Cerca:pot cycl

Isa Gordon and Tony Morris were first brought together through their individual releases on Optimo Music, which established mutual respect within the label’s community. While they had not previously performed live together, they were invited to take part in a fundraiser hosted by Queen’s Park Arena in support of Glasgow NW Foodbank and later for JD Twitch’s end-of-life care. Tony asked Isa to contribute guitar and backing vocals to his set, including a track then called Last Night I Had a Dream. That performance became the seed for their collaboration.

The first phase of fleshing it out, recalls Tony: “Somebody said Isa sang like Shania Twain. That got me thinking about country music and call and response, prompting me to come up with alternative lyrics.” Isa remembers: “I cycled over to Tony’s house with my guitar, and we spoke about what the tune meant. It was about him being wrapped up in dreamland, luxuriating in his subconscious, while my character — impatient and trapped in her own routines — barely had time to remember her own dreams.” Tony continues: “Brilliantly I realised that I could never collaborate with anyone in situ and so I sat in the garden for two hours watching my wife tend to plants. Every now and again I would creep up the stairs and put my ear to the door. I could hear Isa warbling away and so would resume my garden watch. After two hours I went back upstairs to see how she was getting on, only to find that she had written one of the greatest songs I’d ever heard. I still think that.” Tony adds: “My overwhelming sentiment about Wake Up Baby is pride. I can honestly say that I’m more proud of it than anything else I have done. It ticks a whole load of boxes. Isa’s singing in various Scottish modes is unique. The way her electric guitar adorns the dance beat makes it a rock song as well as a dance and a C&W song — truly multi-genre.”

The B-side of the 12” release, Syringe Moustache, is a surreal, darkly playful counterpart to Wake Up Baby. The track was inspired by a dream Tony had: “I was in a shopping mall, in a two-level shoe shop, and my attention was taken by a little girl with a syringe taped beneath her nose like a moustache. She went about her business trying on shoes, confident and wise beyond her years. In the dream, I imagined her as the daughter of cultured, intelligent parents determined to raise her independently. I was struck by my own feelings of inadequacy — I knew I could never have coped with such a contraption myself.” Isa’s take on the meaning of this song somewhat differs: “Tony sent me the tune over Instagram months before I met him, and I was spooked — as far as I knew, he didn’t know anything about me, but the story felt like it was written about me as a little girl, growing up around heroin addiction. The syringe beneath the girl’s nose became a symbol of the inescapable constraints of that environment, literally written on her face, yet something you just have to carry on through. On a buzz from the serendipity, I added a full instrumental backing to this most bizarre of works.”

The result is absurd, unsettling, and strangely empowering, staking out its own surreal, cinematic space. The 12” dance single is a format Tony had long wanted to explore — a tangible artefact to leave for family, a medium that celebrates the physicality of sound and the ritual of listening. It allowed the artists to maximise the format’s potential: a strong, multi-genre A-side, a surreal B-side, and remixes that expanded the record’s sonic world. Glasgow music staples Auntie Flo and 100% Positive Feedback were invited to reinterpret the tracks, bringing their distinctive touch — Auntie Flo transforming the A-side into a luscious, dancefloor-ready meditation, and 100% Positive Feedback twisting Syringe Moustache into absurd, playful shapes with false-start drops and over-the-top vocal editing.

The cover photograph, taken at the University Café by Harrison Reid, captures Isa and Tony embodying the characters they brought to life in the songs — a visual reflection of the record’s narrative and emotional stakes. The Café also holds personal significance: it’s where all of Isa’s meetings with Keith McIvor took place, where she first remembers visiting Glasgow as a child, and a place Tony fondly likes to go to drip egg yolk down his tie and watch the world go by. Together, the 12” format, the remixes, and the artwork create a cohesive, tactile experience, amplifying the duality, theatricality, and emotional breadth of the collaboration.

Seeking out the inspirational intersection between free improvisation, rave and ancient mysticism, Plants Heal deliver an album of kaleidoscopic, organic beatdowns to Quindi.
Plants Heal is a collaborative project between Dan Nicholls on synths, Dave De Rose on drums and Lou Zon (aka Louise Boer) on visuals. The roots of the project are entwined with Dan and Lou's London-based event Free Movements, which began in 2018 to explore how instrumental music could merge with live electronics and DJ sets. Dave and Dan found themselves playing together frequently at the event and as part of Dave's free improv project Agile Experiments, with their accomplished track records as multi-instrumentalists reaching across many layers of music culture. The particular synergy of their partnership taps into the subliminal, surreal and transcendental soundscapes, but they're reliably anchored by instinctive rhythms and driven by a natural flow-state.
From the tentative steps of their first collaborations, Dan and Dave coalesced Plants Heal as a more pronounced project with Lou's live visuals, culminating in a first self-released album in 2021 and since organically fed and watered through continued performances across adventurous festivals and intimate club spaces. Every incremental step along the path of the project yielded new surprises and the deepening sense of a unique, powerful energy. The trio opted to pour this energy into two days of studio sessions at Sonic Playground Studios in Athens, maintaining their unplanned approach and letting the music and visuals unfold in the moment. The end result is Forest Dwellers, a sincere document of truly free music that uses the rhythmic structure of dance and trance music as a springboard into heightened consciousness.
Throughout the album you can hear hints of the familiar - dub techno shimmers, trip hop boom-bap, kosmische momentum, snarling bass modulation, new age ambience and even the odd sizzle of disco. But none of these references are explicit, and they weave in and out of less placeable expressions deeply bedded into Dan and Dave's sonic practices. The end result is a swirling tapestry of unspooling groove, wide open and agile enough to shift gears mid-flow - just as comfortable letting the propulsion melt away as locking into a four-to-the-floor throwdown. From the slippery syncopation of 'Avena Moon' to the angular bait-and-switch of 'Alien Hardware', 'Yarrow's starry-eyed reverie and the rolling, warm-hearted funk of 'Space Ballad', the Plants Heal sound world is expansive and equally enthusiastic for immediate musical motifs as much as wild abstraction.
Lou's visual practice is an intrinsic part of the project. During performances she improvises with analogue footage from her library run through video mixers and synthesisers, focused on medicinal plants such as yarrow, hawthorn, nettle and thistle. All those plants feature in processed form on the cover of the record, which was designed in collaboration with Lou's brother Arthur Boer. Meanwhile, Lou recorded additional footage in Athens during the recording sessions to feed into the continued cycle of the project's live evolution.
Forest Dwellers' meaning honours this cycle and its reflection of the eternal undulations of the natural world. It's also a sincere tribute to the spiritual importance and radical potential of the dancefloor, drawn from the freedom taught by jazz and dedicated to reclaiming lost ideas about community, agency, bodies and the enduring allure of the unknown.

Portuguese techno force Lewis Fautzi debuts under his own name on Mutual Rytm with ‘Beneath The Surface’. Hailing from Barcelos, Portuguese maestro Lewis Fautzi has carved out a formidable reputation through a run of uncompromising releases and a sound rooted in tension, precision and raw power - exemplified by his recent outing on the agenda-setting Hayes Collective. He has previously established his fierce, potent sound on Soma, PoleGroup, Mord, and a number of other influential labels, while also heading up Faut Section. Having previously appeared on Mutual Rytm’s Federation Of Rytm III compilation under his Non Cyclic alias, he now steps out on SHDW’s label with a six-tracker busting full of impactful techno cuts. The heavily-requested ‘Beneath The Surface’ opens the EP with menacing low-end and tightly coiled pressure that's released through simmering valves and hissing synths. ‘The Hollow Cycle’ brings a loopy, tunnelling groove with a snaking lead and snaking metallic percussion, while ‘Inner Mechanism’ keeps things dark, deep and driving with a backlit glow that pulls you in. ‘Nonlinear Form’ is streamlined deep techno that fizzes with texture, spraying chords and a rumbling sub-bass, while closer ‘Anamorph’ rides meticulously designed broken beats with an ever-present sense of bass-driven foreboding. For digital purchasers, sparse and eerie bonus ‘Surface’ slams down with industrial weight and real warehouse grit, shaping up another weighty offering for the label.

180 G. BLACK VINYL WITH LINER NOTES IN CREOLE, FRENCH, ENGLISH

Originally released in 1979, "Spiritual Sound" lives up to its name, a soaring, triumphant album, six tracks of spirit magic from Guadeloupe.

Telluric, intense, terribly alive, the gwoka drums of Guadeloupe carry the identity of a painful and fervent island. Marked forever by the crime of slavery, Guadeloupe's créolité cherishes the ka drums and their natural environment: the low-pitched boula drum with male goatskin, the high-pitched soloist makè drum with female goatskin, the chacha, ti bwa, triangle, calabash and other percussion instruments that surround them, and the voices - the fiery, proud, timbred, urgent voices of the gwoka.



This album is also a legend for its voices: in his then dazzling youth, singer Lukuber Séjor was one of the first gwoka artists to largely feminize the chorus of répondè, who converse with his text delivered in a straight and powerful voice.

And everything here sets new standards. In 1979, Mizik Filamonik - Spiritual Sound proclaimed a spiritual patriotism of ferocious intensity. The album by Lukuber Séjor - whose spelling alone is a battle - sets out to give Guadeloupe the intangible weapons of self-respect and self-knowledge, through a singular practice of traditional music.

The genesis of gwoka music is less straightforward than one might imagine... The drums performed the servile task of accompanying the work of slaves in the fields and during the “corvées” imposed by the administration, before being freely practiced by the common people after the abolition of 1848. At the heart of the conviviality of the Guadeloupeans furthest from the cities - geographically and socially - the gwoka drums come out for carnival, funeral wakes and neighborhood celebrations, but also during strikes, fits of anger and armed vigils of the riots and revolts that have punctuated the island's history. For generations, governors of the colony and then the prefects of the overseas department of Guadeloupe have been viewing the gwoka as a potential for turbulence and a threat to public order.

But as the Beatlesmania, “chanson engagée” and rock revolutions unfolded in Europe, young people turned to the drums of mizik a vié nèg (“bad negro music”, in Creole), which Guadeloupeans had learned to despise by following the “assimilation” process advocated by the school system and most of the political class. At the end of the sixties, in a Guadeloupe mourning the deadly repression of the May 1967 social movement, they played traditional music, refusing to wrap it up in tourist prettiness and madras folk costumes. Instinctively, they played a rough and contemporary gwoka, led by the incendiary Guy Konkèt. This was the era of decisive 45 rpm records such as Robert Loyson's Kann a la richès, which brought to light the fieriest words of union rallies.

At his home in Sainte-Anne, Lukuber Séjor played with flautist Olivier Vamur and his brother Claude Vamur, who cobbled together a drum kit from tin crockery and became, a few years later, the most influential drummer in Kassav'.

