Suche:recall one

Minimal don Kepler strikes a balance between dancefloor utility and introspection on his latest record, and debut for X-Kalay. Big house and techno incursions straight out of Yorkshire – Leeds, to be precise. It’s a strong testament to the region’s long standing reputation as a hotbed for late-night minimalism.

Subtle flourishes and details stand out across all four tracks. Uncovering relics from ancient futures, ‘Lowlife’ stimulates the pineal gland with a mescaline-strength take on classic ‘90s tech house. While it dials the trippier elements down just a tad, ‘Control’, like its predecessor, recalls golden era Wiggle or Asad Rizvi under his Silverlining moniker.

No half measures on the next one. Bringing heft in spades, ‘Stranded’ comes hurtling in with swinging, jacking 4 AM NRG. It’s some serious gear, which makes the EP closer such an unexpected left-turn. ‘Need’ offers proper heads-down introspection, complete with widescreen, nebulous chords that ripple out into the vastness of space.

Grand River and Sofie Birch are set to unveil their collaborative EP, titled “Our Circadian,” on November 24, through Melantónia.

The two-track release follows Grand River’s final release under the now-discontinued Editions Mego label earlier this year, and Sofie Birch’s two solo albums from 2022. Our Circadian represents the second collaborative release on Melantónia, a platform founded by Hanna Maria & Mattia Onori in 2021, dedicated to music for non-dance environments, featuring early contributions from artists like Polygonia, Plants Army Revolver, and Melantónia co-founders Hanna Maria & Mattia Onori themselves, amongst others.

“Our Circadian” was conceived remotely in 2021 during the lockdown, with the aim of encapsulating two distinct moments of those days – early morning and late afternoon – along with their subtle emotional nuances. The first track of the release – 7PM – conveys dreamy atmospheres that flow into colorful rhythms, recalling the electroacoustic nature of the label’s melancholic sounds. The gloomier 3AM, on the other side of a 7“ record, offers a timeless introspection of a gently intensifying synth sound’s fling.

Grand River, a composer and sound designer, brings her background in linguistics to her work. She draws inspiration from minimalism and ambient music, resulting in atmospheric and rhythmically intricate compositions. Her artistic pursuits traverse the realms of art and electronic music, exploring forms of communication that transcend language, often influenced by nature, scale, and movement. Grand River’s impressive portfolio includes sound installations at 4DSOUND/Monom and Terraforma’s Il Pianeta, as well as performances at prestigious venues like Barbican, Rewire, MUTEK, Le Guess Who?, CTM, Draaimolen, and Atonal’s Kraftwerk. She has also worked on remixes for notable acts like Tangerine Dream. Since 2016, she has curated the label One Instrument, offering a unique creative challenge to artists: creating music using only a single instrument.

Sofie Birch, a celebrated sound artist and producer, is known for her lush ambient releases, art installations, live performances, DJ sets, and her NTS show “Ambient Abracadabra.” Her sonic creations can manipulate space, infuse it with a profound sense of calm, and invite listeners to engage in meditation and introspection through the healing qualities of sound and vibrations. Her music acts as a conduit for understanding the complexities of the mind and body through artistic expression, characterized by a distinct emphasis on stillness, suspension, and sustain. Sofie’s soundscapes open gateways to dream-like states of perception and heightened presence, providing a transcendental journey into an alchemical biosphere. Her extensive repertoire includes performances at renowned events such as Barbican, Roskilde Festival, MUTEK, Unsound, CTM, Rewire, Monom, and Terraforma, as well as award-winning compositions for VR experiences and animated films, in collaboration with artists like Baum & Leahy and animation director Pernille Kjaer.

As Our Circadian takes its final form, it promises a narrative of resilience, creativity, and the indomitable human spirit guided by the artistic mastery of Grand River and Sofie Birch.

The earth rotates, seasons change_there is but one long day_ Time is a beguiling, indistinct entity_sometimes standing still, sometimes bending back upon itself with premonitions or memories of the future. Growing out of a pen pal style correspondence that took place over the course of a year, separated by the Atlantic Ocean, Gloria de Oliveira and Dean Hurley passed thoughts and music back and forth that would eventually form their collaborative album, Oceans of Time. The result is an aural tapestry of that exchange: woven from conceptual threads of the celestial within, mortality and the realm beyond stars. The duo's partnership is an effortless merge, yet it's the steady presence of de Oliveira's vocals that endows the record with its sense of potency. Throughout the album, there is an innate understanding of how a lyric across a chordal color can sharpen an emotional truth. Much like a sunbeam that pierces a spiderweb to reveal its intricacy, her lyric and melody are purposely aimed in order to illuminate the truths deep within oneself_a process that ties us all to the universal. The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, a professed influence, wrote about the truth as something that was inherently subjective, less about the concrete reality of what is believed and more about how it is experienced by the believer. Frequent David Lynch collaborator Dean Hurley sets the tonal and sonic landscape of each track on the album, lending a layered ether that envelops, frames and holds de Oliveira's vocals. With its impressionistic synths, shimmering guitars, and ethereal sonics, Oceans of Time at moments recalls the foundational dreampop of 4AD acts like Cocteau Twins and Lush. The album feels especially attuned to the connections between the physical and transcendental realms, and the best dreampop has a way of making the veil between two worlds feel just a little bit thinner. Oceans of Time is a key that has the power to release its listener from the handcuffs of reality, however briefly_

The earth rotates, seasons change_there is but one long day_ Time is a beguiling, indistinct entity_sometimes standing still, sometimes bending back upon itself with premonitions or memories of the future. Growing out of a pen pal style correspondence that took place over the course of a year, separated by the Atlantic Ocean, Gloria de Oliveira and Dean Hurley passed thoughts and music back and forth that would eventually form their collaborative album, Oceans of Time. The result is an aural tapestry of that exchange: woven from conceptual threads of the celestial within, mortality and the realm beyond stars. The duo's partnership is an effortless merge, yet it's the steady presence of de Oliveira's vocals that endows the record with its sense of potency. Throughout the album, there is an innate understanding of how a lyric across a chordal color can sharpen an emotional truth. Much like a sunbeam that pierces a spiderweb to reveal its intricacy, her lyric and melody are purposely aimed in order to illuminate the truths deep within oneself_a process that ties us all to the universal. The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, a professed influence, wrote about the truth as something that was inherently subjective, less about the concrete reality of what is believed and more about how it is experienced by the believer. Frequent David Lynch collaborator Dean Hurley sets the tonal and sonic landscape of each track on the album, lending a layered ether that envelops, frames and holds de Oliveira's vocals. With its impressionistic synths, shimmering guitars, and ethereal sonics, Oceans of Time at moments recalls the foundational dreampop of 4AD acts like Cocteau Twins and Lush. The album feels especially attuned to the connections between the physical and transcendental realms, and the best dreampop has a way of making the veil between two worlds feel just a little bit thinner. Oceans of Time is a key that has the power to release its listener from the handcuffs of reality, however briefly_

Talla 2XLC is always at the top of beatport sales trance charts with his inventive originals and mouthwatering reworks. His next release Welcome To The Future on That’s Trance is an excellent update of the Schiller’s side project Nova released in 1999. Get ready for a magnificent uplifting euphoric trancer with infectious main melody to blow your mind and uplift your senses. Welcome To The Future employs psy trance sharp basslines, punchy booming kicks and classic trance percussion to create its intense drive while on top piano chords, gated trancy voices and nice synthy hooks are added to create a starling infectious result.

The breakdown is a magnificent cinematic journey with warm strings, airy pads, spacey sound effects and beautiful spoken female vocals describing a better future without the ugly side of our society. The finest highlight of the track is the incredible euphoric synthy riff that has the darkness and melodramatic tones that we all adore in our trance. When the beat strikes back this unforgettable melody is supported from additional melodic layers, piano chords and energetic acid over tones to toughen the proceedings. It’s one of those tracks that will easily crawl under your skin and become part of your trance DNA recalling the great epic Frankfurt trance sound with its industrial and high tech feel to it.

Welcome To The Future is Talla’s outstanding track out now on his own imprint That’s Trance.

Flora Yin Wong’s ravishing interiority finds lucid expression on an absorbing second album for Modern Love, manifesting her instrumental storytelling in a syncretic bind of supernatural themes with hyperrealist, concrète sound design.

Through ten parts, Flora crystallises the ennui that followed an uncanny, disorienting trip to East and Southeast Asia. “On an unexpected stopover in Hong Kong after five years away, my friends took me to a Bazi reader one night - something I was curious about, but much of a ritual for them - ” Flora recalls. “My father told me that when I was born, he had obtained an auspicious reading that since stayed like a guiding talisman with me. It was almost past midnight but people were still lined up, rather shaken and visibly upset, to see the old man. He had kind eyes and asked me why I was there and I said I was at a crossroads. He asked me my time and date of birth, and told me to pick one of his four little white canary birds as a vessel for divination.”

This was the final stretch of an ultimately aimless few months across the continent, including a 20 year overdue return with her father to his adoptive family in his hometown Kuala Lumpur - for many reasons, ended up as a strange and uncanny trip. She spent solitude in a haunted house during the quiet snowfall of Kyoto, where she might have offended some spirit... and nights in mountain temples with South Korean monks, and an equally strange feeling return to the Island of the Gods.

“It culminated in what felt like a final disillusionment with Asia - sudden deaths and a breakdown in beliefs - somewhere I never really have or will be able to connect with. The process of the reading summoned a final blow to my gut - an overwhelming sense of rootlessness, and understanding that all there is is emptiness and entropy. No birth-divined protection, just a measurement of the night sky based off nothing and everything.”

Heavy with a sense of nightmarish dissociation and grief, Flora read about Giuseppe Tartini’s ‘Violin Sonata in G Minor’, aka the Devil’s Trill Sonata, a notoriously tricky c.18th composition which attempted to transcribe music heard in a dream, which the composer felt he could never fully bring into reality. It’s this soporific motif that binds and underpins ’Cold Reading’, finding Flora chasing the dragon of fleeting fantasy through passages of etched melancholy, pinched with hypnagogic jerks that linger in the memory.

