Cerca:perhaps

Latest, and much later than planned instalment in the 'In Search Of Highs' split release series.
This time two label favourites, with two killer new songs. Perhaps and the first outing of the new AMT unit, Acid Mothers Temple & Infinity Rising Zero.

LIMITED EDITION 300 ONLY WHITE VINYL

There was a terrible egregious shift in vibration the day the transmission arrived. It came to me in a dream, as was natural for these particular occurrences, and left no time for preparation. The sound was unmistakable, a low baritone that echoed wildly and reeked of ancient fumes. A deeply monumental and monolithic apparition stood before what appeared to be a crowd of hexagonal beings. The vibrations worked through them in an apparent communicatory way, though would be impossible to translate in any logical linguistic fashion. I don’t know how but I knew they were aware of me, though their disposition was imminent of their consciousness as being collective, rather than individual; and were largely unbothered by my presence.
 
Once the transmission had finished it was clear that there had been a tamper. The kind of which Id seen  before, and had resulted in definite yet undefinable change in the fabric of reality.
 
I initially stumbled upon the odd and highly dangerous musical practices of Perhaps while on an assignment in Bermuda. There had been rumors of a local tribesman partaking in occult practices, of which I knew was native strictly to the Goat Bleeding Bad Men of the Congolese jungle. These rumors intrigued my journalistic nature, so I took the afternoon off in the hopes to possibly glean something that would be an easy pitch to a tabloid back home.
 
Upon arrival it was clear there was a strange foreign intervention within the community of the tribe, which was largely uninhabited upon first glance. Much of the surrounding foliage had been strung with the entrails of various animals and there were several disturbing fixtures composed of bones and various organs lining the commune. I managed to track down the tribesman, who appeared to be in some deep trance and was entirely unable to communicate, though seemed to be fixated on a single task: the drawing of a peculiar symbol. My researching the symbol resulted in only one hit, a piece of musical literature by a band Perhaps, who I later found to be recording in the area just weeks before.
 
It didn’t take long for me to become fully fixated on Perhaps, who were anything but coy about their whereabouts and metaphysical practices. Wherever they went a small commune followed, which was typically composed of deranged acid freaks, occultists, and Norweigian dairy farmers who had sold all their assets to follow the band after “hearing their music speak from the mountains”. After managing to crack into one of their camps that was stationed in an abandoned motel, I spoke with Jim Haney of Perhaps regarding their cultish practices, who gave little in way of detail but claimed to be working towards a deconstruction of reality through a linguistic utilization of vibration.
 
My stint with the cosmic beings through the telekinetic transmission had lead to one conclusion; that Perhaps have been in the works on something new. It seems as if they may have landed on the result which Haney had mentioned years ago. Through my continued interest I’ve procured the names of other members of this current project, which include: Sean Mcdermott, Tom Weeks, Ricky Petraglia, David Khoshtinat, Ben Talmi, Makoto Kawabata, Lucas Brode, Isiah Mitchell, Olivia Kieffer, Tyler Skoglund, Chang Chang. Though I can’t say exactly what is to come, it seems as if the ideas that were proposed during my initial meet may have been surpassed. Perhaps’ plans have begun to surface, and we are all at risk, for whatever that means. The great column and the vibrational prismic beings have shifted their attention to earthly matters, it would be foolhardy to not heed their warning. Though, self-preservation may be an impossibility.
 
Sam Hailstone Dec 24/ 2019

limited re-press of this summer anthem in the original sleeve !!! who is playing afro medusa ~~ check this one !! contains a remix by junior jack !!!

'Challenge Me Foolish' is an almost lost album of µ-Ziq material circa 1998-99, an era that saw Mike Paradinas release 'Royal Astronomy' on the now defunct Virgin subsidiary Hut records, and also tour with Björk.

It's an era of his music that's definitely worth re-exploring, in which Mike went against the grain by producing music that was baroque, melodic and whimsical, while the IDM movement he was lumped with made instrumental music that was often neurotic and complicated. His taste for melody and dreamy beauty above roughness and intricacy confused people who were hanging on too tightly to the rules. He even brought in Japanese vocalist Kazumi, adding an extra human touch.

'Challenge Me Foolish' is something of a companion to the Royal Astronomy record, arguably even better given the fresh ears selecting the material. It's imbued with a confident sense of pastoral colour, and a gentle optimism, utilising bells, studied orchestral arrangements and airy synthesisers that sit the album somewhere between, Jean Jacques Perrey (the French electronic composer whose whimsy was always balanced with serious innovation and chops) and the colourful, optimistic soundtracks of Joe Hisaishi. There's a strange sense of the old and new throughout, the sentimental and utopia, with nary a hint of darkness. Even when the album dips into the hyperkinetic rhythms of jungle, the melodies and mood still retain a sense of gentle warmth. Dive into peak time Paradinas.

Repress!

Already familiar to fans of Freestyle Records acts Frootful and Lack
Of Afro after supplying her memorable voice to tracks by both, as well as working with masters of the mellow; The Ambassadors Of Sorrow, Angeline Morrison's ability to craft subtle, yet very catchy melodies infused with folk, bossa nova, R&B and jazz rhythms and textures ensures her music sounds fresh, engaging and highly original.

Eno Williams, frontwoman of Ibibio Sound Machine, uses both English and the Nigerian language from which her band's name is derived for the dazzling new album Doko Mien. Long lauded for jubilant, explosive live shows, Ibibio Sound Machine fully capture that energy on Doko Mien, the followup to their Merge debut Uyai.
In a glowing piece in the New York Times, those songs were praised for following 'in the tradition of much African music, [making] themselves the conscience of a community.' By pulsing the mystic shapes of Williams' lines through further inventive, glittering collages of genre, Ibibio Sound Machine crack apart the horizon separating cultures, between nature and technology, between joy and pain, between tradition and future. That propensity for duality and paradox seems common in people whose lives span continents.

Williams was born in the UK, but grew up in Nigeria, always steeped in her family heritage. She obsessed over West African electronic music, highlife, and the like, but was equally empowered by Western genres such as post-punk, disco, and funk. The London octet have enveloped themselves in that maximalist quilt proudly since their 2013 formation. Though it can often bring with it news of stress and uncertainty, the modern world further brings all these disparate traditions into connection.
'Everyone has everything now,' says multi-instrumentalist Max Grunhard. 'Everyone has immediate access to every genre, picking things up from everywhere—like magpies.' And while they haven't suddenly left their African roots behind, Doko Mien does find increased representation of English lyrics in the ratio. By sharing more directly with more universal lyrics, the record feels more anthemic, reaching for grander heights.
'We wanted to give people a reason to sing along, to find their soundtrack every day,' Williams says. 'We wanted everyone to feel as if they're part of the music as well.'

Late album highlight 'Guess We Found a Way' addresses the change with a coy smile. 'Guess we found a way to speak to you/ Guess we found a way to say what's true/ To say what's real,' Williams coos over glistening chains of reverberant synth and diamond dust percussion, before returning to Ibibio in the chorus. Perhaps the best example of the group's ability to convey meaning across language and tradition, to blend past and future into a singular present comes on 'She Work Very Hard'. The traditional Ibibio folk tale bobs over the waves of tuned percussion, chunky synth, and pinprick highlife-esque guitar, while Jose Joyette's drums and Derrick McIntyre's bass funk groove bring everyone to the dance floor. 'These stories won't be forgotten. Feel the music: it speaks to everybody,' Williams says. 'We can travel back in time together, while convening on a futuristic, present tense. We hope that we can give people that reason to wake up, that one song to sing and dance and be happy.'

Doko Mien: Tell me everything. On their new album, Ibibio Sound Machine provide the perfect companion, ready to digest as much as possible and then further unfurl beauty and hope. They remember and honor the past and charge forward toward the future, all while intensely expanding the present.