These were the years of the Bumidom program, when young Guadeloupeans were encouraged to emigrate to mainland France. At the age of twenty, Lukuber Séjor embarked on the liner Irpinia, disembarking at Le Havre and taking the train to the Gare Saint-Lazare - the route taken by thousands of young West Indians who went on to study or looked for work, all the while trying to maintain a link with their homeland. In this case, it's at the Antony university residence, where Lukuber played the drum and participated in a thousand gwoka updates and aggiornamentos, while exile reinforced the need for a spiritual link with the native land.

In 1978, Guy Konkèt played at the Salle Wagram, a historic event for West Indian music. After serving as répondè - i.e. backing vocalist - on one of his home-recorded albums, Lukuber joined his live band. Little by little, he became one of the key artists on a circuit parallel to French show business. At a student party in Caen, he met a young woman from Martinique who, at the time, was more motivated by her ambitions as a visual artist than by her vocation as a musician. Her name was Jocelyne Béroard and, a few years before she plunged into the Kassav' adventure and became the greatest West Indian singer of her generation, she designed the cover of Lukuber Séjor's LP.

This ambition was obvious and imposed its will. A more or less regular band was formed, with Roger Raspail, Rudy Mompière and Éric Danquin on ka drums, Claude Vamur on ti bwa, Olivier Vamur and Françoise Lancréot on flutes and Annick Noël on keyboards. Lukuber Séjor is set on wanting to extend the gwoka palette to other instruments, as the jazz-rock revolution opens a thousand new doors. Annick Noël will play a wide range of timbres and textures on electric piano and synthesizer. Another novelty: the répondè are two men and two women, Roger Raspail, Olivier Vamur, Françoise Lancréot and Maryann Mathéus ...

Mizik Filamonik - Spiritual Sound is a self-production in which the singer and leader sank all his savings, allowing him no more than a single day in the studio. The first side is more of a musical manifesto, with the first two tracks, Éritage and Penn é plézi, being instrumentals. The third, Son, forcefully celebrates the need for Guadeloupeans to connect with the gwoka. In fact, Jocelyne Béroard's cover shows a tambouyé in the shadow of a cloudy sky, against which a radiant sun is rising and whose light will soon flood the entire landscape. The silhouette and face of this man strongly evoke the immense Vélo, master of the ka, rejected at the time on the fringes of society.

The second side of the LP is surprising. Formally, three tracks are explicitly linked like the three parts of a triptych. Primyé voyaj evokes the appalling tribulation of Africans deported as slaves to Guadeloupe; dézyèm voyaj speaks of the Bumidom program and the economic, political and social forces driving young Guadeloupeans towards the mirage of prosperity in France; twazyèm voyaj closes the cycle with the emigrants' return from Europe after years away from their island...

This gwoka, obsessed with the need to save Guadeloupe spiritually, appeals far beyond the politicized audience. Mizik Filamonik - Spiritual Sound instantly became a classic, although Lukuber Séjor never really made a career for himself as a musician.

After all, the album was released in 1980, with no promotional resources in France or Guadeloupe - and therefore no concerts. The thirty-two-year-old author, composer and performer made his own third trip back to Guadeloupe. He set up a small woodworking business, which he lost in Hurricane Hugo in 1989. His other activity, teaching in a medical-educational institute, became the core of his professional life. He continued to be an active campaigner - a campaigner for the Creole language, a campaigner for the reawakening of identity, a campaigner for special education, a campaigner for a thousand causes that he ignited with his generous and perceptive enthusiasm, such as the defense of breadfruit fries...

The echoes of his 1979 album have not died down. Of course, the use of Penn é plézi as the theme tune for Radio Guadeloupe's funeral notices from 1980 to 1992 kept him in the collective memory, but he continues to sing and compose sporadically, as with his all-female

vocal group Vwapoulouéka... Still convinced that music is a means of liberating the spirit, he continues the journey of a young man eager to deploy the power of Creole music and language.

Bertrand Dicale

With their debut album Channels on !K7 Records, Kassian (Joe Danvers-McCabe and Warren Cummings) have come full circle, focusing on the warmer, sample-based, and house-inspired sonics that brought them together. Kassian periodically revisited these initial pieces throughout the last five years until they felt able to journey deeper, using their rapidly developing craft and refined production techniques to build a debut album that momentarily steps away from some of their more club-focused excursions. “As we were writing, we realized that all the tracks had the unique potential to tell a story,” reflects Cummings, with Channels leading the listener through a series of different atmospheres and emotional terrains.

Essential to Channels is Kassian’s focus on time’s ability to reorient human perspective. Kassian worked on the album over an extended period, with instrumentation, field recordings, and percussion first constructed and then subsequently stripped away and refined.

Channels contains their early love of tube warm, sample based sounds and live instrumentation as the foundation for this album. The working process for these rippling pieces used both sequenced workflow and improvisational arrangement, live instrumentation inspired by an array of deeper emotional content. Both members of Kassian experienced great personal loss during the period of making this album, and a tenderness is felt throughout the record.

This record is an earthy thing, its naturalistic track names evoking recognisable and cyclically familiar moments, Kassian have provided a map for the listener at the forefronts of their minds. Channels features Ezra Collective’s Joe Armon-Jones on keys, and Timothy Kraemer on cello distilling this body of work into a deep stream between the organic and improvised, and the sequenced and planned.

The album’s title deftly gestures to the sheer vastness of astronomical dimensions, while simultaneously capturing the musical breadth within, where the eight planets are imagined as the eight notes of an octave. The work draws inspiration not only from earlier compositions —most notably Gustav Holst’s The Planets—but also from the rich astronomical and cultural contexts surrounding these celestial bodies. Here, the focus transcends direct citation of melodic motifs, instead embracing an intriguing conceptual approach on a meta level, unfolding in a series of vividly contrasting soundscapes. These contrasts shape a sweeping sonic journey, one that fully embraces the album format with both arms, inviting the listener to venture into realms both strange and wondrous, feeling the immensity of the interstellar space that lies between them. Contrast, after all, is the brushstroke that enriches our world.

Embarking on an auditory voyage, "Astral Guide" establishes the sonic framework that propels us into the boundless expanses of the cosmos. Its ethereal tones evoke the vastness of space, crafting a mood ripe for exploration within the realms of sci-fi. The subsequent tracks unfold like constellations, weaving a rich tapestry of sound that seamlessly marries cinematic soundscapes with pulsating, club-oriented rhythms. This album invites listeners to traverse its immersive landscapes, whether nestled in the comfort of home or dancing under the starlit sky, each note a guide through the transcendent experience of a nocturnal journey.

"Solar Flares" draws its inspiration from the awe-inspiring expanse of solar phenomena, capturing the majestic power of the sun as it reaches into the cosmos. This track resonates with the idea that energy, while vital, can also be a force of destruction when unleashed with overwhelming intensity. The composition beautifully mirrors the sun’s duality, where brilliance and devastation coexist, inviting listeners to reflect on the delicate balance between creation and annihilation. Through its rich textures and dynamic shifts, "Solar Flares" serves as both a homage to the celestial and a poignant reminder of nature's formidable power.

"Mercury – The Winged Messenger" embodies a meticulously crafted soundscape where artistry meets astronomy. The tempo of 173.6 BPM, derived from precise astronomical data, propels the composition into a vibrant realm that resonates with cosmic energy. Synthwave sound design intertwines seamlessly with the fluid rhythms of Drum’n’Bass, imbuing the piece with an uplifting dynamism that evokes the ethereal grace of Mercury itself. In this sonic exploration, listeners are invited to ascend on wings of sound, navigating the celestial tapestry of the universe with each invigorating beat.

"Venus, The Bringer of Peace" strikes a decidedly cozy note, presenting a poignant contrast to the more tempestuous themes often found in cosmic narratives. This composition evokes a nostalgic vision of an optimistic era, one in which humanity transcended borders and embraced the infinite possibilities of space exploration, where no destination felt too distant. The dense, languid atmosphere envelops the listener, creating a tangible sense of serenity that unfolds gradually, allowing for a meditative journey through sound. Each note serves as an invitation to linger in this tranquil embrace, reflecting on the harmonious potential of our collective aspirations and the beauty of connection in a vast universe.

The central theme of „Gaia, The Bringer of Life“ —originally not part of the planetary cycle— is the profound enabler of life on Earth. The arrangement delicately mirrors the slow, tentative unfolding of this potential, marked by an initially sparse orchestration that gradually builds in momentum. This progression crescendos, embodying the explosive dynamism of the Cambrian burst of life, ultimately culminating in a euphoric fanfare—a triumphant, celebratory flourish echoing life’s victorious emergence.

"Blue Moon" unfolds as a contemplative reverie on the tranquil clarity of a night sky, now seldom glimpsed in its natural purity, unclouded by the relentless haze of urban light. The listener is drawn into the vast embrace of the star-strewn firmament, a journey that sways between euphoric awe at nature’s sublime beauty and a profound melancholy for its fragile and imperiled state. Musically, this duality finds expression in the delicate interplay of modal mixtures, while an ever-shifting triplet groove, poised at the intersection of Outrun and melodic house, lends a pulse that is both nostalgic and forward-looking—echoing the beauty and transience of a world on the brink.

Rather than replicating the original composition of „Mars, The Bringer of War“, this interpretation seeks to evoke its profound, foreboding atmosphere. Cyberpunk emerges here as an ideal genre, channeling the dark, relentless march synonymous with Mars, the ancient god of war. The piece reverberates with intensity, as distorted vocalizations rise, embodying the anguish and visceral torment that shadow war’s violent crescendo. This auditory descent into conflict captures the relentless pulse of warfare, where sound itself becomes an embodiment of suffering and fury.

Majestically, "Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity" emerges on the celestial stage, sweeping away the somber tones with its radiant vigor. Drawing inspiration from the triumphant strains of the original, and borrowing a melodic motif in the refrain, the piece expresses joy and buoyancy through a shift to a major key and the lilting sway of a danceable 12/8 meter. Spirited and exuberant, it leaps boldly from major to minor and back again, playfully shifting time signatures to capture a mood of unbridled festivity and jollity.

Here, a more conciliatory concept is chosen than in the original inspiration. „Saturn“ aligns with the number six, being the sixth planet from the Sun and bearing the iconic hexagonal pattern at its northern pole. What, then, could be more fitting than to render this piece in a 6/8 time signature? The arrangement unfolds with a multifaceted richness, mirroring the countless stones and ice fragments that form the foundations of Saturn’s majestic rings.

„Uranus“ adopts the theme of a light-footed, dancing instrumentation, giving the impression of perpetual motion, never quite settling. This musical choice harmonizes with the planet’s own orbit, as it spins with breathtaking velocity, teetering and swaying, seemingly unable to attain rest or stability.

The chill and vastness of the cosmos find expression in „Neptune, The Mystic“. At its core, an electronic soundscape envelops a classical arrangement, its unreachability intensified by an ethereal, otherworldly choir. Hovering at the outermost boundaries of the solar system, where warmth is but a distant memory, the composition lingers in a slow, contemplative tempo, evoking a realm where space for speculation stretches wide and silence reigns supreme.

