Buscar:practice yo!

Imagine having a song go viral for 17 years - without even knowing it. That's exactly what happened to the German 1980s band FEX. And this isn't just any song - it's The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet, a track that puzzled music detectives for decades before finally being identified in November 2024. Now, it has been officially released - twice.

The Story in Brief:
Sometime around 1984, a song was broadcasted on NDR Radio. The name of the song was Subways Of Your Mind - only found out 40 years later in November 2024. Back then, a listener recorded the NDR show on cassette, a common practice at the time. Decades later, the tape resurfaced, but while most songs from the recording were identified, one remained an enigma. On March 18, 2007, the track was uploaded to the internet in an attempt to uncover its origins. Due to its now-iconic opening lyric, it was tentatively titled Like The Wind. Over time, the mystery deepened, and the song was given a nickname: The Most Mysterious Song - or simply TMMS.

Starting in 2019, a dedicated Reddit group, TheMysteriousSong, now boasting over 63,000 members, took up the search. They meticulously documented every lead, hoping to solve the riddle of the song's origins. Then, in 2024, the breakthrough: Reddit user marjin1412 reached out to musician Michael Hädrich after discovering a reference to his band FEX in an old newspaper article. Hädrich, FEX's keyboardist, provided a recording from an old demo cassette which included an alternative version of the song. On November 4, 2024, the mystery was officially solved: FEX was the band, Subways Of Your Mind was the title.

What Happened Next:
Since then, FEX has released two singles - both featuring Subways Of Your Mind - through the Berlin-based independent label The Outer Edge. First, the demo cassette version was pressed onto vinyl, as the original NDR radio recording remained lost (see EDGE-028). The Remastered Demo Mix single instantly topped Bandcamp's global charts, holding the #1 spot for several days. By then, it was clear: this was more than just an internet curiosity. A real fanbase had formed. Enthusiastic comments on the sales page ranged from "best post-punk song to ever exist" to "FEX themselves (are) perhaps the most underrated musicians of all time."

But the story didn't end there. A higher-quality version of the NDR radio recording was rediscovered in late december, remastered, and now sent for a second vinyl pressing: the TMMS Version. This new vinyl 7" is backed with Talking Hands another great and unissued song that was found on the demo cassette.

Fame Comes with a Price
Suddenly, time isn't standing still for FEX. The band had to come to terms with the fact that they had become Lostwave super stars. A FEX fan club quickly formed on Reddit, fan-hosted FEX parties are popping up, and the internet is demanding more - an album, merchandise, live performances. But how does a band prepare for a comeback after a 40-year hiatus?

For now, FEX is carefully considering their next steps. Their demo cassette contains six songs - and a few other recordings have resurfaced which probably could be restored and compiled. But foremost, a brand new re-recording of Subways Of Your Mind is in progress.

One thing is certain: The Most Mysterious Song will continue its unstoppable journey around the world. Don't miss this (second) chance to own a piece of music history!

Audio alchemist Damian Lazarus continues to redefine the boundaries of electronic music with his fifth studio album, ‘Magickal’.

Renowned for his unparalleled ability to craft transformative sonic journeys, Damian Lazarus is a master of rhythm, melody, and vibration—a true pioneer among his generation’s visionary artists. Damian’s broad depth of experience encompasses a variety of disciplines: tastemaker, selector, label owner, A&R and a Grammy-nominated artist in his own right - each informed by his unique ear for sound. He is chief wizard of the hugely influential and culture-defining Crosstown Rebels label, a globally renowned DJ with a penchant for exotic outdoor locations and a highly regarded recording artist with four albums and a plethora of solo cuts, collaborations and remixes in his sprawling discography.

With his fifth album, ‘Magickal’, Damian steps into his next evolutionary phase, combining his newly found sobriety with a more mature outlook while still pushing boundaries and creating unforgettable moments. At the root of it all is the magical power of togetherness and human connection that only music can facilitate. Driven by this core ethos, Damian continues on his mission to share his heartfelt music, taking the dance floor into unexplored realms of experience, facilitating moments of transcendence, bliss and pure, unadulterated magic.

Damian Lazarus, the avant-garde architect of spiritually nourishing sounds, is joined by a stellar lineup of collaborators on his latest excursion. It’s imaginative and mystical, rhythmically captivating and daring in its own way, as is typical of Damian’s approach. Taking consideration of his past, the album references his previous work to create a tapestry of compositions that tap into the energy of key moments from his discography. Drawing on his existing catalogue creates cohesive through lines and thematically serves as a continuation of previous stories. November’s single, ‘Sunrise Generation’, for instance, works as a companion to ‘Vermillion’, which was recorded by Damian with his band The Ancient Moons and vocalist Moses Sumney back in 2015. ‘Sunrise Generation’, featuring the beautiful vocals of Fink, was Damian’s first major release since his Grammy-nominated 2021 collaboration ‘Don’t Be Afraid’ with Diplo and Jungle, and continues to take inspiration from global gatherings at solstice and those moments of collective awe at sunrise.

Indeed, the album’s themes of mental elevation and psychedelic sonic journeys are evident throughout. Damian channels this energy through tracks like the soulful ‘So Low’, featuring the incredible Zoe Kypri, and the luminous ‘Searchin’, with Jem Cooke, whose collaboration with Damian dates back to ‘Flourish’ (2020) and lead single ‘Into The Sun’. Uplifting is the operative word here, as Damian aims straight for our hearts and inner selves, stripping away the layers to take us on a trip inwards, and out into the ether all at once. There’s a clear nod to Damian’s appreciation of amapiano when he teams up with Ghanaian interdisciplinary healer Jojo Abot on ‘Warrior Dance’. Old friend and inspirer Mathew Jonson brings his virtuoso touch to ‘Are You Dreaming?’, while TEED and A-Trak form an awesome alliance for ‘Falling Down’ with its heartrending vocals. ‘Alive’ features the Bloom Twins, and also additional production from acclaimed producer Mark Ralph, who incidentally worked on Damian’s debut album ‘Smoke The Monster Out’ in 2009 and forms another throughline to the past. ‘Alive’ blends pop sensibilities and song structure with Damian’s inimitable sound - and could become one of Damian’s biggest moments to date. ‘La Hija De Juan Simon’ delves into the Latin energy synonymous with vibrancy and self-expression as Damian teams up with acclaimed Spanish flamenco-influenced duo Mëstiza. On a solo tip, he rolls out with the eight-minute-plus soulful funk flex ‘Why Don’t U’.

In a suitably aligned instance of serendipity, the arrival of ‘Magickal’ comes at a pivotal period in Damian’s life, just as it has been with previous album concepts. Albums made and released during big shifts in his life speak to the correlation between growth, personal evolution, creativity, catharsis and sharing that process musically. The last album ‘Flourish’, for instance, was recorded and released in the space of a few months during the first summer of the global pandemic. As a result, there’s a kind of vulnerability in the music, a subtle story that’s being told with emotional touchpoints that will be relevant to anyone listening. The universal human experience and spectrum of emotions are things almost everyone can relate to. With the enhanced clarity of his sobriety, Damian’s compositions embody the uplifting nature of simply being alive, connected and unified in our love for music and one another.

Day Zero, Damian’s iconic annual festival, is intrinsically linked to ‘Magickal’. It’s the setting for his imagination when producing the music, it’s the launchpad for each year’s kaleidoscopic adventures around the world, and this year’s edition will be the backdrop to the release of ‘Magickal’. As the pinnacle of Damian’s annual experiences, Day Zero marks a vital milestone for his artistry, an extension of his inner realm, carefully curated and created for his global family of lovers and dancers to revel in the awe-inspiring beauty of Mother Nature. Central to the ethos of Day Zero is its sustainability practices and deep consideration for the locality within which it is held. Connections with local elders embolden its depth, cultivating a strongly aligned purpose with the ritual, customs and energy of the land and its people.

‘Magickal’ will be released in the same week as Day Zero, tying the two projects together in a neat dovetail. 12 years since it started, Day Zero continues to play a significant role in the music Damian makes, curates and plays. For him, it’s the epitome of his vision: a stunning natural setting, the very best party people from around the world, an unparalleled lineup of friends and family, high production values, eco-centric policies and music from another dimension. With these interdimensional transmissions, Damian channels his inner alchemist, which, in turn, permeates into the vibrational framework of ‘Magickal’.

Never one to adhere to convention, Damian has opted for a disruptive album release. ‘Magickal’ is to be kept under wraps and then announced and released on Crosstown Rebels on 8th January 2025, bypassing the modern trend of prolonged single drops and ‘tombstone’ album releases. ‘Magickal’ is the embodiment of Damian and his intentional, against-the-grain approach and reinforces the album as a complete artistic statement, offering listeners the full cohesive experience from the very beginning. This is a return to the album as the pinnacle moment and not the afterthought. Singles, edits and remixes will follow the ‘Magickal album’ release, and, of course, there will be a world tour to promote the album (including Glastonbury and Coachella) and a chance to present the album in exciting, innovative and unique ways.

Forever dreaming, a sincere student of magic, new and old, social sorcerer, lover of nature and master of musical wizardry, Damian Lazarus is a potent force. With ‘Magickal’, he reaffirms his place as one of electronic music’s most influential figures, taking listeners on a profound journey into sound, spirit, and connection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gold Vinyl

Following the success of their 2023 release "Stockholm Kobenhavn", two of Denmark"s most celebrated musicians in multi-instrumentalist Gustaf Ljunggren and drummer Emil de Waal present their fourth collaborative album. Expanding on their growing reputation for crafting songs and sounds with masterful senses of subtlety, narrative and capacity to form meaningful connections with their collaborators and audiences alike, "Mikroklima" is set to release on February 7th on April Records. Emil de Waal has been one of Denmark"s leading drummers for three decades, best known for his work leading the band Kalaha and his collaborations with Elith "Nulle" Nykjær, as well as performing alongside most of the finest names in modern Scandinavian jazz. Gustaf Ljunggren initially studied the saxophone at the Rhythmic Conservatory of Copenhagen, where whispers spread throughout the school that he was the best saxophone player in town and yet never practiced. His career has seen him prove that he can bring grace, musicality and heart to any instrument he touches, from the pedal steel guitar, to the bass, piano, and more. "Mikroklima" is a testament to and celebration of musical growth, community, and the joy of musical gathering. One element that truly sets this album apart, is the bold move of inviting a group of 12 year old school children from a music class into the studio to record alongside Gustaf and Emil. Drawing from years of experience leading music workshops with young musicians, on Mikroklima Ljunggren and de Waal wanted to capture the sound of musicians from different generations and experiences coming together to contribute their ideas to their compositions. Showcasing Ljunggren"s colorful, comforting, folk-influenced approach to harmony and songwriting alongside de Waal"s distinctive touch on the drums, crafting simplistic yet creative grooves that feel as pleasing and refreshing as they do restrained and purposeful. As each piece unfolds, it becomes more and more apparent how present and communicative the duo are, playing only what the music needs and placing more weight on texture and feeling than soloistic flair. "Mikroklima" is an organic, generous offering that shows Gustaf Ljunggren and Emil de Waal doing what they do best: connecting with music.