When a Russian missile struck the ground not far from my studio in Kyiv, I vividly remember how my body reacted to the explosion, milliseconds before my mind did. That traumatic explosion reduced my essence to a primal state. There existed nothing but dread—the kind that, in scripture, accompanies the appearance of angels announcing, ’Be not afraid’.

The visions of Abbess, composer and mystic Hildegard von Bingen were preceded by bright, excruciating flashes of light. Modern medicine reduces them to cluster migraines, one symptom of which is the retinal aura, often accompanied by blurred vision and blind spots. Hildegard’s music can place great demands on the bodies of its performers, emphasizing uncomfortable intervals and the wide distance between the lowest and highest pitch. In comparison, Gregorian chant, the liturgical standard of the time, represents a tempered attempt to grasp God intellectually; indeed, Hildegard’s music was once described as a stick of dynamite thrown into a Gregorian chant.

This album is not a historically informed performance. Hildegard’s persona and music are a starting point—a distant mirror, akin to the shield of Perseus, used to reflect Medusa. It allows us to reflect, comprehend, externalise, and transcend traumatic wartime experience, reinstating the embodied origins of Christianity, which contained suffering but also offered the promise of transcendence. Andriana-Yaroslava Saienko emphasises this physical aspect of Hildegard’s music by drawing on authentic Ukrainian folk singing, a form that survived despite efforts by the Soviet occupation to replace it with a simulacrum that is naive, harmless, and devoid of contradictions—an attempt to ‘civilise’ the body by disembodying it.
The musical approach is also informed by my ongoing practice of reimagining early music in modular synthesis. I accompany Andriana-Yaroslava’s fiery singing with drones—extended sounds that also occurred in medieval music. The drones alternate with improvisations, one taking its starting point in medieval polyphony, the other working with the concept of the interchangeability of sound and light, referring both to Hildegard’s visions and the space in which we recorded the album: the Cistercian abbey of Sylvanès in Occitania, known for contemporary stained glass windows whose patterns reference the dispersion of acoustic waves inside the church.


The album features two compositions by Hildegard von Bingen: O Ignis Spiritus Paracliti (O Fire of the Spirit and Defender), dedicated to the Holy Spirit, and O Tu Suavissima Virga (O Sweetest Branch), in honour of the Virgin Mary. Both pieces are performed radically slower than usual, expanding in time and space. On vinyl, the compositions are designed to reflect one another and can be listened to in either order. In the digital edition, there is a bonus track titled Zelenaia Dubrovonka (The Green Oak Grove). Based on a Ukrainian folk song from the Polissia region, Andriana Yaroslava adapted the lyrics to reflect our contemporary reality. The green oak grove does not rustle with the wind; instead, it resonates with a different sound—perhaps the missile that struck near my Kyiv studio.

Black Truffle is pleased to present Radis, the first recording by the Oslo-based trio of Andrea Giordano (voice and organetto), Kalle Moberg (accordion) and Jo David Meyer Lysne (guitar and snare drum). Now based in Norway, Giordano is a native of Cuneo, in the Piedmont region in the north-west of Italy and her exploration of the Piedmontese language provides the starting point and conceptual anchor of the trio improvisations heard on Radis, which make use of the words of 20th century Piedmontese poets Nino Costa, Bianca Dorato and Oreste Gallina. As the musicians explain, the project is an attempt to preserve the beauty and singularity of a language at risk of extinction.

Fittingly, the first sound we hear on the opening piece ‘Fiorìa’ is Giordano’s unaccompanied voice. She sings a poem from Oreste Gallina as a kind of floating cadenza, the accompanying silence sensitizing the listener to the pellucid quality of Giordano’s voice and the unique sound of the Piedmontese language. The voice dies away and into the silence swells a single tone, sounded by Moberg’s accordion and—special guest on this opening piece—the alto saxophone of Mario Gabola. Extended techniques and preparations create unexpected timbres from the acoustic instruments: Gabola’s saxophone is augmented with tin cans and springs and Moberg’s unorthodox techniques allow the accordion to generate wheezing, buzzing textures and patterns of microtonal beating. Giordano’s voice returns, picking up the thread of the languorous opening melody, coexisting for a while with the shifting drone before the piece takes an unexpected yet organic left-turn into a delicate saxophone solo of sorts.

Recorded in several locations across Italy and Norway over the course of three years, Radis documents an ensemble who have developed both a distinctive sound-world and a remarkably sensitive group dynamic. Moving from folkish duets between accordion and Giordano’s organetto (the small accordion used in Italian folk music) to episodes of metallic guitar scraping from Meyer Lysne, the music is both quietly contemplative and gently chaotic. Ensemble roles shift with disarming ease. If on ‘Profij dëspers’ Meyer Lysne’s prepared guitar adds a haywire noise element to a lyrical episode of organetto and accordion, the next piece, ‘D’antorn a lor’, is grounded in chiming guitar chords of stunning beauty; once Giordano’s joins, the result calls up the most spacious moments of Maria Monti’s Il Bestiario. Throughout the seven pieces, the trio explore countless possibilities of group interaction and the margin between conventional euphony and pure abstraction: at times the voice floats against silence or seems almost disconnected from the gentle clatter of the instruments (sometimes reminiscent of Nikiforas Rotas’ haunting settings of Cavafy), while at other points the instruments touch on conventional harmonic accompaniment. What is perhaps most striking of all is the way that voice and instruments relate to each other, the extended technique reframing the voice as a kind of abstract sound object, while the melodic beauty of Giordano’s voice lends a contemplative, almost melancholic air to the wheezing and scraping of accordion and guitar.

Captured in gorgeously intimate recordings, Jim O’Rourke’s careful and beautifully spacious mix highlights the wealth of textural detail in each element. Accompanied by notes, session photos and the text of the Piedmontese poems, Radis is a work of stunning beauty that demonstrates the vitality of exploratory music in Norway today.

2026 Repress / Blue Vinyl

After releasing five sell out various artists EP’s featuring 25 artists, positivesource is excited to present a new chapter for the label with a diverse and anthemic EP from Berlin based producer Regent.
No stranger to the label, Regent contributed to src005 last year with his smooth techno roller ‘Off Agenda’ alongside music from Neri J, Alpha Tracks, Vil & Cravo. His tracks have featured heavily in DJ sets by label founders Blue Hour and Philippa Pacho over the years, naturally the idea to present the first artist EP on positivesource with Regent comes as no surprise. The record starts on a hypnotic tip with ‘Occult’, grooving along with an infectious bass-line swung beats and blissed out atmospherics before stepping up the energy levels on ‘Khmera’, a relentless chord driven percussive anthem with nostalgic vocals rising to new heights. On the flip the title track ‘Aphid Riot’ is bold and vibrant leaning heavily into UK flavours using sliced up vocals, breakbeats and a classic ‘Reece’ bass-line. Completing the record is a ‘broken’ version of ‘Aphid Riot’ highlighting an ethereal tonal melody with a deeper and more introspective take on the original. It’s a new sound exploration from the producer, emonstrating his versatility and perhaps a rare moment in his discography

Pariah’s cult album re-issued! “Blaze of Obscurity” brings you pure Thrash Metal fury! Satan changed their name to Pariah in 1988-1989. There’s Heavy Metal, Power Metal, Thrash Metal, Death Metal, the list seems almost endless. Sub-genres are important in metal and bands are quickly classified and labeled. Pariah (the last re-incarnation of Satan) is one of few bands that are difficult if not impossible to classify. Is it Heavy metal? NWOBHM? Thrash Metal? Pariah did not make it easy to describe their sound. It might be too sophisticated to simply label it Heavy Metal, which in its infancy was a rather simple affair.

