rich, underground jam scene in Budapest, and those improvised-led sessions have fed into Still Blunted. One of their late-night jams turned after-parties produced sketches for tracks they selected for the album.

“It was the end of a wild night celebrating getting the album done. We’re having a jam and we looked around while we were recording and there was twenty people smoking and drinking around us – half of them we didn't even know who they are. It turned into an open after-party where people were coming to ours from the club. It was very spontaneous and unexpectedly, we made five or six new songs we ended up using for the album.”

The ethos of those unplanned, open jams is something they carry through into their live shows, as they never rehearse so their music can develop freely. Their trusted fourth ‘live’ member DomBeats joins them on Still Blunted adding saxophone to some of the psychedelic-tinged beats, such as on singles Shangri La and Chrome. After recently digging back into 70s and 80s jazz, discovering more hip-hop sampled tracks, and absorbing the breaks and high-energy of footwork and juke, these influences come through strong across Still Blunted.

The footwork sound is replicated in the shuffling, busy drums of Shangri La, with the echoing guitar twang reminiscent of a sample you may hear on an MF Doom beat. “Shangri La was a catalyst for the new album. It reflects on our trip to America and SXSW. We played at this venue Shangri La. The Texan air and sun are in that track.”

Chrome takes on a much more furious style of playing that allows for the drums to cascade and flow along with the pulsating, chromatic bass line, with the synths and saxophone spiralling into an engrossing frenzy. The liquidy keys and synths glides over the bass on Flute Thang, creating a 70s jazz-funk vibe that stands out from the rest of the album.

With hundreds of thousands of monthly listeners across Spotify and Apple Music, they have become a playlist staple that has earned them millions of streams since their debut release Jazzbois Goes Blunt in 2019. As more live dates are booked for the Hungarian trio, Jazzbois continue to transform the traditional jazz trio sound into deep, groove-led beats on Still Blunted.

Indignation Meeting are punky rail fans from Leeds. 15-year-old Peter is the driver - he's the drummer and lead singer, writes most of the songs, and also plays bass and trumpet on the album. The rest of the crew is his dad Michael on guitar, Hugo on bass, and with Keith, Heather and Sally often along for the ride when they play out. Here at DGHQ we loved listening to their self-released debut album Trouble In The Shed so much we eventually released it on vinyl for the first time. They now have a second album! Vocalist/drummer Peter very kindly talks us through the (train) tracks_ * "The Trainspotting Song" - Now, as a train geek, I go out filming trains an awful lot, and one thing you can't help noticing whilst out in the wilds of Staffordshire or the moors of Lancashire are a whole load of unnecessary 'Private Land' signs. This song is my response_ * "The Talyllyn Railway" - The history of the Talyllyn Railway is a fascinating one that I've long since wanted to explore, due to its unique nature as the first railway to ever be taken over by volunteers. This is the result! * "The Middleton Railway" - As a volunteer at the Middleton Railway, I had felt that a song needed to be written for quite a while. However, our guitarist Michael, ended up beating me to it! * "A Model World" - It was late one night, and I was lying on my sofa, trying my hardest to gain an ounce of enjoyment from 'Hornby; A Model World.' It was proving quite hard, due to the alarming lack of substance in the programme, so instead I decided that its name was rather good, and could be the basis of a song explaining my 'model world.' And, well, here it is! * "The Fifth Black Five" - This song is dedicated to the railway preservationists of old, who spent countless hours in cold, damp, dreary sidings, all to make sure us future generations would be able to enjoy the smell of a steam train. Thanks guys! * "Case Study" - This song is a commentary on the sensationalisation of disasters, when there's a massive tragedy and people at home just sit in their comfy sofas, watching the news and drinking tea. We know what's going on, but we can just choose to turn off the TV and forget it ever happened and continue with our lives. It also relates to the dehumanisation of those disasters you experience in school, where you have to write essays on someone who's just become homeless. It seems quite heartless sometimes_ * "Loco Motives" - This song is a fictional story of a man's personal struggle with a railway company, and the drastic measures he took to fix them_ * "That Would Never Suit His Grace" - With model railways, you always seem to get a few people who can never be satisfied with a layout or a model - no matter how hard someone's tried, there's always something to improve on, and they're never nice about it either. This song is a reality check for them_ * "Small Black Shunter" - This is our second homage to Zounds - Electrification would never be truly complete without its B-side. And this B-side is the story of a little loco who wanted to see the world. * "Rhydyronen" - Slowly but surely, we're going to pick off all of the stations on the Talyllyn Railway. Starting where Abergynolwyn left off, this is the story of our second favourite station on the TR. * "Typically English Day" - This is an homage to Mark Astronaut, a true punk genius who was gone before his time. Although there were many songs we could've picked to cover, it only seemed right to punk up one of his most popular tracks, and one of the main ones that got me into the Astronauts in the first place - Typically English Day, a heart-wrenching tale of an elderly couple trapped in the middle of a nuclear war, following their last moments before their inevitable demise. * "Just For The Record" - There is too much misinformation in the media these days, and one case I found particularly egregious was the gross misrepresentation of the strikers, who aren't so evil as the media want you to believe_