Dj T-Kut Team Leader of Skratcher Madrid, Skratch Elementz & Tablist Lounge Spain, publishes a new volume of Skratch Practice. After the success of the previous volumes, this time it will be called Skratch Fu-Finger Practice. Side A consists of 12 seamless loops at 100 BPM and Side B consists of 12 seamless loops at 133 BPM. This vinyl is a perfect tool for battle routines, freestyle scratching, in which you will find classic original sounds, phrases, Fx sounds and much more. This Battle Breaks & Scratch Tools vinyl promises hours of practice and is focused both for DJs who are beginning and advanced DJs. This work is published on 12" and 7" vinyl in black plus a limited edition in colour oxide blood for 12" and gold for 7". The 7" vinyl sides A and B consist of 6 loops per side at 100 BPM. Artwork: Adolfo Gerrero Mastered: Le Jad Producer: Dj T-Kut I hope you enjoy it and Happy Skratching!

SCRATCH FORMERS, pt. I! Skratch Practice proudly presents a new 7" skip-proof scratch series on premium Picture Disc. Originally conceived by Dj T-Kut. The picture design illustrated in full color by Adolfo Gerrero and produced by Skratch Practice's DJ T-Kut, Skratcher Madrid . Each 7" picture vinyl (Volumes 1 & 2) comes with 6 unique skip-proof scratch phrases with 100 BPM on both sides. Perfect for practicing portable scratching, improvisations and battles... This vinyl is a piece of art that you have to get for your collection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Formed in Oakland just before the pandemic's onset in late 2019, SPY has built on the foundation of bands like Bad Brains and Poison Idea rather than following the current wave of metallic hardcore. They’re set to unleash their latest EP, Seen Enough, on Closed Casket Activities, out February 21. No song on Seen Enough ever overstays its welcome, instead embodying what makes hardcore frenetic. Burning through six songs in under ten minutes, every track is a testament to the energy the band has built up through relentless touring. SPY worked with Jack Shirley at Oakland's Atomic Garden to record the EP. Shirley captured their essence by recording live to tape, eschewing the modern practice of individual tracking in favor of a more immediate, visceral approach that better represents their explosive live show. That in-room chemistry is immediately apparent – songs like "Stay In Your Lane" maintain the texture and grit you'd get at a show in between every huge riff. Seen Enough doesn't hide what it's about: society's continued descent with diminishing hope for course correction. From the jump, SPY has followed in the lineage of Bay Area punks like Dead Kennedys and Ceremony in both attitude and awareness. Their latest offering maintains the critical edge of their earlier material while expanding their lyrical scope, delivering a streamlined punch that hits hard through its runtime. By staying true to themselves, SPY has carved out their own niche in the modern hardcore landscape. After touring with legends and contemporaries alike including Gel, Full of Hell, Ceremony, Municipal Waste, Sunami and playing basically every fest worth caring about including Sound and Fury, Outbreak, Sick New World and LDB, 2025 is set to be a monstrous year for SPY.

Capturing phantom drones behind dusty beats and haunted twangs, Ellis Swan and James Schimpl return for their third album as Dead Bandit. Locked into a musical language unique to their collaboration, the duo once again put us out to pasture across broad sonic plains, drums flapping like loose fence panels in the prairie breeze and bass rumbling like distant thunder. True to their previous two records, Swan and Schimpl keep the strung out guitars at the front of what they do, whether playing a naked, desolate strum or running six strings through disruptive effects processing until they're barely recognisable.
But while there are details of disturbance when listening to Dead Bandit's self-titled record up close, the wider impression is a smoother, more direct affair that toys with post-rock complexity and matches it with the emotional weight of melodic simplicity, gentle grooves and conscious arrangements. 'Weeds' offsets its languid fuzz guitar with shimmering sustained notes before settling into a patient, heavy-hearted composition charged with heartbreak leads pealing out in the middle distance.
By comparison, 'Glass' has a smoky, half-hidden backroom quality. Its brushed whisper of a beat, lingering guitar drones and subtle sub bass come on like a dub wise flip of a sad-eyed country ballad. The mood maintains on 'Half Smoked Cigarette', which captures the grey sky sullenness of post-punk and reframes it in the seductive isolation of rural America. While there's a thickness to the sound on these most direct of tracks on the album, there's also fragility inherent to the sound world Dead Bandit have been shaping out over these past few years.
'Buttercup' swaps sadness for sinister undercurrents, once more drawing on fulsome low end to fill out the sparse threads of instrumentation up top. 'Pink' finds a steady momentum for its own brand of brooding mystery, the sharp end of the beat bringing focus to the many-layered approaches to the guitar which roundly define the Dead Bandit sound. There's an even clearer direction mapped out in the vintage drum machine pulse of 'Koyo', all the better to carry swirling effects treatments and moody melodic figures. Even in these ominous climes there's space for plaintive, endearing hooks which land as the most direct phrases in Dead Bandit's musical lexicon to date.
The fundamental sound across this album holds true, but Dead Bandit are never bound to a singular practice. 'Lucien's Bitters' strikes up a pronounced drum machine beat which comes on like 90s downtempo, and it feels like a natural vessel for the heavy, shoegaze tinted lament of the guitars. At every turn, Swan and Schimpl prove their affinity for all kinds of approaches, and yet the end product is a deeply cohesive, immediate listen that shows just how clear their creative vision really is.

T. Gowdy returns with a major statement and luminous stylistic expansion on his third album for Constellation. Trill Scan is an exquisite suite of songs literally and figuratively about alchemy, where Gowdy melds his background in choral and medieval music with his trademark analogue electronics. Following the acclaimed Miracles (Bleep Album of the Week / Albums of the Year 2022), Gowdy's bar-raising new LP centers human voice for the first time. Choral set-pieces and solo lead vocals, along with his own lute playing, are novel elements in Gowdy's work, and draw on strains of Middle Ages polyphony and the Baroque "broken style" to further distinguish Trill Scan from anything in his discography to date. Gowdy sees "the modal language of medieval Europe as a less distant cousin to indigenous traditional music practice" compared to a Classical-colonial "patriarchal order of tonality that honours a system of domination." The 12th century Notre Dame School of choral music and 17th century style brisé each carry tonal materiality, heterodox technique, and cultural-historical symbolism central to Trill Scan's conceptual and compositional alchemy. Gowdy coheres these beautifully into his palette of serpentine slowburn electronics, a minimal analogue-driven techno shaped by aleatory strategies and tinged with post-punk grit. Gowdy's sound has been aptly described as "gently transportative, flickering like a busted halogen lamp" and his overriding pursuit of psychoacoustic immanence likened to "getting your brain massaged" and praised as "blissful work that bristles with effervescent energy, like brain waves coming in and out of focus." Trill Scan expands this sonic sensibility with more conspicuous harmonic complexity, stylistic variety, and humanistic narrative arc. Alternately sacramental and intimately personal vocals, sometimes wordless and sometimes lyrical, are worked into superlative instrumental tracks, yielding a warmly immersive concept album that's equally Gowdy's most musical. Gowdy sings explicitly of alchemy on the hypnotic album centerpiece "Novus Lumen" with lyrics that gesture at these medieval processes of material investigation. The tension between the scientific and esoteric is crucial; the separation and synthesis of physical substances in medieval alchemy maps onto his fixation with the interplay between the materiality of sound and psychoacoustics. Gowdy follows the Jungian interpretation of classic alchemical texts as an historical bridge to theories of the psyche, where consciousness itself is treated as materiality and similarly subjected to methodical analysis and experimentation, to deconstruction, dissolution, transformation, reintegration, metamorphosis. Song titles like "Arislei Bone" and "Materiadiscipuli" further reference these mythopoetic throughlines from medieval alchemy to modern psychology. Gowdy chooses disruptive forms from the history of Western music that symbolize and prefigure the modern psychological subject and its struggle for/against order, even as they also evoke liturgy and the Renaissance court. The sacramental adds a potent dimension to his pursuit of psychoacoustic activation, meditation, and transcendence, as choral passages intersperse with electronic drone and pointillism throughout the album. His gorgeous Fennesz-meets-lute rendition of the Baroque composition "Courante" by François Dufault offers idiomatic salon-secular counterpoint. Album closer "Strewn" is bookended by a final recurrence of choral invocation, with pulsing earworm motorik techno in between, over which Gowdy whisper-sings a dreamlike vision quest of mythic-alchemical imagery: "as I washed my eyes they turned to metal / and the memories melted to the metal / the metal of my heart." A mesmerizing final song that explicitly invokes Gowdy's search for materialized abstraction and substantive musical immanence wrought from his own psycho-therapeutic subjectivity, and encapsulates the album's turn towards more harmonic, historicized, and humanistic elements. Trill Scan commingles empyrean and earthly electronic songcraft to genuinely original and absorbing effect. Thanks for listening. RIYL: Coil, Nicolás Jaar, Alessandro Cortini, Pantha Du Prince, Fennesz, Visible Cloaks, Actress,