From her use of the ‘Devil’s Trill’ Sonata in ‘All My Dreams are Nightmares’ through evocations of subtropical humidity in the Bryn Jones-esque, resonant hand-played percussion of ‘Konna’ and ‘Banjar’, to a breathtaking dreampop denouement ‘Nectar Dripping’ and the Enya-like lush of ‘Beautiful Crisis’, Flora blooms her ideas with an openended ambiguity so often missing from so called Ambient music, ushering the listener into a soundworld that disturbs and displaces, just as much as it calms.

Denovali presents Spark and Earth, the ninth full length album from NYC-based composer and performer Mario Diaz de Leon. Celebrated for his electroacoustic chamber music, Spark and Earth is the first of Diaz de Leon’s solo albums to foreground his performance as a metal guitarist, alongside a vividly textured electronic ensemble of terse synth stabs, woodwind and vocal timbres, floor rattling synth bass, and propulsive kick drums. Songs such as Cruces, Templo, Kepha, and Elemental evoke rave-metal anthems, foregrounding a vibrant alchemy of thrash guitars with percussive synths. Aqua, Breath of God, and Carnelian seamlessly weave lead and chiming guitar lines with meticulously charted electronics and hammered dulcimer timbres. Carnelian charts the alluring flow of a single melodic line through the instruments of the ensemble, while the haunting analog synth interplay of Mirror Spirit recalls the vivid electroacoustic works of previous releases. Over nine songs and 30 minutes, Spark and Earth is an alchemical journey through Diaz de Leon’s electronic chamber metal.

Since 2009, Diaz de Leon has released four recordings of his collaborations with chamber ensembles (International Contemporary Ensemble, Talea, TAK), while from 2012-2016 he produced three solo electronic albums under the project name Oneirogen. With the two-song album Heart Thread (2022), he began releasing electronic works under his own name. His music has been celebrated over the last decade for its “hallucinatory intensity” (NEW YORK TIMES), “snarling exuberance” (PITCHFORK), and “remarkable textures and vivid atmosphere” (NEW YORKER MAGAZINE). As collaborator, he is guitarist and vocalist in the extreme metal duo Luminous Vault (Profound Lore Records), and performs synth and drum machine in Bloodmist, an electroacoustic improvisation trio with Jeremiah Cymerman and Toby Driver. In 2023, he collaborated with Eartheater and members of Krallice in a performance of songs from her album Trinity. Since 2019, he has taught at Stevens Institute of Technology as Assistant Professor of Music and Technology.

On new EP twotwentytwo, indie riser THALA continues to embrace vulnerability, summoning long-buried emotions to colour her ardent love for lyricism amid psych-tinged `90s indie soundscapes. Filled with potent songwriting and coming-of-age anthems straight from the heart, these everyday love stories surrender to life's insecurities. Evoking the soundscapes of Slowdive and Deerhunter, whilst recalling the widescreen pop of boygenius and Snail Mail. Recorded in London and Berlin earlier this year, twotwentytwo follows the release of `In Theory Depression', THALA's first EP on Fire Records. Spanning six tracks, it builds on its predecessor's fearless lyricism, excavating deep-set feelings of loss, pain, desire and conflict against luminous production and addictive melodies. Following rammed appearances at SXSW and The Great Escape, and having picked up the attention BBC Radio 1's Jack Saunders, THALA shows no signs of slowing down_ Blissful guitars and evocative crescendos permeate THALA's unique vision of dreampop, reveling in soaring choruses and intimate storylines. On its surface, twotwentytwo boasts a kind of glorious emotive draw - you'd be forgiven for mistaking any one of these tracks as a backdrop to any teen-angst drama. However, while THALA wants her songs to feel nostalgic, it's the complexity of her songwriting that sees her modern compositions really resonate and she is keen to stress her lyrics can be interpreted in numerous ways. And therein lies the heart of this release - a cathartic, wildly empowering, self-explorative from a future indie heartbreaker at her gutsy best. Ltd Clear Vinyl, A5 insert, dlc

Repress!

In the mid-1970s, a force of nature swept across the continental United States, cutting across all strata of race and class, rooting in our minds, our homes, our culture. It wasn’t The Exorcist, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, or even bell-bottoms, but instead a book called The Secret Life of Plants. The work of occultist/former OSS agent Peter Tompkins and former CIA agent/dowsing enthusiast Christopher Bird, the books shot up the bestseller charts and spread like kudzu across the landscape, becoming a phenomenon. Seemingly overnight, the indoor plant business was in full bloom and photosynthetic eukaryotes of every genus were hanging off walls, lording over bookshelves, and basking on sunny window ledges. The science behind Secret Life was specious: plants can hear our prayers, they’re lie detectors, they’re telepathic, able to predict natural disasters and receive signals from distant galaxies. But that didn’t stop millions from buying and nurturing their new plants.

Perhaps the craziest claim of the book was that plants also dug music. And whether you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you from Mother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattress from Sears), you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especially for them. Subtitled “warm earth music for plants…and the people that love them,” it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientific tunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog. Plants date back from the dawn of time, but apparently they loved the Moog, never mind that the synthesizer had been on the market for just a few years. Most of all, the plants loved the ditties made by composer Mort Garson.

Few characters in early electronic music can be both fearless pioneers and cheesy trend-chasers, but Garson embraced both extremes, and has been unheralded as a result. When one writer rhetorically asked: “How was Garson’s music so ubiquitous while the man remained so under the radar?” the answer was simple. Well before Brian Eno did it, Garson was making discreet music, both the man and his music as inconspicuous as a Chlorophytumcomosum. Julliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote lounge hits, scored plush arrangements for Doris Day, and garlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” He could render the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel alike into easy listening and also dreamed up his own ditties. “An idear” as Garson himself would drawl it out. “I live with it, I walk it, I sing it.”

But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: “When my dad found the synthesizer, he realized he didn’t want to do pop music anymore.” Garson encountered Robert Moog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society’s West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device. With the Moog, those idears could be transformed. “He constantly had a song he was humming,” Darmet says. “At the table he was constantly tapping.” Which is to say that Mort pulled his melodies out of thin air, just like any household plant would.

The Plantae kingdom grew to its height by 1976, from DC Comics’ mossy superhero Swamp Thing to Stevie Wonder’s own herbal meditation, Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. Nefarious manifestations of human-plant interaction also abounded, be it the grotesque pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers or the pothead paranoia of the US Government spraying Mexican marijuana fields with the herbicide paraquat (which led to the rise in homegrown pot by the 1980s). And then there’s the warm, leafy embrace of Plantasia itself.

“My mom had a lot of plants,” Darmet says. “She didn’t believe in organized religion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatever created us was incredible.” And she also knew when her husband had a good song, shouting from another room when she heard him humming a good idear. Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.

Garson may have given the album away to new plant and bed owners, but a decade later a new generation could hear his music in another surreptitious way. Millions of kids bought The Legend of Zelda for their Nintendo Entertainment System back in 1986 and one distinct 8-bit tune bears more than a passing resemblance to album highlight “Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos.” Garson was never properly credited for it, but he nevertheless subliminally slipped into a new generations’ head, helping kids and plants alike grow.

Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the green thumb that made everything flower around him. “My dad would be totally pleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had no popularity at the time,” Darmet says of Plantasia’snew renaissance. “He would be fascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating this part of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then.” Garson seems to be everywhere again, even if he’s not really noticed, just like a houseplant.

Dagerlöff & Galner is a French duo that seeks to create its own vision of modern music, including elements of futuristic synths, Japanese video games, progressive jazz or epic and textured soundtracks. Their sound has a progressive touch that can recall the works of Aphex Twin or Oneohtrix Point Never. To be given the opportunity to set this masterpiece to music, the first cinematic venture into the occult, was a real treat for them. Presented in the style of a lecture, Häxan: Witchcraft Through The Ages is a Swedish silent documentary - horror film directed by Benjamin Christensen which was originally released in 1922 (in Sweden) and deals with witchcraft from antiquity to the film's contemporary period. The movie was released in the US in 1968. Witchcraft is carefully portrayed through illustrations from medieval books and audio-visual reconstructions. From the witches' sabbath to the interrogations of the Inquisition, the classical images come to life in disturbing spectral visions using all the special effects available at the time: overprints, models, jump cuts, stop motion, make-up and prosthetics. The film's soundtrack is divided in three parts, including the one by Dagerlöff & Galner. The duo enhances the heretical character of the work through dark pieces with constant intensity. This work of digital synthesis (choirs, orchestra, organ, analog modulars and tapes) allowed them to draw lines between tradition and modernity, like a film whose purpose remains as strong and relevant almost a century later. The film was re-released in a restored Blu-ray version by Potemkine in 2021, in a limited edition of 1666copies(sold out).

In March of 2020, after learning that a dear friend’s life was coming to an end, Johansing sat down and in one sitting wrote the song “Daffodils”. An elegiac tribute to someone facing death with grace and curiosity, the lyrics confront Johansing’s own mortality by observing the brief lifespan of a Hlower. Only a week later when the world came to an abrupt standstill, she soon found herself processing this recent loss while trying to make sense of a new global reality. Across the ensuing months, Johansing found herself increasingly untethered by a world of isolation and political upheaval.

Having been a frequent touring member of bands like Hand Habits and Fruit Bats, and often being called into the studio to lend her harmonies and multi-instrumental talents to records, Johansing’s phone no longer rang. Living in Los Angeles she feared her musical community was vanishing, as friends and collaborators continually announced they were leaving the city. It was in returning to her piano nightly that she found the greatest solace, feverishly writing the songs that would be collected on her next album. Resulting from this new sense of time and focus was a deepening of her songwriting. As Johansing recalls, “I felt like a metamorphosis happened during that time. There was a lot of personal growth and healing.”

Throughout Year Away Johansing traverses uncharted emotional landscapes brought upon by the changes occurring all around her. The forced self-reflection of the moment is aptly captured by “Old Friend”, featuring an aching melody and swooning production that recalls the best of Harry Nilsson. The epic piano and saxophone-driven “Smile with My Eyes” addresses the loss of community as friends became distant and political divides between family grew. On “Smile” Johansing pushes her vocals further than ever, expanding her range and using her peerless voice as the singular instrument it is. Facing the loss of a family home due to environmental destruction, “Shifting Sands” is marked by soaring Hlutes, Hield recordings and glassy synthesizers that nod to Japanese New Age.