Music lovers will be familiar with his love of Caribbean pearls from the compilations "Ritmo Caliente" and "Message from the Islands" as well as other releases such as "Los Yoyi", "Mighty Shadow" and "Wild Fire". Now Tom Sky, the former creative head of Black Pearl Records, is pulling another tropical discovery out of his travel treasure box on his new record label Sound Essence.
Lloyd and the Joys is truly a real holy grail and one of the most sought-after funky hotel records from the Caribbean islands. Deep, groovy synth Soul with the song "That Look Of You" meets jazzy funk breaks with the strong tune "The New York Business". There are also two stylish 70s postcards from Lloyd himself in a vintage design in each sleeve. The release is a must for all tropical music connoisseurs.

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

Red Laser continue their prolific purple patch, unpacking four more slabs of red lit Manctolo from a host of box jammers, old and new.

Frank Butters wastes no time at all, 'The Call Of The Wild' engaging photon tubes with a highly kinetic array of crystalline synth shards, thunderous bass and hyperactive sfx. Without geeking out too much, special mention has to go out to the synthesis on display here - Butters advancing up the levels of sonic shamanism as he conjures up never-before-heard patches of interstellar cosmic NRG...

Bob Swans' 'Bodyform4U' unites the robots with a universal message of togetherness. Its multiple layers of shuddering arpeggios and star-aligned synths working in unison to quell any fears and send us off into a space age utopia. One that'll work as well soundtracking the end of the session as it will as the dancefloor's filling up; its subtle anthemic qualities sure to rouse the spirits of even the most dehumanized cyborgs.

New signing Lone Saxon drops 'Hypersleep' which utilises rich piano chords and a hefty breakbeat, switching up the vibe but keeping things super uplifting. This one reminds us of that innocent period when you could get on the megabus for 50p and score three for a tenner on the dancefloor. An evocative vocal refrain adds a moment of thoughtful introspection in between the e-rushes and arm-raising for another moment of interactive harmony.

Finally, 'Webo' sees Franz Scala (with a little help from Il Bosco) return to source, delivering a bona fide slice of maximum balls out MANCTALO chug. With tension-wrought chord progressions, delicious layers of lead melodies and a soaring vocal, there's few that can resist the charms of this late night electro-disco hyper anthem.

All aboard the starship !