Though Pluto may have lost its planetary status, and its companion Charon never achieved one, this shift in classification subtly aligns with the cosmic scale invoked here—one that mirrors the musical tradition of an eight-note sequence. Fittingly, the album closes with „Kuiper Belt“, a composition emblematic of the turbulence and vitality of countless smaller

celestial bodies that, though diminutive, find their rightful place within the vast architecture of the solar system.

They say nature is the greatest composer, shaping the universe with a symphony of chaos and order, beauty and danger. It is this duality that fuels the artistic vision of Edictum—a producer who, armed with a doctorate in chemistry, delves as deeply into the mysteries of molecules as he does into the depths of sound. In the tension between the vastness of the cosmos and the microscopic processes that dictate life’s rhythm, Edictum creates sonic landscapes that dissolve the boundaries between science and art.

His music is a story of contrasts—a sonic tale where the raw forces of nature clash with the intricate structures of human culture. Opposites intertwine to form a harmonious whole: the primal rhythms of the earth meet the celestial melodies of the cosmos, the rigid laws of physics blend with the boundless freedom of art. Edictum explores these polarities with meticulous devotion, each composition an expedition into uncharted soundscapes—a quest to give voice to the unfathomable.

With over 20 years immersed in the realms of electronic music, Edictum has honed a keen sense for rhythm and movement. His driving beats compel both body and mind into a hypnotic flow. Yet beyond the pulse of dance lies a complex framework of conceptual thought. Today, his creative focus revolves around holistic album projects—self-contained worlds with overarching narratives that embrace contrast and complexity. Each track stands alone as a fragment of the whole, but together, they weave a cohesive tapestry, much like the chapters of a novel that guide the listener on an emotional and sonic journey.

Edictum’s distinctive musical signature has earned him international recognition. With over 150 releases, many on prestigious platforms like the iconic *NewRetroWave* label, and collaborations with artists such as Jan Johnston, Azumi Inoue, Powernerd, and Turbo Knight, he has solidified his place in the global electronic music scene. His latest work, *A Cosmic Scale*, marks his seventh vinyl album and is released under his own label, *Echoes of Expanse*. The label’s name is no coincidence—it captures the essence of his art: echoes of infinity, the vibrations of the universe distilled into a singular sonic experience that carries the listener ever further into the boundless expanse of sound and space.

NOTON is pleased to announce the release of Xerrox Vol. 5, the final installment of Alva Noto’s Xerrox series.

For anyone who has been following the series since its inception in 2007, the concept of Xerrox no longer requires introduction. Originally, it aimed to create copies of images—both visual and acoustic—that are more memorable than the originals. The exploration of the relationship between the original and the copy, along with the invention of the copier, not only inspired the series name but also informed its underlying concept. In 2024, this series comes to an end, marking the culmination of a journey that began with the first recording in 2005/2006. Over nearly two decades, the five albums in this series have accompanied the artist's evolving perspective and conceptual approach.

Initially characterized by rawness and a conceptual focus on seeking resolution in white noise, the later works engage with themes of dissolution while shifting their emphasis toward acoustic particles. The copying process is now less visible through software manipulation; rather, it unfolds as the artist describes melodic and acoustic images that are then manipulated, copied, and transformed into new patterns during composition.

Nicolai describes this evolution as a journey encompassing buildup, exploration, and resolution, drawing parallels to the Odyssey and the stories of Jules Verne, particularly those featuring Captain Nemo.

The conclusion of this album holds a sense of finality for the artist. “I aimed to create a whole cycle of tracks that frame both the beginning and the end,” Nicolai explains. “The motif of the journey continues, but this time, the story reaches a dissolution through a conceptual object that embarks on its own journey into infinity. The word “dissolution” (“Auflösung” in German) is a wonderful concept. On one hand, you can solve a riddle, on the other hand, a pill can completely dissolve in water. Here, I am deliberately describing the process of dissolution.”
In crafting Volume 5, Nicolai has evolved his compositional process, eschewing samples in favor of original melodies. “This album probably took the longest to complete,” he reveals. “I first created melodic sketches, which became the foundation for the pieces. These recordings are created entirely from scratch. Based on these sketches, I constructed the process of copying, manipulating, and reshaping.”

Drawing from his recent experiences working with film and larger ensembles, Nicolai's approach to composition reflects a growing influence of classical instrumentation. “This experience of working with acoustic classical instruments has flowed into the compositional process for Xerrox Vol. 5. Certain instruments are designed with potential orchestral translation in mind.”

The sonic atmosphere of Xerrox Vol. 5 is one of profound dissolution. “I wasn’t initially interested in strong, emotional melodic aspects,” Nicolai shares, “but I realized that the fragment plays a central role.” This shift leads to an emotionally charged experience, imbued with melancholy and the bittersweet essence of farewell. The passing of Ryuichi Sakamoto, an admirer of the series, has further deepened the album’s emotional resonance.

“Xerrox Vol. 5 has a lot to do with farewell,” the artist explains. "Not only the farewell to the series itself, which I’ve nurtured for almost two decades, but also there have been many farewells to people who were close to me. I believe these people are recognizable in the music. It’s a very emotional, personal album.”

Listeners can expect a visual dimension to the music, though Nicolai intentionally leaves this open to interpretation. “I prefer to allow the music to evoke personal experiences and images rather than dictate a specific narrative,” he states. The result is a layered listening experience that invites tenderness and introspection.

2024 Repress

After 7 years and countless requests, Sneaker Social Club finally deliver a repress of Dream Cycle - Part One.

After a chance meeting at Gottwood in 2016 a bond was established between Dream Cycle (Robin Clarke) and label owner Jamie Russell over a shared love of 2 Bad Mice and Moving Shadow. It wasn't long before Clarke began channeling elements of that influence to produce his Dream Cycle Part.1 EP. Unfolding over 4 steppy tracks and an ambient closer, Clarke melds sharp snares, summery motifs, dense atmospheres and thick subs whilst keeping things suffused with a distinctly UK quality that marries his work perfectly with the Sneaker catalogue.

DJ Support: Ryan Elliott, DJ Die, The Blessed Madonna, Octo Octa, Bwana, Altered Natives, Noodles (Groove Chronicles), Liem (Lehult), Deejay Astral, LA4A, 2 Bad Mice, Fred P, Matt Karmil, Flori, Marco Zenker, J.Rocc (lol at comment!), Ajukaja, Gnork, William Djoko, Till Von Sein, Fold, ASOK, Gene Farris, DJ bwin, Seven Davis Jr, TRP, DJ Octopus, DJ Normal 4, Gerd, Dean Man s Chest, Poté, Doc Scott, Violet, James Welsh (Kamera), Konx-om-Pax, Etch, Raresh, Hrdvsion, Michael Serafini (Gramaphone), Frazer Ray, DJ Guy, Mak & Pasteman, Shenoda, Urulu, Mark Archer & James Zabiela, Zinc, Lehult, Jackie House, Mosca, Noodles (Groove Chronicles) & DJ Die.

Pleasure Planet's kaleidoscopic debut album has been a long
time coming, but good things come to those who wait.
Developed over years of late-night studio improvisations,
'Pleasure Planet' is an affectionate and colorful patchwork of
the New York City-based trio's knotted in§uences that's
suspended between the rave and the chill-out room, weaving
glistening pads and chunky basslines into vocal earworms
and warm, saturated rhythmic cycles. Bandmates Andrew
Potter, Kim Ann Foxman and Brian Hersey enter into a
lysergic dialog with their discrete personal musical histories,
drawing inspiration from vintage EBM, ambient music and
heady early '90s West Coast rave sounds and launching
these classic elements into a transcendent new sonic
universe.

“Sainen Hildo” is an album based on Miguel’s original compositions, recomposed and rearranged for accordion and voice by the two composers. Using the natural resonance and harmonics of these two instruments to influence their introspective interactions, resulting in evolving drones and tones and puzzling percussive outbursts. Unusual and at times unsettling, they manage to create a calibrated, deep and complex exploratory universe of ambience and drone where listening becomes a ritual. Highest recommendation for fans of Pauline Oliveros, Eliane Radigue or Phill Niblock.

Garazi Navas (accordion + voice). Original compositions by Miguel A. García. Recomposed and rearranged by Garazi Navas & Miguel A. García. Recorded by Ibon Rg at Azkuna Zentroa (Contemporary Art Centre in Bilbao) in June 2022, as part of the associated artists program. Mixing and mastering by Juan Carlos Blancas. Compiled by Mikel Acosta.

Acrylic painting on heavyweight paper by Maite Mugerza Ronse. Limited edition of 300 black vinyl LP’s housed in a coloured matt laminated cover. Released by Hegoa Diskak.

Dopelganger is the project in collaboration between classically trained accordion player and singer Garazi Navas (Usansolo, Bizkaia-Biscay, 1995) and Miguel A. Garcia (Vitoria-Gasteiz), an artist living in Bilbao with an extensive career in the fields of experimental music and sound art.

Garazi Navas / Classically trained at Musikene School of Music in San Sebastian with a masters in traditional music, Garazi, is a restless accordionist who, despite her young age, has taken part in a multitude of projects in theater, poetry, ballet, art installations and even playing with the Bilbao Symphony Orchestra. Her works are a personal interpretation of the close relationship which she feels exists between cutting-edge and traditional music.

Miguel A. García / Has performed extensively in Europe, America and Asia, both as a solo artist, improvising and in multiple ensembles. He has collaborated with dozens of artists (Al Karpenter, Jean Luc Guionnet, Sébastien Branche...) in studio and live, and appeared in more than a hundred albums. At the same time, he is organizer and curator of events, being founder of Club Le Larraskito, director of Zarata Fest, and part of the coordination of the cycle Hotsetan at Azkuna Zentroa itself

From playing chaotic house parties in their home city of Oxford to becoming major festival headliners across Europe, Foals' trajectory has been remarkable. They've earned critical acclaim (NME and Q Award wins, plus Mercury Prize, Ivor Novello and BRIT Award nominations) and fan devotion (1.7 million sales of their four Gold-certified albums) in equal measure. And while the majority of contemporaries have fallen by the wayside, Foals continue to hit new peaks.

After more than a decade in the game, Foals again embrace that love for the unconventional with the bravest and most ambitious project of their career: not one, but two astonishing new albums: 'Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost'. A pair of releases, separate but related, they share a title, themes and artwork. 'Part 1' will be released on March 8th, with 'Part 2' following later in the year.

'They're two halves of the same locket,' frontman Yannis Philippakis explains. 'They can be listened to and appreciated individually, but fundamentally, they are companion pieces.

Fundamentally tethered but possessing their own personalities, the two bodies capture the most compelling, ambitious and cohesive creations they've ever produced. Eager to break the traditional pop song structure which they felt they were becoming increasingly tapered to, the 20 tracks defy expectation. There are exploratory, progressive-tinged tracks alongside atmospheric segues which make the music an experience rather than a mere collection of songs. Yet the band's renowned ability to wield relentless grooves with striking power and skyscraper hooks also reaches new heights.