Members went on to Sinkane, and Pompeii, This Morning. Originally recorded in the
summer of 2005 out west, while on tour, by Vince Tennant. The recording had been
shelved and unreleased. In 2023, Expert Work Records reached out to Sweetheart and
got the recording re-mastered. It will be released on limited vinyl and digital.
This is also a companion piece/ record with EW018 (Sweetheart- The Process of
Making Us Well). We highly suggest getting both records.
Sweetheart's "The Unbearable Tightness Of Being" is one of those records you should
put on your radar as soon as possible. A rediscovered artifact from 2005, the album is
a sonic panorama that intricately incorporates post- hardcore, noise rock, punk,
screamo, and indie elements into an innovative and complex sonic landscape. The
guitars, wielded with finesse, serve as the driving force behind Sweetheart's sonic
assault. From the opening chords to the closing refrains, they deliver a relentless
barrage of riffs that defy predictability. The interplay between the two guitarists
manifests as a dynamic dialogue - a musical conversation that seamlessly transitions
from chaotic dissonance to moments of clarity. Catchy, intricate, and hypnotic chord
progressions unfold, evoking the spirit of At The Drive-In and Fugazi while carving a
distinct sonic identity.
However, it's not merely about sonic assault; Sweetheart infuses the album with a
nuanced approach to melody. Amidst the aggressive riffage, this material treats
listeners with moments of harmonic beauty and unexpected melodic twists. Themes,
leads, melodies, and harmonies intermingle, creating a rich auditory experience that
transcends the boundaries of conventional post-hardcore.
The production quality of this long- lost gem further accentuates its brilliance.
Recorded in 2005 but kept in the shadows due to financial constraints and a desire for
perfection, the album has now found its moment in the sun. Expert Work's decision to
release the LP in 2024 has allowed audiences to appreciate the intelligent
craftsmanship that went into its creation.
"The Unbearable Tightness Of Being" is more than a musical journey; it's a sonic
exploration transcending all the possible sonic boundaries. Sweetheart's commitment
to experimentation and honesty, as emphasized by band members reflecting on their
creative process, is palpable. The act of listening, treated as a discipline, is evident in
the careful construction of each track - a result of repetitive practice, internalization,
and an unwavering dedication to their craft. In the grander narrative of the album's
release, the band's reflections on the passage of time and the meaning of their work
imbue the music with a poignant depth.
"The Unbearable Tightness Of Being" is a mandatory addition to any record collection.
It's not just a revival of the early 2000s scene; it's a sheer example of Sweetheart's
enduring brilliance and a celebration of a significant part of their musical legacy.

Muireann Bradley is a young blues, ragtime, roots and folk guitarist and singer based in Ballybofey in County Donegal Ireland. “This is my first album. Most of these tunes were originally recorded by the great blues men and women who were making records from the 1920s and 1930s right up in some cases to the early 1970s. I have also found inspiration for the renditions recorded here in the playing of some of the musicians who began recording this music in the 1960s and later, and who in some cases learned at the feet of the greats. Many of these guitarists played pivotal roles in the 1960s blues revival and subsequent “rediscovery” of many of the greats of country blues. I grew up steeped in these old blues in the hills overlooking the valley of the River Finn just outside the town of Ballybofey in County Donegal. My father would play this music constantly at home and wherever we went in the car and talk about it endlessly whether anyone was listening or not, telling stories about the lives of these musicians as if they were legend, mythology or the evening news. My father could of course play all this stuff on guitar, I remember watching him when I was very young and thinking “I want to be able to do that”. When I was nine he agreed to teach me and bought me my first little travel guitar. I worked hard to learn how to play but as time wore on I seemed to have less and less time to practice as I became more and more invested in the combat sports I was regularly training and competing in. Then in March 2020 the first Covid lockdowns happened and all contact sports were shut down. I was lost for a while but soon found my way back to the guitar. I was now listening, playing and practicing with a new intensity and focus. In a very serious moment, I wrote out a list of tunes I was going to learn. The first tune on that list was Blind Blake’s “Police Dog Blues”. I’m not sure now how long it took to get that arrangement together but when it was ready we videoed me performing it and posted it on YouTube. It ended up getting a lot of attention, I remember my parents being quite shocked and soon after that Josh Rosenthal got in touch… and here we are! Each individual track on this album was recorded live in the studio and represents one entire take with me singing and backing myself up on guitar simultaneously. Most are either first or second takes. Nothing has been added or taken away, no overdubs or modern recording tricks of any kind have been used at all so at least in some respects this album has been recorded in the same way as those classics of the 1920s and 1930s

"Dear music lovers, this album represents the truest and purest essence of myself in a 'now state' at the end of my thirties. I really don't care about aging, but I care about these ten songs. They make me happy, sad, aware, they make me laugh, cry and confident - hopefully, they make you feel the same or make you feel at all, too. For me, they shatter the rising coldness in this world. This wholesome musical powerhouse is about 'people in white cars' - it's a weird metaphor. Learn all about it on this album." - Rico

"Every night we've been listening to RATTLE. They have a stark yet deep trance percussion vibe that is both holistic and rocking." Thurston Moore
“Quietly dramatic and loudly intimate.” The Quietus
“Two drum sets. Two voices. One great idea.” MOJO
Rattle are Katharine Eira Brown and Theresa Wrigley, they formed in 2011 after meeting on the live circuit whilst both playing in other bands. Katharine was a guitarist who had recently started playing drums in the band Kogumaza, whilst Theresa was the drummer in Nottingham band Fists. They’ve since released two long-players, 2016’s self-titled debut album Rattle (Upset The Rhythm / I Own You) and 2018’s Sequence (Upset The Rhythm) to much critical acclaim in the music press, and with James Acaster discussing the debut on his BBC Sounds podcast Perfect Sounds!
Rattle have honed the four songs that make up ‘Encircle’ by playing them live over the last few years, adapting and stretching them into endlessly inventive new shapes, playing with the concept of time and expectation. ‘Encircle’ was recorded at Foel Studios, Wales, produced and mixed by Mark Jasper, and mastered at Liminal Audio by Shaun Crook. The stunningly colourful artwork was created by Martha Glazzard, who was also responsible for Rattle’s other mesmeric covers.
‘All Burning’ opens the album, a live favourite of cyclical tumbling and evolving wordplay. ‘All Burning’ was built up gradually layer by layer with Theresa’s cumulative snare work and Katherine’s urgent calls for action: “hold your doctor, hold your daughter, hold your horses”. If ‘All Burning’ represents fire, then it’s accompanying 12-minute long track on Side 1, ‘Argot’, is informed by the air. ‘Argot’ is a song about uncertainty, with Katherine singing wordlessly across the majority of the track. “I prefer to sing wordlessly often because it feels a bit more expressive and universal” asserts Katherine. The track feels truly epic with a satisfying release that comes with the eventual introduction of the bass drum and snappy hi-hat section.

Side 2 also pairs a shorter song with a long-form composition. ‘Ritual’ is worked up from a simple snare drum pattern which becomes more and more overlapped into an elliptical form of waltz. Katherine considers ‘Ritual’ as “very earthy song - lots of low lying mist on the ground swirling around and the drums coming together to summon something”! ‘Ritual’ was inspired by a visit to the ruins of Boleskine House so multi-dimensional themes and occult practice loom large. ‘Your Move’ is a step-up gear change with the band wanting it to feel like the tape had suddenly started to spin faster, urging movement, venturing action. Clocking in at over 15 minutes, ‘Your Move’, is mesmeric and boundless, hypnotic in its minimalism of doubled-drums and almost tribal vocal cycles.
With ‘Encircle’ Rattle have grown again, these songs are alive with elemental power. They build-up and disintegrate, existing in two places at once, embracing the nuance, tracing the circle’s edge. These are modes of song as pure gesture and eternal imagination, refined in mirrors after midnight.
Rattle has performed at The Barbican, London and toured the UK with Animal Collective and Thurston Moore Group and Europe with The Julie Ruin and Protomartyr, and performed with Hot Snakes, Bill Orcutt Quartetand Codeine.

"Every night we've been listening to RATTLE. They have a stark yet deep trance percussion vibe that is both holistic and rocking." Thurston Moore
“Quietly dramatic and loudly intimate.” The Quietus
“Two drum sets. Two voices. One great idea.” MOJO
Rattle are Katharine Eira Brown and Theresa Wrigley, they formed in 2011 after meeting on the live circuit whilst both playing in other bands. Katharine was a guitarist who had recently started playing drums in the band Kogumaza, whilst Theresa was the drummer in Nottingham band Fists. They’ve since released two long-players, 2016’s self-titled debut album Rattle (Upset The Rhythm / I Own You) and 2018’s Sequence (Upset The Rhythm) to much critical acclaim in the music press, and with James Acaster discussing the debut on his BBC Sounds podcast Perfect Sounds!
Rattle have honed the four songs that make up ‘Encircle’ by playing them live over the last few years, adapting and stretching them into endlessly inventive new shapes, playing with the concept of time and expectation. ‘Encircle’ was recorded at Foel Studios, Wales, produced and mixed by Mark Jasper, and mastered at Liminal Audio by Shaun Crook. The stunningly colourful artwork was created by Martha Glazzard, who was also responsible for Rattle’s other mesmeric covers.
‘All Burning’ opens the album, a live favourite of cyclical tumbling and evolving wordplay. ‘All Burning’ was built up gradually layer by layer with Theresa’s cumulative snare work and Katherine’s urgent calls for action: “hold your doctor, hold your daughter, hold your horses”. If ‘All Burning’ represents fire, then it’s accompanying 12-minute long track on Side 1, ‘Argot’, is informed by the air. ‘Argot’ is a song about uncertainty, with Katherine singing wordlessly across the majority of the track. “I prefer to sing wordlessly often because it feels a bit more expressive and universal” asserts Katherine. The track feels truly epic with a satisfying release that comes with the eventual introduction of the bass drum and snappy hi-hat section.