RL x

Area Silenzio is eat-girls" debut record and it is both haunted and haunting. For the past four years, the French trio have been crafting their songs into little self-contained worlds with the patience of entomologists, taking them out all over the country and Europe to confront them with the wilderness of a live audience. The ten resulting tracks are a collection of electronic madrigals, groove-driven songs played on a mischievous multi-speed Victrola, ranging from languid dub drips to full-on drum machine cavalcades. Their live performances have that same ghostly, ephemeral quality. There is something other-worldy about the three of them, a suggestion of telepathy, their three voices blending together or going their separate ways like a flock of starlings. They secured opening slots with artists as different as Thalia Zedek, Exek and The Young Gods, just to name a few. It is the elusive essence of their music that allows them to feel at ease pretty much anywhere they find themselves: part no-wave disco rhythms, part post-punk throbbing basses, folk tunes and synthesizers in equal measures, with a perpetual attention to hooks and melodies. The album was self-recorded, a necessary measure to protect the delicate nature of the inner landscapes painted by the band. In this case "delicate" does not mean "soft" by any means: the industrial disco inferno of "A Kin", the ritualistic kraut stampede of "Para Los Pies Cansados" and the bubbly post-funk rhythms of "Trauschaft" will leave you gasping for air once you come out on the other side. "On a Crooked Swing", the opener, is all arpeggiated bass and stumbling kicks. "Unison" will dip you into a hallucinatory river where nothing is what it seems to be and rescue you at the very last second. "Canine", the first single off the record, will gently but firmly reach for your jugular with its vulpine Farfisa and deceptively nonchalant drum beat. The vocal polyphonies on "3 Omens" sound like a field recording of traditional music from a tiny country that has yet to be discovered. eat-girls exist on a slightly different plane from ours, where everything is teeming with secrets and hidden life. Area Silenzio is a precious polaroid shot from that world, or, as Tom Verlaine would have it, "a souvenir from a dream".

Area Silenzio is eat-girls" debut record and it is both haunted and haunting. For the past four years, the French trio have been crafting their songs into little self-contained worlds with the patience of entomologists, taking them out all over the country and Europe to confront them with the wilderness of a live audience. The ten resulting tracks are a collection of electronic madrigals, groove-driven songs played on a mischievous multi-speed Victrola, ranging from languid dub drips to full-on drum machine cavalcades. Their live performances have that same ghostly, ephemeral quality. There is something other-worldy about the three of them, a suggestion of telepathy, their three voices blending together or going their separate ways like a flock of starlings. They secured opening slots with artists as different as Thalia Zedek, Exek and The Young Gods, just to name a few. It is the elusive essence of their music that allows them to feel at ease pretty much anywhere they find themselves: part no-wave disco rhythms, part post-punk throbbing basses, folk tunes and synthesizers in equal measures, with a perpetual attention to hooks and melodies. The album was self-recorded, a necessary measure to protect the delicate nature of the inner landscapes painted by the band. In this case "delicate" does not mean "soft" by any means: the industrial disco inferno of "A Kin", the ritualistic kraut stampede of "Para Los Pies Cansados" and the bubbly post-funk rhythms of "Trauschaft" will leave you gasping for air once you come out on the other side. "On a Crooked Swing", the opener, is all arpeggiated bass and stumbling kicks. "Unison" will dip you into a hallucinatory river where nothing is what it seems to be and rescue you at the very last second. "Canine", the first single off the record, will gently but firmly reach for your jugular with its vulpine Farfisa and deceptively nonchalant drum beat. The vocal polyphonies on "3 Omens" sound like a field recording of traditional music from a tiny country that has yet to be discovered. eat-girls exist on a slightly different plane from ours, where everything is teeming with secrets and hidden life. Area Silenzio is a precious polaroid shot from that world, or, as Tom Verlaine would have it, "a souvenir from a dream".

Having spent their formative years in São Paulo Brazil, as a teenager, Lau Ro found themself uprooted from their home. Moving with their family to Europe in search of a better quality of life, their story was like that of many immigrants in the same position. Lau Ro's parents found work in factories and cleaning jobs, for the first few years in the North of Italy and then in Brighton on England's Southern coast. "We never managed to visit back home, so my connection to Brazil became largely made up of childhood memories and my fascination with all the 60s and 70s music I could find from there."