The album's lead single 'Exits' is a case in point, featuring Philippakis conjuring the image of a disorienting world via a contagious vocal melody. It's a fresh anthem for Foals' formidable arsenal, but also an ominous forecast.

'There's a definite idea about the world being no longer habitable in the way that it was,' says Yannis. 'A kind of perilousness lack of predictability and a feeling of being overwhelmed by the magnitudes of the problems we face. What's the response And what's the purpose of any response that one individual can have'

'Exits' signposts what to expect thematically from both instalments of 'Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost'. The title is a warning that anything - from the tiniest fleeting moment of inspiration through to the planet's own biological diversity - can be under threat of being irrevocably erased.

It's a theme that permeates throughout the album's material, as Foal mirror the public neuroses that have been provoked by our current cultural climate. Paranoia of state surveillance Fear of environmental collapse Anxiety over Trump's next potentially cataclysmic move It's all there in these apocalyptic songs.

'Lyrically, there are resonances with what's going on in the world at the moment,' summarises Yannis. 'I just feel like, what's the utility of being a musician these days, if you can't engage with at least some of this stuff These songs are white flags, or they're SOSs, or they're cries for help... each in a different way.'

The new albums' journeys began as the 'What Went Down' era ended. Founding bassist Walter Gervers departed on amicable terms after playing the Festival Paredes de Coura in Portugal in August 2017. Foals felt that he couldn't be replaced - a decision that ushered in a period of recalibration, reorganisation and, ultimately, rejuvenation.

After taking a little time out, Foals - completed by Jimmy Smith (guitar), Jack Bevan (drums) and Edwin Congreave (keys) reconvened - with Yannis on production duties, who, together with Edwin, also covered the bass parts. They began by writing in a rehearsal space before exporting those sketches into the recording phase at 123 Studios, Peckham, with the assistance of engineer Brett Shaw. They'd repeat the cycle between the two spaces, effectively creating an ongoing feedback loop as they sought to push every new idea to the finish line.

1 x 12" black vinyl 180gsm
- label 4/c
- discobag on reverse board with matt varnish
- gatefold on reverse board with matt varnish
- shrinkwrap

Portuguese techno force Lewis Fautzi debuts under his own name on Mutual Rytm with ‘Beneath The Surface’. Hailing from Barcelos, Portuguese maestro Lewis Fautzi has carved out a formidable reputation through a run of uncompromising releases and a sound rooted in tension, precision and raw power - exemplified by his recent outing on the agenda-setting Hayes Collective. He has previously established his fierce, potent sound on Soma, PoleGroup, Mord, and a number of other influential labels, while also heading up Faut Section. Having previously appeared on Mutual Rytm’s Federation Of Rytm III compilation under his Non Cyclic alias, he now steps out on SHDW’s label with a six-tracker busting full of impactful techno cuts. The heavily-requested ‘Beneath The Surface’ opens the EP with menacing low-end and tightly coiled pressure that's released through simmering valves and hissing synths. ‘The Hollow Cycle’ brings a loopy, tunnelling groove with a snaking lead and snaking metallic percussion, while ‘Inner Mechanism’ keeps things dark, deep and driving with a backlit glow that pulls you in. ‘Nonlinear Form’ is streamlined deep techno that fizzes with texture, spraying chords and a rumbling sub-bass, while closer ‘Anamorph’ rides meticulously designed broken beats with an ever-present sense of bass-driven foreboding. For digital purchasers, sparse and eerie bonus ‘Surface’ slams down with industrial weight and real warehouse grit, shaping up another weighty offering for the label.

Anton Toorell’s second solo album, Solos II, deepens and intensifies the six-string language introduced on his 2022 debut, Solos. Rather than widening his scope, the Swedish guitarist, composer and producer sharpens his focus, homing in on the physical and sonic relationship between player, instrument and tuning. The result is three extended pieces of cascading tonality that feel disciplined yet light, their conceptual frameworks always secondary to the luminous sounds Toorell draws from two guitars.
Throughout Solos II, Toorell explores both the guitar’s potential for silvery, sometimes clashing textures and his own physical engagement with the instrument. Across ‘Volta’, ‘Cripta’ and ‘Scala’, he plays two guitars simultaneously: one fretted with the left hand using hammer-ons and pull-offs, while the right hand activates mostly open strings on a guitar resting in his lap. Despite the inherent complexity of this approach, the music never feels busy or demonstrative. Technique remains a quiet servant to Toorell’s compositional instincts and improvisational sensitivity.

The album leaves space for unplanned resonances and happy accidents, yet its structures are clear, resilient and finely balanced. The seventeen-minute ‘Volta’ unfolds as a shimmering continuum, its repeated figures gently reshaped through minute inflections, creating a sensation of constant motion. ‘Cripta’ spirals inward, cycling hypnotically in a way that recalls both Terry Riley’s iterative minimalism and the hallucinatory guitar loops of early Seefeel.
With the closing ‘Scala’, the recording environment comes fully into view. Captured in a 16th-century wine cellar at Palazzo Stabile in Piemonte, Italy, the room functions as a guiding presence and an implicit third instrument. Toorell tuned the guitars in response to the cellar’s reverberant character, seeking configurations that would open up the space itself.

Born from the dialogue between two distinct yet complementary visions of techno — Orbe’s futuristic and immersive atmospheres, and Psyk’s hypnotic depth, stripped-back minimalism — the record unfolds as a carefully sculpted sonic journey. Tension, space, and texture take center stage, shaping an evolving narrative that progresses seamlessly from track to track.

More than a collection of individual cuts, the album embodies a cohesive and mature concept: a shared identity refined through countless hours of studio experimentation, critical listening, and synthesis. Here, the core essence of the project crystallizes — a point of convergence between atmosphere and impact, abstraction and functionality, introspection and raw dancefloor energy.

This release not only marks the culmination of an intensive creative cycle, but also signals the beginning of a new phase in their ongoing exploration of techno’s expressive potential.

Portland, Oregon dark rock trio HOAXED return with their stunning new album Death Knocks. Three years in the making, the group—featuring vocalist/guitarist Kat Keo, drummer Kim Coffel, and new bassist/vocalist April Dimmick—have honed their stygian craft to perfection. "We've added another element to the writing and collaboration process," says the band. "April comes from a classic heavy metal background, and her influence is in these songs. We've also had experiences on tour that have helped shape these songs. You can hear influence from the bands we toured with and learned from. We played together for three years as we wrote this album, and we learned a lot about our styles, and our sound evolved naturally together on stage. So, when we sat down to write this album, it didn't feel like a departure or a change." Anchored by the witchy spell of opener "Where the Seas Fall Silent," the rock-hardened groove of "Kill Switch," and the dimly lit power pop of "The Family," HOAXED upped the tempo, sawed the edges (Dimmick's raspy menace intimidates), and strengthened their ties to the golden gods of heavy metal. Indeed, cyclical riffs, dynamic rhythms, and bottom-heavy bass propel Death Knocks through its filmic, hard-nosed gloom, but Keo's sorcerous vocal hooks seal the deal. Often smartly paired with Dimmick's angels' n' demons, her performance effuses fragility and potency across the album's alluring expanse. HOAXED recorded Death Knocks at Falcon Recording Studios with producer/engineer Gabe Johnston (Unto Others, Vintersea) and enlisted Arthur Rizk (Power Trip, Kreator, and more,) for mixing and mastering. In total, the group spent eight days in February and March tracking Death Knocks. While most bands spend months ironing their metallic mettle, Hoaxed's expeditious time at Falcon engendered a polished, big-sounding force befitting their larger-than-life songs. Short: Portland, Oregon dark rock trio HOAXED return with their stunning new album Death Knocks. Three years in the making, the group—featuring vocalist/guitarist Kat Keo, drummer Kim Coffel, and new bassist/vocalist April Dimmick—have honed their stygian craft to perfection. FFO: Ghost, Tribulation, Bloody Hammers, Khemmis, Unto Others, GGGOLDDD, Katatonia. Pallbearer

SPFDJ steps up for her long-awaited debut EP, Heel Thyself, out Friday 7th November on Intrepid Skin.

A core figure in grassroots techno circuits, and an internationally lauded DJ, SPFDJ's ascent reflects a passion for music governed by love and grit in equal measure. At once providing a gleefully chaotic two-fingers to dance music's self-serious establishment, whilst also flexing an ever-expanding knowledge of its roots and potentials, her musical armoury is renowned the world over for inspiring debauchery and sweat-soaked hedonism.

As an artist whose journey has been defined by challenging the norms of electronic music, SPFDJ's rebel spirit is recognised locally and globally, but guiding this attitude is a vulnerability to the realities of the music industry, and the rise of conservatism that permeates every aspect of life. And whilst sensitive to the use of buzzwords like community, it's ultimately a respect for the people who keep these scenes alive that motivates her artistry.

In releasing this EP, she taps into a more vulnerable side. The title - a nod to internal healing processes, and a play on words to motivate queers and women to 'boot up for battle' against increasingly oppressive structures - shines a light on some of the values she holds up to electronic music culture. At once playfully chaotic and deeply energising, Heel Thyself spins us through a cyclone of kicks, punches, and noise.

Opener 'Cluster B Intro' is a tempo-twisting barrage of gabber led by a robotic vocal command, setting the scene for pretty much anything to happen. 'That Stiletto Track' kicks in like a tweaked out distortion of 90s trance before spiralling upwards into a storm of heavy breaks. 'F*ckboi' is hot n heavy electro - classic in its structure, but with the added industrial touch of hammerdrill synths and razor sharp percussion. Swinging into a bouncier state, 'The Hot in Psychotic' flings ricocheting rhythms through frantic claps, with a donk to keep things moving. Rounding things off, 'Mindless Counting' flies higher with pummeling drums lifted by a touch of euphoria.

A debut laced with both defiance and self-reckoning, Heel Thyself finds the rebel looking inwards - vulnerable, but sharpened and ready.

Marja Ahti is a Swedish artist living in Turku, Finland. She works with found sounds, objects and electronics, creating auditory assemblages that reveal a profound sensitivity to sound’s tactile potential. This new record sees her palette expand to include more recognisable acoustic instrumentation, albeit working in collaboration with musicians who are already reconfiguring how those instruments can sound.

Touch This Fragrant Surface of Earth has its roots in a tape piece presented at Lampo in Chicago. Ahti then started working with Isak Hedtjärn (clarinet), Ryan Packard (percussion) and My Hellgren (cello) at the electronic music studios (EMS) in Stockholm. Incorporating recordings from those sessions, Ahti presented a new iteration of the work at the Seventh Edition Festival for Other Music in February 2024 with the trio performing live on stage whilst Ahti helmed the mixing desk, spatialising a specially made tape part through the INA GRM’s Acousmonium speaker orchestra. The piece has since gone through several further iterations before arriving at the version we have here on the LP's B-side where immense bass pressure and high frequency tones buffer restless amplified breath and scrape that folds over itself with extraordinary dynamics and subterranean activity before giving way to gorgeous resonant forms and passages of ritual purpose and sheer, unmistakeable beauty.

