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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

“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

One of electronic music’s most sought-after names, producer and DJ KETTAMA today announces the release of his long-awaited debut album, Archangel, out 3rd of October. The announcement arrives in tandem with new single “Sort It Out” featuring Clouds, and a landmark moment in his career: his biggest ever London headline show, taking over Brixton Academy on Saturday, October 4th, followed by an expansive tour across Europe, North America, and Australia.



A decade in the making, Archangel is the definitive statement from KETTAMA (Evan Cambell), the Galway-born, London-based artist. The 15-track project is a powerful blend of hard-house energy, trance-inflected euphoria, hip-hop sample-based attitude, and unmistakable emotional depth—sonic signatures that have placed KETTAMA at the cutting edge of contemporary dance music.



The album showcases a curated roster of collaborators who reflect KETTAMA’s reach and relevance across today’s underground and mainstream scenes, including Interplanetary Criminal, Fred again.., Clouds, Prospa, DJ HEARTSTRING, Shady Nasty, SØLV and seantommy. Their contributions amplify the project's scope, offering a multi-sided view into KETTAMA’s musical universe.



Among its early singles, the Interplanetary Criminal collaboration “Yosemite” is a high-velocity anthem marrying speed-garage grit with ecstatic rave melodies, while his track “Air Maxes” with Fred again.. And Shady Nasty blends introspective vocal sampling with wide-eyed club emotion. On “If U Want My Heart” with DJ HEARTSTRING featuring KLP, the ensemble channels high-energy trance, breakbeats, and vocal euphoria into a soaring anthem that fuses emotional intensity with peak-time club energy. Meanwhile, his collaboration with Clouds, released today, “Sort It Out” dives headfirst into industrial-techno territory, conjuring a dark, cathartic energy destined for warehouse euphoria. And reigning as one of the undeniable anthems of the summer so far, “It Get’s Better (Forever Mix)” delivers euphoric waves of uplifting synths and relentless rhythm, bringing an irresistible surge of energy that’s become synonymous with this summer’s club moments.



Archangel has already found a home on the world’s biggest stages and radio airwaves, with early support from key tastemakers including Jack Saunders, Danny Howard, Sarah Story, and Tim Sweeney. Simultaneously, a grassroots groundswell continues to bloom across social platforms—where viral snippets and show footage capture the visceral reaction of a fast-growing, global fanbase.



This year, KETTAMA has elevated his status to a full-blown festival phenomenon, performing at major stages including Coachella, Glastonbury, Creamfields, Portola, Seismic, and ARC Festival, to name a few. In June, he played to 20,000 people in Belfast for a b2b with Chris Stussy—one of the UK’s largest DJ events in recent memory—and is currently mid-way through a 16-week Ibiza residency at Amnesia, playing every Monday night throughout summer. Full list of upcoming live dates can be found below.



Perhaps the clearest signal of his surging popularity is the jaw-dropping response to his upcoming Boiler Room live set, with over 15,000 fans signing up to attend— the set’s release is now highly anticipated as a time capsule moment in a breakout year for the artist.



KETTAMA’s rise to prominence has been anything but conventional. Eschewing the traditional gatekeepers of the industry, KETTAMA cultivated an underground following through the likes of SoundCloud and TikTok, where raw uploads, bootlegs, and viral edits generated a tidal wave of grassroots momentum. Over the years, these platforms became launching pads for a fiercely loyal global community, drawn to his unfiltered energy and boundary-pushing sound. This subversive path to recognition has made him not just a fixture of the scene but a symbol of how new-generation artists can forge success on their own terms.



From his humble roots in the Irish underground to the world stage KETTAMA is now pushing the limits of what a next-gen DJ-producer can achieve. With Archangel, he fuses the sound of his native ‘G-Town’ with a futuristic vision that’s unapologetically global—marking a creative milestone that cements his place among electronic music’s most compelling voices.

After releasing two albums with the UK label Rocket Recordings, the Italian psych band Julie"s Haircut now release the new album on its own Label Superlove. With a title taking inspiration from the I Ching book of divination, and a six piece lineup introducing new singer and songwriter Anna Bassy joining the consolidated team formed by Nicola Caleffi, Luca Giovanardi, Andrea Rovacchi, Andrea Scarfone and Ulisse Tramalloni, Radiance Opposition collates an eight tracks cycle that generates a consistent yet multifaceted musical journey, combining psychedelia, electronica and polyrhythms - all blended together thanks to a syncretic vision juxtaposing apparently irreconcilable factors. None of this is more evident, perhaps, than in the opener "I Can See The Light", with its sudden yet flowing shift from a dark pulsating preamble to an invigorating, hypnotic coda; or in the transition from the stoner-drenched heavy chthonic blues of "Extinction Of The Sun" to the liquid nocturnal moods of closing piece "6AM Carpet Candlelight". But it is the whole record that finds a rare balance, with tracks melting deep atmospheres and summoning vocals, synth-driven shapes and dynamic cadences, noise textures and evoking chants - all of them making the album a cohesively transformative experience. Nestled in a visual frame by contemporary artist Zoë Croggon suggesting an aura of ritualistic tension and mystique, Radiance Opposition sets Julie"s Haircut in a renovated form, at once rooted in their history and rushed to a creative renascence.

“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.

An’archives presents 'sensitive', a new album, and the first solo vinyl release, by Japanese keyboardist and synth player, Mitsuhisa Sakaguchi. A deftly assembled suite of glistening electronic tonalities, 'sensitive' is the latest in a lengthy run of excellent, idiosyncratic albums by Sakaguchi. A low-key yet productive artist, Sakaguchi has released banks of solo titles via his own Bandcamp page, and is also an in-demand improvisor for electronics: see, for example, recent collaborations with Yoshiki Ichihara ('TO(R)RI INFRANTA', 'Ftarri', 2025), Tatsuhisa Yamamoto ('non equal mad', self-released, 2020), and the - trio with Yamamoto and Uchihashi Kazuhisa ('self-titled', Modern Obscure, 2023).