They don’t sound like any Metal band out there, perhaps discounting some of the more aggressive and technical ones, and then the signature NWOBHM sound is added. The guitar playing by Russ Tippins and Steve Ramsey is undeniably what defines Pariah as well as Satan in the past. Undeniably, Satan has gone a long way; from humble NWOBHM beginnings, to Experimental/Melodic Mettal (in Blind Fury) and something that could be described as a NWOBHM/Thrash Metal hybrid (“The Kindred”). It’s as if they’ve been experimenting trying to find their identity, and theyfinally found it. Stylistically, “Blaze of Obscurity” could be seen a step back to “Suspended Sentence”, but this time around they got everything right, down to the last note. Those who have heard Satan know what to expect: great guitar playing.

And sure enough, “Blaze of Obscurity” is a demonstration of guitar mastery and is overall a very guitar-driven album, with plenty of mind-boggling riffs and solos are all over the place, but more importantly, it’s a demonstration of some amazing songwriting as well. This is easily Pariah/Satan’s creative peak and one of the most consistent albums I’ve ever heard, featuring eight great and conceptually perfect songs with lyrics that come across as sophisticated and thought-provoking. It is not fair to put the entire spotlight on Tippins and Ramsey though since the drumming and bass work from Sean Taylor and Graham English really shines. The rhythm is fast and tight, keeping it focused, aggressive and intense till the end. Vocalist Michael Jackson (yes, that’s his name) has to be commended too as this is easily his careers best performance.

The verdict: “Blaze of Obscurity”: the level of musical genius expressed here, along with near flawless songwriting, is more than enough to skyrocket it to heights reserved only for classics. Probably not your choice for some light listening those quiet Sunday evenings, but those who take a more serious, intellectual approach when selecting their music will find very much to appreciate here.
Tracklisting

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

Ruff Kutz presents 'Found Sound', a debut solo album by Pugilist.

At a time where art has become readily reproduced and seemingly disposable, I have made something longer-form to be enjoyed as a complete piece, rather than it's single elements.

Found Sound delves into my internal monologue, which I hope results in a personal and introspective listening experience. Building on my previous discography - you can expect versatile sounds and tempos, with a washy dub-wise feel, intoxicating atmospherics, all in a genre-free structure. The album is floaty, euphoric and perhaps a surprisingly light listen compared to my normal output, but with notably huge bass and intricate percussion throughout.

The album taps into nostalgic reference points without leaning on retrograde tropes. While sculpted by contemporary production and FX, the sound remains raw and not overly polished. The album is best described as a collage of sounds that I have steadily collected over the last decade, which have inspired me, some very cheeky sampling and many a late night working on my studio tan. It is a tribute to the music I grew up with and love the most, from past to the present. It is fitting that this release marks the 10 years since I started the Pugilist alias.

This wouldn't have been possible without Umeya, who the album is dedicated to.

Between flesh and silicon. “Under My Skin” (2026) is the first album by IADI, released by Neo Life. A record like few
others, highly conceptual, cover art included. Its essence lies in the folds of the increasingly ambiguous relationship
between man and machine, where the former designs the latter and, perhaps without fully realizing it, is gradually
destined to adapt and be reprogrammed by it. Each track of “Under My Skin” is, in fact, a sort of interface, connector, or
any other imaginative point of contact between two creative phases, amid emotional impulses and binary calculations.
The sonic architecture oscillates between analog warmth and algorithmic coldness, constructing landscapes in which
pulsating synthesizers and mechanical rhythms seem to question each other. There's no linear narrative, but rather a
progressive immersion in a zone of near-friction, where the comfort of technology coexists with more than a faint
musical uneasiness, like a background noise that never ceases to remind you who's truly in charge. In “Under My Skin”,
the machine is neither an enemy nor a simple instrument: it's a real presence, intimate, even tactile, amplifying desires,
fears, and dreams of dawns beyond the digital realm. Intelligent dance music. Less noise, more sensations. Electronic,
but profoundly human.
The final result, then, is a music project that speaks to the present, yet sounds like an X-ray of the future, capturing that
fragile moment when humanity and technology stop observing each other from afar and begin to merge, track after
track. It's no coincidence that IADI's album opens with “Impulse”, an immediate expression of an electrical impulse, for
both humans and machines, which is also the language of the nervous system, as fast as it is vital—pure energy and
rhythm, a track as intense as it is irregular. And after this introduction, it's the turn of the equally erratic “Axon”, whose
title describes the neuron that transmits the signal over distance, telling the listener to sit back and relax for a new
journey through the notes toward the more melodic “Cortex”. The cerebral cortex, the ultimate seat of thought and
memory, becomes the source from which the musical flow of the first part of the work is drawn.
Then, suddenly, an automatic, or instinctive, response to the constant succession of impulses: “Reflex”, or zerotemperature techno, with a fragmented pace, featuring vocal samples, breaks, and restarts. In the producer's
imagination, the subsequent, and conversely placid, “Neuron” represents the emotional core of the second part of the
work, providing a kind of respite from the seething vibrations. While the neuron is the basic unit of the nervous system,
the synapse is the functional connection point between one neuron and another effector cell, essential for the
transmission of nerve impulses and communication in the nervous system, enabling functions such as learning and
movement. Likewise, a track like “Synapse” once again illuminates the path traced by IADI. The more experimental and
streamlined “Static” instead suggests true ordered chaos. “Dreamstate” is the conclusion suspended in the void, relating
to that dreamlike state between waking and sleeping, where consciousness fades toward infinity and visions begin. Pure
fading into the subconscious. Eternal return to where it all began. Dancing is a form of consciousness. Every beat is a
question. IADI, however, holds all the answers you need.

Black Truffle is thrilled to announce Dalbergia Retusa, an extensive double LP selection of the solo guitar music of Hans Reichel, compiled by Oren Ambarchi. Last heard on Black Truffle as one quarter of the joyously anarchic Bergisch-Brandenburgisches Quartett, Hans Reichel (1949-2011) is one of the great figures of experimental guitar music. Though perhaps lesser known than peers like Derek Bailey, Fred Frith and Keith Rowe, Reichel’s rethinking of the instrument was in some ways the most radical of all. Early on, he dispensed with existing guitars to build a series of his own that explored the use of additional strings and fretboards, moveable pickups, extra bridges, special capos, and other innovations documented in the extensive booklet accompanying this release.

Reichel was a long-term resident of Wuppertal, the small Western Germany city that became an unlikely centre of European free jazz in the late 1960s, also home to Peter Brötzmann and Peter Kowald. His solo debut Wichlinghauser Blues was an early entry into the FMP discography and began a relationship with the label that stretched into the 1990s; all the solo performances heard here were first released on FMP. As Reichel says in the charming archival interview with Markus Müller included here, he was ‘always a cuckoo’s egg at FMP’, a label that began as an outlet for roaring European free jazz. What strikes the listener right from the opening selection on Dalbergia Retusa—‘Return of the Knödler show’, from 1987’s The Dawn of Dachsman—is the extraordinary beauty of Reichel’s music, at once alien in the shimmering sonorities and unconventional pitch relationships made possible by his invented instruments, and deeply lyrical, even romantic in its harmonic content. Growing up in West Germany in the 1960s, Reichel’s formative influences were mainly British and American rock bands, a background that shines through in many of the pieces included here: ‘An old friend passes by’ is haunted by the ghost of Hendrix’s rhythm guitar, and the wild closer ‘Heimkehr der Holzböcke’, taken from a rare 1975 7” and the only piece to use overdubbing, layers errant hammer-on and slide tones over a Canned Heat boogie chug.