The A-side is Touch This Fragrant Surface of Earth’s gentle double. Still Life with Poppies, Mirror and Two Clouds offers a companion reconfiguration of Ahti’s resynthesised percussion sustain and the same recordings of Hedtjärn and Hellgren from EMS, but here they’re nestled in a sonic landscape of calm and restraint that gives them a wholly other character. Ahti also draws on older recordings she’d made of Sholto Dobie’s diy pipe organs and uses these to create repeating patterns and flourishes of sliding pitches that emerge unexpected out of cycling passages of Ahti’s clear struck metal, destabilising electronic interventions and minimal piano figures.

Marja Ahti: “I’ve been fascinated with the kind of elemental quality the sounds I'm using have such as airy sounds or earthy, wooden sounds. These qualities can also be found in wind instruments and percussion and the musicians I worked with on Touch This Fragrant Surface of Earth are really good at enhancing these qualities in their playing. I wanted to have this connection between found sounds, field recordings, or pre-recorded sounds, objects, and material, and see where these sounds might meet each other, and hopefully blend is a natural way without a divide between instrumental music, or acoustic music, or electronic music. But also, when you bring in people they come with their personalities and their ideas which is also energizing and brings surprising things into the collaboration that I couldn't come up with myself. I was really interested in making this a proper collaboration and not just coming up with the piece and giving it to them. We had the sessions at EMS where we could share ideas and Isak, Ryan and My could bring in their own ideas. Making recordings there gave me time to process these ideas and to also approach them in the same way that I would work with any other sound.”

The latest EP from Drab Majesty marks the start of a stirring new chapter in the band's majestic legacy. Written during a 2021 retreat to the remote coastal Oregon town of Yachats, Deb Demure leaned into the neo-psychedelic resonance of a uniquely bowl-shaped 12-string Ovation acoustic/electric guitar. After early morning hikes in the rain, Deb would record ambient guitar experiments the rest of the day, tapping into "flow states," letting the sound lead the way. These sessions were then refined or recreated, and later elevated further with key collaborations by Rachel Goswell (Slowdive), Justin Meldal-Johnson (Beck, M83, Air), and Ben Greenberg (Uniform, Circular Ruin Studio). An Object In Motion is true to its title, capturing the chrysalis moment of an artist evolving, reborn and untethered, silhouetted against an open horizon."Cape Perpetua" kicks off the collection's divergent palette: sparkling acoustic finger-picking refracted through delay, equal parts raga and reverie. Melodies and moods congeal and dissipate, at the threshold of rustic American primitivism, brooding neo-folk, and pastoral melancholia. "The Skin And The Glove" deploys jangle to different effect - baggy, soaring, grey-skied kaleidoscopic pop in the spirit of Stone Roses, Primal Scream, and The Glove. Rachel Goswell lends her iconic freefall voice to The Cure-esque ballad, "Vanity," infusing poetic gravity to the doomed refrain: "If the valve breaks / then the earth quakes / and history finds a way / to put you in your place.""Yield To Force", the closing track of the EP, may be the most anomalous offering of the set. A 15-minute instrumental odyssey of cyclical strings, ominous slide guitar, and simmering synthesizer, the piece sways and spirals like a long zoom into distant storm clouds. Demure finesses the guitar with a restless but regal grandeur, unfolding a panorama of peaks, shadows, and plateaus. It's music both intuitive and prophetic, tracing the slow swing of pendulums across an endless plain. Taken as a whole, An Object In Motion presents a showcase of potential futures from Drab's evolving domain, their sound poised to bloom at the precipice of transformation.

Many of the greatest artists of all time found inspiration in their dreams... and pdqb is known to be an absolute pro when it comes to creatively exploiting the REM cycles.

Recently, for example, he dreamed of Gunnar, who had witnessed the rise and fall of electronic dance music, which had once held simple-minded creatures in its thrall. The beats had a peculiar effect on them, drawing them into euphoric trances. But Gunnar, allergic to its hypnotic frequencies, stood apart, unaffected. However, eventually, in a hidden enclave in the highlands of Reykjavík, he met Dr. Amara El-Amin, a neuroscientist fascinated by his unique immunity. Together, they discovered that Gunnar's resistance was a gift, offering insights into human consciousness and the power of music. With this knowledge, Gunnar inspired a global movement celebrating frequencies that resonate...differently. Though EDM had become a relic, Gunnar Oliasson remained a legend - a bad taste survivor who embraced a symphony of pure electrical potential, a language of circuits and oscillations beyond sound.

He woke with a jolt, the phantom music still echoing in his mind. He scribbled furiously, equations and diagrams mixing with strange, abstract notations. The dream, he knew, was a glimpse into a world where his inventions would dance, not just function.

For Synaptic Cliffs, it is an extraordinary honor to be able to offer you, dear listeners, the soundtrack of pdqb's world-changing dream: Four beautiful genre-defining Electrocognition tracks, embracing the depths of the human wetware. And three jaw-dropping sonic remodels from a human-like being called The Exaltics.

“My introduction to “noise” came from a record shop in Lake Worth, Florida ran by a musician named Kenny 5. Kenny had left Detroit sometime in the mid nineties and had begun selling used records and CD’s from the downtown strip of this tiny southern Florida city in a humble shop sandwiched between a deli and a dog grooming business. Kenny previously was on labels like Amphetamine Reptile and timeSTEREO, and the records and videotapes that would be on repeat at his shop were a vast sonic expanse that spoke to the eclecticism of his experience as a touring musician participating and adjacent to American noise culture through the early to late 90’s. In 1998, I was eleven years old and I would order a pizza with him and watch VHS tapes of Japanese noise and deathmatch bootlegs, as well as any other sonic and subcultural rarities that far outstripped my age to comprehend (notably the RRR “Journey Into Pain” compilation and various Vanilla Tapes videos). This widecast net of information formed an introduction to a reality that did not fall deaf on me, but it took many years later for me to reorient the specific freedoms of what this dense and cathartic sound culture had imparted on my life and would continue onward to.

What does this have to do with this selection of choice recordings from the Secret Boyfriend catalog for the enmossed label? For the uninitiated, Secret Boyfriend is the long running moniker of Ryan Martin, North Carolina musician and label proprietor of the Hot Releases imprint. For over a decade from this writing I have watched Secret Boyfriend, and Hot Releases by extension as a curatorial and archival effort, embodying the multiplanal capacity that noise loosely functions from as an umbrella ideology and formalist avenue for sound creation. For anecdotal purposes, from (before) 2006 until roughly 2023 the East Coast of the United States showcased a vibrant network of eclectic regional festivals that saw wide swaths of artists addressing and negotiating the notion of what qualified “noise” from a conceptual and ideological perspective. Some festivals honed in on particularities in aesthetics and tropes, and others had a kind of “catch-all” implementation that allowed for a salvation of the sort of alienated and singular artistry that was amassing throughout these territories. While clear guidelines had been set from regional predecessors as to how noise with a capital “N” should maneuver, Secret Boyfriend is emblematic in the spirit of fluidity that was either implicitly coupled to the notion of the genre, or grew to evolve towards or devolve from.

Within Secret Boyfriend performances, I have seen and admired a mirroring from a ravenous appreciator of this culture at large back towards itself. Typical of a Secret Boyfriend set is an interchangeable narrative arc wherein blistering feedback laden scrap metal improvisations are forayed into naive ambient or “pop” songs, or skipping CDs, or mixer feedback play, or delayed Roland 707 drum workouts all at once and in a unique hegemony. Secret Boyfriend's stylistic mastery of each endeavor is at once an homage to a history of loving listening and enacting, while a brave step into the realm of actualizing the unique fluidity of his own practice. In performance and the action of network engagement, Secret Boyfriend operates a survey of that which he sought to hear and that which he cultivates around his work. His operations are mirrors, and the project (alongside his other peers) is a reflection on the ethos of his time.

Conversely his recording practice narrows in on these moments and allows for a different kind of intimacy or alienation for the non live listener. This record of selected “pop songs” (let's call them that) is particularly poignant at a time when the culture Martin mirrors is at a strange crossroads with itself. The aforementioned festival networks necessarily change and shift. The onlookers become the artists, the artists find new horizons, and the spaces for these cycles fade into locales of a distant memory. It seems, from my perspective, that audiences currently yearn for a more bottlenecked experience, searching for some ontologically vetted manifestation of an idea, of a sound and less for an experience that functions in opposition to our collective banalities. This makes sense in the face of general global catastrophism that plagues us. We need certainty of what something is somewhere, don’t we? Noise as an idea has expanded and contracted to so many iterations of itself it is hard to tell what it even is, and it is particularly difficult to identify in the absence of solid network activations a moment to reflect on its own complexities and nuances. In the face of so much change, I argue that the language of noise culture at large has on one hand become increasingly didactic and predictable, and laughably inclusive and non linear on the other. Probably has always been this way, but now we are in the midst of a moment of extreme access and indexicality, which somehow cauterizes expansion and naivety and chance.

This record highlights the Secret Boyfriend that obscures didacticism by highlighting output that opens up for more challenging catharsis and emotive signal processing. It provides an entry to the materialism of a cultural field full of ecstatic complexity and beautiful inconsistency. In these muted moments Secret Boyfriend has given us over his career we have an argument for evolving languages that further challenge our notions of what is supposed to happen and how it is supposed to be presented. In his more song oriented expansiveness, we can punctuate the ability to think in new modalities. Listening to these recordings reminds me of the polarity of sitting in the record store as a kid and understanding that His Name Is Alive is on 4AD and (gasp!) timeSTEREO. This trite early impression that nothing is really as different as our imaginations might want them to be, and that we can do whatever we want mostly within the creative realms we work through is an important filter to look through Secret Boyfriend as a project and a vessel. If we can achieve abandon and vulnerability through our artistic endeavors, then we have a sound model for, maybe, new potentialities. If that’s too much projection, or just complete liberal bullshit, I am fine with that. Secret Boyfriend's oeuvre at best offers us moments of reprieve to ponder these complexities, or at least a moment to zone out on a drive through North Carolina Highway 54.

You have one pocket of life that you must do whatever you want to inside of. Secret Boyfriend does it affectionately, in a variety of forms, and always with deep sentimentality. These recordings are a wonderful set of songs to begin further investigation from. Thank you Ryan for allowing as many avenues as possible to continue a broad cultural exchange and conversation that intersect and refract while being the kind of artist that is brave enough to not phone in the effort.”

- Nick Klein , May 2024

Although never released until recently, Jazz Sabbath's music has been finding its way to millions for over 50 years. Through a vicious cycle of personal tragedy and plagiarism the songs intended to change the jazz world ended up giving birth to a much darker sound. Now a third recording from the Sixties has resurfaced, perhaps their most important one.