Side 2 also pairs a shorter song with a long-form composition. ‘Ritual’ is worked up from a simple snare drum pattern which becomes more and more overlapped into an elliptical form of waltz. Katherine considers ‘Ritual’ as “very earthy song - lots of low lying mist on the ground swirling around and the drums coming together to summon something”! ‘Ritual’ was inspired by a visit to the ruins of Boleskine House so multi-dimensional themes and occult practice loom large. ‘Your Move’ is a step-up gear change with the band wanting it to feel like the tape had suddenly started to spin faster, urging movement, venturing action. Clocking in at over 15 minutes, ‘Your Move’, is mesmeric and boundless, hypnotic in its minimalism of doubled-drums and almost tribal vocal cycles.
With ‘Encircle’ Rattle have grown again, these songs are alive with elemental power. They build-up and disintegrate, existing in two places at once, embracing the nuance, tracing the circle’s edge. These are modes of song as pure gesture and eternal imagination, refined in mirrors after midnight.
Rattle has performed at The Barbican, London and toured the UK with Animal Collective and Thurston Moore Group and Europe with The Julie Ruin and Protomartyr, and performed with Hot Snakes, Bill Orcutt Quartetand Codeine.

,respite -- levity for the nameless ghost in crisis", aka ,r--L4nGc`, ist Colin Selfs drittes Album, nach dem gefeierten ,Siblings` (2018) und der dazugehörigen EP ,Orphans` (2019).In ,r--L4nGc" bewegt sich die Musik des in Berlin und New York lebenden Künstlers, Komponisten und Puppenspielers nahtlos zwischen schwebenden, unheimlichen Pop-Vocals, immaterieller experimenteller Elektronik und knallharten Dancefloor-Rhythmen. Strahlende, grenzenlose Schönheit und unentrinnbarer Terror sind ein und dasselbe. Unter Einbeziehung von Selfs langjähriger Praxis des Puppenmachens und auf der Grundlage eines bewussten Exils, das es dem Künstler ermöglichte, sich mit verlorenen Seelen auf anderen Existenzebenen zu unterhalten, ist ,rünL4nGc" eine integrierte Vision der eklektischen Praxis des Künstlers. Self singt in Polari, einer vergessenen Form des Slantwise-Englisch, das von queeren Subkulturen seit Jahrhunderten verwendet wird, um sich der Entdeckung zu entziehen, und performt für unsere verstorbenen Lehrer und Freunde und für den Rest von uns, die bereit sind, mit unheimlichen Geistern zu kommunizieren. Für Fans von Perfume Genius, Björk, Holly Herndon, Psychic TV, Oneohtrix Point Never, Lyra Pramuk, Bat For Lashes, SOPHIE, Talk Talk. "respite - levity for the nameless ghost in crisis", aka "r-nL4nGc", is Colin Self's third full length album, following the acclaimed "Siblings" (2018) and its companion EP "Orphans" (2019). In "r-L4nGc" the Berlin and New York based artist, composer, and puppeteer's music travels seamlessly from soaring, uncanny pop vocals to immaterial experimental electronics and hard-hitting dance floor rhythms. Radiant, limitless beauty and boundless, inescapable terror are one and the same. Incorporating Selfü's long standing practice of dollmaking, and drawing upon a conscious exile that allowed the artist to settle into conversation with lost souls on other planes of existence, "r-L4nGc" is an integrated vision of the artist's eclectic practice. Singing in Polari, a forgotten form of slantwise English used by queer subcultures for centuries to evade detection, Self performs for our departed teachers and friends, and for the rest of us, ready to commune with uncanny spirits. For fans of Perfume Genius, Björk, Holly Herndon, Psychic TV, Oneohtrix Point Never, Lyra Pramuk, Bat For Lashes, SOPHIE, Talk Talk.








[f] [CANTING]

Two records came out in 1988 that forever changed the perception of "experimental" or "serious" music produced in Portugal. These were "Plux Quba" by Nuno Canavarro and "Música de Baixa Fidelidade" by Tózé (António) Ferreira. Both were released by the same label - Ama Romanta -, an influential independent imprint closely linked to avantgarde pop band Pop Dell'Arte. Because those records appeared in what could be perceived as an "alternative pop" framework, they rescued this difficult music from Academia. It helps that Canavarro played in a successful new wave pop band (Street Kids) during the period 1980-83. By association, being a friend since 1976, António was in close contact with many of the musicians and bands that were part of the equally celebrated and detested Portuguese Rock Boom (roughly 79-82).

He was not a musician then but through his friendship with Canavarro, who had the means to acquire electronic equipment, António became involved with that equipment and shared Canavarro's passion for experimentation and curiosity for knowledge. They tried to get hold of as many technical magazines as possible and learn while testing ideas. In 1983, Street Kids were about to break up, young lives drafted into the Army and maybe, in Canavarro's case, a whole new passion for challenging music similar to his bandmate Nuno Rebelo, by then in the process of discovering a wide range of "other" music mainly through Jorge Lima Barreto. Barreto, who had started Telectu with Vítor Rua, possessed a huge book and record collection and, like Rua before them, Canavarro, Rebelo and Ferreira became fascinated by the pool of knowledge they now had access to by frequenting Barreto's house in Lisbon. He was roughly a decade older, had published several books and other writings throughout the 1970s, cultivated an anarchic stance and a penchant for cultural indoctrination. Rebelo was the first to be introduced via his contact with Rua (who had invited him to play in his other band GNR).

Overwhelmed, he felt the need to share his enthusiasm with friends and eventually took a few to the house in true pilgrimage fashion. To see the Light. Among the few he led there was even João Peste, founder of Ama Romanta. Canavarro and Ferreira preceded him.

Ferreira recalls an exciting learning process added to his experiments with Canavarro's array of synths such as the Korg Ms 20, Korg polysix, ARP Axxe, Roland SH-01, the Ensoniq Mirage sampler... He read in a magazine article about someone who had studied at the Institute of Sonology (then in Utrecht, Netherlands) and went there during a vacation trip in the Summer of 1983. He became excited by the prospect of studying at the Institute but money was a problem. Canavarro, on the other hand, was admitted there in the following year. Back in Portugal, Ferreira eventually abandoned his Chemical Engineering studies in Lisbon's Technical Institute in favour of a more focused music practice. He collaborated with Telectu during 1984 and 85 as a sort of technical engineer, implementing some recording solutions and background tapes and went to work at a thermoelectric power plant in Sines, hoping to make enough money to fund his musical studies. He did and proceeded with the paperwork for admission at the Institute of Sonology, now based in The Hague. António studied there in 1986-87 and the present album includes two compositions developed at the Institute: "More Adult Music" and "This Is Music, As It Was Expected", both featuring the voice of Rodney Waschka II. Among other activities and talents, Rodney is an expert in computer music and to António his voice sounded similar to Robert Ashley's, whose work he admired.

What happened at the Institute was a systematization of António's self-taught practice. Computer software, Musique Concrète, noise and silence, organisation of abstract ideas and sounds. The original notes on the back sleeve of the LP give some indication of process and thinking, but a more detailed account was given by António in the liner notes of the CD reissue in 2002, which are also included in this 2025 LP reissue.

The music sounds deep and detailed, despite the fact of António calling it low-fi ("Baixa Fidelidade"). It flows like an improvised performance where several musicians might be responding to each other, respectful of their mutual space. Drama occurs, as a natural emotional connection is sought by the listener. Piano, bells, drone, processed voices, even the clear narrative of Rodney Waschka II, contribute to create a sort of alternative perceptual reality. The sounds are almost tangible, more a part of the physical world than ethereal manifestations and thus it would not be correct to invoke "ambient music" as a selling point. But although "physical" and distinct, this music is still alien, more so in Portugal's 1988 environment. In March, helped by Canavarro, António set up a home studio and there he recorded the remaining material for this album: "Algumas Pessoas Olharam O Sul E Viram Deserto", "Um Som, Seguido De Uma Cena Negra E Malva" and "O Verão Nasceu Da Paixão De 1921".

"Música de Baixa Fidelidade" stands not only as a proof of great resilience but as one of those magnificent works of art coming from someone who balanced technical inclination and emotional sensibility. Because of that, Tózé Ferreira is able to decode the phantom world of sound for anyone who cares to experience the sensation of inhabiting a version of the Future. First ever vinyl reissue, reproduction of the original artwork with an additional insert. Made in collaboration with the artist and the support of Paulo Menezes (Plancton Music), who provided valuable assistance. Remastered by Taylor Deupree.

Wrekmeister Harmonies, the duo of JR Robinson and Esther Shaw, are sonic shape shifters with expansive ideas. From special performances to collaborations the band have worked with David Yow (Jesus Lizard) Ryley Walker, Ken Vandermark, Bruce Lamont, Mark Solotroff, Sanford Parker, Jamie Fennely (Mind Over Mirrors), The Body, Mary Lattimore, Olivia Block, Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu), Chris Brokaw, Fred Lonberg-Holm and Thor Harris (Swans). Inspired by artists such as Glenn Branca, Rhys Chatham, and Lou Reed, the duo approach each album as a new sonic adventure. Flowers in the Spring was born of deep, careful listening as much as composing. It explores music as a meditative practice with a focus on microtonal shifts and intersectional overtones. Robinson explains: "It"s the subtle movements within and without, the fine threads of sound, loud or quiet, interior or exterior that become valuable." Limiting himself to just four mixer channels on each piece; precisely layering guitar and electronics, intently listening and manipulating either the intensity or the duration of each loop to yield unexpected interactions, moments of beauty as well as dissonance. "Flowers in Spring" emerges from fizzing distortion, hewing monolithic slabs of drone from the rock face while electronics push through fissures. "Fuck the Pigs" uses layers of noise as it metaphorically shifts into the depths of winter, arctic winds howling while the guitar scars like frost across a windowpane. In contrast "A Shepherd Stares Into the Sun" is pure light and heat, overwhelming in its sheer celestial enormity. "Flowers Variation" was born of nature"s microscopic subterranean movements in its primordial gloom and buzzing synth pads. Each track holds multitudes of micro sonic details coming together to form the album"s expansive ecosystem.