In Brighton, the young non-binary singer and composer would immerse themself amongst the city's vanguard of free-thinking artists and musicians. Lau Ro formed Wax Machine whose prefigurative, psychedelic community provided a glimmer of countercultural hope amid a backdrop of national political decline. From 2020-23, Wax Machine birthed three cult-favourite albums in as many years; indebted in part to their British psychedelic forebears from progressive folk, rock and jazz yore. But the kernel of Lau's Brazilian sound was already beginning to blossom across Wax Machine's releases. Now, taking root deeper still, Lau Ro steps forward with their debut album: Cabana.

Named after the small wood cabin at the bottom of their garden where the album was recorded, Cabana is a deeply personal record of memory, self-discovery and imagination. Melancholy and hope combine across ten tracks of dreamy bossa, ambient folk, fuzzy tropicalia and majestic MPB. The music is swathed in masterful string arrangements and trippy electronics in equal part, while Lau Ro's delicate, yet quietly confident voice takes acerbic aim (in both English and Portuguese) at polluted city life, while dreaming of a utopia, rich with nature and wildlife.

Like the musical equivalent of semantic drift, Lau Ro's displacement led to the creation of another Brazil. A mythic place in Lau's soul, as they put it, "where the sunshine and joy of my childhood remained untapped." Lau continues: "It's music that might sound as if it came out of a parallel universe Brazil, rather than its modern day landscape. I am nowadays rediscovering Brazil, going back as often as I can and trying to stay connected to these different parts of the world and myself."

Michael Mayer albums don’t come round too often, which is one of many reasons why his fourth collection, The Floor Is Lava, is a genuine event. It’s been eight years since his last one, the collaborative & released on !K7; its predecessors, Mantasy (2012) and Touch (2004), took their sweet time, too. It’s no real surprise, given the many hats Mayer wears – globetrotting DJ, revered remixer, inveterate collaborator, and boss of both Kompakt and Imara – that his solo productions are relatively sparing. But this also speaks to their quality: Mayer’s name on a record sleeve is a sign of quality, of music that’s both looking to the future and calling back to the past, that balances the imperatives of the dancefloor and the loungeroom, that’s as exploratory as it is functional.

On The Floor Is Lava, Mayer seems to be taking the temperature of both the music that surrounds him (past and present), and the ides of the industry he works within. There’s that iconic album title, for a start. “The album’s mindset,” he says, reflecting on those four words together. For Mayer, it’s partly a critique of the way the industry boxes in both producer and listener, focuses them on genre, on market, on the next new thing: “Being a free minded spirit that transcends genres has become an uphill battle.” A battle worth fighting, though, and with The Floor Is Lava, the result is an album that’s varied, quixotic, idiosyncratic, charming, and deeply, addictively listenable.

Throughout, Mayer finds thrills in exploration and juxtaposition, allowing unexpected things to blossom and giving them their life, their platform, throwing the listener exciting curveballs: “It’s a DJ album by a DJ that’s easily bored.” Either easily bored, or endlessly curious, The Floor Is Lava is rich with ideas. It opens with “The Problem”, which looks back to look forward, embracing the rickety way early house productions threw samples together with gleeful abandon. Mayer mentions Pal Joey, and the scene around Rockers Hi-Fi and their Different Drummer imprint, as reference points, and you can hear that freewheeling spirit throughout.

It’s followed by “Vagus”, a slinky, sensual minimal house number that Mayer describes as his “musical catnip”. The flow of these two opening cuts defines the dynamic of The Floor Is Lava, defining the dialectical drive at its core: thesis and antithesis leads to synthesis, but with a welcome prickliness that means you’re always excited, always engaged. It’s also productive in the way it derives energy from rubbing genres and sounds against each other, in unexpected ways, for maximum musical frisson. There’s psychedelic techno on “Feuerstuhl”, more minimal techno with “Ardor” (Mayer mentions ‘Immer 1’ era 90s minimal as inspiration), slippery, Shepard-tone breakbeat through “Sycophant”, a lovely, lush vocal turn on the poppy “The Solution”.