'sensitive' is a startling album for many reasons, not least its rich attention to detail. Sakaguchi’s ear is sensitized to the complexity of electronic sonority, something he’s developed through decades of performance and improvisation, though he’s not limited to that language. “I mainly use multiple synthesizers and process the sounds with effects,” he clarifies, detailing his approach to his music. “I also use a lot of acoustic sounds such as field recordings and percussion; sometimes I also use sounds such as prepared piano.”

Indeed, you can hear this see-sawing balance between the electronic and acoustic written across 'sensitive' – see the activated cymbals that twist and stutter through the first half of “metatoxic”, which are soon replaced by a similar stream of burbling synth-flow. The opening “sensitive rot” folds field recordings into Sakaguchi’s electronic kit to such a degree that the differing forms dissolve into each other; on “green shrine”, the field recordings are more present, yet still poetically framed, taken as they are “from the mountains of my hometown, Yawata City, Kyoto,” Sakaguchi explains.

The tender balance achieved by Sakaguchi as he moves between practices, tonalities and temporalities helps manifest the guiding conceptual force behind 'sensitive', where Sakaguchi explores a cleansing reverie. “What I wanted to portray with this album was to create an album of sounds that shattered and reassembled my current ‘sense’ and ‘toxins’,” he nods, “along with the ‘nature’ around me. Electronic sounds, our bodies, the environment around us, and nature all blend.”

From there, Sakaguchi attempts a transformation, or transmutation – an alchemical process of exchange. “I am attempting to explore whether it might be possible for the sounds to come closer to each other,” he concludes, “or perhaps even to interchange places.” On the five pieces that comprise 'sensitive', you can hear this fusing and exchange. Inhabiting similar spaces as the music of Nuno Canavarro, Asmus Tietchens, Omit, and other like-minded visionaries, 'sensitive' traverses curious, quixotic terrain between electronic composition, electro-acoustics, and improvisation.

Tucked in the heart of Koreatown, Los Angeles, lies The Libra Hotel—the titular architecture of Nick Malkin's new album and site of his musical and psychogeographic exploration. Unlike most musical "site-specific" studies, Malkin remains wholly ambivalent to the documentarian approach, instead sharpening an auteur-like focus on the site as a conceptual and highly expressive backdrop. The Libra is musically explored as a space that houses a noir fragmentation of identity—the exhausted trope of a complicated protagonist walking through rain-soaked street corners and fumy neon lights—where an inner monologue is rendered in both miniature and at a cosmic scale. Casting aside stifling tropes around field recording, ambient, and improvised music, Malkin's work finds its own unique fidelity and emotional core through the assembly and reassembly of memory. Nearly every sound on the album—from frayed saxophones, lambent pianos, and dissected jazz drum kits—are multiplied, shattered, and reconstituted into shapes that adorn The Libra in a motion-blurred fog. The narrative of the Hotel suddenly appears as if out of the mist, with intersecting characters interacting within its walls by happenstance. Adminst the languid set pieces, wraith-like sonic grains gravitate around wide subbass beams that give structural form to The Libra, a narrative tension like when a scene is shot from hundreds of different perspectives: an image both luminous and veiled.

Much like Frank Sinatra's own spatial residency immortalized on "Live at The Sands," "At The Libra Hotel" showcases an exuberant view of entertainment, hospitality, and a form of masculinity, one that can quickly detourn into darkness. Knowing this, Malkin extracts a melancholic core out of The Libra locale. The flickering shadows of American decadence are shown in their ephemeral honesty, lines that trace how even in everyday life virtue is tested, sanity is tested, even reality is tested within the confines of desire, within the night. The album is draped in fleeting textures, carefully arranged with a trance-like microtonality, the faint inflections and articulations of a jazz band cascading into dissipated stillness. Voicemails about changed locations and covert eavesdropping on guests' whispered conversations provide an atmosphere of missed connection and voyeurism—a purloined letter of desire receding into a vanishing point. Like the music itself, The Hotel, a chapel perilous at the intersection of desolation row, the center of it all, yet simultaneously at the edge of town, becomes a structure between libidinous virtuality and actuality—our inevitable half-light.

Ultimately, the pensive atmosphere of "At The Libra Hotel," powerfully asserts a plea for the kinds of intimacy only possible in transient spaces. Here, memory cascades into a force that feels like something supernatural, perhaps even religious, yet always subject to the infidelity of our imagination. Here, the album opens into its primary psychodrama, the transient nature of subjectivity itself and how this becomes fractured in the tumult between our commitments and desires. Within this nocturnal space, to quote Louise Bourgeois, "you pile up associations the way you pile up bricks. Memory itself is a form of architecture."

OOH-sounds family members more eaze, pardo & glass join forces on a celestial album linking ambient neo-folk, fractured electronics and romantic escapism.

Referencing to Wim Wenders' 1984 road-movie drama masterpiece, 'paris paris, texas texas' is a strikingly cinematic tapestry of americana, resampled guitars, glistening electronics, subtle field recordings and processed vocals.

The beginnings of this project date back to the summer of 2022 when pardo and glass started recording some improvisations in a small studio with the aim of making an experimental guitar record. Over time, the drafts developed into mesmerizing slabs of guitar textures, simultaneously immense and intimate. No material was better suited for more eaze to add to the recordings her transversal and sensitive approach, linking the past and the present.

Ranging from gentle ambient folk to winding pedal steel passages, from twinkling electronics to distorted drones, 'paris paris, texas texas' is an album that's not just "atmospheric", it conjures its own unique atmosphere from thin air. Like a snake shedding its skin, the record slowly mutates from track to track - an epiphany, a transformation, a tangible and perceptible moment. Despite its distant trans-Atlantic origins, it evokes a warmth and intimacy that is hard to deny, an emotion that has perhaps been held back for too long. A landmark release in OOH's catalogue, capturing the magic of its curation and sensibility in one sublime record.

Mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi, artwork by incepBOY, words by Adam Badi Donoval

nobile, one half of the former Milanese duo Voronoi, presents a new series of recordings of ephemeral ambient soundscapes, organic throbs and broken rhythmic textures that sublimate the more instinctual and playful side of his poetics.