In 1968 Jazz Sabbath were an instant hit on the UK jazz scene. It wasn’t long until they were offered a record deal. They spent weeks in the studio recording the tracks that got the heaviest reactions at their shows until they captured their live energy on tape. Unfortunately, the label manager told them the album was far too experimental and there was no hit potential. Ordered to play some of their ‘easier’ tracks instead, they reluctantly gave in.

The 2 albums that followed still are classics in their own right, but they were not mistaken in thinking they had recorded their best work in 1968. Like the tracks from their 2 albums, these tracks were also blatantly presented as 'original songs' by that band from Birmingham a few years later. Whether they copied them from live bootlegs or if they got their hands on the mix, it doesn’t really matter. Their lasting popularity, even in the crude way they were covered, only proves just how monumental these songs were and how record labels are often wrong.

With the truth now finally out there and that Birmingham band exposed as the musical charlatans they are, Jazz Sabbath have finally mastered the 1968 tapes to present their best work to the public.

Carrying on a string of stunning archival releases from major figures of Indian classical tradition (including releases from members of the Dagar family and Amelia Cuni), Black Truffle is pleased to announce an unheard recording from tabla master Kamalesh Maitra (1924-2005). For over fifty years, Maitra devoted himself to the rare tabla tarang, a set of between ten and sixteen hand drums tuned to the notes of the raga to be performed. While the tabla tarang has its origins in the late 19th century, Maitra was the first to recognise its potential as a solo concert instrument, using the set of tuned drums to perform full-length raags. Seated behind a semi-circular array of drums, Maitra produced stunning waves of melodic improvisation enlivened with the rhythmic invention of a master percussionist.

Across his career, Maitra performed in ensembles led by Ravi Shankar, collaborated with George Harrison, and led his own East-West fusion group, the Ragatala Ensemble. However, it is in the solo setting that his remarkable artistry and the otherworldly timbral qualities of the tabla tarang are most strikingly on display. Recorded during the same 1985 Berlin sessions that produced Maitra’s self-released solo LP Tabla Tarang: Ragas on Drums, on Raag Kirwani on Tabla Tarang we are treated to Maitra stretching out for over forty minutes on the late night Raag Kirwani, accompanied by Laura Patchen on tabla and Mila Morgenstern and Marina Kitsos on tanpura. The performance begins with the traditional free-floating exposition section, where Maitra’s spacious melodic improvisation at times almost resembles a plucked string instrument (like the sarod, which Maitra also played). For the listener unaccustomed to the tabla tarang, the sound of these microtonally inflected melodic patterns played on drums has a magic quality. As Maitra begins to imply the rhythmic cycles more strongly, Patchen joins on tabla, beginning half an hour of rhythmic-melodic exploration, where virtuosity sits side by side with delicacy and meditative attention. Accompanied by beautiful archival images and extensive liner notes from Laura Patchen, for many listeners Raag Kirwani on Tabla Tarang will be the perfect introduction to the magical world of Kamalesh Maitra, released to coincide with the hundredth anniversary of the master musician’s birth.

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

Water ripples all around, and echoing sounds stretch out into a shady sub aquatic habitat. Its dark corners slowly burst into view as cresting noises reveal fresh caverns teeming with liquid life. This is Sueños acuáticos, the latest sonic exploration from Lamina, a musical project by French artist, Clarice Calvo-Pinsolle. Built from years of carefully gathered field recordings, the album constructs immersive, detailed soundscapes where watery environments, caves, and forests intertwine with digital manipulations.

Rooted in the myth of the ‘Lamina’, a creature from Basque folklore, the project blends this oral tradition with technology to build a geological myth. The Lamina’s world—a nocturnal ecosystem of water and stone—serves as the foundation for the album’s sound design. Lamina reshapes these natural recordings into something new: stretching, pitching, and layering them to build intricate sound environments that feel simultaneously organic and synthetic. “I transform these sounds much like I would sculpt in ceramics,” explains Calvo-Pinsolle, “by adding, removing material, and imagining landscapes.

Drawing from hydrofeminist and posthuman ideas, particularly those in Astrida Neimanis’ Bodies of Water, the album treats sound like water—shifting, flowing, connecting, and buoying life. Tracks flow into one another without clear boundaries, much like the natural currents they represent. The result is a continuous listening experience, inviting deep focus on texture above melody.

Lamina is exploring the potential of the field recording as a compositional tool. Natural sounds, like trickling water or wind through trees, are processed out of recognition—or cliché. A sense of weightless immersion takes hold as Lamins’a music unfolds, and listeners float freely and choose their own adventure in the Lamina’s home. Less a set of songs than its own evolving environment, Sueños acuáticos (‘Aquatic Dreams’ in English) is a meticulously constructed work in which we can freely float.

France-based, prog-rock power trio LIZZARD are out to reclaim the creative, collaborative energy that has fueled them for over a decade. On `Mesh', the band's fifth full length album, LIZZARD capture the energetic, lightning-in-a-bottle optimism of the late `90s post-punk/art-rock scene and reinvigorate it as something empowering, inspiring and simmering with potential. Recorded by the band in the abandoned factory they use as their creative base and produced again by now long-time friend and collaborator Peter Junge, `Mesh' is LIZZARD unleashing the raw, spontaneous might of their pent up live sound through the production precision of their studio experience. As such, themes of duality and control, whether it's regaining it or letting it go, run right through the album. Resounding with Elwell's inimitable, thundering drums and a barrage of colossal riffs, `Black Sheep' explores the dichotomy of body and mind, of black and white, that we all wrestle with on a daily basis whilst the mellow polyrhythms and plaintive melodies of `Mad Hatters' ask pressing questions of the people who are supposedly in charge of society. Epic album closer `The Beholder' captures the reinvigorated LIZZARD at their bracing best; bittersweet guitar refrains are bolstered by Will Knox's signature driving basslines and crashing half-time grooves as frontman Ricou considers the great cycle of life from his own perspective. Testament to the band's formidable compositional prowess, `The Beholder' ends as it starts, a closed loop. With only Ricou's playful, pithy refrain of "What goes around, comes around" left ringing in our ears, LIZZARD masterfully frame `Mesh' as both a poignant conclusion to the last chapter and as a bright new beginning.

France-based, prog-rock power trio LIZZARD are out to reclaim the creative, collaborative energy that has fueled them for over a decade. On `Mesh', the band's fifth full length album, LIZZARD capture the energetic, lightning-in-a-bottle optimism of the late `90s post-punk/art-rock scene and reinvigorate it as something empowering, inspiring and simmering with potential. Recorded by the band in the abandoned factory they use as their creative base and produced again by now long-time friend and collaborator Peter Junge, `Mesh' is LIZZARD unleashing the raw, spontaneous might of their pent up live sound through the production precision of their studio experience. As such, themes of duality and control, whether it's regaining it or letting it go, run right through the album. Resounding with Elwell's inimitable, thundering drums and a barrage of colossal riffs, `Black Sheep' explores the dichotomy of body and mind, of black and white, that we all wrestle with on a daily basis whilst the mellow polyrhythms and plaintive melodies of `Mad Hatters' ask pressing questions of the people who are supposedly in charge of society. Epic album closer `The Beholder' captures the reinvigorated LIZZARD at their bracing best; bittersweet guitar refrains are bolstered by Will Knox's signature driving basslines and crashing half-time grooves as frontman Ricou considers the great cycle of life from his own perspective. Testament to the band's formidable compositional prowess, `The Beholder' ends as it starts, a closed loop. With only Ricou's playful, pithy refrain of "What goes around, comes around" left ringing in our ears, LIZZARD masterfully frame `Mesh' as both a poignant conclusion to the last chapter and as a bright new beginning.

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From its harmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the Good Stuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound and aesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack those ideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, those elements_punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just some touchstones_are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention. These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight of hand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples with anxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and some straight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," in which Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings against guitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The song is just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and the gleeful insanity of theatrical art rock. It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins_Jonah Falco and Mike Haliechuk_weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity to sounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds are adjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill of those universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns its lyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner's anthem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate. Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primary lyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc is roughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed from Harmony Avenue, an album of material that proved too strong to be contained within the narrative universe of Fucked Up's Dose Your Dreams, Jade Hairpins have gelled as a live act_with Tamsin M. Leach and Jack Goldstein centering them on stage_and planted their flag in the UK punk scene in which Falco has embedded himself. Working out new material live, Falco noticed that crowds were digging into his unfinished lyrics, and the album tightened around the anxieties of being in the spotlight, of being worthy of attention. At times, those songs are eager to please, like the album's title track in which a winking self-deprecation rubs up against the self-congratulatory bombast of Freddie Mercury, Falco simultaneously turning heads as a shooting star and a burning car. Elsewhere, as in "Better Here Than in Love," Jade Hairpins pitch themselves towards creating gorgeous soundscapes that exist nowhere else, channeling postpunk through the glimmering haze of '80s Japanese electronic music. Theatrical and personal, absurd and true-to-life, playful and serious, Get Me the Good Stuff is album of tremendous personal and artistic growth that signposts towards dozens of potential futures to come. It's not only worth the attention, it continuously rewards it.

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From its harmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the Good Stuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound and aesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack those ideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, those elements - punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just some touchstones - are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention. These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight of hand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples with anxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and some straight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," in which Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings against guitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The song is just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and the gleeful insanity of theatrical art rock. It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins - Jonah Falco and Mike Haliechuk - weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity to sounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds are adjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill of those universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns its lyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner's anthem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate. Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primary lyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc is roughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed from Harmony Avenue, an album of material that proved too strong to be contained within the narrative universe of Fucked Up's Dose Your Dreams, Jade Hairpins have gelled as a live act - with Tamsin M. Leach and Jack Goldstein centering them on stage - and planted their flag in the UK punk scene in which Falco has embedded himself. Working out new material live, Falco noticed that crowds were digging into his unfinished lyrics, and the album tightened around the anxieties of being in the spotlight, of being worthy of attention. At times, those songs are eager to please, like the album's title track in which a winking self-deprecation rubs up against the self-congratulatory bombast of Freddie Mercury, Falco simultaneously turning heads as a shooting star and a burning car. Elsewhere, as in "Better Here Than in Love," Jade Hairpins pitch themselves towards creating gorgeous soundscapes that exist nowhere else, channeling postpunk through the glimmering haze of '80s Japanese electronic music. Theatrical and personal, absurd and true-to-life, playful and serious, Get Me the Good Stuff is album of tremendous personal and artistic growth that signposts towards dozens of potential futures to come. It's not only worth the attention, it continuously rewards it.

Pleasure Planet’s kaleidoscopic debut album has been a long time coming, but good things come to those who wait. Developed over years of late-night studio improvisations, ‘Pleasure Planet’ is an affectionate and colorful patchwork of the New York City-based trio’s knotted influences that’s suspended between the rave and the chill-out room, weaving glistening pads and chunky basslines into vocal earworms and warm, saturated rhythmic cycles. Bandmates Andrew Potter, Kim Ann Foxman and Brian Hersey enter into a lysergic dialog with their discrete personal musical histories, drawing inspiration from vintage EBM, ambient music and heady early ’90s West Coast rave sounds and launching these classic elements into a transcendent new sonic universe.