The album closes with the melancholy “Süßer Schlaf”, where Mayer sets a poem by Goethe to one of his most haunted, moving pieces of music yet, in abstract tribute to a lost friend. It’s one of the most affecting moments on The Floor Is Lava. There’s also an update on 2020’s wild Brainwave Technology EP, with the surrealist glitter-stomp of “Brainwave 2.0” (check out those handclaps!),where Mayer’s thinking about the socio-political precipice of the now: “I’m reading with great interest about this whole complex of how humanity is about to cross so many lines and the implications that the resulting financial and educational inequality will bring.”

That’s The Floor Is Lava: then and now, brainwaves and nerve structures, problems and solutions, genres on fire; the real, the unreal, and the surreal. An album for the easily bored and the endlessly curious. Mayer has the last word, telling us all you need to know about the album’s spirit: “Burning for the cause, being zealous, being addicted to the heat of the night, the exuberant powers of music.”

Michael Mayer veröffentlicht nicht oft Alben, was einer von vielen Gründen ist, warum ‘The Floor Is Lava’ ein echtes Ereignis ist. Es sind acht Jahre vergangen seit seinem letzten Werk, dem Kollaborationsalbum &, das auf !K7 erschien; seine Vorgänger, Mantasy (2012) und Touch (2004), ließen ebenfalls auf sich warten. Es überrascht nicht wirklich, da Mayer viele Rollen gleichzeitig erfüllt – weltreisender DJ, vielbeschäftigter Remixer, unermüdlicher Kollaborateur und Chef von sowohl Kompakt als auch Imara – weshalb seine Solo-Produktionen eher sparsam ausfallen. Doch das spricht auch für deren Qualität: Ein Album mit Mayers Namen auf dem Cover steht für Qualität, für Musik, die sowohl in die Zukunft blickt als auch auf die Vergangenheit verweist, die das Gleichgewicht zwischen den Anforderungen des Dancefloors und des Wohnzimmers hält, die genauso erforschend wie funktional ist.

Auf The Floor Is Lava scheint Mayer sowohl die Musik um ihn herum (vergangen und gegenwärtig) als auch die Strömungen der Branche, in der er arbeitet, zu reflektieren. Da wäre zunächst der ikonische Albumtitel. „Die Grundhaltung des Albums“, sagt er, drückt sich in diesen vier Worte aus. Für Mayer ist es teilweise eine Kritik daran, wie die Industrie sowohl Produzenten als auch Hörer in Schubladen steckt, sie auf Genres, auf den Markt und auf das nächste große Ding fokussiert: „Ein freier Geist zu sein, der Genres überschreitet, ist zu einem steinigen Weg geworden.“ Ein Kampf, der sich jedoch lohnt, und mit The Floor Is Lava ist das Ergebnis ein Album, das vielfältig, eigenwillig, charmant und tiefsinnig, aber auch süchtig machend ist.

Im gesamten Album findet Mayer Freude an der Erforschung und Gegenüberstellung von Stilen, lässt unerwartete Dinge erblühen und gibt ihnen Raum, überrascht den Hörer mit spannenden Wendungen: „Es ist ein DJ-Album von einem DJ, der sich schnell langweilt.“ Entweder langweilt er sich schnell oder er ist unendlich neugierig – The Floor Is Lava ist reich an Ideen. Es beginnt mit „The Problem“, das in die Vergangenheit blickt, um nach vorne zu schauen, und die wilde Art, wie frühe House-Produktionen Samples mit fröhlicher Unbekümmertheit zusammenwarfen, aufgreift. Mayer nennt Pal Joey und die Szene um Rockers Hi-Fi und ihr Label Different Drummer als Referenzpunkte, und dieser freie Geist zieht sich durch das gesamte Album.