The project is haunted by cavernous sounds and an obsession with the 'netherworld' of the videogame Minecraft, and by Le Matin des Magiciens - the classic and revolutionary book that popularised occultism, alchemy and paranormal phenomena in the 1960s. "...FANTASTICO INTERIORE is" - as the artist puts it - "a fantastic journey inside the body, perhaps also a journey into the unconscious to understand my gastritis?"

The seven tracks traverse underworlds, infused with fantastic realism, where odd sounds materialise like poltergeists of digital folklore. Creepy voices emerge from the hell-like nether, intertwined with clusters of gelatinous percussive sounds that trudge to the surface. Earthy streams of crackling white noise carry volatile sonic particles that bounce off walls with short delays and reverberations, giving an almost visible form to the space.




But it is not always serious. As soon as you come across the curiously long titles of the tracks (which are rough translations of the Minecraft manual into Italian) a subtle irony emerges. The imagery appears to be harmless and eventually, as in a video game, you can switch to safe-mode and refill your health-bar along the way... 
No panic attacks in the soft-occultism of FANTASTICO INTERIORE ;)

Australian composer-performers Judith Hamann and James Rushford have worked together in countless projects for two decades, perhaps most notably in Golden Fur, their trio with Sam Dunscombe. Black Truffle is pleased to announce Midmeste, their first work as a duo. Its title is Middle English for ‘the middlemost point’, alluding to how the piece builds on the points of overlap between the highly personalised musical languages Hamann and Rushford have developed in recent years. Performed on cello and a variety of pipe organs, Midmeste is a spacious, sometimes unsettling exploration of their shared interest in alternative tunings, psychoacoustic phenomena, the physical properties of their instruments, and the usually peripheral sounds generated by the performing body.

Beginning with a sequence of austerely vibrato-less harmonics from Hamann's cello, trailed by Rushford's whistling portative organ tones, the music soon expands into a slow-moving melodic wander, pausing at times to linger over an uncomfortable harmony or particularly resonant cello tone. Hamann and Rushford have long histories of engagement with pre-Classical European musical traditions, having in past projects performed and radically extended the work of Solage, Louis Couperin, Johann Conrad Beissell and other composers. Here they use a 15th century song by John Dunstaple, ‘O rosa bella’, which returns throughout the piece, distorted, aerated and splayed into new forms.

Developed while the two shared residencies at Akademie Schloss Solitude, Stuttgart in 2020 and La Becque on Lake Geneva in 2023, Midmeste integrates recordings made (at at the invitation of the Biennale Son) on the organ of the Basilica St Valere in Sion, Switzerland—the world’s oldest playable organ, built in the early 15th century. Played by both Rushford and Hamann, the instrument’s idiosyncratic features, including bellows pumped manually using massive wooden beams, are integrated into the music through amplification. Creaks and thumps locate the music physically both in the performers’ bodies and the specific site of its making. Moving through a series of distinct episodes across its forty-minute span, Midmeste makes space for near-silent duets of high harmonics and hissing air, moments where twittering high tones and rumbling sub-bass could be electronic, and static fields that unexpectedly blossom into almost Romantic harmonies.

Listeners familiar with Hamann and Rushford’s work will find many familiar features here: the stunningly rich cello tones, their patient sustain allowing heightened awareness of the inner life of sound and its interactions with the environment; the care with which acoustic space is activated, becoming at times a third instrumental voice; the attention to fragile, unstable sonorities that sometimes have a comic edge. A major work from two key figures in contemporary experimental music, Midmeste synthesises rigorous exploration of fundamental questions of sound and performance with an unapologetic embrace of beauty.

We are pleased to announce the first FEX live album, Don't Look Back. The release features selected recordings from two concerts in Paderborn and Uelzen, both captured in 1985. All tracks on the album are previously unissued, including entirely unheard songs such as It's a Hard Life, Just Get Back, Legend, and Waiting Song, alongside a previously unreleased version of Subways of Your Mind, widely known as "The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet."
One of the most striking aspects of the album is the remarkable sound quality of the live recordings, as well as the strength of the performances themselves - particularly given that FEX were still considered a newcomer band at the time. The four-piece lineup consisted of singer, guitarist, and primary songwriter Ture Rückwardt, Michael Hädrich on keyboards and occasional second guitar, Norbert Ziermann on bass, and Hans-Reimer Sievers on drums. In 1985, the band was preparing for broader exposure through a nationwide tour organized by the small promotion company HBM-Musikbüro.
The album opens with the psychedelic Skyscraper, a track Rückwardt reportedly regarded as a personal favorite to perform. Hädrich contributes dynamic synthesizer layers, while Ziermann underpins the track with a distinctive slap bass groove. This is followed by the energetic rock number It's a Hard Life, which once again demonstrates that the band possessed multiple songs capable of matching the impact of their best known track Subways of Your Mind.
After this energetic opening, the album shifts into a more restrained mood with the synth-pop ballad I Got My Eyes On You. It is followed by Strange Feeling, presented here in a particularly compelling live version that arguably surpasses the previously released studio demo featured on the Skyscraper LP, with Rückwardt delivering one of his most expressive vocal performances. On Goldrush, another fan favorite, it is Hädrich's DX7 synthesizer work that stands out.
Don't Look Back continues to flow seamlessly, moving between styles such as new wave, synth pop, and a blues-influenced form of classic rock. On It's Good To Know, a song addressing the theme of stardom, the band returns to a heavier rock sound. In contrast, the synth-driven Just Get Back reflects on the conflict in Northern Ireland, then ongoing at the time. Lines such as "It's the money, it's the money why they come along" are directed at mercenary soldiers, while "even Sunday's a killing time" directly references Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2.
Previously known songs such as Dirty Slapstick and Heart in Danger lead into We Don't Want It No More, perhaps the band's most striking pop ballad. It is easy to imagine that the track had the potential to achieve radio success in the 1980s. The following piece, the epic Legend, explores themes of loneliness and love simultaneously. With poetic and abstract lines such as "some isolate in the falling rain" and "that's why I count all the reasons they call out for living, sadness is falling inside," it builds an almost eerie atmosphere.
One of the final highlights of the album is Subways of Your Mind, recorded in Uelzen. In this version, Rückwardt's vocal performance is even more on point than on the previously issued recording from Paderborn. Another notable moment is the driving, 1970s-inspired rock 'n' roll track Waiting Song. Both the composition and its live performance carry an energy that could easily stand alongside the repertoire of bands such as AC/DC. It was usually the track that FEX ended their concerts with, calling out each band member at the end of the song.
This leads to a broader reflection: it is striking that FEX did not achieve a wider breakthrough at the time. The performances captured here suggest a band capable of delivering consistently, song by song, note by note. It is not difficult to imagine FEX performing in large venues and engaging sizeable audiences. In reality, however, most performances in 1985 took place in front of relatively small crowds. The recordings featured on this album originate from the Roxy club in Paderborn and a small, unknown venue in Uelzen, likely in front of fewer than fifty attendees.
An essential figure behind these recordings is the engineer known only under his nickname Hase (German for "rabbit"), who was responsible for capturing not only these concerts but many other surviving FEX recordings. Bringing his own mixing desk to performances, he developed a deep familiarity with the band's material and was able to shape the live sound with precision, including the timely use of vocal effects. The original recordings existed only on cassette and required careful and extensive restoration work. Zoey Cairs was finally responsible for bringing them to their present quality.
This album marks the beginning of the Live Waves series, following the rediscovery of additional recordings that have gained international attention since November 2024, when they surfaced through what has been described as the largest "lost wave" music search to date. The title of this first live LP Don't Look Back carries a certain paradox. While the album invites listeners to revisit recordings from forty years ago, FEX themselves were always oriented toward the future. In that spirit, further releases of brand new material are already planned.
The cover artwork is once again based on an image by Magnussen from the Kiel archive, depicting the Prinz-Heinrich-Brücke. The bridge, once located in the northern part of the city, no longer exists. As a symbol, however, it remains fitting: a bridge stands for movement and connection - qualities that FEX sought to embody on tour, bringing their music to different places and audiences.