Reichel was an important source for the development of Oren Ambarchi’s own extended approach to the electric guitar. Appropriately enough, his selection opens with the very first piece by Reichel he ever heard, on a flexidisc included with a 1989 issue of Guitar Player magazine. Though Reichel collaborated with others extensively in many settings and also performed on violin and his other major contribution to instrument invention, the daxophone, his music for solo guitar remains at the core of his oeuvre. Focusing exclusively on solo pieces recorded between 1973 and 1988, the 23 pieces on Dalbergia Retusa showcase the range and consistency of Reichel’s work, allowing the listener to see how his performances developed hand-in-hand with his instrumental inventions. On a piece from his very first LP, played on an 11-string instrument (partly strung with piano strings and using a schnapps glass a slide), we hear his intensive exploration of fret-hammering to create zither-like, chiming tone, which Reichel would hone further in later years with a double fretboard guitar specifically designed to be hammered rather than fretted and picked. On a piece from 1979’s Death of the Rare Bird Ymir, Reichel uses two steel-string acoustic guitars at once, with beautiful results: ‘some even say too beautiful’, he jokes in the interview included here. Many of the pieces from the 1980s make use of varieties of the ‘pick behind the bridge guitar’, instruments of uncanny harmonic richness primarily designed to be played on the ‘wrong’ side of the bridge. At times the unexpected behaviour of attacks, resonance, and decay can almost seem electronic, conjuring up the technology-assisted work of Henry Kaiser or even Fennesz, but realised solely through Reichel’s unorthodox techniques on his invented instruments. Extensively illustrated with photos and Reichel’s own plans and drawings of his instruments, Dalbergia Retusa is an essential introduction to the unique world of Hans Reichel. Rarely has music been at once so strange and so beautiful.

The breakout underground star of the past year, the deservedly hyped Thought Leadership returns with another X ideas: the deck this time chooses the suit of Cups. This new collection is closer to the Post-Punk tonality of Pentacles, than the breezy Balearic Jazz of Swords. Gone are the brushed drum samples and airy synths and in their place are BIG guitars, 808 thumps and a decidedly more prominent use of bass as a melodic device.

As the suit of Cups reflects the emotional heart of the Tarot, presented within are a further X pieces, this time displaying the full range and fervour of Thought Leadership.

You know the drill by now. Originally out on cassette only, we present the first ever vinyl issue. It's a hideously limited pressing of 300 for the world, so don't sleep on this.

Side A explores the emotional levels of consciousness; angst, joy, love, sorrow, relief, regret – they are all represented across the first seven tracks, and often within the same piece. XXI kicks us off with a huge tumbling D minor passage, layers and layers of guitar front and centre, whilst the drums pound away in the distance. Release is provided with a gorgeous G Dorian section, where we hear the bass take flight with a high melodic line.

We’re still in familiar Durutti Column meets Dif Juz territory here, but things switch up with XXII. This piece showcases a darker, more angular palette of guitars; think Alan Rankine (The Associates), or Deb Demure (Drab Majesty) in the unexpected harmonic shifts, knotty arpeggiated patterns and heavy, goth-adjacent modulation. A real love letter to 45+ years of darkly inclined guitar heritage.

XXIII enters the fray with tight, thumping 808s and Marr-esque guitar figures; and again, the bass providing heavy melodic counterpoint to the guitars. Enter chiming, lyrical lead phrasing, reminiscent of the eternal opening to "Everybody Wants To Rule The World". Another accidental perfect pop moment from the Thought Leader. Whilst on the topic of Tears For Fears, XXIV comes swinging out of the gate with some serious Sophisti-chug; we’re reminded of "Shout" in the A section, before being beautifully juxtaposed in the B section with more Vini-eqsue patterns, reminiscent of his timeless classic, Another Setting.

XXV gives us welcome pause to take stock midway through the A side. No drums this time, but instead a heartbreaking conversation between two guitars; think Kevin McCormick and David Horridge’s masterful Light Patterns, or perhaps even the early solo-Bill Connors mid-70s cuts for ECM. The moment of quiet reflection passes, and is quickly shattered by the thudding march of XXVI – this piece comes across like The Associates playing "Wicked Game"; heavy, moody, and utterly compelling. XXVII ends our journey across Side A with more Marr-inspired playing; one for the heads and already featured on mixes, this one is real testament to the vision of Thought Leadership.

Side B again takes us on a trip through three long-form semi-improvised pieces. XXVIII is like those classic Jonny Nash, early Melody As Truth releases, slowly unfurling, additional details introduced deliberately piece by piece, this idea builds across 7+ minutes culminating in some utterly joyous ebow fireworks at the end – well Balearic.

XXIX again, like XXV before it, dispatches the drums with a focus purely on melody and mood. The piece feels like a lost Save Room Theme from the Resident Evil series, pure golden age Capcom Sound Team vibes. Unadulterated aural nostalgia for hours spent with a PS1 in haze of hash.

XXX completes this majestic voyage with another Modal exercise; this time the Thought Leader has opted for the Lydian Mode. Beautifully dreamy, undeniably Soundtrack-y, and arguably the most concise distillation so far of everything this project stands for; drum machines, guitars, pedals, one-take improvised solos – XXX has the lot, and is surely destined for greatness.

So, another X epic statements for guitar, homespun with the humblest of means, for all the dreamers out there. The first ever vinyl release of IV Of Cups has been carefully remastered by Be With's engineer Simon Francis to ensure it sounds better than ever after its initial tape release. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut at Abbey Road Studios whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry, in Holland. The original tape cover artwork, so crucial to Thought Leadership's striking visual aesthetic, has been rejigged for vinyl issue here at Be With.

The last 2 LPs flew. You have been warned.

Entering the abandoned warehouse full of haze and blinded by the strobe lights, you feel the rush when the bass kicks in. You have no idea if the year is 1996 or 2026, but it doesn't matter as long as you are alive.

Indeed, another batch of forgotten and previously unreleased radioactive acid techno has surfaced on the anonymous, vinyl-only Kilotoni imprint — possibly their strongest release so far.

A1 The peak of acid techno is perhaps found in its most stripped-down form. As the bass line throbs your breath out, you try to chase the kick drum in a game of hide-and-seek until complete exhaustion. It's something you play after the copies of Betty Ford and Sync In start to melt during a nuclear reactor accident.

A2 A ravey or hard-techno-oriented approach is applied to the acid techno formula here. The squelching, pulse-width-modulated synth makes for an eerie yet irresistible call to the dance floor. The snare rolls might just be your guilty pleasure.

B1 The flip side opens with funkier techno that the Voyager probes could bump to in outer space a million years from now. A wild acid line is accompanied by playful chords and beats. Detroit influences meet Nordic melancholy.

B2 The kick drum keeps pounding its way through while a lonely TB-303 is traveling in its own space and time. Influenced perhaps by the Midwest acid techno style, this could be a mid-90s DAT-tape lost inside the transatlantic postal system on its way to the Analog Records USA headquarters.

“One foot out the door, another in the otherworld…”
So begins Hannah Lew’s debut, self-titled solo record, soaked in imperious, wide-eyed pop songwriting and a girl-group/post punk aesthetic that belies the artist’s history in the U.S. underground. A towering, hook-laden album, it’s infused with an optimism and surrealism that conversely deals with the times we find ourselves in.

Recorded at home in Richmond, CA and in The Best House studio with Maryam Qudus in Oakland CA, with the assistance of a crack team of West Coast musicians, this album sees Hannah Lew stepping out from behind the legacy of her two groups Grass Widow and Cold Beat. While musically bearing similarities with her previous work, “Hannah Lew” is a bold leap into direct pop territory, making ample use of a vocal style that teases out the inherent melancholy in her melodies. Mastered by Sarah Register, each song is a perfectly honed nugget that frequently pulls the heart in two directions at once.

Themes of change, breaking up, shattering old ways of being are shot through the record. For the front cover, a photograph of the artist’s face was printed, ripped up and re-assembled, resembling the creative process embarked upon by Lew for her first “solo” material. The album feels instinctual, almost dream-like in its assemblage of sweeping synths and pulsating, propulsive drum machine beat patterns with Lew’s vocal performances sensitive and caressing over the top. Increasingly relying on the subconscious and dreams to guide her creative process, Hannah Lew frequently abandons literal interpretations or linear narratives, the songs seeming to exist in a swooning, effortless flow-state while remaining emotionally hard hitting.