“Daffodils”, the stunning album centerpiece, is built from a pastiche of looping samples, swirling Mellotron and dazzling vibraphone. “Keep your heart open wide, you never know your time / Keep your heart wild, true Hlower child”, Johansing sings as she says goodbye to an elder, while the band reaches a grief-stricken crescendo of woodwinds and chiming bells. On the title track, Johansing takes listeners on an eerily meditative journey of collective experiences. “I wanted to keep the progression simple and repetitive so that musically we could add new elements little by little, while the emotional tone of the lyrics becomes increasingly more strained and expressive”. The song grows to a fever pitch as Johansing sings higher than she thought possible; the tension of the repeating chords Hinally resolving into a hopeful coda as multiple soloists weave around each other.

Amidst heavier themes, Johansing still leaves room for her love of irresistible pop melodies and lush production. The driving “Last Drop” and mid-tempo “Valley Green” are two of her catchiest songs to date. On the former Johansing sings the anthemic chorus, “As if it were the last drop, and nothing ever lasts forever / As if it were the last stop, too far out to come back ever”, longing for a love that she’ll never take for granted, while also admitting that she doesn’t always know how good she has it. “Valley Green” features shimmering layers of 12- string guitars, stacked horns and an impeccable solo by co-producer and multi- instrumentalist Tim Ramsey (Vetiver, Fruit Bats), hinting at a love for bands like NRBQ.

Having been eager to capture the initial spark of songwriting, Johansing booked time at Highland Park’s 64 Sound Studio the week that it reopened. Over the course of three days, she and her band gathered basic tracks for 10 songs, before returning home to Hinish the record with Ramsey. Setting forth to make an album that paid homage to the music that kept them company during the months spent alone together, the duo pulled inspiration from a wide net including Burt Bacharach, John Carroll Kirby & Haruomi Hosono. Ramsey’s newfound love of early digital synthesizers dovetailed effortlessly with Johansing’s fondness for classic 70’s horn and string arrangements, creating a sound that is distinctly modern yet warm and familiar.

Once again Johansing called upon some of the Hinest players of Northeast Los Angeles’ vibrant music community to lend a hand with the record. The 70s R&B-folk of “Watch It Like a Show” features an electric guitar solo from Hand Habits’ Meg Duffy, while album closer “Endless Sound” boasts backing vocals from electronic musician Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith and swooping Indian-inspired violins from Amir Yaghmai (HAIM, The Voidz). The record shines brightly thanks to an ace mix from veteran producer Rob Schnapf (Beck, Elliott Smith, Cat Power), woodwinds from Logan Hone (John Carroll Kirby, Eddie Chacon), and a featured rhythm section of drummer Josh Adams (Jenny Lewis, Bedouine) and bassist Todd Dahlhoff (Feist, Devendra Banhart). Recorded across multiple studios including LA’s famed Sunset Sound, the album remains steadfastly buoyed by the adept engineering of Tyler Karmen (MGMT, Alvvays).

Though born of turbulent times, Year Away is ultimately interested in moving forward. The album ends with “Endless Sound,” where Johansing laments seismic global changes, (“The water is hotter, the mighty thaw / The current’s reversing, the last are lost”) but vows to keep going (“No storm can take me down / Endless light, endless sound”). It’s Year Away’s resilience that shines through despite the darkness. It’s a sound all her own and Johansing’s most cohesive set of songs yet.

Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa is the debut album by Canadian composer and tenor, Jeremy Dutcher – which involves post-classical rearrangement of his Wolastoq First Nation traditional music. Granted access to the Canadian Museum of History, Jeremy discovered wax cylinders from 1907 of his ancestors singing forgotten songs and stories that had been taken from the Wolastoqiyik Nation generations ago. The album is Jeremy’s contribution to his heritage and community in attempts to revitalize the Wolastoq language to the world, which has less than 100 speakers alive today. This collection of ground breaking post-classical arrangements is truly one of a kind and recalls the mood of Rufus Wainwright's operatic performance or the haunting pop of Anthony & The Johnsons.

Lucky number 17? You better believe it. We here at Brown Acid have been scouring the highways and byways of America for even more hidden stashes of psych/garage/proto-punk madness from the so-called Aquarian Age. There’s no flower power here, though—just acid casualties, rock stompers and major freakouts. As always, the songs have been officially licensed, and all the artists get paid. Kicking off this trip, Grapple’s “Ethereal Genesis” is a heavy psych gem from 1969 written by J. Bruce Svoboda, a.k.a. Jay Bruce, formerly of The Hangmen and The Five Canadians (who were actually the same San Antonio band). The latter’s 1966 garage favorite “Writing on the Wall” has been endlessly covered, but Grapple were never heard from again. With a guitar riff that blatantly rips off Sabbath’s “Black Sabbath,” Image’s mostly instrumental lysergic obscurity “Witchcraft ’71” (originally unveiled that very year) also boasts a horror-movie organ intro, a voodoo drum break and some championship chanting. Private press heads might recall late Image drummer John Beke from his ’80s reemergence with country rockers Crossfyre. Stone Hedge were a seven-piece rock band out of Michigan with a penchant for Creedence and anthropomorphism. “Smokey Bear” is their 1972 tribute to the official mascot of the U.S. Forest Services—not to mention the A side of their sole single—and it recalls the kind of organ-drenched swamp jam that soundtracked many a Burt Reynolds flick back in the day. If you think being a Southern rock band from Milwaukee doesn’t make much sense, that’s probably why Crossfire changed their sound along with their name—to Bad Boy—after signing with United Artists. Bad Boy’s severely underappreciated second album, Back To Back, is a 1978 hard rock jewel, but you can hear their boogie-woogie roots on this rare 1975 single. With a band name like Primevil and song title like “Too Dead To Live,” you probably expect some gnarly proto-metal riffage. Instead, you a get a harmonica-drenched, soul-infused rock rave-up from 1972. Primevil would release their sole LP two years later: Entitled Smokin’ Bats at Campton’s, it’s a reference to their trusty singer, harp player (and bat smoker?), Dave Campton. Brown Acid regulars already know Pegasus from their appearance with “The Sorcerer” on our Seventh Trip. “Ready to Rave” is the flipside to that 1972 single, in which they explain how they like their whiskey cold and their women hot. It’s another killer glimpse of what might have been if these one-and-done Baltimore hard rockers had been able to keep it together. One of two obscure singles released by Texas musician Bobby Mabe in 1969 (the other appears under the name The Outcasts), “I’m Lonely” delivers a heavy dose of vocal soul to the otherwise psych-garage presentation. Fans of fellow Houstonians the Moving Sidewalks—whom Bobby and his Outcasts may well have gigged with—will especially dig this one. Cedar Rapids, Iowa, may not be known as a cultural mecca, but they did give us Truth & Janey. This deadly hard rock trio delivered their holy grail full-length, No Rest for the Wicked, back in 1976. “Around and Around” is a Chuck Berry cover that originally appeared on a 1973 single the band released under the earlier name Truth. Originally released in 1973, “High School Letter” is the debut single from San Diego rock squad Glory. This infectious bonehead cruncher features future Beat Farmer Jerry Raney and the original rhythm section of Iron Butterfly in bassist Greg Willis and drummer Jack Pinney. Glory is what they got up to after their former bandmates left for L.A.’s garden of Eden. “Jack the Ripper” is a mercilessly bootlegged Cleveland classic from 1978 with a serrated punk edge and vocals that recall Mick Blood of Aussie savages the Lime Spiders. Or maybe it’s the other way around—the Lime Spiders formed the year after Strychnine carved off this lethal paean to the infamous Whitechapel slasher of olde.

Waiting For The Rain was produced by Dave Eringa (Manic Street Preachers) and recorded at Rockfield studios in Monmouth and The Libertines Albion Rooms studios in Margate. Having just completed an Arena Tour of America with Louis Tomlinson, Andrew Cushin is on the road again with Louis across Europe in August/September. Wor Flags, released last month is the fifth track (following It’s Coming Round Again, 4.5%, You’ll Be Free and Dream For A Moment) to be taken from Waiting For The Rain. A new single Just Like You’d Want Me To is released August 30th. 23-year-old singer-songwriter Andrew Cushin is Newcastle’s fastest rising star. He has already recorded with Noel Gallagher and counts Paul Weller and Sam Fender among his biggest cheerleaders. Andrew grew up on a council estate in Heaton, Newcastle. His songs, delivered in a gorgeous baritone that sounds way beyond his years, are full of his experiences growing up, his lust for life, his grief at the loss of loved ones, his hopes and fears, his love and his stoicism. Andrew Cushin released his debut single It’s Gonna Get Better (2020) followed by Waiting For The Rain (2020); ’Where’s My Family Gone’ (2021) featuring production and guitar from Noel Gallagher and in 2022, through Peter Doherty’s Strap Originals label, You Don’t Belong EP and double A Side single You’ll Be Free / Dream For A Moment. Press quotes: “Cushin recalls acoustic Noel Gallagher circa Morning Glory.” – Sunday Times Culture // “The kitchen-sink realism of his songs, raised on the concrete turfs of council estates and smoke filled social clubs of Newcastle, is something the chart-topping Toms, Jacks and Georges of guitar pop are not only desperately lacking, but entirely unaware of.” - The Line of Best Fit // “Andrew Cushin is a newcomer being feted by actual icons.” – Clash // “Has built enough hometown momentum to suggest he could ‘do a Sam Fender’ very soon.” - Music Week // “It's clear to see the future is bright for Andrew whose backing from big names as well as a loyal following sets him up nicely to take the scene by storm.” Daily Mirror // “Transforming his native infused-sound, Andrew Cushin releases a banger.” Wonderland // “A set of personal yet relatable songs that connect immediately and directly.” Louder Than War