Es folgt „Vagus“, eine sinnliche Minimal-House-Nummer, die Mayer als seine „musikalische Katzenminze“ beschreibt. Der Fluss dieser beiden Eröffnungstracks definiert die Dynamik von The Floor Is Lava und den dialektischen Antrieb im Kern: These und Antithese führen zu einer Synthese, jedoch mit einer willkommenen Schärfe, die dafür sorgt, dass man immer aufgeregt und engagiert bleibt. Zudem gewinnt das Album Energie, indem es Genres und Klänge auf unerwartete Weise aneinanderreibt, um maximalen musikalischen Nervenkitzel zu erzeugen. Es gibt psychedelischen Techno in „Feuerstuhl“, mehr Minimal Techno mit „Ardor“ (Mayer erwähnt ‘Immer’ Ära Minimal als Bezugspunkt), gleitenden Shepard-Ton-Breakbeat in „Sycophant“ und einen lieblichen, üppigen Vocal-Auftritt im poppigen „The Solution“.

Das Album schließt mit dem melancholischen „Süßer Schlaf“, in dem Mayer ein Gedicht von Goethe vertont und eine seiner bisher eindringlichsten und bewegendsten musikalischen Kompositionen schafft, als abstrakten Tribut an eine verschiedene Freundin. Es ist einer der ergreifendsten Momente auf The Floor Is Lava. Ebenfalls gibt es ein Update der wilden Brainwave Technology-EP von 2020, mit dem surrealistischen Glitzer-Stampfer „Brainwave 2.0“ (hör dir diese Handclaps an!), in dem Mayer über den sozio-politischen Abgrund der Gegenwart nachdenkt: „Ich lese mit großem Interesse über diesen ganzen Komplex, wie die Menschheit dabei ist, so viele Grenzen zu überschreiten und welche Auswirkungen die daraus resultierende finanzielle und bildungstechnische Ungleichheit haben wird.“

Das ist The Floor Is Lava: Damals und heute, Gehirnwellen und Nervengeflechte, Probleme und Lösungen, brennende Genres; das Reale, das Unreale und das Surreale. Ein Album für die schnell Gelangweilten und die unendlich Neugierigen. Mayer hat das letzte Wort und sagt uns alles, was wir über den Geist des Albums wissen müssen: „Brennen für die Sache, leidenschaftlich sein, süchtig nach der Hitze der Nacht, den überschwänglichen Kräften der Musik.“

Plastic Estate is a contemporary synth-pop act from Wales, UK.

With an onus placed on atmosphere and refinement, the duo evoke a rich palette of romance and lustre with their polished marque of pop music.

They have garnered support from the likes of Simon Le Bon of Duran Duran, KEXP and BBC Radio, and played sold-out shows with the likes of LA Priest, Home Counties, and Real Lies, as well as playing at large regional festivals like Ritual Union and Sŵn Festival.

Having previously released a 7” and LP with Avant! Records, they are now releasing their second album on 11th October with new tracks gaining critical acclaim being added to BBC Radio Wales’s ‘Welsh A-List’.
Their sophomore album hails a new era for the act; moving away from darker sonic roots, their sound has progressed to a brighter, more polished aesthetic with fresh influences from the ‘Hi-Fi luxury’ of West Coast Sound, and the gloss of 2010s Chillwave.

What’s more, ‘Code d’Amour’ makes you wonder: What is Pop today?

For many years it has been synonymous with melody, harmony and emotions. These days it seems to be still about emotions but not very good ones, probably because the world is as ugly as it’s ever been, have you noticed?

But what about the fundamental role of popular music which is to represent and at the same time to celebrate and enforce the ties of social living? What about the good times?

Yes, there is a lot to be changed and to fight for but good vibes are not just for recreational use, they can literally build a sense of community among people. If you are looking for that kind of sound right now, you should look no further.

FFO: Talk Talk, Blue Nile, Spandau Ballet, Ian Broudie’s Care, Small Black, Alan Palomo of Neon Indian, Wild Nothing.