"Imagine a classic singer/songwriter record loaded with the intimacy and grit reminiscent of Alex Chilton or Nikki Sudden." Shindig

Los Angeles singer-songwriter Tracy Bryant returns with his new album The Well, which is his first release since 2019’s critically acclaimed Hush. His fourth solo album, The Well marks a striking new chapter, trading his signature guitar-driven sound for piano-led songwriting that took root during the pandemic. The album was born out of one of the most turbulent periods of his life, written in the wake of his father’s sudden passing and birth of his first child. It was produced by longtime friend and compatriot Joo-Joo Ashworth at Studio 22 in Cypress Park, CA, and mastered by Dave Cooley at Elysian Masters. The nine songs are filled with raw emotion and driving motorik rhythm, telling tales of loss and love, relationships beginning and ending.
 
When the pandemic upended Bryant’s promotion for Hush and brought his 2019 European tour to a halt, he found himself at home rediscovering his musical roots at the piano, listening to Vince Guaraldi and Arthur Russell to take inspiration for the song structures. Without a band around, Bryant used the instrument to create both rhythm and melody, which resulted in a repetitive and precise backbeat, which was elevated when he began working with drummer Carmeron Gartung to rehearse the new songs. This different approach would define the style of The Well, creating an amalgamation of sounds with classic songwriting structures blended with post-punk, 90s indie, krautrock and psychedelia.
 
To produce the record, Bryant turned to Joo-Joo Ashworth, who share a friendship stretching back to 2011 (when Joo Joo was only 18) when both of their bands, Corners and Froth, were at the forefront of the bourgeoning Los Angeles/Echo Park music scene of the time and embarked on their first national tours together. Ashworth, who has since become one of underground music’s most respected producers, recorded the album throughout 2024/2025 on half inch tape at Studio 22 in Cypress Park, California, giving The Well a warm, considered sound that matches the weight of its subject matter.
 
The album’s emotional core was forged by two significant life events arriving in close succession. In January 2022, Bryant’s father passed away unexpectedly at the age of 67. Just three months later, Tracy and his wife welcomed their first child. The Well is a direct result of those experiences, a songwriter processing grief and joy, endings and beginnings in real time. 
 
The nine songs take the listener on a meticulously crafted journey through the nooks and crannies of Bryant’s mind. Spanning 37 minutes, the album is an exploration of classic songwriting elements moving fluidly between driving beat punk, like “Weight” and “Widow”, and more melancholic tracks like “Halfway” and “Danny”. Album opener “Cold Floor” sets the tone immediately, Bryant’s lyrics confronting the day of his father’s death with unflinching directness – the breezy California piano sound is in direct contrast to the heavy theme. The Bowie-esque title track is perhaps the album’s most expansive moment – a fully realised epic composed with a dynamic flare. 
 
 The Well feels like an arrival. Dramatic and expansive, it is a true, visceral reflection of the life changing events that altered the course of Bryant’s life. Fans will be surprised by the heavy focus on piano but they will welcome the change as a bold turning point for an artist who has lived long enough to know exactly what he wants to say. 

Some previous press:

"feels like a slice of California, down to its ringing post-surf guitars and bright melodies, but cross-cut with a folk sensibility more aligned to the work of Elliot Smith or, on occasions, Conor Oberst." Uncut - lead album review

"…sees the Los Angeles rocker confront both the finer and uglier aspects of love and life, combining classic rock with psychedelic tinges and catchy melodies." Evening Standard 4*s

DYING VICTIMS PRODUCTIONS is proud to present the striking debut EP of Spain’s FABLE, Long Hath the Night Dwelt, on CD and 12” vinyl formats. FABLE started as a solo-project by Jose Soler (Phantom Spell, Chantrice) influenced by ‘70s and ‘80s hard rock and heavy metal – a list as varied and idiosyncratic as Thin Lizzy, Whitesnake, Pagan Altar, Ashbury, and Hällas – along with hints of old US metal. Duly girded, the band bring forth their public debut, Long Hath the Night Dwelt. An actually-narrated prelude sets the stage for a cautionary tale about class struggle and revolution, FABLE indeed using fables and stories as a medium to tell an expansive story of the woodsfolk dominated under the iron claw of “The Owl.” Despite that, the band’s debut EP is exceptionally compact at five tracks in 22 minutes, moving with a simmering patience that’s heavy on mood and dynamic in its restraint. Never overdriven nor busy, warm and intimate but with a psychic distance that seems impossibly ancient, FABLE very much evoke the perhaps-centuries-old folklore that seems so central to their rustic rock; the wise-sage vocals almost seem an afterthought when the narrative flow of the music starts winding and wending like smoke from a tavern fireplace, so illustrative is its hushed power. However, each element here is equally important, and all work together to form a totality that’s unfussy but hewn with class and care. And this is just the start of this FABLE: discover for yourself how Long Hath the Night Dwelt!