Waiting For The Rain was produced by Dave Eringa (Manic Street Preachers) and recorded at Rockfield studios in Monmouth and The Libertines Albion Rooms studios in Margate. Having just completed an Arena Tour of America with Louis Tomlinson, Andrew Cushin is on the road again with Louis across Europe in August/September. Wor Flags, released last month is the fifth track (following It’s Coming Round Again, 4.5%, You’ll Be Free and Dream For A Moment) to be taken from Waiting For The Rain. A new single Just Like You’d Want Me To is released August 30th. 23-year-old singer-songwriter Andrew Cushin is Newcastle’s fastest rising star. He has already recorded with Noel Gallagher and counts Paul Weller and Sam Fender among his biggest cheerleaders. Andrew grew up on a council estate in Heaton, Newcastle. His songs, delivered in a gorgeous baritone that sounds way beyond his years, are full of his experiences growing up, his lust for life, his grief at the loss of loved ones, his hopes and fears, his love and his stoicism. Andrew Cushin released his debut single It’s Gonna Get Better (2020) followed by Waiting For The Rain (2020); ’Where’s My Family Gone’ (2021) featuring production and guitar from Noel Gallagher and in 2022, through Peter Doherty’s Strap Originals label, You Don’t Belong EP and double A Side single You’ll Be Free / Dream For A Moment. Press quotes: “Cushin recalls acoustic Noel Gallagher circa Morning Glory.” – Sunday Times Culture // “The kitchen-sink realism of his songs, raised on the concrete turfs of council estates and smoke filled social clubs of Newcastle, is something the chart-topping Toms, Jacks and Georges of guitar pop are not only desperately lacking, but entirely unaware of.” - The Line of Best Fit // “Andrew Cushin is a newcomer being feted by actual icons.” – Clash // “Has built enough hometown momentum to suggest he could ‘do a Sam Fender’ very soon.” - Music Week // “It's clear to see the future is bright for Andrew whose backing from big names as well as a loyal following sets him up nicely to take the scene by storm.” Daily Mirror // “Transforming his native infused-sound, Andrew Cushin releases a banger.” Wonderland // “A set of personal yet relatable songs that connect immediately and directly.” Louder Than War

Waiting For The Rain was produced by Dave Eringa (Manic Street Preachers) and recorded at Rockfield studios in Monmouth and The Libertines Albion Rooms studios in Margate. Having just completed an Arena Tour of America with Louis Tomlinson, Andrew Cushin is on the road again with Louis across Europe in August/September. Wor Flags, released last month is the fifth track (following It’s Coming Round Again, 4.5%, You’ll Be Free and Dream For A Moment) to be taken from Waiting For The Rain. A new single Just Like You’d Want Me To is released August 30th. 23-year-old singer-songwriter Andrew Cushin is Newcastle’s fastest rising star. He has already recorded with Noel Gallagher and counts Paul Weller and Sam Fender among his biggest cheerleaders. Andrew grew up on a council estate in Heaton, Newcastle. His songs, delivered in a gorgeous baritone that sounds way beyond his years, are full of his experiences growing up, his lust for life, his grief at the loss of loved ones, his hopes and fears, his love and his stoicism. Andrew Cushin released his debut single It’s Gonna Get Better (2020) followed by Waiting For The Rain (2020); ’Where’s My Family Gone’ (2021) featuring production and guitar from Noel Gallagher and in 2022, through Peter Doherty’s Strap Originals label, You Don’t Belong EP and double A Side single You’ll Be Free / Dream For A Moment. Press quotes: “Cushin recalls acoustic Noel Gallagher circa Morning Glory.” – Sunday Times Culture // “The kitchen-sink realism of his songs, raised on the concrete turfs of council estates and smoke filled social clubs of Newcastle, is something the chart-topping Toms, Jacks and Georges of guitar pop are not only desperately lacking, but entirely unaware of.” - The Line of Best Fit // “Andrew Cushin is a newcomer being feted by actual icons.” – Clash // “Has built enough hometown momentum to suggest he could ‘do a Sam Fender’ very soon.” - Music Week // “It's clear to see the future is bright for Andrew whose backing from big names as well as a loyal following sets him up nicely to take the scene by storm.” Daily Mirror // “Transforming his native infused-sound, Andrew Cushin releases a banger.” Wonderland // “A set of personal yet relatable songs that connect immediately and directly.” Louder Than War

After her stand-out record Cathedrals in 2022 and performances across Europe, Australia, Asia, and the Americas, New York hardcore icon Kilbourne is back with more. Holding it down for the genre's most extreme sounds, she has cemented her position as one of the most exciting new voices in hardcore.

Now, Kilbourne revs up the engine for Milkshake, her sophomore PRSPCT release. The title track is a filter-tweaking rager, with bouncing kicks and madness-inducing percussion. Sunshine Terror weds terror and serenity, a fleeting calm in the eye of a hurricane, while Plague Raver pays tribute to an especially unhinged period of nightlife in New York. Ignoring the T-99 Anasthasia stab mania, each track on Milkshake adds new orchestral stabs to the canon, from Verdi's Dies Irae to John Williams' film scores. The EP is rounded out by legendary darkcore producer Catscan's remix of Milkshake, a club-ready anthem that recalls the explosive sound of his early catalog.

Alien Transistor is proud to announce a reissue of Such December, the fourth album by Japanese indie folk-pop artist, Gratin Carnival. Listeners might already know Gratin Carnival from their appearance on the Alien Parade Japan compilation of indie pop groups working with brass and woodwind; compiled by Markus Acher of The Notwist and Saya of Tenniscoats, it introduced this beautiful genre to the wider world. Gratin Carnival’s “Just Watching” was one of the many highlights of that compilation, and its gentle bossa-folk glide reappears on Such December.

Originally released in 2020, Such December captures beautifully the happy-sad charm of Gratin Carnival. The project of Koreyuki Mitsunaga, Gratin Carnival started in 2011; Mitsunaga had been home recording for some time and decided on the name as an umbrella for his music-making. Mitsunaga’s main instruments are guitar, which he uses to great effect throughout, his gorgeous acoustic playing reminiscent of players like Ueno Takashi of Tenniscoats or João Gilberto, and alto saxophone and clarinet. Those three instruments make up the core of Gratin Carnival’s sound, along with Mitsunaga’s charmingly doleful singing.

Recording at his parents’ home, with a four-track cassette recorder and a MacBook, Mitsunaga created Such December during 2020, though the songs on it stretch back to 2016. The closing “On The Train” was the first song written for the album – “a song about a small trip,” Mitsunaga recalls – and from there, he built a beautiful collection of songs that sit together perfectly. There’s great clarity in Mitsunaga’s writing, with nothing extraneous getting in the way of the lucid arrangements and gorgeous melodies; there’s something of chamber jazz about it at times, so it’s no surprise that Mitsunaga shares his love of Benny Goodman’s small group playing.

He's also a fan of Japanese folk artists like Kenji Endo and Kyouzou Nishioka, and grew up listening to Japanese popular music, The Beatles, and The Carpenters. You can hear trace elements of all this in Such December, in the clear-headedness of the melodic decisions made by Mitsunaga, and the quiet charm of the song’s gentle arrangements. They take on different shapes live, too, where Mitsunaga often invites other musicians to join in – his live band currently includes Masafumi Ezaki (trumpet), Nahoko Kamei (bass clarinet, piano, keyboards) and Tadashi Yonago (trombone, self-made instruments).

As with plenty of musicians from the Japanese underground, Mitsunaga is involved in other music, too – he’s been working with The Otoasobi Project, which performs music in collaboration with individuals with learning disabilities, and their families; and he’s also involved in improvised music. With Such December, though, you get to hear Mitsunaga’s music at its most personal and individual, ten songs of still, gorgeously poised indie folk-pop, where the swooning clang of six strings meets the breathy bliss of woodwind and brass.

Moments of eternity: the first plucks at the strings, a bass note cementing the drift into place a little more than a minute in. The organ drones, iterating unrelivable ancient history, a chiming note of the church. Guitars strings, climbing that stairway to heaven. Gossamer-light when viewed from a distance; up close, the gears grind with a visceral physicality. With BCMC, Cooper Crain and Bill MacKay unite to create Foreign Smokes: provocalogues, equal parts avant-garde noir and fire-and-icy jams to recall bright shades and warm stretches of infinity drawn through the buzzy overdrive of this side of life"s strange and sunny days. Cooper"s organ and synths and Bill"s guitar draw songs from spontaneous statements and elegiac scraps, floating closer, then farther, and closer again to the sounds of the other. Starting with a melody, as set of progressions or even as little as a scale or just a key, gives room for either one of "em to take the lead, depending on where they are or are going at any given time. The reigning motif most often seems to be, to melt and wind around each other"s sound, part of a singular undulation, handed back and forth, a slowly emerging trip up into and through an ideal of exuberance.

After a busy and prolific work on his acoustic-electronic project and soundtrack compositions, Mischa Blanos wears again his clubbing outfit, returning with a three track EP for his techno and live electronics awaiting crowd in the dancing arena. Linear EP evokes the ethereal experience of clubbing, where time feels like grinding to a halt as if plunging through an open door into a new world.

Taking the vantage point of the dancefloor, Mischa Blanos recalls entering this space where time doesn't play a heavy role anymore. Be it two hours or eight in a nightclub, be it day or night, dusk or dawn, one doesn't seek time traveling but time stopping, as a way to relieve the time burden in our high-speed society. We tend to perceive that time is running at a faster pace, but time itself does not pass, what passes are things and living beings. Time is neither linear nor circular, time does not flow or move, but allows us to do so. And it is here on the dance floor that this reality can be felt.

Everything is moving, vibrating and changing from the flashing lights to the loud decibel kicks and everyone is both audience and performer on the stage. They all belong to the scene. Sometimes this could mean an individual experience, being completely absorbed in dancing or a parallel space, and other times it means togetherness, feeling an integral part of the experience. In his techno dedicated Linear EP Mischa Blanos speaks about clubbing as a form of escapism, but a form that can help us to reach a better understanding of our relationship with time.

Dreams are made and displaced on Mark Fell & Rian Treanor’s oneiric electro-acoustic inception 'Last Exit', borne from long days in the family garden, and assembled into a mesmerising masterpiece of minimalist modal rhythm and atmospheric exploration, into rapt smallsound detailing in breathtaking form. It’s a bit like listening to Virginia Astley’s ‘From Gardens Where We Feel Secure’, with washes of Autechre seeping into the mix from outside.

‘Last Exit…’ originally appeared in a different form as a cassette release for our Documenting Sound series in 2021, and was edited this year by Mark and Rian for this new expanded and altered edition, mastered by Rashad Becker. It renders a painterly,psychedelic, and diaristic depiction of sublime atmospheric tension, occasionally ruptured by their typical, asymmetric rhythm impulses in a form that rudely transcends their respective aesthetics. Across four parts, they kern, juxtapose and diffract synthesised percussion and field recordings into polymetric arrangements riddled with timbral nuance of a highly unpredictable nature.