Celebrated DJ and producer Foxman was a lead singer of Hercules and Love Affair when she first ran into DC rave veteran Potter, and the two rapidly realized their musical interests overlapped. So when Potter was recording with his studiomate Hersey, a NYC underground club scene mainstay, and they needed to bring in a vocalist, the choice was simple. Working together was a refreshing, freeing experience for the three seasoned artists, and the more they experimented, the closer they became; Foxman ended up moving into the studio, and Pleasure Planet was manifested into existence. “We’re like family,” says Potter. “We’re always on the same page – we couldn’t make this music solo.”

For Foxman, the open-ended jam sessions provided her with a chance to try something new, a few steps from the dancefloor-forward DJ tracks she’s best known for producing. And as the trio pooled their adolescent rave memories, reflecting on them with more mature ears, they began to develop the signature sound that was first heard on the Throne Of Blood-released ‘Animals’ 12″. Pleasure Planet aren’t trying to re-capture the past, but suggest a poetic contemplation that layers their recollections and musical obsessions into a hypnotic sci-fi dream. Harnessing a self-described “Aladdin’s cave” of analog and digital gear that help galvanize the timeline, they bridge the gap between avant-pop and icy bleep techno, curving suggestive words through lattices of tightly-engineered electronics.

On ‘Endless’, Foxman’s voice is echoed into a glistening haze that hovers around ethereal pads and tense, electroid pulses. Slow-moving and evocative, it’s a track that capture the open endedness of post-rave euphoria, touching the afterparty but moving far beyond the material world. She’s more recognizable on ‘Alien’, the album’s most upfront track, singing in a glassy, upper-register coo over urgent bass bumps, taut guitars and florid electronic atmospheres. “Are you an alien, or are you an angel?” she asks, fractalizing the borders between genres. And the band’s sense of cosmic togetherness bubbles to the surface on ‘Saved by the Bells’, a meditative after-hours experiment that diminishes the pulsing beats for a moment to bring out a spectrum of interconnected, serpentine melodies.

Modular bleeps and echoing percussion anchor the swooning ‘Planet Love’, one of Pleasure Planet’s most recent compositions and one of the album’s most outwardly psychedelic cuts, while the urgent and anthemic ‘Go With Madness’ steps back towards the main stage, evaporating Foxman’s memorable calls into a thumping procession of analog drums and squelchy, acidic bass tweaks. But they save the best for last, tugging at the heartstrings with ‘Remember (In Dreams)’, a giddy spiral of blipping synth arpeggios and haunting, reverberated chorals. It’s the perfect way to conclude an album that cryptically gestures towards the vulnerability of friendship, celebrating the shared experiences that result in some of the most meaningful memories of all.

What might appear to be the most unlikely collaboration of 2024 proves also to be one of the most invigorating listens of the year! Shackleton & Six Organs of Admittance are in full aural/metaphysical alignment in their mutual effort to become Jinxed By Being. On first listen, it becomes immediately clear that this fusion of Shackleton"s bass heavy cosmic dread and Six Organs" ritual folksong makes total sense. Longtime listeners know that both Shackleton and Six Organs of Admittance have been unafraid to pursue their muse into any and all encroaching depth of darkness or outer boundary of potential dissonance - in fact, that has always been their default mode, finding more of resonance way out there in the process. They also share that ol" maverick psychedelic ritual transcendental music vibe, don"t they? And a fascination with repetition and cycles. And a mutual inspiration drawn from alternative tunings and literature...all this considered, it"s been basically inevitable that Ben Chasny and Sam Shackleton would work together. It took a while for them to find each other-and once they did, it was almost eerie, how preordained it felt. When the music started coming, though-that"s when it got really eerie. The mood rises from the music like smoke, a sure signal of total integration. Jinxed by Being finds Shackleton & Six Organs of Admittance delighting in their synthesis. Reveling in the unique sonic textures found in the collage, they launch small details that unfold into a massive space and often multiply into lines of dimensional space, crossing the stereo spectrum with enervating motility. Here lies all the proof you need against the danger of categorizing by perceived genre rather than intention-encounters like Shackleton & Six Organs of Admittance might never have found the linear space in which they sit next to each other, beyond alphabets and other institutional organizing principles. Rearrange your libraries-or you might miss getting Jinxed By Being.

A product of the not-so-underground, genre-bending melting pot that is Naarm (Melbourne, Australia). producer, composer and multi-instrumentalist Don Glori (AKA Gordon Li) prepares to unleash his forthcoming album ‘Don’t Forget To Have Fun’ via DeepMatter Records.

Following the release of his much-heralded 2022 LP ‘Welcome’, and a relocation to London, Don managed to tap into a potent creative current, by taking himself to a place of discomfort, and taking his creative back to basics for ‘Don’t Forget To Have Fun’. This invigorating approach helped distill the initial album sketches into a compelling and intoxicating listening experience across the record, creating a true work of art, traversing jazz, funk, soul, RnB, samba and beyond. Whilst the record itself is hard to describe, but even harder to forget.

Album opener ‘Pause’ pairs psychedelic influences with a cyclic loping groove and focuses on recognising a safe space that can act as a refuge. Taking inspiration from Steely Dan, Brian Bennett & Azymuth, ‘Emerald’ channels Jazz rock, 70's LA studio energy, with the faster funk sections featuring an unruly amount of mouth percussion, synth lead lines, and vocal melodies that weave in and around the tight horn arrangements. ‘All Seeds’ is a heady blend of samba and Brazilian street soul, with field recordings of Don’s old house in Melbourne providing additional seasoning. ‘First Touch’ is a downtempo 80’s boogie-infused gem, keeping proceedings nice and sleazy. The final three movements move through one fluid composition, charting the disorientating course of a fever dream, through beguiling astral travels, unexplainable occurrences, and transcendent moments.

A product of the not-so-underground, genre-bending melting pot that is Naarm (Melbourne, Australia). producer, composer and multi-instrumentalist Don Glori (AKA Gordon Li) prepares to unleash his forthcoming album ‘Don’t Forget To Have Fun’ via DeepMatter Records.

Following the release of his much-heralded 2022 LP ‘Welcome’, and a relocation to London, Don managed to tap into a potent creative current, by taking himself to a place of discomfort, and taking his creative back to basics for ‘Don’t Forget To Have Fun’. This invigorating approach helped distill the initial album sketches into a compelling and intoxicating listening experience across the record, creating a true work of art, traversing jazz, funk, soul, RnB, samba and beyond. Whilst the record itself is hard to describe, but even harder to forget.

Album opener ‘Pause’ pairs psychedelic influences with a cyclic loping groove and focuses on recognising a safe space that can act as a refuge. Taking inspiration from Steely Dan, Brian Bennett & Azymuth, ‘Emerald’ channels Jazz rock, 70's LA studio energy, with the faster funk sections featuring an unruly amount of mouth percussion, synth lead lines, and vocal melodies that weave in and around the tight horn arrangements. ‘All Seeds’ is a heady blend of samba and Brazilian street soul, with field recordings of Don’s old house in Melbourne providing additional seasoning. ‘First Touch’ is a downtempo 80’s boogie-infused gem, keeping proceedings nice and sleazy. The final three movements move through one fluid composition, charting the disorientating course of a fever dream, through beguiling astral travels, unexplainable occurrences, and transcendent moments.

The current lineup of New Haven's long running Mountain Movers (guitarist/vocalist Dan Greene, bassist Rick Omonte, guitarist Kr yssi Battalene, & drummer Ross Menze) have been playing together for over a decade now, making their recorded debut on a slew of singles released from 2011-2013, but it wasn't until 2015's "Death Magic" (released on New Haven label Safety Meeting) that the potential of that iteration of the group became clear; Mountain Movers are a force of nature. The camaraderie & sensitivity to each others playing has only grown over time, cr ystallizing on the group's trio of albums for Trouble In Mind; 2017's eponymous "Mountain Movers" served as a reintroduction of the group to a larger audience, while 2018's "Pink Skies" raged like a group confident in its strengths, and 2020's prescient "World What World" - written & recorded before the world shut down - slightly shifted focus away from the jams & back toward the weight of guitarist/songwriter Dan Greene's poetic tales of magical realism. The band's ninth album "Walking After Dark" finds a happy medium between both aspects of the band's strengths; Greene's lyrical compositions and the group's long-form improvised jams. To those that are tuned in, that feeling of communion is evident in the Movers' playing. The members swap & cycle effortlessly through instruments without missing a beat, utilizing the downtime of lockdown to write & record every jam in their practice space. Those piles of tapes would eventually get edited & sequenced into "Walking After Dark", a tour-de-force double-album that balances fried, stony brilliance with outré excursions of experimental serenity. Consider the opening track "Bodega On My Mind" that ambles in like a road-worn traveller, its lysergic folk strums peppered with acidic lead lines from Battalene's Telecaster, eventually giving way to "The Sun Shines On The Moon, where the group's sizzling guitars are buoyed by Omonte's pillowy bass & Menze's percussion. From there on out, tracks like "Factory Dream" give the listener a taste of The Movers' modus operandi here; a mixture of (more) traditional song craft interspersed between long-form, improvised pieces of modern psychedelia. The group shuffles through instruments; synths, drum machines, auto-harp, various forms of percussion (and whatever else was laying around) as well as the trad guitar/bass/drums configuration to craft a suite of songs that - while not necessarily similar in composition - feel unified in their overall sonic scope. Tracks like the 14-minute "Reclamation Yard", whose deep-space electronic pulse is juxtaposed against side C opener "See The City "s persistent acoustic strum that showcase similar ideas of the `spirituality ' of losing ones self in repetition, but executed differently. In many ways "Walking After Dark"s duality feels like a merger of "On The Beach"-era Neil Young & the collective freak-outs of Amon Düül, taking inspiration in the `incorporeality ' of free music and lacing it with Greene's hazy, haunting lyricism and is an exciting step forward for a band that's already a few steps ahead. "Walking After Dark" is released on black double-vinyl in a full color gatefold jacket & includes an insert with artwork & lyrics by member Dan Greene.

Composed by Jim O’Rourke and pieced together by Jim together with longtime collaborator and trumpeter Eivind Lønning at Jim and Eiko Ishibashi’s home in the Japanese mountains, this engrossing new album blows brass wails and tense fanfares across O'Rourke's manipulated Kyma tapestries for a deep, captivating trip into the aether.

Eivind Lønning has been sharing ideas with O'Rourke for several years: the duo collaborated on music for the Whitney's 'Calder: Hypermobility' exhibition, and Lønning played trumpet on O'Rourke's brilliant 2020 album 'Shutting Down Here'. For this new work, Lønning headed to O'Rourke and EIko Ishibashi's home studio in the Japanese mountains, where he teased unfamiliar, alien textures from his trumpet to open the labyrinthine three-part composition. O'Rourke took the material and subsequently funnelled it through his Kyma system, transforming it into a swirl of sound that hums alongside Lønning's original takes. The album was composed, mixed and mastered by O'Rourke, with everything's based on Lønning's virtuosic performance.