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.

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.

Chins For Lefty is the debut album and first recording by Gichard, a new duo chronicling the absurdities of end-stage capitalism and mouldering social rituals from their vantage point in Glasgow, Scotland. Recorded primarily in the band’s home studio straight to tape, Chins For Lefty combines gorgeous, ramshackle melody, DIY kosmische punk, drum machine + synth and, in vocalist/lyricist Lisa Jones, an absurdist commentator on the human condition as it navigates the anxieties of the modern world. Instrumentalist Chas Lalli’s swirling music accompaniment stitches an evocative mix of musical styles, the ragged wind beneath the lyrics’ wings.

Although the duo first collaborated in their previous group Dragged Up, their disparate musical and artistic backgrounds make for an alluring mix in Gichard. Lalli has spent the last 20 years in the Glasgow underground, most notably in the noise rock group VOM, while Lisa Jones’s practice was in poetry and spoken word. Beginning as co vocalist in her previous band, in Gichard her lyrics are centre stage; the vision concocted alongside Lalli amounts to a total world-build.

Chins For Lefty scans almost like a novel, with each track elucidating a skewed universe that bears only some resemblance to the one you and I partake in. Like all works of fiction Gichard’s songs are rooted in reality and the lived experiences of its authors, but here characters are exaggerated, social mores and habits are pulled apart to reveal their inherent alienness. Universal emotions are laid bare, the bright light of anxious examination searching out every hairline fracture in our relationships. Distorted and cracked, the mirror that Gichard hold up to our world is also pretty damn funny.

Opener Cholesterol Test launches an expansive, cosmic guitar and synth intro that belies the Tascam-tape recorder it was recorded onto, like a Chromatics cut substituting anxiety for overt sexuality. Here Jones intones an apology to a non-responsive recipient, in the medium of a long voice note forensically deconstructing an interaction from the night before. Over punk guitars and shuffling, lo-fi drum machine splutters, the narrator in Asking The Apes “prefers things to people” before being taken hostage in the city zoo to confess an obsession which consumes the protagonist, ending with the immortal two liner “I sleep in a cocoon of old newspapers at the end of your street / And I think I have been fired from my job,” On album standout Posthumous Hologram, the narrator is faced with a human simulacra, in this case an undead pop star; the face of the encroaching technological singularity. Yes, it does requests, it can do My Way in 200 different language options. But what are the implications? While you’re left pondering, the alternating deadpan verse delivery and undeniably catchy chorus keep you company.

By the time Break Up With Johnny Dogbirth rattles into view, the band are satirising a suburban inanity blown up to cartoon proportions, soundtracked with a drawled musicality that recalls Rowland S. Howard’s post-Birthday Party balladeering. This approach is furthered on Human Resources: over an angular guitar+bass track, Jones’s short story recalls Dry Cleaning’s erudite lyrical post punk. On Soft Face, Lalli’s guitar and drum machine are swathed in echo and delay, as Jones dissects dating rituals with a west of Scotland drollness. Hamming It Up brings a porcine perspective in a short story that begins with the line “I was breastfeeding discreetly in the service station. She didn’t mind.” What follows is a passage punctured with canned laughter and a narrative involving tribute acts, modern farming techniques.

Brilliant first single Your Private Hell closes the album, the closest the group get to earnest perhaps, filtered through a surreal central Scottishness. While Your Private Hell might seem like a sardonic take down of romance, perhaps it’s the very distillation of love in all its awkwardness, selflessness and weirdness. Here there’s a distinctive Glasgow-ness to this doomed romance: the protagonist falls for an outsider, offers them cheap jarred hot dogs and carbolic soap (the infamous, excoriating soap dished out in schools and government buildings throughout Scotland), offers to cover up a murder, stalks them in the all-night Spar. It’s a short story of intrigue, murder and the irresistible pull of self-sacrifice to share in someone else’s suffering. If that’s not love, what is it? You can see this vision mapped out in black and white on their video for 'Your Private Hell'.

Philip Glass, the great American composer, was already in his mid-30s before his first album appeared, and then only because he produced the double LP himself. Music With Changing Parts was the inaugural release on his own Chatham Square imprint in 1971.

At this point, Einstein on the Beach, Glass' first opera, was still five years away. Yet in Changing Parts, one can already hear much of his vocabulary in full bloom: the buoyant arpeggios, the melding of electronic and acoustic instruments, the elongated drones of human voice, the primary emphasis on pulse (an interest he shared with fellow composer Steve Reich) and the ecstatic potential inherent in repetition.

The album features the original Philip Glass Ensemble – the composer himself, along with Jon Gibson, Dickie Landry, Art Murphy, Steve Chambers and Robert Prado – playing Farfisa organs and woodwinds as well as Barbara Benary on electric violin.

As Glass describes in his memoir Words Without Music, he secured a $500 interest-free loan for the recordings' initial release from the Hebrew Free Loan Society – an organization intended to help immigrants from the Old World upon arrival in the US. Though Glass was merely the grandson of immigrants, the venture wasn't far off the society's charter as Changing Parts helped usher in a new world of sound that would become known as Minimalism.

Chatham Square went on to release albums by other composers in Glass' circle, including Gibson and Landry. The label was named after the Manhattan intersection where Landry had a studio and the ensemble rehearsed.

Born in Baltimore in 1937, Glass first moved to New York to attend Juilliard at just nineteen, having already graduated from the University of Chicago. A staple of the Downtown scene, he can perhaps be appreciated as akin to the likes of sculptor Richard Serra or filmmaker Jim Jarmusch: mavericks who became major cultural figures entirely on their own terms.

This first-time vinyl reissue reproduces the original side-breaks and gatefold sleeve.