On an album where every song could be a single, there are kaleidoscopic shades and varying emotional tones in abundance. First single Another Twilight is carried along a pumping, Italo-disco-style 4/4 beat and mono-synth bass line, the low end pulling at the heart and body. Lew’s vocal melody teases the track before swan-diving into a gorgeous chorus as she sings “it’s all over baby and I don’t mind… in decline, I take my time…” The album is suffused with moments like this. On slow builder Damaged Melody, an arpeggiated synth elongates the verse before a cascading synth showers down melodic glitter. The stunning Replica uses dual swirling synth patterns before a driving, synthpop chorus for the ages carries Hannah Lew’s vocal into the stereo field, sailing in on a high register singed with the embers of a break up.

In a departure from previous groups, her solo songs are guided by dreams and free association inspired by Dada and the Surrealist movement and sculpted afterwards. As such, the songs reveal themselves on repeated listens, revealing traces of heartbreak inspired by both personal and global elements - Hannah Lew regards the album “a wartime album.” On Move In Silence, Lew intones “there’s a war outside, just out of view,” revealing the dichotomy at play throughout. With the songs evolving naturally and in a flow state, the pressures and sadnesses of the modern age bleed through, mixed in with Lew’s inherent love, sensitivity and fractured-but-intact optimism. On the swooning, sublime Sunday layers of Numanoid synths open up for the commanding vocal performance pontificating on grief, love, pain as she “feels the ache on Sunday…” As the chorus builds and Lew’s call-and-response vocal adds to the emotional tension, it almost feels like too much to take.

Elsewhere, there are echoes of Hannah Lew’s previous work. On Time Wasted a bass guitar comes in with a heavy, punk attack before the synths and vocal harmonies reminiscent of later Cold Beat elevate everything. The glassy, sweetly resigned closer The Clock sounds like so classic it could be cover, a sweetened Jesus & Mary Chain tune perhaps, before it erupts into volcanic chorus that could only come from Hannah Lew in 2026.

Pariah’s cult debut re-issued! “The Kindred” brings you pure old school Thrash Metal fury! Satan changed their name to Pariah in 1988-1989. Satan’s evolution for the time being came to an end here with this band, Pariah, in 1988. What Satan were going for with “Suspended Sentence”, could definitely be seen as a hint to the direction they would take as Pariah. That raspy, ill-tempered, aggressive Michael Jackson (indeed) is still here on vocals and these guys really wanted to tear things apart with this album. The main lineup here is entirely the same from Satan and Blind Fury (vocalists aside).

Simply put, one could easily say they took “Suspended Sentence”’s interesting idea of “NWOBHM meets Thrash Metal” and basically focused on being even more aggressive this time. We might be throwing out the obvious here again, but if you are new to Pariah or perhaps Satan, familiarize yourself with the fact that guitarists Russ Tippins and Steve Ramsey are truly an insane duo. For the most part with “The Kindred” their guitar work is pretty thrashy and extremely melodic. Then out of nowhere those classic NWOBHM solo’s, dual harmonies, and majestic melodies come into play all over the place and they manage to make it work incredibly well in between the thrashy antics. The production and mix seems to be an improvement over “Suspended Sentence” and here the guitars tend to have more of a sharper edge, Jackson’s vocals are constantly in the clear and never overpowered by anything else, and overall there is a tougher vibe surrounding this.

Everything here is pretty damn heavy. While Tippins and Ramsey are really out there in a realm of their own, there’s great performances again by Graeme English on bass and Sean Taylor on drums. Overall you’ve got a whole package of virtuous musicians here that really mastered the beauty of balance. All in all “The Kindred” goes all the way with every track being fast and aggressive. Satan and Pariah are all typically made up of the same core members and definitely created some timeless and unique Heavy Metal.

A delve into the murky avenues of sonic territories, exploring off-grid zones & askew worlds – Daisy Moon leans harder into her 4/4 vision in this dancefloor-ready EP – the first release for Off-Kilter.

Each track pulses along to its own singular logic, with Daisy’s distinctive voice and vocal manipulations playfully drizzled throughout, marking an elegant collision of her sonic worlds.

Spirit Princess is a breakneck peak-time explosion – club-ready and bouncy with a pulsing bassline fit to burst from the subs of any system underpinning waves of textured ambience, nagging synths and granular gusts of found sound.

Fuelled with late night techno energy, Grain Pip offers a heads down counterpoint to the title track, while the B side serves up different energies again. Perhaps the most playful track on the record – The Stuff – demonstrates Daisy’s cheekier side as a producer and person, as inspired by a summer of fun with friends on festival dancefloors: a house banger stuffed with melodic stabs, pitched vocals and swung hats, made for the joys and follies of the 3am dancefloor. Drop Cycle rounds things off with a trippy, rolling excursion of delays and warped synths.

Dizzying sonics and relentless dancefloor energy with razor-sharp precision and uncompromising force.

Italy via Atlanta, say hello to Titino and “Sun Splicer”, the latest release on The Comfort. Three separate ideas connect this EP across 4 tracks. It toys with the expectations of its listener — core features morph as tracks progress, stable kick patterns turn to breaks and in reverse, simple stabs progress to melodic junctions. Acid permeates this record, not as a clear motif but a tinged essence. And it’s sincere, both to the setting of these pieces and where they’ll be listened to and what it honors.

“Shblasted” — a back-and-forth groove machine filled with dub sirens and stepped up acid. Clubby introduction meant for sacred dance floors.

“Ouachita” on the A2 is controlled chaos, snares fly around, synth lines seem to want to escape their own confines and it just bursts onto the listener. Then the keys come in, the groove stabilizes, pads become bigger and new life is given.

The B-side is playful. “Sun Splicer” is perhaps most aptly categorized by a now notorious idea of ‘electro house’, and the pure aggressive euphoria this track carries just might be that, but as we all know the Italians do it differently — it’s a heady dark excursion. “Existenz” is all-smiles no matter how menacing its first contact, a hook of a track that reimagines the weirder side of Italian trance — think Interactive Test at its most wonderful. The dusty snares feel like a balancing tool instead of an homage.

Even in these most turbulent of times, dub musician and fatigued onlooker Elijah Minnelli remains an inexplicable stalwart on the lower rungs of the Breadminster County Council.

His latest record ‘Clams As A Main Meal’ continues his astute siphoning of council funds, this time with help from the Breadminster Board of Abstinence. As a further mark of respect, the original head of the Board, Dr. K'houldoux, graces the cover art in his infamous ‘Looming Moon of Desire’ guise.*

As fine a backdrop as any for Minneli’s off-brand dub experiments, and ‘Clams...’ is the truest representation of his varied wheelhouse yet...

We find vocal appearances from dub goliath Dennis Bovell and Welsh-language singer Carwyn Ellis. A pair of tracks which build on 2024’s acclaimed ‘Perpetual Musket’, a collection of folk songs reworked alongside reggae vocalists, released by FatCat Records. It garnered glowing reviews, with nods from The Guardian and The Quietus concluding with prominent appearances on their respective yearly round-up lists.

Elsewhere, the album finds Minnelli in a more experimental mode, all wheezing contraptions and cockeyed bass, creaking with the weight of creation, a satisfying tactility laid seam-side up.

As well as ‘Perpetual Musket’, the new album follows years of sold out 7" singles, handmade and self-released. Online, the tracks have amassed global streams numbering in the millions. His tracks have found play across an eclectic range of radio mixes and dance floors, most notably the likes of Andrew Weatherall, Batu, Optimo and Zakia Sewell (BBC6Music).