The Wild Classical Music Ensemble is a Belgian experimental rock band formed in 2007 by artists with mental disability within the social-artistic non-profit organisation Wit.h in Kortrijk. Their unique sound is a blend of punk/rock riffs, fanatical rhythms and soaring flutes and fiery synths, over which gravitate multiple, multilingual voices that scratch harshly as much as they comfort. There's something very Belgian about this harshness and noisiness. We often think of compadre Arno, from the TC Matic era. During the Covid crisis, the disabled members of the Wild Classical Music Ensemble were undoubtedly subjected more than others to the harsh conditions of confinement, alone in their rooms. Damien Magnette was still able to visit them with sound equipment. This was one of their all-too-few windows onto the world. Forbidden to meet, let alone play together, the members of Wild were nevertheless able to compose songs in tandem with Damien. The tracks were then sent to musician friends - Fabrice Gilbert, Ava Carrère, Wim Opbrouck, Shht, Arthur Satàn, Nathan Roche and Julien ZLDR - who added their artistic touch. Jean Lamoot and Carl Roosens joined the adventure, one as mixer, the other as video director. It's a result of the conditions under which it was created, this is the band's most highly-produced album, and perhaps its most accessible: frankly rock, with a great deal of freedom in production, and sometimes with a certain pop allure. Jean Lamoot's contribution to the mix had a lot to do with it. In addition, the forced slowdown allowed us to devote much more time and attention to writing the lyrics. Leader Damien Magnette says: "For over a year, we were all confined. But what about when you're a mentally handicapped person? Well, it's very different from you and me... We have the right to choose, the luxury of deciding for ourselves what rules we want to follow or not. We have free will. They don't. This series of confined songs is dedicated to all the people who have gone through this crisis, deprived of their free will. We send them our thoughts, hugs and kisses full of true love! The songs respond to a deep desire to look out for each other in adversity (the so obvious "Comment ça va?" by Johan Geenens and Wim Opbrouck, or "Waarom ben je boos" by Sébastien Faidherbe with Wim Decoene, the latter full of empathy). A sense of loneliness is logically present on the album ("Dat is mijn verdriet" by Linh Pham, a very real, very concrete and particularly touching poem, or "Loneliness", whose text was improvised by Wim), if not an understandable rage ("Je ne veux pas" and "My Frustrations"). It worth noting that on "On reste heureux", Sébastien Faidherbe composed all the parts in one go, with an optimism that stands out from the anger expressed in his other songs. Let's make no mistake: none of this is really over. All these emotions, suffering, pain and hope, speak to us far beyond this grim story of covid.

Strange Power!, the fifth record from Durham, NC-based songwriter and poet Anne Malin Ringwalt, emerges from the darkest waters of the self into a world remade. Releasing in conjunction with her second book of poetry, What Floods (Inside the Castle, Oct. 2024), Strange Power! overflows with Ringwalt's teeming and sensuous personal symbolry: glowing lilacs and gentle queens, dolphins wild and girls who grew up brave _ T.S. Eliot sung by Cat Power, backed by Mount Eerie. She sings: "I rose up from water." Ringwalt writes and performs with the authority of a lifetime spent harnessing the alchemy of storytelling; her belief in the power of words to heal and transform is palpable in each achingly- delivered lyric. Made amidst profound inner and outer change, Strange Power! also sees Ringwalt taking up the role of self-producer for the first time, mirroring and supporting the record's Orphic quest by gathering contributions from a coterie of friends wielding an electric range of American instruments. Violins, vibraphones, drum machines, electric guitars dappled with spring reverb, wind-blown shells, and a host of other numinous sounds form an unfurling and shadowy world which was then carefully honed during the mixing process (shepherded by Michael Cormier-O'Leary and Lucas Knapp) _ settling the final record in an eerie meridian between spareness and verdancy. The result is a beguiling and darkly blooming realm: the sound of a personal cosmos being remade, piece by piece. Ringwalt is at the height of her spirit as both songwriter-poet and singer, her willowy voice by turns conjuring and keening as she reckons with her deep past and the stories told since. Opening track "The Pines" sets the stage for a record of truly life-long scope: "I was a child, now I hold her / I was asleep for many years." Some songs, like the gorgeous "North Carolina" and "The Saint," were written as early as 2013 but, Ringwalt says, "insisted upon being remembered" as the record took shape; in its final form, they serve as inciting moments of self-discovery before the journey to come. "The Visionary" recalls one of Ringwalt's earliest musical breakthroughs _ her re-rendering of an Emily Brontë poem into a song at age 15 _ and, she says, "`cites' the melody of that song in the context of this new one _ a holding of the past and present and every layer in between/beyond, in utter solitude _ a solitude that reflects certain aspects of abandon as a child and an adult..." This unusually lengthy time-scale lends Strange Power! a deeply moving sense of narrative fullness. Stretches of the record _ particularly the "Judgment Day" ? "River" ? "Lilac Bloom" trifecta that form the black heart of Side 1 _ may recall familiar wanderings of personal underworlds such as Mount Eerie's Lost Wisdom Pt. 2 or Neil Young's Ditch Trilogy. Yet this hollowed landscape is in turn exorcized by the a capella "I Know," in which Ringwalt sings "I won't be gutted by you / For giving and trying to heal / I won't be gutted, I am not a fool / I deserve a love that is new" before the song concludes with a piano passage that recalls hymnal music _ suggesting a faith in life itself to offer new beginnings. Side 2 features some of Ringwalt's most powerfully introspective writing to date, as the songwriter casts off myth after myth in her search for personal transformation. By the final song, "Stories," the energy that has been gathering all throughout the record breaks loose as Ringwalt reflects: "I wrote so many stories, not knowing what the end was." But at this stage in the journey, we know there is no such thing as an ending; if the healing process is never complete, the storyteller's strange power is what finally offers liberation.