Wrekmeister Harmonies, the duo of JR Robinson and Esther Shaw, are sonic shape shifters with expansive ideas. From special performances to collaborations the band have worked with David Yow (Jesus Lizard) Ryley Walker, Ken Vandermark, Bruce Lamont, Mark Solotroff, Sanford Parker, Jamie Fennely (Mind Over Mirrors), The Body, Mary Lattimore, Olivia Block, Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu), Chris Brokaw, Fred Lonberg-Holm and Thor Harris (Swans). Inspired by artists such as Glenn Branca, Rhys Chatham, and Lou Reed, the duo approach each album as a new sonic adventure. Flowers in the Spring was born of deep, careful listening as much as composing. It explores music as a meditative practice with a focus on microtonal shifts and intersectional overtones. Robinson explains: "It"s the subtle movements within and without, the fine threads of sound, loud or quiet, interior or exterior that become valuable." Limiting himself to just four mixer channels on each piece; precisely layering guitar and electronics, intently listening and manipulating either the intensity or the duration of each loop to yield unexpected interactions, moments of beauty as well as dissonance. "Flowers in Spring" emerges from fizzing distortion, hewing monolithic slabs of drone from the rock face while electronics push through fissures. "Fuck the Pigs" uses layers of noise as it metaphorically shifts into the depths of winter, arctic winds howling while the guitar scars like frost across a windowpane. In contrast "A Shepherd Stares Into the Sun" is pure light and heat, overwhelming in its sheer celestial enormity. "Flowers Variation" was born of nature"s microscopic subterranean movements in its primordial gloom and buzzing synth pads. Each track holds multitudes of micro sonic details coming together to form the album"s expansive ecosystem.

Somewhat incredibly, this four-piece vocal Soul act are still performing today after 56 years of harmonising, without anything they recorded achieving a physical release until a few years ago. What began as four guys singing together for fun after basketball practice in Portland, took until early 1977 to realise as actual recordings – and that lone tape of four original songs lay unreleased until 2020. From that set we've pulled a bright and lively gem ripe for plays on the Modern Soul scene, backed with stunning, polished slow-jam.

First time ever on 7" 45rpm vinyl, dinked centre hole with picture sleeve, 500 numbered copies only.

As part of maintaining The Black Dog's back catalogue, Dust Science has now re-issued the 2010 album, "Further Vexations". It's a real successor to Radio Scarecrow, moving forward with the dark tone and concepts.

Further Vexations picks up from what was started in Radio Scarecrow, moving beyond the world of open secrets and the bemusing transmissions of number stations, to exploring the dark cynicism of Orwellian practices carried out by our Govern-
ments, institutions and corporations.

Martin Dust from tBd explained, “Our main concern was and still is the amount of personal freedoms being surrendered under the banner of "for your own safety" – CCTV, Biometrics and the World Wide Databases being the latest inventions to save us from ourselves. What is it going to take for people to wake up? How much further can the people that we’ve put into power go before something finally snaps? We've had enough now! We believe that people have become lazy and accepting of "beige" political parties who have realised if they stand for nothing, people will fall for anything.”

10 years on, the references to George Orwell's 1984 appear to be a little naive and wholly inadequate. From billion-dollar corporate entities openly mishandling our data for profit to highly-targeted and manipulative political propaganda campaigns, the misuse of our data and communications is far more sophisticated and devious than originally envisaged.

The stark omens of Further Vexations are now more prophetic than ever.

Free jazz poetry by a spry, 85 year old Joe McPhee, adapting his renowned improvised practice to words - juxtaposed with Mats Gustafson’s sparing brass and electric gestures. It’s an utterly timeless and transfixing salvo, another shiny notch for Smalltown Supersound’s Le Jazz Non Series.

As a common ligature to the OG free jazz scene of ‘60s NYC, with formative binds to its European offshoots and the experimental avant garde, Joe McPhee is a true force of nature who has represented jazz at its freest over a remarkable lifetime. In duo with Swedish free jazz and noise standard bearer Mats Gustafson, he upends expectations with an astonishingly vivid and upfront example of his enduring contribution to freely improvised music. In 11 parts he variously reflects on everything from the neon sleaze and scuzz of NYC to contemporary US politicians and laugh out loud imitations of his previous sparring partners such as Peter Brötzmann, with a head-slapping immediacy that leaves you reeling, spellbound.

McPhee’s flow of rare, organic cadence, ranging from urgent to contemplative and dreamlike, is blessed with a unique turn-of-phrase that surely mirrors his decades of instrumental work. Gustafsson, meanwhile, dextrously takes up the mantle with a multi-instrumental spectrum of sounds, leaving McPhee unbound and able to float and sting on the mic. There’s obvious wisdom in his perceptively penetrative observations, as derived from a rich cultural life well spent, but also a playful naivety and levity in his ability to veer from almost melodic speech to explosive aggression and a knowing, bathetic wit. It’s perhaps hard to believe that McPhee only started incorporating and performing spoken word in his work in the past ten years, a half century since his declaration of “What Time Is It‽” announced his arrival on a legendary debut ‘Nation Time’ (1971), ushering in one of free jazz’s most singular characters in the process.

Oscillating between discordant reflections on life as a touring musician, set to Gustafsson’s skronk and culminating in a snort-worthy imitation of Peter Brötzmann’s gruff German accent, on ‘Short Pieces’ or the glowering growl and noise exhortations of ‘Guitar’, he evokes a more sweetly consonant calm in ‘When I Grow Up’ and eerie threat of ‘The Dreams Book’, and viscerality of ‘Disco Death’, where Gustafson’s tonal versatility comes into hugely mutable play, whilst McPhee’s extraordinary, unaffected voice is a constant. It’s perhaps McPhee’s balance of cool measuredness and wellspring of barbed energies that allows us, at least, to get the most out of this one; not stifling with mannered or manicured enunciation that can trigger certain icks; keeping close to the nature of spoken word in a way that avoids cliche and becomes inherently critical of it within his purposeful, non-hesitant clarity and unflinching approach.

Ginnels never let up. Though it has been, staggeringly, eight long years since the last irresistible jangle pop transmission under the Ginnels moniker, nothing much has changed in Mark Chester's approach when it comes to the practice of music making, even if much everything else for Chester has seen considerable flux – he's now a father of two, and most shockingly of all for an indie popster of his ilk, gainfully employed. "It definitely started the same way all Ginnels stuff starts," Chester explains, "which is just me looking through five years of phone demos and going 'that's a decent song' and 'that's a decent song', and if you keep that up then you have a full album."

The man himself might be coyly committed to making his process sound as pedestrian as possible, but from the moment the delicate chiming introduction of album opener 'The Body Was Gone' goes widescreen – revealing an expanded sonic palette richer in timbre and exponentially wider in scope than anything Chester has let out into the world thus far – it is apparent that "The Picturesque" is poised to be less than parochial in its sonic purview.

From here, "The Picturesque" plays like a gauzy road trip Super 8 footage cutting between scenes of sunset at Monument Valley and B-roll from around middle-Ireland, entirely soundtracked by some enchanted mixtape of heretofore unheard B sides from REM, XTC and The Go-Betweens, unexpected guest appearances from the surprisingly together-sounding ghost of Johnny Thunders and snippets from your coolest friends' unreleased instrumental experiments. All liberally rippled with Chester's unique ear for melody and appetite for the unexpected when it comes to crafting guitar parts. And this, by design, feels like a Guitar Record, above all else.

For all its effortlessly sticky lyrical and melodic twists, "The Picturesque" separates itself within the mighty Ginnels catalogue in both the dexterity in playing and diversity in tone on show across these 12 tracks. And 12, of course as we know, being the optimum number of tracks for any LP to have, so bonus points for that too.

. The idea for the band was originally conceived by singer-guitarist Joe Woodward whilst writing and recording songs in his kitchen on a 4-track recorder, and over time eventually found help from like-minded friends, Elliot Roberts and Cam Wheeler. The three of them would spend their nights experimenting with cassette recording with the admirable if not challenging aim to recreate the symphonic sounds of Phil Spector on a DIY budget. With growing confidence and having amassed a small catalogue of songs, a few aborted attempts were made to get a live band together before they found help from a second guitarist, Eli Allison, who had recently relocated from Cornwall. As necessity would dictate, the first shows as a quartet made use of a drum machine, but the ideal formation for the band wasn’t truly complete until meeting Nia Abraham, whose live drumming would add a more physical quality to the band’s sound. At the beginning of 2024, they began working more purposefully towards an end goal with the writing and recording of the five-song Nowhere Near Today EP. Though retaining some of their home recording practices, they also made use of a studio facility based in a disused shopping centre basement that was made available through SHIFT, a local artist collective connected to the band. The acquisition of an 8-track Tascam 488MKII, along with the natural reverb of SHIFT’s empty concrete space allowed for further opportunity to experiment with both cassette recording techniques and their still developing live sound, the two environments permitting an all-too-rare creative freedom. The process was transformative for the group, their Spector-inspired ambitions now taking on a more defined shape that skirted around the edges of psych, noise-rock and industrial-pop in a way that increasingly became their own. For a debut EP, the results are impressively realised, a confluence of expansive tremolo guitars, a deliberately primordial rhythm section and a contrasting vulnerable vocal performance that’s both melodic and bracing. It’s a record born both of private experimentation and public performance, who they are on stage and what they express on record informing the other but still distinctly each their own thing, shifting then dovetailing like the waves of feedback that wash through Nowhere Near Today. Still a young band, it’s tomorrow they feel a lot closer to.

Brooklyn Sounds legendary second album from 1972, full of heavy Nuyorican underground salsa dura propelled by raw trombones, off-kilter piano and in-your-face percussion. A perfect blend of barrio attitude and Caribbean swing, the album proves Brooklyn has sabor y salsa! Pressed on 180 g vinyl, our reissue includes liner notes featuring never-before seen photos. “Libre – Free” is the now legendary second album by the short-lived Brooklyn Sounds and is arguably even better than their self-titled debut, displaying a more mature and practiced sound, no doubt honed by their experiences playing more gigs in support of their first record. Brooklyn Sounds were one of a handful of garage salsa bands from the independent scene that was gathering steam in the early 1970s in the New York boroughs, despite little support or exposure in the mainstream Latin music industry from more dominant labels like Fania, Mericana, Cotique and Alegre. As with many others, Brooklyn Sounds briefly fluoresced in a burst of creativity and defiance, yet flamed out shortly thereafter, dying like a flower among the ruins of burned-out apartment blocks in the barrios of its home city. Though the band only cut two LPs and a couple singles in their brief half-decade of existence, and never really broke out of the cuchifrito circuit in the tri-state area of New York, New Jersey and Connecticut, their music gradually spread far and wide, eventually becoming a sought-after global commodity by the late 1990s. In contrast to the first album “Libre – Free” is uptempo and ebullient, with fewer slow songs and more confident, creative arrangements, full of heavy Nuyorican underground salsa dura propelled by raw trombones, off-kilter piano and in-your-face percussion. Standout tracks include the uplifting, anthemic ‘Libre soy’, and ‘Ha llegado el momento’, with its minor key ‘Moliendo café’ quote at the
beginning—both of which have become dance floor anthems over the years. Another mid-tempo killer is ‘Guaguancó tropical’, a favorite in Colombia since the 1970s. A perfect blend of barrio attitude and Caribbean swing, the album proves Brooklyn has sabor y salsa!