While patently inflected with nods to Indonesian gamelan, Ugandan folk, Indian Carnatic classical, Morton Feldman-esque minimalism, free jazz improvisation and a sort of rhythmic cubism that speaks to their mutual, voracious listening habits and tastes, the results are arguably without direct compare. Attentive listeners will recognise, however, that ‘Last Exit’ effortlessly transcends their respective styles, achieving a new high watermark of imaginary future-hyperfolk expressed in a sort of personalised but highly relatable meta-musical language.

Seriously, they’re working beyond known conventions here; opening to a sublime frisson of Feldman-esque keys, birdsong and distant car engines, and closing to a combo of just-intoned drone and wafts of distant ballroom music. The 80 minutes in between feel like returning to a dream, with flashes of FM strings dabbed to sloshing rhythms and domestic detritus, tilting into a nervously tentative tension ruptured with abstract dance dynamism and angular free jazz ballistics.

The rejigged recordings also reflect the fidelity of memory recall, expressing an altered perspective on their time spent in the multigenerational family’s Rotherham garden during spring/summer 2020, replete with their mum/grandmother on piano and overheard singing and in convo, but now fraught with a more melancholic, distempered quality that makes for a genuinely unforgettable listening experience. A long-form isolationist fantasy, consider it crucial listening if yr into Robert Ashley's 'Automatic Writing', Graham Lambkin, Autechre or Nuno Canavarro.

A month after the release of his debut album as Tambores En Benirras, 2021’s fabulous Orbe Dotodo, Graham Newby’s life changed forever. After years living with a visual impairment, his sight had deteriorated so much that he was declared “registered blind”. For a man who had spent decades dividing his time between travelling, DJing, running clubs and lengthy sessions in his own studio, it was a genuinely life-changing moment.

It was against this backdrop, and the need to alter his working methods, that Ondas Horizontales, the second Tambores En Benirras album took shape. Inspired by a mixture of daydreaming, visualisation, immersion in other people’s music (escapism that provided mood enhancement, rather than a specific set of ideas) and long periods spent soaking up the sun in Ibiza, the album is the most vividly detailed, sonically colourful, and sun-soaked collection that Newby has released to date.

Newby’s declining sight forced him to stop spending long spells staring at a screen and undoubtedly slowed down the production process. Yet it also allowed him to reconnect with his emotions, appreciate the storytelling and mood-shifting potential of music, and mine mind’s eye memories of places and spaces that have meant much to him over the years.

The results are undeniably stunning. Designed with horizontal listening in mind, the set distils a range of musical and real-life inspirations –or, as he puts it, “ambient soundtracks, cosmic journeys, Balearic rhythms and poolside sessions” – into ten mesmerising and magical tracks; an undulating, slow-motion journey that’s as breath-taking as it is beguiling.

Newby sets the tone with ‘Mi Sueno Vibe En Reverb’, a swelling, slow-burn ambient masterpiece that tiptoes between hope and melancholia, before flitting between imaginary sunset soundtracks (‘Estrellas En Mastella’, where lilting pedal steel sounds, bubbling electronics and shuffling breakbeats catch the ear), kaleidoscopic sun-up beats (the gorgeous warmth of ‘Generadora De Reyos’), enveloping beatless soundscapes (‘Templos Del Sol’, a drowsy drift in becalmed waters under the heat of the mid-afternoon sun), and dubby, loved-up lusciousness (‘Mokono’).

As the album progresses, bobbing and weaving on an ocean of vibrant chords, pulsing melodies and heart-stopping melodies, there’s no sign of Newby’s inspiration waving. ‘Alma Hablando’ channels the spirit of mid-80s ‘worldbeat’ and douses it in layers of Balearic bliss, while ‘Extrensor Entragado’ recalls the head-nodding haziness of his best Gripper productions of old while combining them with the musical equivalent of a humid summer breeze. Then there’s the mood-enhancing joy of the album’s superb title track –a mission statement of sorts – and the life-affirming post trip-hop/Balearic fusion of ‘Un Placer Celestial (Reprise)’, where the influence of his old friend Aim is clearly evident.

A serious sonic step-up from its predecessor and a future Balearic classic in its’ own right, Ondas Horizontales marks the start of a new musical and personal journey for its creator. It is, in his words, not the end of an era, but the start of a new one.

FINAL GASP unleash their debut album Mourning Moon! A harrowing journey through all things Hardcore, Metal, and Goth, Mourning Moon drags the listener through the dark in 12 thrilling tracks, and drives a stake right into the heart of 2023's most compelling releases. Opener "Climax Infinity" sets the tone for what's to come: the undeniable hardcore swagger of the Boston-based band is immediate as drums and guitars stomp and riff against one another, while FINAL GASP vocalist Jake Murphy howls - "watch as the way it falls, your loss of control, from whispered incantations, burnt down for your invocation!" Mourning Moon showcases expert songwriting and lyrical crafting, snarling and barking through the harsher, heavier punked out moments in "Blood and Sulfur" and "Frozen Glare" while flexing arena chops on the tremendous "Temptation" and utterly despairing "The Vanishing". Elsewhere, the hook-laden title track explodes out of the underground and aims straight for the moon. Lead single "Mourning Moon'' is downright catchy and showcases FINAL GASP's knack for excellent songwriting. A song professing eternal love through a lens clad in black and morbid as ever, "Mourning Moon" proves to be one of the most inventive journeys this side of the genre in recent times, recalling a prime period for luminaries Killing Joke and Danzig. With Mourning Moon, FINAL GASP emerge from the shadows, and step into the forefront of extreme music's new guard.

When South Korean balearic prodigy Mogwaa came to MM Discos with an idea for his rst full-length album, we were a bit surprised.
He said, ‘I want to do an album of bossa tracks with synths, a drum machine and my guitar’. We obviously had to take him up
on that deal.

Fresh from the recent Bandcamp feature on his own brand of danceoor-ready modern boogie, Seungyoung Lee (aka Mogwaa)
arrives back on MM Discos with his - and our - rst full length exercise. With six tracks per side of 80s inuenced synth and bossa
badness, ‘Hazy Dreams’ is an exercise in simplicity, and more proof of the ever-expanding musical horizons of one of the scene’s
most virtuosic instrumentalists.

Pairing a sensitivity to the construction of ambient, funk, bossa and cassette-tape 80s experiments with his own cinematic subtlety,
‘Hazy Dreams’ takes a gentle, minimalistic approach, crafting its own escapist world that oers a welcome diversion from the
steady ow of busy balearica and downtempo.

Opening track ‘Full Bloom’ paints a picture of midsummer at dawn, some clear-skied island where lush vegetation climbs through
hibiscus gardens. ‘Nacimiento’ is an AOR/bossa crossover evoking West Coast yachting in full afternoon, and A3, ‘Soothing’, adds
a touch of wistfulness with reverb-doused guitars over meandering bass motifs.
The easy kick-and-snare combo of ‘Levitation’ sets the scene for a drum machine love aair, unrequited love on the rocks, and
‘Flashback’ plays with short delay trails and o-kilter melodic sequences, where you feel the soft presence of the nebula approaching
at the break of day. Closing out the A-side, ‘Dispatching’ reaches out even further into the imagined cosmos of Mogwaa’s
picture-perfect world, portraying an ambience at dusk, observing, calmy, as pued-up pink clouds melt into the evening canvas.
On the other side, Mogwaa explores quiet corners with ‘Illusions’, a slow meditation on the nature of simple presence, and ‘Echoes
of You’, a stream of subdued brush strokes that crescendo into higher frequencies on gently undulating pads. B3, ‘Moondance’,
ups the tempo and recalls classic Mogwaa with its sideways shue and starry melodic refrain, pivoting through folk-dance
moods and surprising chord changes.
Nearing the end of the album, ‘Footprints’ wades through tall grass in search of altered states, innite and hypnotic, changing
course only to crouch down and study the landscape, and B5, ‘It always comes and goes’, pictures the to-and-fro of jetstreams and
comets in the blinding midday sky. Finally we have the closing credits of ‘Swingin’ that looks o into the horizon, jaunty and exalted,
a guitar-led tribute to an easy-going world, and ultimately mindful of the power of dreams.
We’re humbled to have such a special record for our rst full-length release on the label.

We walked the earliest edge of Sunday, winter dark; streets lined up with standstill cars,

silver, grey, and black, and white; while the ever-distant sun, then further still, was slowly
breaking into shining. The town was quiet, gleaming; the rows of tenements - awash with sky.

And we rarely chanced upon a person, save the stocking-wrapped, shadows without bodies,
and that nude and mouthless one. We turned into a narrow lane past the power station,

the mute red lights of chimneys looking down at us. We reached the concrete halfpipe
of the dried-out canalside. And listened out for it. To disappear.

For that.

Michael Mayer’s IMARA imprint is proud to announce a reissue of German electronica maestro Schlammpeitziger’s second album, Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut. Originally released in 1996 by Köln’s A-Musik label, it was the first Schlammpeitziger release to signal to a much wider audience that there was something very special going on in the music of Jo Zimmermann, the mastermind behind Schlammpeitziger. And while he’s subsequently gone on to release a further eight albums for labels like Sonig, Pingipung, and Bureau B, Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut is where it really all started for this most singular musician, illustrator and performance artist. Named after the ‘Schlammpeitzger’ or Weather Loach, a fish that breathes through its intestines, moves through substrate, and is surprisingly sensitive to changes in barometric pressure – hence its name – Schlammpeitziger is a similarly remarkable, singular creature.

Like all Schlammpeitziger’s music, Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut is overflowing with melody. Using the simplest of set-ups – much of his early music was made with Casio keyboards – Zimmermann magics entire worlds of joy and melancholy. The nine songs here are both rich tributes to the joys of the everyday, and surreal fantasias. “Cosmic Fick” sails out to sea on clouds of taffy and spindrift; “Winterschlafsüßbärentraum” slips and slides around a dream aviary of the mind; the closing “Mango und Papaja auf Tobago” is a diorama spun from springs and Slinkys. Sometimes there are echoes of more peaceable Kosmische music – think Cluster circa Sowiesoso – and both the pacing and the amorphous, tactile textures sometimes recall Chris & Cosey. But Zimmermann’s unique signature is everywhere on Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut – simply put, no one else makes music quite as lovely and incandescent as this.