/// First track, Symmetry, debuted on BBC Radio 6 New Music Fix, 10th February: "A beautiful, beautiful album" /// I got my life back. On 17 February 2025, 1024 rays of ultra sound converged at an operation table in Bern, Switzerland, and disconnected a noisy circuit on my brain. 90% of the manifestation ceased – of a disease that I no longer wish to mention by its name. During the same period, I completed my new album: Self Help Manual. I’ve read more current research about the nameless disease than my neurologist, who despite that I didn’t follow his advice on suitable treatment, called me after the successful operation: a brave, brave man. I have composed the music in the same way as in my previous album – Songs for the Nervous System – through layers upon layers of improvisations in dialogue with my synthesizers, most of which are the same age as me. I made the majority of the songs in my studio in the remains of Old Hagalund in Solna. I edited the recordings in my bed during the waking hours of clarity at night. Some songs – NAC, Ketosis, Overkill – were recorded in the basement of my childhood home in Skutskär, in Norduppland, where I’d returned to be nurtured by my retired parents – who during a night when I couldn’t turn over in bed, or pull the blanket over me – made a list of what would happen to my belongings. To my friends who have stood out with me despite my disease, I want to state: you will not inherit me yet. On the new album, the electric bass takes on a leading role. ESG and Liquid Liquid have been important when I reinvented my baselines, limited and liberated by my poor fine motor skills. Plasma is my homage to Summertime Rolls by Jane’s Addiction, that I listened to frequently in my youth. I guess that no one will hear the resemblance. In several songs, the Fender Rhodes plays an important role, a magical instrument that I bought shortly after my diagnosis over a decade ago, and for a long time didn’t dare to touch out of respect for Herbie Hancock and Fela Kuti. A couple of songs draw inspiration from the Horn of Africa – Inner Nile and Delta. At first, subconsciously in the reverb-drenched Inner Nile, then more consciously in Delta. I’m sorry it doesn’t swing the right way, but it was my attempt to return to the cradle of humanity. Longevity is possibly my favourite. The melody is played by an arpeggiator that I controlled by pressing down different keys in an exhilarating sense of freedom. One song in particular, the second track – One – has caused friends to associate freely: one thought it sounded like Patrick Cowley, another like Sly & Robbie meets Kraftwerk, a third like Air – Moonlight Safari. I made one song just before the surgery: opening track Symmetry. It’s the mightiest and most minimal song. I made one song after the surgery: finishing track Self Help Manual. My previous medication pump is heard through the microphone of my Ovation Magnum. It’s the most hopeful song on the album. I took the cover photos with my Hasselblad during walks in Tokyo suburbs of Ōmori and Kamata more than ten years ago. It was something about the faith of the traffic cones that fascinated me – born in the same streamlined form, they had over the years become increasingly individual and lovable. The mixing was finalized by Christoffer Roth in the newly built Studio Dubious in Nacka. Rashad Becker, who in an interview said that he listens as much with his mouth as with his ears, mastered the album at Clunk in Berlin. Right now it feels like anything is possible. My recovery is perhaps a small step for mankind, but a giant leap for me. I hereby leave the music to you. Joakim Forsgren

Very limited numbers, orders will need to be confirmed.

For his new album, Irreparable Parables, Andrew Wasylyk felt a strong desire to write a set of songs featuring an element hitherto rare in his work: the human voice. Equally strong was the conviction that he did not want to sing them himself.

The Scottish multi-instrumentalist and composer set about assembling a group of guest singers, sending out the songs to wherever they were in the world. The vocals were recorded remotely and then, like migrating birds, winged their way back to Scotland. The result is an album of great beauty which, perhaps preeminently in Wasylyk’s work, expresses the vulnerability and resilience of the human spirit.

Six singers appear on the record, represented by six songbirds illustrated on the sleeve by Clay Pipe Music’s Frances Castle. The cuckoo is a nod to Belle and Sebastian’s 2004 single ‘I’m A Cuckoo’, that band’s Stuart Murdoch being the first voice you hear on the new album. When the vocal for ‘Private Symphony #2’ arrived, says Wasylyk, “it was everything that I was looking for and more. But this is Stuart Murdoch. Of course he’s going to make something incredibly beautiful and thoughtful.”

The song lyrics were, for the most part, written by the singers. The music is Wasylyk’s creation. He navigates a sound world that lies somewhere beyond the borders of classical and jazz, ambient and abstract. It is difficult to describe, but easy to understand, which is to say to feel. That is the way Wasylyk’s work is experienced: as a feeling. It takes you back to childhood, perhaps, to feelings of comfort and safety, or to memories of walks at sunrise and sunset, or to the way a shadow falls on a particular field in a particular place at a particular time in your life. This is consoling music. That is why, though pretty, it is not merely pretty. These are songs to shore up the soul.

Wasylyk writes in a room, in his native Dundee, full of “half broken” instruments. He picks these up, plays a little, seeking an idea, a feeling, a door that lies ajar. The musical palette of Irreparable Parables includes brass and woodwind, a six-piece string section, guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, tape loops, synthesisers and percussion. The strings were arranged by the cellist Pete Harvey, a long-term collaborator.

Among the other guest vocalists are Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, Saya Ueno from Japan’s Tenniscoats and Peter Brewis from Field Music. Wasylyk himself takes the lead vocal on the title track, though a throat infection and touch of pitch-shifting have altered his singing in a way that even he, having fallen out of love with his own voice, finds acceptable.

The heart of the record can, arguably, be found in two tracks, ‘Love Is A Life That Lasts Forever’ and ‘Spectators In The Absence of God’, sung respectively by Molly Linen and Kathryn Joseph. The former, bright with trumpets, was inspired by the writing of Derek Jarman. “I was feeling deeply upset about the world and wanted to try and write some- thing that was obviously hopeful,” Wasylyk says.

‘Spectators …’ offers an emotional counterpoint. It is an “apocalyptic hymn” that seems to grapple with watching human suffering from afar, too distant to be at physical risk, but experiencing the psychological wounding, and feelings of helplessness, even complicity, that come with constant awareness of other people’s pain. “Kathryn’s a pal, I love her dearly, and she’s a brilliant artist who really feels what she writes,” Wasylyk says. “The cracked tenderness of her voice is spellbinding.”