It is perhaps worth mentioning that this everbuilding interest in his work is at great odds with the growing suspicions amongst his fellow townsfolk, who see his Breadminster County Council Music Initiative as nothing more than an empty cash-grab.

Further Reading on the Breadminster Board of Abstinence

In the late 70s, Breadminster was awash with the last vestiges of the hippy era. Though the flared silhouette of the lower leg remained, the utopian ideals that had once flowed merrily around the youth's shaded ankles had begun to wane. LSD and free love had led to a sharp spike in population and a generation of children raised by air-headed psychonauts unprepared for the bleary-eyed strictures of parenthood.

Aware of the crisis, the County Council entrusted Dr. Paulinque K'houldoux to spearhead a pushback, and it was his pro-abstinence movement - a mixture of education initiatives and radical renutrition campaigns - that came to impact Breadminster's census deep into the new millennium.

Being a pseudo-archipelago Breadminster has fundamentally limited resources, however deep-seated ties to distant coastal villages meant that oysters were a regular part of the local diet. K'houldoux pinpointed this as a factor in the town's overpopulation, and believed that simply replacing these with clams (a “lesser mollusk”) would help lower the erotic urges of the people. It was his “anti-aphrodesia” movement that first championed the idea of “Clams As A Main Meal,” and the slogan “Consider Abstinence” carried the message yet further.

The Breadminster Board of Abstinence soon became involved in all cultural happenings in the area, with K'houldoux MCing at prominent festivals and performances, sometimes dressed as the “Looming Moon of Desire” - an idea of his relating to the tide, seafood, menstrual cycles, and his privately held celestial predilections.

It was in 1981 that it was revealed Dr. K'houldoux had never fully qualified as a doctor and was seeking exile in Breadminster due to a series of botched bracelet heists in which he had previously been involved. K'houldoux was subsequently extradited to Basingstoke, where he served 3 of a 12-year sentence, owing to the lunar-oriented prisoner health campaigns he helped implement.

It has been a strange twist of bureaucratic fate that the Breadminster Board of Abstinence has never stopped receiving public funding, despite its lack of clear utility. And while its roots are tied to a rose-tinted past, the Board continues to sponsor cultural events and projects to this day.

An extract from: Eugeniq Schooner's article in Sydney Parishioner: “Clams, Breadminster and Countercultural Abstinence Trends” (2008)

A guitar stands alone in Wedding, that metropolitan biotope in the western center of Berlin, caught in constant transformation between idyll and abyss. It lets its gaze wander, unsettled, almost shy, until it encounters a trumpet, with which it begins a cautious, then ever more intimate pas de deux.
Welcome to the second studio album by the Berlin-based band Conic Rose.
The album title Wedding is no coincidence. The story of Conic Rose is closely intertwined with the Berlin neighborhood that gives the record its name. The band's studio is located here, and both studio albums were created in the immediate vicinity of the small river Panke. This place settles over the music like a warming patina. The album feels as though the musicians and the neighborhood have invited one another to get to know each other. Not least because Wedding also means marriage. These marriages between a band and an urban landscape, a fading past and an emerging future, fear and hope - unfold in every single song on Wedding.
For their second album, Conic Rose repositioned themselves completely. Not in terms of personnel, but in the question of how to move forward. Conic Rose still sound like Conic Rose; their distinctive blend of cinematic jazz, ambient textures and guitar-led contemporary music remains untouched. And yet Wedding is, in many ways, the conceptual counterpart to their debut album Heller Tag. Where the debut documented movement within an urban setting, Wedding describes a state of being. Behind every piece seems to hover a large question mark.The group opens up its palette, allowing more influences, becoming at once more subtle, more profound, more filigree. It is less about definition than about the spaces in between. The most immediately striking difference from the previous album is the strong presence of the guitar. In Bertram Burkert's playing, many voices seem to converge. His yearning openness forms an equal counterpoint to Döben's trumpet and flugelhorn. Blurred and layered sounds occasionally make the ground seem to slip away beneath one's feet, while Döben's gliding lines create both closeness and distance. Together, the band express in a deeply subtle way a sense of life that corresponds precisely to our time. Something lurks in the background, omnipresent yet still unnameable. Conic Rose need no words to convey this feeling of uncertainty with remarkable eloquence. Perhaps this has something to do with Wedding being a place of confrontational introspection, but Conic Rose confront the escape from escape itself. With the recording and release of Wedding, this process is far from complete. The seed only begins to grow in the listener's ear. With every listen and the echo it leaves behind in memory, the studio bud continues to bloom. The album is merely the point of departure. What ultimately matters is what it sets in motion within those who encounter it.

Ghetto Records was Latin music legend Joe Bataan’s way to get over on The Man and out of the ’hood, a bold move by an artist looking for independence and creative control in an industry that had exploited his talents and treated him like chattel.



As Bataan puts it today, “Ghetto Records was part of my journey, a stepping stone to everything else that I’ve done. I learned enough that it enabled me to get out of the box with my thinking, it showed me how to deal with adversity.” Like many dreams and schemes born of the street, this one was audacious, perhaps even reckless to a fault.

Hatched from desperation yet full of hope Ghetto Records came crashing down shortly after its inception. The seven albums in its discography languished out of print - until now.

Several years after the release of ‘Metamorphosis’ (with Sid Hille), Multicast Dynamics (Samuel van Dijk) reemerges on Astral Industries with ‘Circles’ - an enchanting two-part work venturing into deep unconscious realms. Sonic landscapes unfold in a sequence of hidden spaces and intimate revelations, featuring detailed sound design and rich thematic content.

Circle One initiates the process, opening gently with glassy drones and the patter of distant voices. A faint light shimmers through swirling pools of liquid memories and melting forms. The atmosphere builds, and everything is engulfed in the act of transfiguration. 

Passing through the threshold, Circle Two traverses further into cavernous territories. Boundless drifting soon becomes a gravitational pull toward something deeper. Submitted to the powerful undercurrent, incoming primordial pulsations signal a quest that reaches its fated culmination. 

Perhaps the revelation of something long-lost, entering the Circle eludes to that which on the surface remains hidden, yet its rediscovery inevitable.

Bézier ripples their way back to Dark Entries with Decompose, an LP of doomed spa music. Multi-instrumentalist Robert Yang has made numerous appearances on Dark Entries for more than a decade, with releases spanning the stylistic gamut from hi-NRG disco floor-fillers to lush ambient epics. Decompose, Bézier’s second LP, is perhaps his most introspective work yet. It is an album almost ten years in the making, a deep investigation of life, loss, and the struggle of knowing oneself. If one were to pull a tarot deck for this album it would be the Nine of Swords. The album honors the lives of the fallen victims of Pulse Nightclub. It honors lives lost or suffering through the ongoing genocide in Gaza. The title track takes the form of a Buddhist chant, a brooding synth-driven meditation that scales steadily until breaking into John Carpenter-esque arpeggios halfway through. Tracks like “Egg,” “Marionette,” and “A Fading Citadel Atop Black Sand Bluffs” build on this soundworld, one in which intricate melodies and cavernous reverb induce in the listener feelings of both claustrophobia and free-fall. The album’s dancefloor-leaning moments, like “Codebreaking” and “Split a Path Towards the Thicket” are spartan, tunnel-vision techno tracks speeding towards ego-death. Decompose chronicles Yang’s journey to find peace with himself, as a gay Asian American. During this process, they learned to “repot” long-lost parts of their identity so they could grow forth in wholesome fashion. The sleeve for Decompose was designed by Eloise Shir-Juen Leigh, and features a photograph by Frankie Casillo of Robert laying on a bed of rocks in savasana pose, resembling an ascetic, evocative of the monastic vibes of the record.