The album’s initial release coincided with an explosion of interest in the music coming out of Köln. This was a unique moment – one where pop, techno, house, ambience, avant-gardism, musique concrete, heavy DSP, and all kinds of other creative phenomena got muddied up in the ‘general jelly’ of Köln’s fast-moving, spirited musical communities. Zimmermann was closely aligned with the music coming out of the A-Musik and Sonig labels – a tightly-knit collection of artists centred around the A-Musik record store, making all kinds of weird and wonderful music, from the electronica of Mouse On Mars to the compositions of Marcus Schmickler, from the electro-acoustics of C-Schulz and Hajsch to the digitalia of FX Randomiz. Zimmermann himself would collaborate with the latter on an album under the name Holosud; friends such as Mouse On Mars and Kompakt’s Reinhard Voigt turned up on Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut’s remix EP.

Here, then, is one of the loveliest albums of its era, a pop-electronics album of serious play, one as moistly melancholy as it is melodically riveting. Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut is rare beauty indeed.

Michael Mayers Label IMARA ist stolz darauf, eine Neuauflage des zweiten Albums des deutschen Electronica-Maestros Schlammpeitziger, “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut”, bekannt zu geben. Ursprünglich 1996 vom Kölner Label A-Musik veröffentlicht, war es die erste Veröffentlichung von Schlammpeitziger, die einem viel breiteren Publikum signalisierte, dass in der Musik von Jo Zimmermann, dem Mastermind hinter Schlammpeitziger, etwas ganz Besonderes vor sich ging. Obwohl er seitdem weitere acht Alben für Labels wie Sonig, Pingipung und Bureau B veröffentlicht hat, ist “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” der Ort, an dem alles für diesen einzigartigen Musiker, Illustrator und Performance-Künstler begann. Schlammpeitziger, benannt nach dem “Schlammpeitzger” oder Wetterbarsch, einem Fisch, der durch seine Därme atmet, sich durch den Untergrund bewegt und erstaunlich empfindlich auf Veränderungen im Luftdruck reagiert – daher der Name – ist ebenfalls eine bemerkenswerte, einzigartige Kreatur.

Wie alle Musik von Schlammpeitziger ist auch “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” voller Melodien. Mit einfachsten Mitteln – ein Großteil seiner frühen Musik wurde mit Casio-Keyboards gemacht – zaubert Zimmermann ganze Welten voller Freude und Melancholie. Die neun Songs hier sind sowohl reiche Hommagen an die Freuden des Alltags als auch surreale Fantasien. “Cosmic Fick” segelt auf Wolken aus Karamell und Gischt hinaus aufs Meer; “Winterschlafsüßbärentraum” schlittert und gleitet durch einen Traum-Vogelkäfig im Geist; das abschließende “Mango und Papaja auf Tobago” ist ein Diorama aus Federn und Slinkys. Manchmal gibt es Echos von friedlicherer Kosmischer Musik – denke an Cluster circa “Sowiesoso” – und sowohl das Tempo als auch die amorphen, taktilen Texturen erinnern manchmal an Chris & Cosey. Aber Zimmermanns einzigartige Signatur ist überall auf “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” zu hören – ganz einfach, niemand sonst macht Musik so lieblich und leuchtend wie er.

Die ursprüngliche Veröffentlichung des Albums fiel mit einem Aufschwung des Interesses an der Musik aus Köln zusammen. Dies war ein einzigartiger Moment – einer, in dem Pop, Techno, House, Ambient, Avantgardismus, Musique Concrete, Heavy DSP und allerlei andere kreative Phänomene sich in der “Allgemeinen Gelee” der schnelllebigen, lebendigen musikalischen Gemeinschaften von Köln vermischten. Zimmermann stand in enger Verbindung mit der Musik der Labels A-Musik und Sonig – eine eng verbundene Gruppe von Künstlern rund um das A-Musik-Plattengeschäft, die alle möglichen seltsamen und wundervollen Musikrichtungen produzierten, von der Electronica von Mouse On Mars bis zu den Kompositionen von Marcus Schmickler, von der Elektroakustik von C-Schulz und Hajsch bis zur Digitalia von FX Randomiz. Zimmermann selbst würde mit letzterem an einem Album unter dem Namen Holosud zusammenarbeiten; Freunde wie Mouse On Mars und Reinhard Voigt von Kompakt tauchten in der Remix-EP von “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” auf.

Hier also eines der schönsten Alben seiner Zeit, ein Pop-Electronics-Album voller ernsthaftem Spiel, so feucht melancholisch wie melodisch fesselnd. “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” ist wahrlich eine seltene Schönheit.

"If you can imagine a love child between MAC DEMARCO and SPAR-KLEHORSE, then this would be what you're left with." - SO YOUNG MAGA-ZINE
Raised in North Queensland, Australia, Jarrod Mahon is not one to shy away from bold new endeavors. Once parting ways with his previous record label in 2019, Mahon chose to go fully independent, relocating to Berlin in 2019 (where he still resides), despite having no contacts at all in the country. What’s more, having recorded/performed under the pseudonym Emerson Snowe for over a decade - during which time he home-recorded five albums and 13 EP’s, toured with the likes of King Krule or Ariel Pink, played showcases SXSW and the Great Escape, the works - Mahon took that brave, most uncommercial decision to release under his own name and start almost totally anew.
“There was never really a concept to that name Emerson Snowe other than having some kind of separation from who I was as a person,” Mahon explains, “using a moniker gave me that confidence to push myself further mentally and to give myself some kind of a freedom”. And through the process of creating what would become his debut album, Mahon saw that he had outgrown the need for this protective persona. ‘Everything Has A Life’ was meant to be the debut Snowe album”, he admits, “but after I finished mixing it with Syd Kemp, co-producer I realized that I had actually grown a lot and was much more comfort-able with who I am and what my personal beliefs are.”
The choice of ‘Everything Has A Life’ as the album title, pulled from beauteous opening track ‘All I Know’, neatly summarizes this new outlook: moving on from ‘self-pity’ of the past-self by becoming present for the loved ones around you, improving understanding of one’s own self, via the wider world at large.
That track marks the first written during a lockdown stint in LA where Mahon wrote and recorded every day for 2 months, produced nigh on 250 demos and birthed the bulk of the record. It also brought Mahon back to his all-time favorite, Sufjan Stevens’ Ilinois and its blend of widescreen orchestral landscapes and more candid, naked acoustic-leaning variations - an important influence for the album's stylistic contrasts. Another key inspiration for the record too brought Mahon back to his roots - those full-bloom strains of his Mum’s Beloved Neil Diamond, an annual Christmas irritant to Mahon as a child, yet an artist he’s come to respect in adulthood. “Whatever the reason, with age I came to love the big show band sounds,” he says, “the idea of a performer on stage with a mas-sive orchestra with strings was amazing to me.”
With the help of producer Syd Kemp (Ulrika Spacek, Vanishing Twin), such grand designs could be met. - “When we first met, he asked me if I would like real strings on it. I said of course.” Enter Magda Mclean on violin (Caroline/the Umlauts), and Gamaliel Rendle Traynor on Cello (Sweat, Fat White Family), whose strings helped lift the record to romantic new heights.
He continues: “I said to Syd that the only thing I wanted to achieve with this rec-ord was that I wanted it to make me cry at one point. And we got there eventual-ly.” The final culmination of all these strands, ’Everything Has A Life’ is indeed a treasure trove of emotive riches. Locking into that bittersweet, quintessentially ‘pop’ combination of triumphant rhythms and confessional, stream-of-consciousness lyrics plucked straight from the heart, Mahon faces up to years of substance abuse with a series of gorgeous, blushing melodies: “I was using, I was drinking, I was lying to my friends, I was messing up again, I was hiding from myself”, he joyously chants on ‘The Growing’.
A banquet fit for an indie king, Everything Has A Life is loaded with psych-pop lusciousness (‘All I Know’) and anthemic glam fuzz (‘Death Of The Ladies Man’, ‘Deadstar’, or ‘Sonny is my Best Friend’); recalling that foundational Sufjan Ste-vens influence too with shambling flecks of country (‘Charly (Romantic Heart)’). There’s also those lo-fi crepitations of ‘My Man’ and ‘I can’t’ harking back home-recorded demos that lie at the core of Mahon’s creative process.