The album closes with an instrumental piece, ‘Soul Enters The Ocean Sun Climbs Out Of The Sea’, all piano and strings, that offers a sense of resolution and ascension. A good moment, too, for Wasylyk to reflect upon the artistic companionship that he enjoyed while making this record – the songbirds that answered his call: “These humans are incredible at what they do. I’m deeply grateful and feel so lucky. It blows my mind.”

If – in some parallel universe (or perhaps a not-so-distant-future version of the one we’re already sentenced to living in) – the evil overloads of artificial intelligence were actually successful in their attempts to create convincingly enjoyable “original music,” more specifically tasked with wholly encapsulating my own personal tastes by data-chugging some cocktail of – oh, I don’t know – the posters on my wall, the records in my “most listened to” pile, the mixtapes I made for others, intensive physical scans of my auditory cortex, amygdala, hippocampus, heart strings, whatever else they have splayed out on their autopsy table with the intention of generating one all-encompassing “perfect band” based on the fruitful sum of their findings – that band, for me, would be (or would at least sound exactly like) the Tara Clerkin Trio. It is, quite simply, without exception, the music I wish to hear.

Formed in Bristol UK (where none of them are from yet all of whom are deeply engrained) in 2020, the Tara Clerkin Trio – as it somewhat democratically exists today, despite the singular authority implied by its name – consists of the titular Tara Clerkin, her partner Sunny Joe Paradisos, and Sunny’s brother, Patrick Benjamin. I’ll confess, I don’t know what their respective roles are within the operation and there’s only a very small part of me that cares to learn, as one of my favorite qualities in an objective listening experience is the mystery of who is playing what, which sounds are “authentic” versus synthesized, which chunks are performed “live” in a room together versus meticulously Frankenstein’ed from measure to measure, or how exactly the overall sound is so (seemingly) effortlessly achieved. Though, I suspect, if and when I do witness a live performance by this band at any point, my enjoyment of the music will not be lost in my better understanding of it.

With two extraordinary mini-albums – In Spring (2021) and On The Turning Ground (2023) – making a splash on London’s formidable World of Echo label in wake of their self-titled 2020 debut, this upcoming Somewhere Good LP is, in many ways, the band’s most realised work. In running their usual gauntlet of idiosyncratic (*an overused adjective for which here there is regrettably no sufficient alternative) approaches, Clerkin & co. colour in and outside of compositional lines over the course of 40+ celebratory minutes - never wallowing, despite inherently somber subject matters of self-defeat, disease, displacement, restlessness, gentrification - allowing their arrangements and improvisations ample space and time to situate, stretch out, breathe, cross-pollinate, and ultimately take deeper hold on the listener’s imagination – all while somehow sounding more like themselves than ever before.

Of course, there are traceable influences herein, if one felt that such comparisons were necessary to properly examine and enjoy this music (they aren’t)… Being the big dumb American from the small boring town that I am, cornfed on ‘90s alternative radio with the enchantingly exotic sounds of Maxinquaye and Mezzanine emanating from my chunky tube television, I can’t help but to make a blatantly obvious reference to a “Bristol sound”, ie the whole trip-hop trip, the pastoral crooning over the suggestive urban grime of cracked electro/piano treatments, the digitally-yet-primitively reconstructed James Bond soundtrack string-beats, etc.. But the Tara Clerkin Trio is so infinitely much more than that. There are elements of avant-pop, modern classical, kraut-folk, audio verité, dare I say indie rock (and not of the beer guzzling, masturbatory fuzz-flex variety but perhaps more like a Trish Keenan-fronted Faust, Adrian Sherwood at the mixing desk of If You’re Feeling Sinister, or – in expanding on our alternate reality – a world in which High Llamas cut a full-length for Warp Records with Andrew Weatherall on coffee duty).

The hazy, unmappable skyline-mirage of droning harmonium, upright bass, peculiarly accentuated wind instruments, acoustic guitar, hushed yet literally mighty keys combine to hypnotizing effect. The band may make underlying nods to jazz, sure, but it’s not appropriation, it’s that they have the actual chops to build it out. Beneath the janky samples and oddball percussive embellishment lies actually great drumming. Beyond the manipulated vocal witchery and woefully reflective plain-spoke moments are Tara’s subtly inspired melodies, sung with what might honestly be the glue to the whole crazy equation. A calming consistency throughout the otherwise unpredictably dynamic, boldly intuitive, uniquely British exploration of this (their own) universe in song. – Ryan Davis (Chicago, February 2026)

Collaborating for more than two decades, Oren Ambarchi and Will Guthrie arrive at a place of expansive, intuitive interplay on "Cold Shoulder." Their musical dialogue, which previously moved through abstraction and volatile electro-acoustic experimentation, now unfolds with relaxed confidence, melding drifting Leslie tones, shimmering percussion, and fluid pulses that emerge and dissolve. It's a document of experience; music that feels freer, more direct, perhaps quietly fearless.

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.

In Soft Power, Funk Assault turns their surgical precision toward the invisible forces that shape modern life - control not through force, but through aesthetics, etiquette, and algorithms. Across five tightly woven tracks, the duo dissects how obedience is engineered through desire, conformity, and digital seduction.

From the sterile luxury of Aesthetics of Desire to the algorithmic exhibitionism of Like Me, Watch Me, and the chilling calm of Obedience Spa, this EP is a reflection on how control has evolved -smoother, quieter, but no less powerful. Soft Power invites listeners to dance, reflect, and perhaps notice the strings they didn't know were there.

This first-time reissue of Quinteplus’ 1971 album revives a key moment in Argentine jazz, featuring crisp trumpet and tenor sax, electric piano-driven funk and modal grooves, and a tight, spacious rhythm section. It showcases prominent figures like Jorge Anders and “Pocho” Lapouble.

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Quinteplus was born in Buenos Aires at the end of the 1960s, emerging directly from the ideas and experiments of the legendary Agrupación Nuevo Jazz. Founded in the early ’60s, this collective brought together some of the most forward thinking figures in Argentine jazz functioned as a creative lab where musicians questioned where jazz could go next. Among the key ideas discussed was the fusion of jazz with Argentine folk styles such as zamba, chacarera, malambo, cueca, and candombe, as well as a deeper look into African rhythms as a bridge between musical worlds.