Alkisah Versi Hitam is a radical deconstruction and reimagination of Indonesian duo Senyawa's most recent album Alkisah by Hamburg's Marc Richter aka Black To Comm. The original album was released to critical acclaim in February of this year as a decentralized release on a multitude of labels from all corners of the world, Germany’s Dekorder being one of them. Richter is now completely reinventing the original album from scratch by doing an almost Teo Macero-level production job here, cutting up the originals and (re)constructing new material from scratch.

Arcane chants and vocal cut-ups, fierce freeform percussion, grimy No Wave collage, monochrome drones exploding into multicolour streams, unearthly psychedelic Noise and sheer sonic mayhem, warped discordant rhythms between moments of calming beauty - it's never easy to digest but the outcome is both ecstatic and transcendental - never sounding anything less than a fully formed singular album.

A special cassette version of the album will be released by Jordanian label Drowned By Locals.

BLACK TO COMM is the moniker of Hamburg composer/musician Marc Richter who is creating intricate multi-layered collage based works for labels like Thrill Jockey, Type and Dekorder. His 2019 album "Seven Horses For Seven Kings" revealed an increasingly angry, transcendental and fearless approach, attaining new levels of urgency through noise, volume, rhythm, repetition, atonality and beauty.

Jogjakarta’s SENYAWA embody the aural elements of traditional Indonesian music whilst exploring the framework of experimental music practice, pushing the boundaries of both traditions. Their music strikes a perfect balance between their avant-garde influences and cultural heritage to create truly contemporary Indonesian new music. Their sound is comprised of Rully Shabara’s deft extended vocal techniques punctuating the frenetic sounds of instrument builder, Wukir Suryadi’s modern-primitive instrumentation. Inventions like his handcrafted ‘Bamboo Spear’; a thick stem of bamboo strung up with percussive strips of the animal skin along side steel strings. Amplified it fuses elements of traditional Indonesian instrumentation with garage guitar distortion. Sonically dynamic, the instrument can be rhythmically percussive on one side whilst being melodically bowed and plucked on the other.

They have collaborated and performed with many notable musicians such as Stephen O'Malley of Sunn o))), Otomo Yoshide, KK Null, Keiji Haino, Rabih Beiani, Trevor Dunn, Greg Fox, Arrington De Dionysus, Melt Banana, Damo Suzuki and Oren Ambarchi.

“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

"We are delighted to be able to bring you these gorgeous field recordings from the Sumedang Province of West Java which, over their 50 minutes, present two distinct sides of Sundanese musical and devotional culture.

Although West Java is a Muslim country, these recordings highlight currents of pre-Islamic animist beliefs and practices that continue to flourish in the small towns and villages of the highlands of West Java. The recordings showcase two forms of trance music that are essential to the spiritual life of the Sundanese people in the highland regions.

Tarawangsa trance music is a traditional ceremonial genre known for its deep spiritual and hypnotic qualities. This music is made using only two instruments, the tarawangsa, a two-stringed fiddle, accompanied by the jentreng, a seven-stringed zither, creating a unique blend of resonant, droning sounds. Historically, tarawangsa music has been performed as part of sacred rituals and agricultural celebrations to honor local deities and ancestors, particularly associated with the Sunda culture. The minimalist, repetitive melodies gradually build, guiding participants and listeners into a meditative, trance-like state, during which dancers can be possessed by the spirits of ancestors or deities from the spirit realm, the music serving as a link between the two worlds.

In stark contrast to the calm, medititive sound of tarawangsa, we also present here two long pieces from Panca Buana Reak Group. Sundanese Reak trance music is like the punk rock of Sunda folk music, combining powerful and driving rhythms played on a number of hand drums and percussion instruments with the buzzing sound of the tarompet, a double reed wind instrument often amplified through whatever mobile speaker system might be at hand. Sometimes the group will play gamelan gongs, as heard on the first piece on the album, although this remains a music that is popular mainly with the working class youth of the rural villages, many of whom will also be fans of Indonesia's burgeoning metal and punk scenes. Reak performances are often wild, anarchic events that feature masked dancers, costumes, public trancing and spirit possession.

These recordings were made by Xenia At during her travels through West Java earlier this year. The tarawangsa recordings were made in a home in the village of Rancakalong on the evening of 17th January 2024, while Panca Buana Reak Group were recorded during rehersals in the village of Cinunuk on 19th and 20th January 2024."

Limited edition of 100 copies.

The musicians:
Overture (played by Panca Buana Reak Group, musicians: Rian Hidayat, Daffa, Rendi, Haswa, Doni, Aconk, Bayu, Zidan, Iwan Uwak, ⁠Mahadewa Sehu, ⁠Bebet, Adi, Bebet).
Reundeu - Master Yayat (kacapi), Tedi Kurniadi (tarawangsa).
Degung - Master Yayat (kacapi), Teguh Permana (tarawangsa).
Pamapag__Gelar Mataram__Panimang__Limbangan - Akbar Nendi (kacapi) & Tedi Kurniadi (tarawangsa).
Reak Lugay Pusaka Pajajaran (played by Panca Buana Reak Group, musicians: Aconk (tong), Rendi (brung), Hendrik (tarompet), Ade (kecrek), Riki (bedug), Doni (talingtit), Adi (badublag).

Xenia would like to extend gratitude to:
Master Yayat, Tedi Kurniadi, Akbar Nendi, and Teguh Permana for their incredible talent that turned this recording into a magical experience.
Ibrahim Adi Surya for technical support.
The Juarta Putra and Panca Buana Reak groups for explaining the cultural significance of local traditions.
Anggun Tresnasari for sharing her deep knowledge of regional music traditions.
Igor Moskalenko, Kate Snap, Stasya Frolova, Roman Gold, Misha Maltsev, Ilona Popychko, Galih Muhammad, Wildan Wiliansyah, Rizalu Ramadhan, Rahi Rahmat, Fahmi Solihin and Muhammad Ismael whose unwavering belief made this project possible.

Hive Mind would like to thank Luigi Monteanni (Artetetra) and Palmer Keen (Aural Archipelago) for their invaluable work and research in this region.

GFATC Exploring hip-hop’s dustier grooves, sounding similar at times to his early solo work or the 2020 Fly Anakin collaboration Fly Siifu’s.

GFATC’s mode and presentation help distinguish it: It has the air of a daisy-chained DAT tape reel that somehow found its way into your speakers. Without separated tracks, the beginnings and endings of songs (producers include Siifu’s alias iiye, Tony Seltzer, XVII, MVW, West, and IMDEAD) are left to the listener to determine. On paper, it’s a suite; in practice, it becomes more like a sculpture, where multiple angles of engagement over time bring a more weighty understanding.

LTD BLACK VINYL TO 150 COPIES ONLY

Comes with 2 unreleased bonus cuts.

Production: iiye, Tony Seltzer, XVII, MVW & West, IMDEAD
Sound design: iiye x Apollo Rome
Featuring: Butch Dawson, Peso Gordon, Turich Benjy, Apollo Rome
Mixed: iiye, zeroh, kei$ha, anwalk
Mastered: devin burgess, zeroh

Part 2 in the GFATC series. Fav episode by Boy Q

GFATC Exploring hip-hop’s dustier grooves, sounding similar at times to his early solo work or the 2020 Fly Anakin collaboration Fly Siifu’s.

GFATC’s mode and presentation help distinguish it: It has the air of a daisy-chained DAT tape reel that somehow found its way into your speakers. Without separated tracks, the beginnings and endings of songs (producers include Siifu’s alias iiye, Tony Seltzer, XVII, MVW, West, and IMDEAD) are left to the listener to determine. On paper, it’s a suite; in practice, it becomes more like a sculpture, where multiple angles of engagement over time bring a more weighty understanding.

BLACK VINYL LTD TO 150 COPIES ONLY

Production: Ahwlee, Por Vida, Tony Seltzer x Grimm Doza, Michael White, LastNameDavid, Crem'e, Bobbyy
Sound Design: iiye
Featuring: Cleo Reed, Judah, Ahwlee, VonBeezy, Tyah, Turich Benjy
Mixed: iiye, ahwlee, zeroh, kei$ha, anwalk, bryan
Mastered: devin burgess, zeroh


[b] 02 DEADASS [REMINDER]

Mischievous festa punk meets astral steppas, kalaedoscopic free ambient meets harsh noise, scattered amen breaks with IDM and free jazz trumpets meets the earthly plod of digidub. It can only be Felinto from Sao Paulo.
UTOPIA MILHÃO honors the life forces that allow us to transform the darkness where dreams reside. The album brings a new moment of intimacy for Felinto's musical expression flowing through dirty, raw, dense and brilliant dub fractals, ready to transform unexpectedly into a new shape then another, and another, and another... featuring collaborations with magical people: Sarine (Deafkids), Douglas Leal (Deafkids), Guizado (Afrobombas), Sandra X, Paula Rebellato (Rakta), Lorena Hollander, Yao Bobby, Kiko Dinucci, Paulo Papaleo, Cint Murphy, Rodrigo Lima.
Felinto is a political agitator and musician at the heart of the São Paulo underground - a movement that confronts the various effects of the capitalist system of racial, sexual, ,,,,, and 22222 lawand material oppression.

His provocations range from yoga for children and parenting studies (SACYOGA), theatre (PROJETO CRIOULOS and PROJETO JAMES BALDWIN), web series highlighting the black presence in electronic music in São Paulo (MODULAÇÃO PRETA), reflective groups on gender violence and masculinities, occupation of public spaces for political art q(Coletivo Sistema Negro), artistic curatorship (Residência SOMSOCOSMOS) and studies with sound as a tool in conflict mediation practices. Felinto composes for film, theatre and immersive installations such as MEGACITIES presented at the National Gallery of Victoria, Canada in 2023.