The album begins by cautiously introducing us to its sonic palette: wavering, bird-like horn wails that O'Rourke contorts around quiet synth oscillations and computerised swarms. Lønning's spittle-drenched blasts are given the spotlight, but O'Rourke's manipulations - often gentle and illusory, and sometimes utterly lacerating - lift the sounds into completely new territory. When Lønning begins to turn rhythmic cycles using the trumpet keys, popping with his mouth to compliment its leathery timbre, O'Rourke replies with dense, hallucinatory drones, juxtaposing unstable electronics with Lønning's breathy, sustained notes. All these sounds coalesce into a dizzy vortex, but O'Rourke is careful not to overwhelm the senses, dropping to near silence as the first act transitions into the second. O'Rourke pelts Lønning's vertiginous wails, steadily mutating them into Xenakis-like stabs until they sound like cybernetic strings and icy tones that extract the tension from Lønning's brassy harmonics.

The third act is more screwed, with O'Rourke allowing Lønning's improvisations wail into cathedral-strength reverb, accompanying the sound with glassy penetrations and throbbing subs. Here, Lønning sounds as if he's heralding the arrival of a celestial being, piercing the atmosphere with bright, sustained tones and muted, jazzy flourishes. O'Rourke hangs back, carefully spinning the notes into naturalistic fibres and orchestral drapery, before he allows the electronics to subside completely and the trumpet to echo into the imposing negative space.

'Most, but Potentially All' is a dumbfounding piece that shifts the dial on contemporary experimental music; dizzyingly complex but never showy, it's the kind of record you can spin repeatedly and hear something different each time. As an exploration of the trumpet, it's a unique expression, and as a progression of electro-acoustic compositional techniques, it draws a deep trench in the sand, setting a new standard.

Born in 1977, in Malang, East Java, Wukir Suryadi began playing music for theatre at the age of 12 with the Idiot The-ater Studio, and later with the Rendra Theater Workshop. In his solo work, and as a member of Senyawa, Error Scream, Bendera Hitam Setengah, Potro Joyo and other groups, Wukir breaks the boundaries of traditional music, death metal and avant-garde performance. On this new release, “Cycle and Prayer,” recorded in 2023, he expands the edges of his unique artistic world further, by digging in to meditative improvisation, art, and community building in his home workshop in the mountains of central Java. These recordings vibrate inwards, toward the microcosmic ecologies of forests and rivers; they distort outwards, resonating with global waves of apocalyptic change that are forcing all living beings to the edges of existence on earth. The result is a meditative poem that moves, as its titles an-nounce, from phenomena to phenomena, praying that humans find a way out from the depths of the depths to the light that illuminates the soul.
An essential mode of creative work for Wukir is the creation of unique instruments, using these sound sources as “bullets of expression.” In addition to the spear-like tube zither Bambu Wukir, he has created the Solet, Enthong, Garu, Luku, Arrows, and Industrial Mutant instruments, which in addition to being used in live performance, have been exhibited in the Instrument Builders Project and the 2017 Jakarta Biennale. In the past few years, Wukir has begun to collaborate with local guitar makers, carpenters, and suppliers of native endemic wood in the mountain region of Salatiga. Using earthen bricks along with local woods (suren, coconut, mindi, and waru lengis) as building materials, he constructed a new studio and workshop space in Tingkir, where this album was made. The trees, water and air of the local environment have exerted a powerful influence in Wukir’s documentations of instrumental sound. On this recording, he uses the simple Cetta guitar, an instrument designed in Bali and made for Indonesian children and local communities of folk and popular musicians, in order to explore the different sonic characteristics of a more “normal” instrument built from local wood.
The themes of the album -- cycle and prayer -- arise from a foreboding series of meta-events that shook Indonesia and the world over the past years, following one after the other: the COVID-19 pandemic, the Ukrainian-Russian war, the Kanjuruhan Stadium tragedy in which football supporters were gassed and killed by police, revelations of govern-ment failures and corruption, the rise of personal vehicles, the increasing disturbance of natural patterns of the rainy season and other ecological cycles. “In these waves of technology and narratives of truth made for certain interests, playing a sound at a certain frequency and repeating can try to bring images and feelings to a certain point of con-sciousness,” Wukir told me. “Sound is a prayer that creates a change, whether gradual or rapid, in the behaviour of living things, to face the demands of the time, as humans struggle to live according to what they believe.” The draw-ings and sketches used for the cover spontaneously emerged alongside the recordings, as an instinctive depiction of “time and sound, nature that is outside of oneself, and nature that is within.”

The opening line of Emily Dickinson’s short poem ‘‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers’ inspired the central image of Emily Barker’s new single ‘Feathered Thing’, written while she navigated cumulative grief.

When Barker was first introduced to producer Luke Potashnick (Gabrielle Aplin, Jack Savoretti, Katie Melua) in May 2022, she brought with her a full album’s worth of songs. But after visiting Potashnick’s storied studio, The Wool Hall and hearing his ambitious production ideas, she was inspired to write one more song.

“I also needed to process some heavy news” she comments. Barker and her husband Lukas Drinkwater had been trying to start a family. Following a couple of failed IVF cycles (and other “starts that we’d lost”), they investigated adoption and had decided to relocate to Australia to be closer to Barker’s family.

“It felt like we couldn’t work out what we wanted, but we finally reached a point where we both felt at peace with not having kids,” Barker recalls. “It had been an incredibly intense time, coinciding with a house move and the pandemic.”

And then Barker found she was pregnant. “We’d done all these things to try to make it happen, and then it happened naturally (and against all biological odds). Having previously navigated losses throughout our pregnancy journey, we now had to get our heads around what having this new person in our lives might look like - emotionally and practically.”

Soon after work began on the album, Barker had a miscarriage.

“Songwriting has always been a way of processing throughout my life.” Barker reveals how the new song came quickly as she sat at her piano at home. She shared an early version with Potashnick and remembers him politely asking, “Do you mind telling me what this is about?”

“I think I’d left it too abstract, initially,” she reflects. “It was difficult to open up about the miscarriage, but Luke was very supportive and encouraged me to dig a little deeper without necessarily being specific. I revisited the lyrics, and the result is much stronger.”

“I went to the burnt-out woods/ A tourist with some damaged goods/ Remembered how the trees withstood fires before…”

“The opening line is a metaphor for knowing that I’ll get through this,” Barker clarifies. “It’s about recovery and hope, allowing yourself both the space to grieve and permission to move on”. But Barker’s optimism is never misplaced – she knows the imprint of imagined futures and lost children are carried in hearts and minds forever:

“It’s so hard to let go, wanted to know wanted to know you …”

“I think that it's important to share and normalise these stories, which are all too common, yet not openly spoken about. People hide their pain and don’t want to burden friends and family. I think behind all this anguish, there’s a deep, often untold story.”

Now that Barker is settled back in Western Australia, she’s embracing being an auntie. “I’ve got three younger siblings over here who I’m close to, and they all have kids,” she enthuses. “I look after my brother's kids, aged two and five, one morning a week.”

Recorded - along with the entirety of the new album - at The Wool Hall, ‘Feathered Thing’ begins gently, with oscillating piano and distant drums, until the arrangement gradually transforms into an instrumental dervish of vibrant strings, bass drones and cymbal crashes. Throughout, Barker’s vocals float tantalisingly like a slipstreaming feather.

Watch the video, filmed at The Wool Hall here. The Wool Hall is a studio in Beckington, Somerset, set up by Tears for Fears in the 1980s and used by artists including The Smiths, Pretenders, Joni Mitchell and many more.

Emily Barker is an award-winning singer-songwriter, best known as the writer and performer of the theme to the hugely successful BBC crime drama ‘Wallander’ starring Kenneth Branagh.

Her last album, 2020's ‘A Dark Murmuration of Words’, was produced by Greg Freeman and recorded at StudiOwz, a converted chapel in the Welsh countryside. Lyrically probing, by turns both dark and optimistic, Barker searches for meaning through the deafening clamour of fake news and algorithmically filtered conversation, delivering a timely exploration of the grand themes of our age. It garnered widespread acclaim, with Uncut calling it “…a kind of Australian equivalent of PJ Harvey’s Let England Shake”.

Barker has released music and toured as a solo artist as well as with various bands and collaborations, most notably her long association with Frank Turner, and has written for TV and film, including composing the soundtrack for Jake Gavin’s lauded debut feature ‘Hector’ starring Peter Mullan and Keith Allen.

‘Fragile as Humans’ is scheduled for release on May 3rd 2024 through Everyone Sang/Kartel Music Group. The album will also feature earlier singles: the vast, cinematic ‘Wild to be Sharing This Moment’ and the meditative, crestfallen ‘Loneliness’.

Following a first iteration which set the tone for our newly-minted Heimat series in explosive fashion, here comes the much anticipated second batch of our zeitgeistian take on today's scene's, its current potential and destination. Showcasing productions from artists keen to roll up their sleeves and sail into the impassible status quo, this new number packs the kind of red-hot hammering and cutting-edge punch we've been so adamant to push and defend over the past decade. Berlin-based French producer Arkan steps in first with a proper magnetic depth charge. Dwelling the darker layers of our ocean floor as its name suggests, 'Submarine' is pure hypnotic material geared up for heavy-duty boogie in the warehouse. Filling its ballast tanks with a hefty deluge of muscular bass onslaughts, sonar-like bleeps and untamed cascades of loopy arps, this one rolls and pitches like a haunted ship on predator mode. Adding his dynamic pulse and mind-bending spin to the A-side, Frameworks & Untertwegs bossman Decka cuts a path of straight mental obliteration as he smashes the doors of the club wide open and parades all guns blazing with the unapologetic crusher that is 'Circumvent'. A no-holds-barred workout for the strong stomachs, churning out fiery bars of kick-drum/squelchy bass contrast with in-your-face swagger. Switching on to the flip side, there's Manchester's Yant cruising with the ebulliently dynamic (no shit, Sherlock) tune, 'Moving'. A multidirectional concerto of pong-like modularity and racing synth arpeggios flying off like coloured bricks in a Tetris game gone absolute batshit. The kind of hi-intensity burner that'll awaken any lukewarm mid-set flow with its bouncy unpredictability and ruthless forward-pushing thrust. Rounding it off on a further minimal note, Amsterdam up-and-comer Hitam treats us to an inch-perfectly engineered finale with a stripped-back - yet, absolutely not hollow - bomb, 'Venusian Winds'. Gutsy that one sure is, with its metronomic step ticking at near-cyclonic speed and cleverly arranged, subtly FX-coated funk keeping things both suspenseful and focussed thru and thru. A sleek combo of pared-down brutalism and masterly executed analogue tailoring altogether. All dressed in clear purple marbled wax for the occasion, "Heimat II" shall please both the techno purist and visual aesthete in you with its velvet touch and effortless chic.