Newly remastered version of Oren Ambarchi’s long out-of-print classic Hubris originally released on Editions Mego in 2016. Expertly remastered by audio wizard Joe Talia who worked with the original mixes, highlighting the myriad details of the audio with forensic precision, previously unheard up until now.

From the 2016 press release:
Hubris continues the exploration of relentless, driving rhythms heard on Ambarchi’s Sagittarian Domain (2012) and Quixotism (2014). Where those records looked to Krautrock and techno for their starting points, the sidelong opening track here begins from the perhaps unlikely inspirations of disco and new wave, drawing particularly from Ambarchi’s love of Wang Chung’s soundtrack to William Friedkin’s To Live and Die in L.A. Leaving behind the song-forms of these reference points, Ambarchi weaves a sustained and pulsating web of layered palm-muted guitars from which individual voices rise up and recede, eventually setting the stage for some lush guitar synth from Jim O’Rourke. Arnold Dreyblatt collaborator Konrad Sprenger contributes overtone-rich motorized guitar, pushing the piece into a satisfying intersection of shimmering minimalism and rhythmic drive that smoothly builds up until the entrance of Mark Fell’s electronic percussion in its final section.
After a short second part, in which Ambarchi, O’Rourke and crys cole pay tribute to the skewed harmonic sense of Albert Marcoeur with a track built from layered guitar figures and abstracted speech, the long final piece pushes the concept of the first side into darker and denser areas. Joined by electronics from Ricardo Villalobos and the twin drums of Will Guthrie and Joe Talia, the layered guitars of the first piece are transformed into a raw and tumbling fusion-funk groove that calls to mind early Weather Report or even the first Golden Palominos LP. As this stellar rhythm section rides a single repeated chord change into oblivion, a series of spectacular events emerge in the foreground: first, aleatoric synthesizer burbles from Keith Fullerton Whitman, then slashing skronk guitar from Arto Lindsay, until finally Ambarchi’s own fuzzed-out harmonics take center stage as the piece builds to an ecstatic frenzy. Few artists could hope to include such an incredible variety of collaborators on one record and still hope for it to have a unique identity, but Ambarchi manages to do just that, crafting three pieces that emerge directly out of his previous work while also pushing ahead into new dimensions.
Players: Oren Ambarchi, crys cole, Mark Fell, Will Guthrie,
Arto Lindsay, Jim O’Rourke, Konrad Sprenger, Joe Talia, Ricardo Villalobos, Keith Fullerton Whitman.

After a series of successful outings alongside sidekicks Ofofo and Zongamin, studio wizard MYTRON turns in his debut solo full-length for Multi Culti World Records. With contributions on Invisible Inc, Calypso, Bongo Joe, Kalahari Oyster Cult, LYO, Codek Records and Earthly Measures, Mytron has carved out a name for himself in a carefully-curated left-field quadrant of the indie-dance galaxy. Tuning his oscillators to myriad sounds — from dub and disco to krautrock — the London-based producer perhaps most notably channels the pristine compositional style of Kraftwerk. While most apparent in the use of vocoder, there’s a consistent efficiency of arrangement that recalls the man-machine in effervescent, idealistic fashion. Mytron manages to keep it simple, funky and musical — whimsical tunes that bop along with analog grit, wilderness, and wonk. There’s a warmth and wit that shine through every synth line, an understated confidence that speaks of years spent tangled in wires and waveforms, with an inclusive sonic eclecticism that flattens hierarchies between genres, geographies, and generations. Each influence is invited to the table, treated not as pastiche but invited to dine and dance in a space where kosmische dub disco and Afro rhythms can coexist without borders. The sleeve design echoes this philosophy: video-feedback patterns hinting at our modern screens, both portals and filters — coloured, distorted intermediaries through which we perceive the world. In the trippiest sense, the record is both reflection and refraction — a sonic mirror held up to an interconnected, glitchy reality. Tailored equally for DJ use and home-listening head trip, the album is meticulous, mischievous and merry.

BanBanTonTon review:

On Mytron’s debut long-player for Multi Culti groovy 21st Century leftfield house gear collides with Daniele Baldelli and Beppe Loda’s hugely influential `80s afro / cosmic. The 9 tracks are chunky, chugging and full of funky, funny noises. Old school B-lines mixing with eccentric electronics. Spinning, spiralling sounds.

Sugar is an electro-pop, vocoder confection, cut from the same sonic cloth as cult classics like Codek’s Tam Tam. Created from tough trap drums, splashing effects and a mutant Giorgio Moroder bass arpeggio. The title track, Propellor, pits Kraftwerk-esque hardware harmonised vocals against a bongo loop and a whistling hook. Playground has simian shrieks surround tumbling tom-toms. Highway Maintenance adds kosmische synths to a dance of woodblocks and buzzing bottom end. Keep On Dubbing is an organ-led, clip clopping percussive canter.

Tracks such as Speaker Can Talk, shot through with disco lasers blasts and recalling Curt Cress’ Dschung Tek, also lift the tempo up, but the bulk of the music here is a mid-tempo, techno drum circle. Squelchy sequences gurgling in and out of programmed percussion. On Quasar, spiky acid edges in and slowly takes over.

Key references that come to mind are Baldelli’s own turn-of-the-2000s Cosmic Sound Project productions, and Wolf Müller’s scene shaking sides on Themes For Great Cites, from around a decade later.

2026 Repress


The overexcited young men at the Droid factory up the beats per minute and channel the spirit of other sensible chaps a la John Belushi, River Phoenix and John 'I chose the best exit' Entwhistle on our latest audio laboratory assault. Less terminal, with careful use, perhaps, than a fat fully loaded speedball, we hope man and beast find some musical justice or bemusement in the latest hoedown on offer. We have various takes at various tempos, so bar mitzvah's, weddings and indeed acid house events should be covered for those game enough to get on the Droid bucking bronco....

Enjoy the relaxing, meditative sound of Droid !

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's counter intuitive perhaps to react to the increasing noise of the world, not by adding to it, but by seeking quiet. Or something close to it.

Arrival's debut EP does just that - assembling immersive aural environments and delicately detailed backdrops - setting the scene for the perfectly pitched deeply melancholic meditations of Britain's least known and most valuable guitarist, Kevin McCormick.

Deaf Center travel through quiet pathways and grand boulevards in their fourth studio album “Through Time”.

Since their last full-length LP, “Low Distance” (2019), the duo has gradually shifted towards a more long-form electroacoustic sound which perhaps makes for their most immersive listening experience so far. Otto A Totland’s piano travels in less frequent rhythms than before, yet is felt even more as a relief in the quieter moments that contrast with Erik K Skodvin’s deep atmospheric worlds. There’s a searching quality within the record which feels like slow movements on the way towards something meaningful, capturing a sense of both peace and awe.

The latter part of the album takes a different turn: fluctuating electronic rhythms over deep strings create an ecstatic yet haunting duality. It is the first time a guest musician appears on a Deaf Center record: British composer and musician Simon Goff joins with violin and viola in the finale, “Further”, a hypnotising piece submerged in layers of strings and drones.

The subject of time is an ambitious one, yet Deaf Center manage to balance the humble with the grand in great warmth as seconds become minutes, hours become days and time seemingly freezes as a still-life moment.

Deaf Center travel through quiet pathways and grand boulevards in their fourth studio album “Through Time”.

Since their last full-length LP, “Low Distance” (2019), the duo has gradually shifted towards a more long-form electroacoustic sound which perhaps makes for their most immersive listening experience so far. Otto A Totland’s piano travels in less frequent rhythms than before, yet is felt even more as a relief in the quieter moments that contrast with Erik K Skodvin’s deep atmospheric worlds. There’s a searching quality within the record which feels like slow movements on the way towards something meaningful, capturing a sense of both peace and awe.