“Do you still believe it?” John Ross asks that question after journeying through the wreckage. The genesis of Dulling The Horns goes back to late 2022, when Ross began workshopping new material during soundcheck on the ILYSM tour. Last summer, Wild Pink decamped to western Massachusetts to reunite with engineer Justin Pizzoferrato. Ross decided to record Dulling The Horns live in the room, in an effort to capture Wild Pink’s onstage style — rawer, grainier. Gone are the glimmering atmospherics and studio affectations of recent Wild Pink outings. Instead, Ross’ voice is haggard against the humid distortion coating every song. “I wanted to make economical songs,” Ross explains. “Music that is very much at its core three or four people rocking.” If before, Wild Pink took notes from Springsteen and Petty, they’ve now entered their Crazy Horse era. On Dulling The Horns, you can hear him rediscovering the fire in real time. Tropes discarded along the roadside, songs pulled from the formative DNA of rock music, all filtered through years of messy fog. “There is no answer to these problems,” Ross says, having eventually yielded. But as far Dulling The Horns is concerned, there’s at least one path forward: Burn it all away, and keep moving. The album was mixed by Alex Farrar in Asheville NC, mastered by Greg Obis in Chicago, IL and is out in October on Fire Talk.

“Do you still believe it?” John Ross asks that question after journeying through the wreckage. The genesis of Dulling The Horns goes back to late 2022, when Ross began workshopping new material during soundcheck on the ILYSM tour. Last summer, Wild Pink decamped to western Massachusetts to reunite with engineer Justin Pizzoferrato. Ross decided to record Dulling The Horns live in the room, in an effort to capture Wild Pink’s onstage style — rawer, grainier. Gone are the glimmering atmospherics and studio affectations of recent Wild Pink outings. Instead, Ross’ voice is haggard against the humid distortion coating every song. “I wanted to make economical songs,” Ross explains. “Music that is very much at its core three or four people rocking.” If before, Wild Pink took notes from Springsteen and Petty, they’ve now entered their Crazy Horse era. On Dulling The Horns, you can hear him rediscovering the fire in real time. Tropes discarded along the roadside, songs pulled from the formative DNA of rock music, all filtered through years of messy fog. “There is no answer to these problems,” Ross says, having eventually yielded. But as far Dulling The Horns is concerned, there’s at least one path forward: Burn it all away, and keep moving. The album was mixed by Alex Farrar in Asheville NC, mastered by Greg Obis in Chicago, IL and is out in October on Fire Talk.

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

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

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