He is currently researching - as part of a masters project in clinical psychology - the collectivised dream realities of black people. A field of action that contemporary anthropology, psychoanalysis and psychology call ONIROPOLITICA.

His interest in affinity groups, autonomous networks of micro-political articulation and penal abolitionism led him to the questions: what do black people dream about within the permanent context of civil war and state violence (like the one in Brazil)? How does this experience create dreams and how does the dream affect the construction of identities beyond the boundaries established by the capitalist unconscious?

Label and collaborative musical collective, +33JOY announce their debut release, this first one from Bopperson & Bikbaye.

Born out of a meeting at New York’s annual Winter Jazz Festival, back in 2020, this 4 track EP entitled ‘The Wellness Project’ is a very personal project.

Neil Bopperson is a DJ, musician and producer originally from Yorkshire. Having travelled the world working as a DJ and chef, he landed in London for a while where he remixed afrobeat legend Dele Sosimi for Wah Wah 45s. Now residing in Paris, France, a sharer and carer of music in every aspect, he chooses not to follow trends but instead follow his heart, with variety being an essential part of his musical DNA.

Based in Los Angeles, Bikbaye Inejnema works as a cultural activist, writer, teacher, counselor and spoken word artist. He has a bachelor’s degree in Sociology boasting over ten years experience in social work. He works as a A.T.O.D. (alcohol, tobacco & other drugs) prevention specialist for Homeless Healthcare in L.A. He is also the Executive Director of The Conscious Youth Global Network (CYGN)

Bikbaye strives to utilize art to equip the youth with the skills to become positive, productive citizens. Focusing on diverse topics ranging from leadership development to financial literacy to health and nutrition, Bikbaye gives youth the tools they need to create empowered and enlightened content.
As Bikbaye says, “The goal is to flood the airwaves, the media, everywhere with enlightened art.”

This first release on +33JOY comes in the form of a collaborative project, with music coming predominantly from Neil, with a little help from some additional players - Sam Crowe; keys (Lianne La Havas, Little Simz & Native Dancer) and the saxophone of Nick Briggs; (Joel Culpepper, Poté & The Last Skeptik). All words and vocals are from Bikbaye.

After a chance meeting in NYC, where Bikbaye was hosting talks at The Winter Jazz Festival, speaking mainly about mental health and wellness in the music industry. His words really resonated with Neil, they connected and this EP is the outcome.

Sitting somewhere in the alternative hip hop world, music is used as a vessel for Bikbaye’s words to ring out. Upon being presented with Bikbaye’s recordings, Neil composed music and collected sound design accordingly.

Starting out the set is the stripped back ‘Wellness Is A Practice’, as the opener to proceedings the vocals take forefront and the message is clear. Found sound, an old crunchy keyboard and some guitar pulses keep the poem afloat.

‘Who Are You?’ raises important questions, directed at other artists and music industry professionals. Flute, choirs and spacy drums come together for an eerie and dubbed out moment.

Third track ‘Consumption’ conveys perhaps the most important memo on the release. Sam Crowe’s grand piano floats beautifully over the reading, really highlighting Bikbaye’s statements.

Finally, and with a more hopeful feel, ‘Changes’ was the last addition to the recording sessions. A sketch Neil had been sitting on for a while, DJ Bobafatt added some cuts and Nick Brigg’s sax solo opens this track out to a goosebumps inducing ending. The most upbeat of the four tracks serves as a perfect prelude to the club-ready remixes that will follow this release.

Who is Isabelle Lewis, anyway?

What kind of music does she make? Is she an opera singer? Does she write pop songs? Does she compose ethereal ambient soundscapes? Does she play chamber music on the violin? Is she producing dark, electronic beats?

Well… yes. But Isabelle Lewis is not so much a person as a project. Isabelle’s debut album, Greetings, credits a trio of composer–performers at its heart: producer Valgeir Sigurðsson, vocalist Benjamin Abel Meirhaeghe, and violinist Elisabeth Klinck. The sound of the elusive Isabelle Lewis is heard most clearly in the push and pull between them, the three-way tension that gives the album its musical and emotional drive.

Each of the three brings more to the collaboration than those epithets might imply. Elisabeth’s solo performance practice incorporates composition, improvisation, live electronics, and a close command of bowing and fingering techniques that make her fiddle sing, whisper or whistle as required. Benjamin is a self-taught countertenor - keening, crooning, and swelling to a voluptuous sensuality—but also an interdisciplinary stage director and performer. Well known for his work as a producer and studio collaborator, and as a composer of scores for film and stage, Valgeir’s solo discography interweaves meticulously crafted electronics, drones, noise, and other digital elements with acoustic instruments and vocals recorded with naked, unflinching clarity.

But the extravagant theatricality Benjamin brings to the aptly titled “Drama”—also featuring a heroic violin solo from Elisabeth—grapples against the thudding bass of the implacable digital backdrop. On “Mother, Shelter Me” Valgeir’s austere and detailed production throws the hushed violin and vocals into stark relief. The result is an exquisitely uncanny juxtaposition of past and present, human and mechanical, like a Rococo treasure viewed under cold fluorescent lights, or an 18th-century automaton slowly opening its clockwork eyes.

Even the lyrics seem somehow out of time. On “O Solitude,” Benjamin goes so far as to quote an entire song by the first great English opera composer, Henry Purcell, verbatim. No stranger to Purcell’s music, which has made its way into Benjamin’s theatrical productions as well, here Isabelle Lewis removes Purcell’s melodies and harmonies and sets the text, Katherine Phillips’s 17th century translation of a poem by Antoine Girard de Saint-Amant, to new music whose heightened, archaic character nevertheless seems haunted by Baroque ghosts.

Throughout the album, the outsized emotions and timeless archetypes of Benjamin’s lyrics feel like relics from some half-forgotten past—from the neatly rhymed couplets of “Fisherman,” a seemingly straightforward (but still somewhat askew) character study, to the abstraction of “Moonshell,” whose words seem like the fragments of some ancient, lost lament. It is just another of many ways in which Isabelle Lewis carefully distorts the listener’s notions of time. On a more micro level, time can stop for a moment of weightless, drifting ambience, and then plunge forward as the cloud of harmonies suddenly lock into tempo with the drop of the bass or the change of a chord. Or else that weightless moment is allowed to be, as in the aptly named prologue and epilogue to these Greetings (“Voicemail”/“…and farewell”), or in the interstitial tracks that bind the album together, connecting its dramatic peaks with expanses of meditative stasis.

The album as a whole is elegantly shaped, swelling from an intimate, interpersonal statement into something deeper and more spacious. The first half of the album leans slightly towards self-contained pop songcraft and ticking beats, while side B jumps off from “O Solitude” into the almost symphonic grandeur of songs like “Moonshell” or the instrumental “Not the water, air, or the dirt.”

But as it progresses, the contrasts only grow more sublime: antique and postmodern, human and machinelike. The ominous weight of the droning sub-bass and trombone (guest player Helgi Hrafn Jónsson) only makes the interplay between vocals and violins (guest player Daniel Pioro joining Elisabeth) seem more delicate and vulnerable. The ethereal string tremolos of “Moonshell” seem to pull against the heavy, shuddering electronics and layers of crooning vocals.

And that, in short, is where you will find Isabelle Lewis. Like an ancient stone archway, or a delicate house of cards, the architecture of Greetings is held together by the tension between opposing forces. Not just in Elisabeth’s playing, Benjamin’s singing, or Valgeir’s arrangements and production but in the conflict and contrast that generates the synergy between them.

Oh—Isabelle says hi, by the way. She’s looking forward to meeting you.

Indulge in the smooth vibes of Luke Beats' latest album, 'Cream', dropping now on Little Beat More.
Inspired by the Italian saying 'ci sta una crema' ('as good as cream'), which indicates the utmost satisfaction, this work is the perfect dessert for your musical gluttony, kneaded by the skilful hands of Luke Beats for all hip hop lovers. In a world where the saying 'Cash rules everything around me' (once again: C.R.E.A.M!) still resonates loudly from the days when Method Man and the Wu-Tang rapped it, the love and passion for music can continue to shine.
With nods to sounds that have defined this genre in its origins, especially in the melodic and synthesiser parts, 'Cream' blends tradition and novelty, love for the classic and curiosity for the contemporary, creating a dreamy, mellow atmosphere that takes listeners on a creamy journey.
The 18-track album features the collaboration of drummer Federico Romeo on '404 Fun 4 Days' and guitarist Danny Bronzini on 'JamDilla', while Luke Beats himself played bass parts on 'P.T.H', 'JamDilla', 'Cookin' and 'The D'.

Once again, Matteo Baracco's artwork adorns the EP, with a closed but squashed tube of tempera, which perfectly complements the nostalgic yet fresh sounds within, telling of an approach to production and beatmaking still anchored in the “old school” sound craft principles in which getting one's hands dirty is the prerogative needed to shape a sound that is personal and respectful of its history.

A further tribute to the golden era of hip hop is provided by the format of the release, in an iconic timeless audio cassette to dust off your ghettoblaster!

The Invisible Road: Original Recordings, 1985–1990 compiles an unheard, previously unreleased body of recordings by Sussan Deyhim and Richard Horowitz, dissidents from diametric backgrounds who met during the heady days of Downtown New York in the 1980s. This collection reveals the creative and life partners’ radical shared vision of avant-garde pop in all of its boundary pushing freedom, combining Deyhim’s singular approach to vocalization, Horowitz’s invention of new musical languages, and touchstones of traditional music from around the world, creating a new music that ultimately retains a voice entirely its own. Despite their difference in backgrounds and respective journeys, at the time of their meeting in the early 1980s in New York City, Sussan Deyhim and Richard Horowitz were both products of the search for freedom and understanding (and resultant awakenings) that swept the globe and helped culturally define the late 1960s and 70s. Deyhim, born and raised in Tehran, spent her teens dancing with Iran’s Pars National Ballet company, performing weekly on Iranian national television, and travelling her home country studying with master folk musicians and dancers, before relocating to Belgium and joining Maurice Béjart’s prestigious Béjart Ballet of the 20th Century. Horowitz, born and raised in Buffalo, New York, had spent much of the decade before abroad, first departing for Paris under the shadows of the Vietnam War, where he studied piano, Eastern philosophy, and became entrenched the city’s free jazz scene, playing with the likes of Steve Lacy, Anthony Braxton, and Alan Silva, before embarking south to Morocco where his friendship with Paul Bowles helped cultivate a deep passion for the country’s musical traditions and a shift in his musical practice.