The latter part of the album takes a different turn: fluctuating electronic rhythms over deep strings create an ecstatic yet haunting duality. It is the first time a guest musician appears on a Deaf Center record: British composer and musician Simon Goff joins with violin and viola in the finale, “Further”, a hypnotising piece submerged in layers of strings and drones.

The subject of time is an ambitious one, yet Deaf Center manage to balance the humble with the grand in great warmth as seconds become minutes, hours become days and time seemingly freezes as a still-life moment.

25 years ago, at the turn of the millennium, downtown NYC was spoiled with record stores. In this pre-digital age, vinyl was king for club DJs, and shops such as Downtown 161, Dance Tracks, and Vinyl Mania peppered lower Manhattan, thriving businesses that supported an expanding scene of local and international DJs. Perhaps the largest and most established of these was Satellite Records, an institution of club sounds that also spawned multiple record labels, including the deep-house imprint Central Park Recordings.

At this time, Central Park Recordings and Satellite Records owner Scott Richmond signed a demo in need of a vocal from young British producer Alistair Colling, and enlisted John-Christian Urich to write it, who had just had a massive hit with “I Might Do Something Wrong” the debut Tortured Soul single on Central Park. He in turn brought in Sabina Sciubba of then newly-formed band Brazilian Girls to record the vocal, and with Jon Cutler on remix duties the record was complete. Tortured Soul went on to release numerous deep house classics like “Fall In Love,” “How’s Your Life” and have continued to tour as a groundbreaking live-house act to this day (of which RNT co-founder JKriv was bassist and collaborator for 10 years).

For the 25th anniversary of this turning point release, Razor-N-Tape has rebooted and remastered the original and classic Jon Cutler mixes, which have never been reissued in any format since the original release. RNT also commissioned two new exemplary remixes from DJ Spinna and musclecars, connecting the dots between the deep-house lineage of the past and present. Presented in a gorgeous jacket that calls back to the graphical style of the original Central Park Recordings aesthetic, this 12” is an absolute essential for any lover of soulful club sounds or purveyor of NYC dance music history.

2026 Repress

WOW. Released on Valentine's Day 2025, we're deeply honoured to present the first time reissue of the first *ever* heart-shaped red vinyl 45. Extremely limited!

The smooth titan of blue-eyed soul, Bobby Caldwell transcended genre tags with consummate ease; he was a musical icon of real class and versatility, cherished the world over.

Here we present two timeless masterpieces of sophisticated jazzy soul brilliance that are strictly canonical.

The originals of these red heart-shaped vinyl records go for stupid money - if you can find one in good condition. Here's your chance to snag a real collectors item for fans of Bobby and, well, LOVE, the world over.

The eternal "What You Won't Do for Love" became a national anthem. It remains that way - perhaps even more so in the past year or two. It perfectly captured Bobby's ability to infuse a contagious groove with introspective and relatable lyrics. With its instantly recognisable horn riff and Caldwell's soulful delivery, this timeless, chiller anthem continues to captivate audiences and define his musical legacy.

A perennial favourite, it has been heavily sampled, such is its unique allure; Aaliyah sang over snatches of it on "Age Ain’t Nothing But A Number" and you can hear Caldwell’s vocal sample used for the hook on Tupac’s posthumously released “Do For Love”.

Bobby's dynamite "Open Your Eyes" was immortalised by the eternal J Dilla in the hip-hop canon with his production of Common’s epochal “The Light,” which heavily samples the magical “Open Your Eyes.” On a post paying tribute to Bobby in March 2023,

CINTH’s new installment, Kinzua‘s 5-track EP Never Fret, Never Fail, presents a focused examination of UK-inflected memory, immersing the listener in dissolving traces of IDM, Breakbeat, Jungle and Trance. While the archival recollection of 90s Britain provides an almost hauntological emotional frame of reference, each track maintains its autonomy, allowing Kinzua’s particular approach to sonic and rhythmic detail to emerge clearly.
The meditative thread that marked their earlier releases runs through the EP once again, counterbalanced by a nearly industrial rhythmic energy, that keeps it suitable for the more attentive and considered dancefloors. Never Fret, Never Fail will be released on February 13th and includes a collaboration with Peryl. The release will be celebrated with an in-store session at Sound Metaphors on the same day.

Vohkinne is the alter-ego of Craig McWhinney, close associate and one of Southern Light’s foundation artists. The Way Of All Things is his first album in six years and provides a dystopian sonic journey into contemporary and modern techno that few artists can match.

Internal Collapse is an opening statement of intent; drone-infused and heavily cloaked dark ambient techno. Falling Knife is a chilling half step creation, providing a sense of murky sonics raining down from above. Unearthly Lights shifts gears as it traverses a more linear and magnetic path, while Disintegration diverts again with darker, squelching breaks.

C h r o m e s t h e s i a slows down the tempo but the morose and opaque feel of the album remains ever present, before War Paint is unleashed with a sense of urgency and high-octane intensity. Between Lives continues that intensity by unleashing its dark hypnotic breaks, before closing with the title track, perhaps for the first time on the album revealing a ray of hope amongst the dystopian energy that prevails on the album.

The Way Of All Things is more than a collection of tracks; it’s a look inside one artist’s view of the world, distilled into a singular and expansive archetype body of work.

UnOwn deepen the intrigue of their debut record with a second clutch of shadowy edits, again courtesy of the elusive Fava Luva and Dr. Professor. First up is the airy, mystical 'Sent Ra' which drifts on a Balearic current with an aquatic pulse and low-slung groove. It's for late-night moments on intimate floors and is hella steamy. Flip it and 'Love Giver' is more extroverted but just as sensual with teasing spoken words opening up before a swaggering, gentle groove and deft keyboard flourishes awaken and coalesce into a boogie-tinged delight. Anonymous in name, perhaps, but unmistakable in taste.

“Released on Joe Boyd’s Hannibal label here was a band rooted in Thompson/Swarbrick Fairport but also a snatch of the Velvet Underground and a sprig of The Byrds. The Eighteenth Day Of May evoked a legendary era, and now they are a justifiably legendary band too.” – KLOF Mag

Beginning life as a trio in London, 2003, the original line-up consisted of Allison Brice (vocals, flute), Richard Olson (acoustic guitar) and Ben Phillipson (guitar, mandolin) before expanding the following year to include the rhythm section of Mark Nicholas (bass) and Karl Sabino (drums, autoharp) and finally Alison Cotton (viola).
This being the mid zeros, the independent music scene in the UK was reluctant to embrace a sun-dazed folk band but this, their sole album, has gradually feathered a bed of affection amongst international folk fans. Twenty years on, the album is now rightfully seen as a trailblazer for the myriad alternative/psych folk bands that emerged in its wake.
Andy Childs who signed the band originally takes up the story. “I first heard their music on a cover mounted CD with the much missed Comes With A Smile magazine and as far as I could tell no-one was making music like this anymore, certainly not with such panache and confidence. To my jaded ears it all sounded so uninhibited - old weird folk songs, Americana, original psych-folk, minimalist drones. Great melodies and all six of them could sing! A joyous, unfettered sound that could in one moment conjure up flashes of The Byrds and then effortlessly the spirit of Velvet Underground would drift through. They even covered a Spacemen 3 song. I loved the fact that they had the aplomb to tackle traditional folk songs like Lady Margaret and Flowers In The Forest and not be afraid to stamp their own identity on them.
Signing them to the Hannibal label was straightforward. If anything the album somehow sounds fresh and undated, even better than it did in the day when perhaps eclecticism was out of synch with the times; its subtleties have become more apparent.”
“Their rendition of Lady Margaret builds to a headswirling crescendo that challenges anyone who claims Shirley Collins, Buffy Sainte-Marie or Trees have recorded the definitive version and the hallucinatory The Waterman’s Song To His Daughter raises an already brilliant album to an unholy level” - IT’S PSYCHEDELIC, BABY Magazine