It’s been nearly eight years since the last Mondo Drag album came out. In that time, the Bay Area psych-prog band toured the US and Europe, performed at major festivals and—once again—reformed their rhythm section. But in the context of the band’s nearly two-decade existence, this period may have been the most fraught. Vocalist and keyboardist John Gamiño lost friends and family members. Meanwhile, humanity suffered the throes of a global pandemic. “It was a dark chapter,” he recalls. “I was going through a lot of stuff personally—there’s been a lot of death, loss of family members, and grief. Plus, the band was inactive. It felt like time was slipping away from me. I felt like I was wasting my opportunities. I felt like I wasn’t participating in my story as much as I could have.” This feeling of time slipping away is the prevailing theme on Mondo Drag’s new album, Through the Hourglass. “For me, Through the Hourglass really encompasses the quarantine/pandemic years,” Gamiño says. “But in a way that includes a couple of years before that for us, because the band was stagnant during that time. Living with that was really impactful on our daily lives. So, the album is reflective. It’s looking at time—past, present, future.” Luckily, Mondo Drag emerged from this dour period reborn. Freshly energized by bassist Conor Riley (formerly of San Diego psych squad Astra, currently of Birth), who joined in 2018, and drummer Jimmy Perez, who joined in 2022, Gamiño and guitarists Jake Sheley and Nolan Girard have triumphed over the seemingly inexorable pull of time’s passage. “Astra was the one contemporary band that we felt was on the same tip as us,” Gamiño says. “We saw the similarities and felt the same vibe. Conor moved to San Francisco in 2018 and heard we were looking for a bassist, so we got in touch. For us, it was like, ‘The synth player from Astra wants to play bass for us?’ We couldn’t think of anybody more perfect.” Perez, meanwhile, brings deep psych-prog knowledge and impeccable skill. “He’s an amazing drummer, and he allowed us to do what we’ve been trying to do,” Gamiño says. “Before he came along, it was like, ‘Where are the drummers who like psych and prog and can play dynamically?’ We ended up trying out metal drummers, but they couldn’t swing. Jimmy was the final piece of the puzzle.” The result is a dazzling and often plaintive rumination on the hours, days, and years—not to mention experiences—that comprise a lifetime. Two-part opener “Burning Daylight” smolders with melancholy, offering a whirl of multi-colored and hallucinatory imagery. “It’s about the California wildfires and a feeling of helplessness,” Gamiño explains. “There’s a juxtaposition between the dark lyricism and upbeat music which is meant to imply a sort of delusional state—and choosing our own delusion to overcome the crushing despair of reality.” Eleven-minute centerpiece “Passages” is a sprawling prog-rock adventure, festooned with lofty guitar melodies, sweeping organ flourishes and a delicately finger-picked outro. But the heaviest song, thematically speaking, might be the mournful and hypnotic “Death in Spring,” which borrows its title from the like-named Catalan novel. “In the novel, people are placed inside opened trees and their mouths filled with cement before they die to prevent their souls from escaping,” Gamiño explains. “The song is about three people I knew who lost their lives to gun violence, addiction, and mental health. It’s my way of cementing their souls in song form.” Mondo Drag fans might be surprised by this blend of hard reality with literary surrealism, but it’s a perfect example of how the last several years have impacted Mondo Drag—and Gamiño in particular. “On all of our previous albums, the lyrical content is more psychedelic and out there,” he acknowledges. “This is the most personal stuff I’ve ever done, so I’m definitely feeling vulnerable on this one.” The title Through the Hourglass comes from the opening of the long-running soap opera Days of Our Lives. It’s less inspired by a predilection for daytime TV than Gamiño’s connection with his late mother, who passed during the time since the last album. “I used to watch Days of Our Lives with her everyday growing up,” he explains. “The song is kind of a reinterpretation of the theme song, although it’s different enough that probably no one will catch it. Now that I’m getting older, I like to put these little Easter eggs in the songs for myself and for archival purposes—for memories.” Through the Hourglass was tracked at El Studio in San Francisco, with an additional ten days of recording at the band’s rehearsal space, which doubles as a hybrid analog-digital recording studio. The album was engineered and mixed by Phil Becker, drummer of space-punk mainstays Pins Of Light. “We’re still here,” Gamiño says. “We’ve been in the studio working on our craft and honing our skills. Now we’re re-emerging for the next stage of our life cycle.”

For their fourth album, »Bear In Town«, indie avant-pop supergroup Spirit Fest made a virtue of distance, with group members split across Europe, and recording sessions taking place after a brief 2021 tour of Europe. It’s an object lesson in perseverance and commitment, as the music here is some of Spirit Fest’s most moving yet. The six songs on this album illuminate different aspects of the transnational quintet’s character – lovely, heart-rending pop songs; melancholy chants; the joys of simple repetition – with the group’s guitar pop tended by gentle flourishes of piano and electronics.

Some of those flourishes were spirited onto »Bear In Town« across the waves, with Mat Fowler (Bons, Jam Money) contributing from Britain, while the body of the music was recorded in a small apartment studio in Munich by the other members of Spirit Fest: Saya and Ueno (Tenniscoats), Markus Acher (The Notwist) and Cico Beck (Joasinho, Aloa Input). »Bear In Town« is concise and powerful, the infectious joy of the spirit communicated, beautifully, by melodies that balance the heartfelt with the melancholy. Reflecting on those sessions, Acher says, »I think the album captures how well we played together at that time.« It’s all the more impressive given this material was put down live in the studio, with a few vocal overdubs. The depth of feeling at the core of Spirit Fest’s music is evident from the opening notes of »Bear In Town«.

»Kou-Kou Land«, the first song on the album, recalls several earlier Tenniscoats songs, like »Baibaba Bimba«, in the way the musicians weave gentle complexity around a simple, repeated chant; the stop-start structure of »Kou-Kou Land« builds anticipation, while Saya’s simple melody is lovely, delivered in an absent-minded hum that’s deeply affecting. »Lost & Found« revolves around a delightful descending chord change that breaks up the swaying, folksy verses, gorgeous electronic whirrs and purring winds floating through the song. The following »In Our House« possesses such sweet sadness, it’s one of Spirit Fest’s most moving songs yet.

»Like A Plane« repurposes a song that Markus Acher originally wrote and recorded for his solo EP of the same title, released on a 2022 10-inch single on Morr Music. The original was a gentle, introverted lament, but the version on »Bear In Town« has a widescreen tenderness, its melancholy framed by raindrop piano. The album concludes with two moments of playful splendour, the bossa-inflected »Hill Blo«, and the driving title track, both led by Saya, who is in stunning voice on this album; on »Bear In Town«, her awestruck wonder perfectly captures the sense of possibility in the song’s capacious chords. Like the rest of the album, it’s full of kindness, rich with psych-pop splendour… a balm for troubled times.

A.R. Kive collates the three most astonishing works from that most miraculous of duos - A.R. Kane - comprising the ‘Up Home’ EP from 1988 that signified the band’s dawning realisation of their own powers and possibilities, their legendary debut LP ‘sixty nine’ (1988) and its kaleidoscopic, prophetic double-LP follow up ‘i’ (1989).

In founder-member Rudy Tambala’s new remastering, the music on these pivotal transmissions from the birth of dream pop, have been reinvigorated and re-infused with a new power, a new depth and intimacy, a new height and immensity. Vivid, timeless and yet always timely whenever they’re recalled, these records still force any listener to realise that despite the habits of retrospective myth-making and the
safe neutering effects of ‘genre’, thirty years have in no way dimmed how resistant and dissident to critical habits of categorisation A.R. Kane always were. Never quite ‘avant-pop’ or ‘shoegaze’ or ‘post-rock’ or any of those sobriquets designed to file and categorise, A.R. Kive is a reminder that those genres had to be coined, had to be invented precisely to contain the astonishing sound of A.R. Kane, because
previous formulations couldn’t come close to their sui generis sound and suggestiveness. This is music that pointed towards futures which a whole generation of artists and sonic explorers would map out. Now beautifully repackaged, remastered and fleshed out with extensive sleeve notes and accompanying materials, ‘A.R. Kive’ reveals that 35 years on it’s still a struggle to defuse the revolutionary and inspirational possibility of A.R. Kane’s music.

A.R. Kane were formed in 1986 by Rudy Tambala and Alex Ayuli, two second-generation immigrants who grew up together in Stratford, East London. From the off the pair were outsiders in the culturally mixed (cockney/Irish/West Indian/Asian) milieu of the East End, with Alex and Rudy’s folks first generation immigrants from Nigeria and Malawi, respectively. The two of them quickly developed and fostered an innate and near-telepathic mutual understanding forged in musical, literary and artistic exploration. Like a lot of second-generation immigrants, they were ferocious autodidacts in all kinds of areas, especially around music and literature. Diving deep into the music of afro-futurist luminaries such as Sun Ra, Miles Davis, Lee Perry and
Hendrix, as well as devouring the explorations of lysergic noise and feedback from contemporaries like Sonic Youth and Butthole Surfers, they also thoroughly immersed themselves in the alternate literary realities of sci-fi and ancient history (the fascination with the arcane that gave the band their name), all to feed their voracious cultural thirsts and intellectual curiosity.

It was seeing the Cocteau Twins performing on Channel 4 show the Tube that spurred A.R. Kane into being - “They had no drummer. They used tapes and technology and Liz Fraser looked completely otherworldly with those big eyes. And the noise coming out of Robin’s guitar! That was the ‘Fuck! We could do that! We could express ourselves like that!’ moment”, recalls Tambala - and through a mix of
confidence, chutzpah, ad hoc almost-mythical live shows and sheer innocent will the duo debuted with the astonishing ‘When You’re Sad’ single for One Little Indian in 1986. Immediately dubbed a ‘black Jesus & Mary Chain’ by a press unsure of WHERE to put a black band clearly immersed in feedback and noise, what was immediately apparent for listeners was just how much more was going on here - a
tapping of dub’s stealth and guile, a resonant umbilicus back to fusion and jazz, the music less a conjuration of past highs than a re-summoning of lost spirits.
The run of singles and EPs that followed picked up increasingly rapt reviews in the press, but it was the ‘Up Home EP’ released in 1988 on their new home, Rough Trade that really suggested something immense was about to break. Simon Reynolds noted the EP was: Their most concentrated slab of iridescent awesomeness and a true pinnacle of an era that abounded with astounding landmarks of guitar-reinvention, A.R. Kane at their most elixir-like.

If anything, the remastered ‘Up Home’ that forms the first part of ‘A.R. Kive’ is even more dazzling, even more startling than it was when it first emerged, and listening now you again wonder not just about how many bands christened ‘shoegaze’ tried to emulate it, but how all of them fell so far short of its lambent, pellucid wonder. This remains intrinsically experimental music but with none of the frowning orthodoxy those words imply. A.R. Kane, thanks to that second generation auto-didacticism were always supremely aware about the interstices of music and magic, but at the same time gloriously free in the way they explored that connection within their own sound, fascinated always with the creation of ‘perfect mistakes’ and the possibilities inherent in informed play.

‘sixty nine’ the group’s debut LP that emerged in 1988 had
critics and listeners struggling to fit language around A.R. Kane’s sound. As a title it was telling - the year of ‘Bitches Brew’, the year of ‘In A Silent Way’, the erotic möbius between two lovers - and as originally coined by the band themselves, ‘dream pop’ (before it became a free-floating signifier of vague import) was entirely apposite for the music A.R. Kane were making. Crafted in a dark small basement studio in which Tambala recalls the duo had “complete freedom - We wanted to go as far out as we could, and in doing so we discovered the point where it stops being music”. There was an irresistibly dreamy, somnambulant, sensual and almost surreal flow to ‘sixty nine’s sound, but also real darkness/dankness, the ruptures of the primordial and the reverberations of the subconscious, within the grooves of remarkable songs like ‘Dizzy’ and ‘Crazy Blue’. Alex’s plangent vocals floated and surged amidst exquisite peals of refracted feedback but crucially there was BASS here, lugubrious and funky and full of dread, sonic pleasure and sonic disturbance crushed together to make music with a center so deep it felt subcutaneous, music constructed from both the accidental and the deliberate, generous enough to dance with both serendipity and chaos. ‘sixty nine’ remains - especially in this remastered iteration - ravishing, revolutionary.