Two members of that collective, keyboardist Santiago Giacobbe and bassist Jorge “Negro” González, carried those ideas forward when they formed Quinteplus in 1969. The group came together naturally: all the musicians already knew each other and had played in different projects around the Buenos Aires scene. They shared a strong admiration for Julian “Cannonball” Adderley’s quintet, along with a clear goal—to develop a modern jazz language grounded in local Argentine rhythms.

From the start, Quinteplus stood out for its openness and adventurous spirit. Rhythm was central, and so was experimentation. The band belonged to a generation of Argentine jazz musicians eager to explore electric instruments and new textures, anticipating what would soon be known as jazz-rock. This was happening in Buenos Aires at the very same time Miles Davis was opening new doors with “In a Silent Way” and “Bitches Brew”. Giacobbe introduced one of the first Fender electric pianos in Argentina, while González pioneered the amplification of the upright bass and even developed a hybrid electric, boxless version of the instrument. Trumpeter Gustavo Bergalli, meanwhile, maintained close ties with the emerging Argentine rock scene, collaborating with Luis Alberto Spinetta and appearing on Almendra’s first album.

In 1971, Quinteplus recorded its first and only studio album for EMI. The original lineup featured Jorge Anders on tenor saxophone, Bergalli on trumpet, Giacobbe on keyboards, González on upright and electric bass, and Norberto “Pocho” Lapouble on drums and percussion—who also illustrated the album’s iconic sleeve. The record is a refined showcase of the band’s musical vision: original compositions, fluent jazz language, folk-derived rhythms, funky electric textures, tight ensemble playing, and standout brass solos. Though critically praised, the album received little label support and sold modestly, eventually becoming a sought-after collector’s item.

Quinteplus disbanded in 1973, their music was perhaps too bold and unconventional for its time.

When I first heard YELKA play I thought to myself: “I’d like to play in that band.”

In the meantime I have realised that it would not be as easy as I imagined. The fluffy easy sound that gets created is so particular that it would not be so easy to execute those exact sounds of the band. This is mostly due to the unconventional harmonies of the guitar. Daniel himself said he is content with the guitar and added an extra one on almost all of the songs. Which I, as a fan of Daniels anarchic approach to playing, love.

Also Yelka’s groovy smooth bass playing is in the forefront of the album once again. Her sound bounces through the guitar riffs as if it's the most common thing on earth. Once Yelka adds her vocals to the songs, that’s when they almost become pop and reminiscent of Velvet Underground.

Christians drums hold these two together through the track list, with a fun Krautrock and jazz influenced style. Everything was recorded live and it sounds fantastic!

The 6th track of the YELKA album "Jeans" is a highlight with the piano support from Federico Corazzini, who adds lush open jazz chords to the incredible intricate harmonies of the band. Arne Bergner (Studio Popschutz) who is once more responsible for the production of the album, also added a beautiful choir arrangement. The finishing touches completing YELKA´S wonderful sound as always added by Norman Nitzsches Mastering (Mokik Studio).

From top to bottom an amazing album: "King of the World" (Steely Dan cover), a pop song with a fantastic keyboard solo from `the one and only Dan Ra´ alias Daniel Nentwig (The Whitest Boy Alive), "Moon for Now", an atmospheric jazz-ish tune, to "Walking Whispering", a strong 9-minute guitar heavy number... I think there are more than two guitars in this one.

American indie rock/pop/jazz whatever - school (after all, it's the third album in the band's America trilogy) and yet above all Berlin, in its most likeable and perhaps even coolest form.

Masha Qrella

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.

Cut The With The Cake Knife was recorded by Rose McDowall in 1988/89 following the break up of her group Strawberry Switchblade. Produced with the aid of several musicians in several studios, the album features songs written for the fabled second Strawberry Switchblade album. More importantly perhaps it showcases the honest, direct and life-affirming songs of one of the greatest unsung songwriters of the modern pop era at a tumultuous time in her career.

Tibet opens the set and could be one of the best pop songs you've never heard. The innate sadness of the songs' content - the loss of a friendship, impending sorrow - is heightened to heart-melting level by McDowall's pop nous and melodic sensibility. Choruses and hooks are everywhere on Cake Knife, from the outsider take on stadium 80s pop in Wings Of Heaven to the spiraling, ecstatic So Vicious, a glorious anthem that highlights the human fragility in McDowall's vocal performance, an instrument that has never lost the naïve purity it first exemplified in Strawberry Switchblade's early 80s recordings. The centerpiece of the album, the title-track, is the greatest Switchblade pop chart hit that never was. Like the veiled melancholy of her former group's hits, Cut With The Cake Knife hints at a darkness beneath the gloss, a darkness that saw McDowall delve into more esoteric territory with her subsequent recordings and collaborations. Cut With The Cake Knife serves as the bridge between the pop music McDowall had been making with her friends Jill Bryson, Lawrence from Felt and Primal Scream to what became a more extreme, deep sound informed by neo-folk and post industrial music.

Rose McDowall's role in the canon has always been one of an outsider. Beginning in Glasgow's East End in the avant proto-noise group The Poems, achieving fame briefly in the 80s and then disappearing into counter-cultural folklore, the emphasis in the internet-age has been skewed towards her image and cultural significance. Unseen to many, her solo work, her groups Sorrow and Spell and her collaborations with a whole host of underground luminaries have still touched lives. As McDowall elucidates: 'They're real sad songs, about real life. I've had people come up to me to say I'd connected with them and helped them. I remember a gig in America when we made a whole room cry. It was bizarre. A couple at the front of the stage started crying and then these two boys beside and suddenly everyone was crying. And I thought, "that's power."

Night School's issue of Cut With The Cake Knife includes unpublished photographs, extensive sleeve notes from Rose McDowall and 2 bonus tracks culled from the bootleg 7' 'Don't Fear The Reaper.' First vinyl pressing is Clear w/ Black swirl; 500 only / has DL card and booklet, with a poster
CD has extensive booklet and is packaged in anO-Card.

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.