The pair met by chance sometime in 1981 at Noise New York, a small studio on West 34th Street founded by the musician and recording engineer, Frank Eaton, as a utopian creative laboratory that beckoned artists and bands like Arthur Russell, Christian Marclay, Liquid Liquid and Butthole Surfers into its orbit. Both artists had recently relocated to the city, Horowitz having recently released his debut album, Oblique Sequences (Solo Nai Improvisations), on the legendary Paris based imprint Shandar, and fallen in with members of New York avant-garde like La Monte Young, Jon Hassell, David Byrne, and Brian Eno, and Deyhim having begun to more actively incorporate singing into her practice, notably recording a vocal score for choreography she was doing at La MaMa Experimental Theatre.



Initially bonding over a cassette tape of field recordings made by Paul Bowles that had been given to mutual friend and writer Brian Cullman (seeking answers for Ornette Coleman’s question “what is the sound of sound”), their earliest collaboration was documented on Horowitz’s 1981 album, Eros In Arabia, with Deyhim contributing vocals to the track “Queen Of Saba.” Over the coming years, their deep connection would routinely gravitate them into the studio, culminating in the body of recordings that would appear on their 1986 album for Crammed Discs, Desert Equations: Azax Attra. Unknown to nearly all but the artists, laying in wait over the decades on numerous multi-track and stereo reels, DAT tapes, and reference cassettes, were a vast array of recordings made by Deyhim and Horowitz bookending Desert Equations. The 13 pieces represented on The Invisible Road: Original Recordings, 1985–1990 were recorded largely between Noise New York and Daylight Studio in Brussels, during a period that Deyhim describes the partnership between herself and Horowitz’s as seeking a music “free of any specific cultural reference, with a personal musical signature,” blossoming into a body of sonority that embraced the energy of contemporary boundary pushing pop and the avant garde, filtered through their mutual love and study of various musical traditions from across the globe and deep engagement with the ideas and tactics of experimental music.



Undeniably rooted in Horowitz’s study of the North Africa ney and the music of the Berber and Gnawa cultures during his time in Morocco, Deyhim’s deep engagement with the folk traditions of Iran, and the couple’s immersion in the interconnected Downtown underground music scenes, each piece on The Invisible Road offers its own vision creative and cultural hybridity. Deyhim sings in both English and Farsi, as well as a composite tongue that she developed by drawing upon numerous indigenous vocal techniques from around the world, intuitively responding to Horowitz’s simultaneous sound syntax forming and combining a wide range synthetic and acoustic instrumentation, and experimental tape techniques, within a visionary series of free-standing expressions.

“Music is my forever cove,” writes Portland, Oregon’s Luke Wyland of the ideas that give shape to Kuma Cove, his latest album under his own name. Though named after a real place on the Oregon coast, Kuma Cove casts its gaze far beyond the sightseer’s line of vision. Recorded live in the studio and blurring obvious lines between computer-based composition and electro-acoustic instrumentation, it is an album about flow, borders, transitory states, and shelter. Composed of discontinuous ripples and repetitions (“I’m forever searching for a better descriptor than looping, which feels too simple and flattened by overuse,” Wyland says), shaped into richly emotive arcs, and informed by his experience as a person who stutters, it is also an album about identity, self-expression, and the energies that sluice through and across what we perceive as linear time—like floodwaters seeking an exit, like streams running into the sea.

Artist’s Statement:
I made this record while spending significant time in the woods by the Sandy River in Corbett, Oregon,
where I've had my studio for the last five years. It is a diary of spontaneous live recordings edited to highlight the moments of clarity that emerge from long-form improvisations. These compositions express a slowing internal rhythm. An unwinding. A somatic recalibration as I enter middle age. A newly empowered vulnerability.

Here are the internalized cadences of my stutter, flowing freely from my fingers. The musicality of my disfluency is revealed in its frictions, elongations, and foreshortenings. Disruptions in linear time, where the bubbling cadences of my stutter find unexpected pathways, reveal the elasticity of the present moment. This is my idiosyncratic language, shaped and inspired by my disability. Subliminally mirroring internal processes, neural firings, cognitive entanglements...

The title, Kuma Cove, refers to a beloved cove on the coast of Oregon my wife and I return to yearly. There has always been something so magnetic about coves. The way they cradle one from the overwhelming enormity of the ocean beyond, muting a primordial fear. I experience these improvisations as ecosystems I'm able to inhabit for stretches of time, embodying the particular rhythms and sensorial textures within each. Music is my forever cove. Everything you hear is created live in Ableton on a setup I've been honing for 15 years. I celebrate MIDI and computer music as an extension of self and strive to make it as expressive as any analog instrument. I was a visual artist for the first half of my life and quickly adapted those skills to composing and producing on a computer. The transition felt natural within the landscape of DAW's interfaces, especially as a synesthete. Ableton and its community of Max creators continue to surprise me with its expansiveness.

I'm forever searching for a better descriptor than looping, which feels too simple and flattened by overuse. I envision sonic loops as tangled masses of time, three-dimensional knots spinning on tilted axes, or overlapping wreaths refracting out a myriad of colors. My practice is continually refocusing my ear to what is revealed in the repetitions, searching for the fingerprint of each. I find it incredible how technology lets us manipulate time like this. Nothing on this record is quantized or locked to a universal bpm. Experiencing numerous tempos at once feels important. Recordings as mirrors. Freedom from expected (conversational) flow as we hold time for each other.
-Luke Wyland, August 2024

Artist Bio:
Luke Wyland is an interdisciplinary artist, composer, and performer based in Portland, OR (USA). Wyland has been releasing critically acclaimed records for the past 20 years in the groups AU and Methods Body, as LWW, and under his own name, working with such labels as New Amsterdam, Beacon Sound, Balmat, The Leaf Label, and Aagoo Records. As a person who stutters, Wyland’s approach to music is informed by his idiosyncratic relationship with language. Wyland believes deeply in the cathartic power of live performance as a means for collective healing. Through an interdisciplinary art practice that focuses on improvisation, somatic embodiment, bespoke tuning systems, the cadences of disfluent speech, and time manipulation technologies, he’s collaborated with choreographers, high-school choirs, filmmakers, sound designers, and renowned musicians such as John Niekrasz, Holland Andrews, Colin Stetson, and Abraham Gomez-Delgado. He’s also the co-creator of the “It’s A Fucking Miracle” dance class with Tahni Holt.
Wyland has toured nationally and internationally and performed at the Whitney Museum, Ecstatic Music Festival, Issue Project Room, PICA’s Time-Based Arts Festival, End of the Road Festival, and Les Nuits Botanique, among others.

Black vinyl 180g made only in 100 numbered copies.

This record is different. It is different from what might be expected of Jan Emil Mlynarski by those who know him, from sold-out shows and platinum albums of his bands – Jazz Band Młynarski – Masecki and Warsaw Dance Combo, as an old-timer, curator and reenactor of pre-World War II Warsaw's plush dancehalls and backyards folklore. Quite likely they may not recognize him until the last song, when he removes his shaman mask and bows down: Yeah, that's really me, folks, your good ol' Jan Emil, the entertainer. They might not have even known that he ever played drums because in his flagship bands, clad in a white tux in the former or in a Peaky Blinder hat in the latter, he sings and plays mandolin banjo. In fact, Młynarski has been a drummer for a lot longer than a singer. He stands clear of the jazz mainstream but is active on the progressive scene. A record he contributed to, trumpeter Tomasz Dąbrowski's 2022 release The Individual Beings, was recognized by Downbeat magazine as "excellent" and awarded the highest rating of five stars.

However, this is the first instrumental record to bear his name. As an album by a drummer, it stands out from other records, especially as it features drums as the principal content rather than the performance by a band with a drummer as the leader. It's all about drums, there is neither an articulate melody – because the melodies that are there are only micro-linesencased in ostinato modules – nor is harmony as an intentional chord progression – because whatever harmony-wise there is, is rather a product of the counterpoint of overlapping voices. All sounds other than the drums make only a riverbed through which runs a raging stream of rhythms. And indeed, this record took off just with this stream. At first all the drums were recorded live onto an analog tape, all at once, without overdubs or editing. After that, synthesizer riffs were added, and the record was ultimately assembled on tape without the use of computers or complex postproduction, which sets it apart from most releases today.

Młynarski the drummer acknowledges that he follows the trail beaten by Art Blakey, Max Roach, Roy Haynes, and Billy Higgins, but he walks it in his own strides. He treats the jazz drumming with specific reversed engineering by decompiling the jazz drum kit originally compiled by the pioneer jazz drummers from an array of instruments that had made their way from a jungle to New Orleans, first to Congo Square and then to street brass bands.

This takes him back to the jungle, his drums don't sound like jazz drums, the snare is rare, and the hi-hat and ride aren't there at all. Instead, there are drums and bells from Nigeria, Ghana, Burkina Faso, and Côte d'Ivoire. He doesn't sound like a jazz drummer either, but like a gang of drummers, each playing their own rhythm, and it's hard to believe that all this is the work of one man.

Not only his drumware comes from the jungle, but also the software – his approach to rhythm and time. Its essence is polyrhythm and ostinato. The polyrhythmic matters were unveiled to Młynarski and Piotr Zabrodzki, his creative partner in many projects and co-composer/producer of this album, by the legendary eccentric veteran-drummer Władysław Jagiełło, who introduced them, aged thirteen, to his concept and practice of "17 Latino rhythms at once". Ostinato, an obstinate repetition of a phrase or rhythm, "arrests" time, turning its linear course into cyclical in-place rotations. This is specific not only to African music but also to cultural music of other regions and differs from Western artistic music in that it does not "run" to fulfil an aesthetic intention but "stays" to provide the framework for recurrent routines of communal proceedings.

So, this record is different. And, if you are different too, this is the record for you.