The final part of this ‘A.R. Kive’ contains 1989’s astonishing double-LP ‘i’ which followed up on ‘sixty nine’s promise and saw the duo fully unleash their experimental pop sensibilities over 26 tracks, plunging the A.R. Kane sound into a dazzlingly kaleidoscopic vision of pop experiment and play. Suffused with new digital technologies and combining searingly sweet and danceable pop with perhaps the duo’s strangest and boundary-pushing compositions, the album did exactly what a great double-set should do - indulge the artists sprawling pursuit of their own imaginations but always with a concision and an ear for those moments where pop both transcends and toys with the listeners expectations. Jason Ankeny has noted that “In retrospect, ‘i’ now seems like a crystal ball prophesying virtually every major musical development of the 1990s; from the shimmering techno of ‘A Love from Outer Space’ to the liquid dub of ‘What’s All This Then?’, from the alien drone-pop of ‘Conundrum’ to the sinister shoegazer miasma of ‘Supervixens’ — it’s all here, an underground road map for countless bands to follow.” Perhaps the most overwhelmingly all-encompassing transmission from A.R. Kane, ‘i’ bookended a three year period in which the duo had made some of the most prophetic and revelatory music of the entire decade.

After ‘i’ the duo’s output became more sporadic with Tambala and Ayuli moving in different directions both geographically and musically, with only 1994’s ‘New Clear Child’ a crystalline re-fraction of future and past echoes of jazz, folk and soul, before the duo went their separate ways. Since then, A.R. Kane’s music has endured, not thanks to the usual sepia’d false memories that seem to maintain interest in so much of the musical past, but because those who hear A.R. Kane music and are changed irrevocably, have to share that universe which A.R. Kane opened up, with anyone else who will listen. Far more than other lauded documents of the late 80s it still sounds astonishingly fresh, astonishingly livid and vivid and necessary and NOW.

The final U.S. show, a triumphant and blistering bookend to the storied career of one of the most influential bands in rock music, featuring a unique and expansive eighty-five minute set list that spans Sonic Youth’s nearly three decade catalog. Mixed from multitrack by longtime live engineer Aaron Mullan and mastered and cut by Carl Saff. On August 12, 2011 Sonic Youth played their final US show on an outdoor stage overlooking the East River at the Williamsburg Waterfront in Brooklyn. Fitting that their storied career would bookend with a panoramic view of New York City where it all began 30 years before, having left in their wake one of one of the most powerfully influential careers in rock music. Following incredible sets from Kurt Vile and Wild Flag, the band took the stage. As the sun went down over the city, Sonic Youth ripped through a 17 song set that spanned from deep cuts off their first studio album and highlighting many other albums all the way through to their last, like a band with everything to prove. Or as Brooklyn Vegan’s Andrew Sacher said at the time: “While most bands who are thirty years into their career are either fading away or living off of the nostalgia of their older material, Sonic Youth continue to sound and perform as fresh as ever.” Steve Shelley explains the uniquely career spanning set list of Live in Brooklyn 2011 and how it came to be, as well as the importance of outdoor NYC summer shows in Sonic Youth’s legacy: “This show was a culmination of a run of really special outdoor summertime shows in New York City for us, starting in ’92 with Summerstage in Central Park when we played with Sun Ra. For the Williamsburg Waterfront show I wrote out the set list to present to the band and it was a lot of material we hadn’t played in a while, a lot of deep cuts, so I wasn’t sure if everybody would feel like doing it. After worrying about which songs the band might say yes or no to, I threw those concerns out the window and I just made a list of songs that I thought would be a great set. We practiced the week of the show at our space in Hoboken and put the set together. First we’d try and make sure we had a guitar in the song’s tuning, then we’d try to remember the arrangement and try and put it together, sometimes re-learning bar by bar. In the end I think the whole song list made it through. Even as early as ’86 and ’87 we stopped playing ‘Death Valley 69’ and ‘Brave Men Run’ with any regularity. We’d just get excited about new material coming into the set and songs would get ‘retired’ and wouldn’t get played again for years. So on this particular night in Brooklyn a lot of those retired songs and deep cuts got dusted off and played for this show. It turned out to be a pretty special event with a really special song list.” The band would go on to fulfill a contracted festival run in South America a few months later but, by then, the group’s center was severed beyond repair and the festival appearances didn’t hold the same kind of weight. “The stage was facing the East River from the Williamsburg, Brooklyn waterfront, and I recall the sun going down in the west during our set. It was a pretty magical, if kinda weird day. Fitting, somehow, that our ‘last show’ should be in New York City, our home and where it all began…” Lee Ranaldo The Williamsburg Waterfront show would fondly become referred to as ‘The Last Show’ by fans and band alike, equally for its triumphant high energy performance, its unique and expansive set list and locale. Newly remixed and remastered, Live in Brooklyn 2011 is presented for the first time on 2xLP, 2Xcd, August 18, 2023.

Odd Nosdam really doesn’t need an introduction, unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last 20 years then undoubtedly you’ll know what’s up, and what an absolute humbling pleasure it is to now introduce Nosdam to the Where To Now? catalogue with two new cuts that flow from ethereal, meditative contemplation through to downtown abstracted machine damage..

The record opens with ‘End is Important’, A looping, spiritual lament which forces observation, or resolution around the concept of ‘Endings.’ Passages from Tsunetomo Yamamoto’s ‘Hagakure’ seep in and out of the mix throughout, where spiraling and glistening arpeggios dance across a glorious choral mantra, intended to elevate minds towards some kind of plume of awakening. This is a heady and deep cut which finds Odd Nosdam in full introspection mode.

‘Here to Know’ recalls the work of Patrick Cowley in his best downtown ultra slow swinging funk suit, or the more obvious nods to John Carpenter’s Assault on Precinct 13 OST. However, this is far from a straight up ode to creeping machine funk - Nosdam’s injection of energetic, pulsing synth stabs move the piece into a more surreal territory, creating a masterful and experimental injection of life and colour into an otherwise smoked out landscape.

“Where I found myself when Where To Now? reached out - asking if I'd consider a vinyl release with the label - was over in Barcelona spending time with loved ones at my family's apartment in the district of Sant Gervasi.

After my initial contact with WTN?, I ventured north to Cadaqués to visit Salvador Dalí's house in Port Lligat, where Gala & Dalí spent some 50 summers. While inspired asf touring the glorious property, I captured recordings from a looping video screening in an open air theater. These recordings became the foundation of Here To Know.

Sometimes there’s a break in the road. End Is Important was realized after re-watching the Jim Jarmusch film, Ghost Dog. Stealthy and evanescent, a familiar voice carries this slow-diver with a message to the world warped cruiser in all of us.” - Odd Nosdam

With I Will Make a Baby in this Damn Economy, Fat Tony embodies the kind of quixotic figure he would rap about; a singular entity who’s motivated, confident, and hungry; a perpetual-motion-machine locked in a staring contest with his country. It’s the latest album in his catalog produced entirely by L.A-based producer Taydex since 2020’s Wake Up. Later that same year Fat Tony released Exotica, and ever since he’s demonstrated he is in his own lane as a professional rapper with the mind of a magician, as quick to conjure an image as pull it out from under you, deftly manoeuvring through so many details and references a listener feels as if they have witnessed the work of an illusionist. He paints these canvases inside of songs that rarely spill past three minutes; they’re pocket-sized diaries replete with acute observations, character studies, microdoses of storytelling, and single-minded ruminations on a topic that bud, blossom, and fade before too long. Fat Tony & Taydex’s I Will Make a Baby in this Damn Economy cements Tony’s status as someone whose albums are not so much lyrically-lyrical as they are picaresque.
As with any Fat Tony project, the bars are tight as ever, but are so fluid for the 34-year-old it’s almost easy to take for granted the details, warmth, and humanity inside his free-associative tales of day-one friends who’ve passed, edgelord grifters who want to spit game, and nights on ketamine. Taydex’s production sprints through disparate yet simpatico styles, dipping its toes into Pi’erre Bourne-esque bass (see lead single “Spectacular”), house (“Loosen Up”), and even hyperpop. Meditations on loss and grief are woven throughout, but Tony throws a few curveballs as well: Consider “Alexis,” which sweetly reflects on a long-term platonic friendship. Taydex finds a Teddy Riley-indebted New Jack Swing groove just deep enough for the feeling to land and underlines the song’s sincere candor. This is the appeal of Fat Tony writ-large: his boisterous voice and genial personality invite you to the party, then you stick around to hear what he’s saying, which is frequently more introspective and complex than one assumes.
Written and recorded in Taydex’s new studio in North Hollywood, Tony says, “We had much more freedom and flexibility in making this album and you can hear it. It felt like a family project.” If the album is comfortable and loose, it is also dense and substantial. The album’s final two tracks contextualize the immediacy of what came before it—the mezcal with ices drank, Paul Wall swangin’ through to drop knowledge, the Polaris Prize-winning rapper Cadence Weapon providing a vibe check. “Make a Baby” accounts for Tony who’s seen everything, and knows he’s met the one to be a father with, and yet chooses to take his time to get it done. Taydex’s beat recalls turn-of-the-century R&B and the millennial promise of an endless good time. Sombre closer “Jasper, TX” is Tony coming to grips with the story of James Byrd, Jr., a Black man from East Texas dragged to his death by three white supremacists in 1998. These songs are not only trademarks of Tony’s fastidious rapping—they are deeply personal examples of his approach to artistry and life itself, where every decision is made in the shadow of history.
It’s here the mission statement of I Will Make a Baby in this Damn Economy comes into focus—you get the sense he means it, he’s ready for it, he’ll fight for it. He’s waiting to take the world at its word.

Attarazat Addahabia & Faradjallah's album came to us as quite a mystery. Our friends from Radio Martiko got access to the studio archive of the Boussiphone label and a reel labeled “Faradjallah” was among the items they had found there. After listening to the selection of reels they borrowed, Radio Martiko felt it was not a fit for their label and helped us licensing it from Mr. Boussiphone instead. We knew nothing about the band. We just had the reel with the music but very little information. What we knew was that the music was incredible and very unique. Gnawa sounds were combined with funky electronic guitars, very dense layers of percussions and female backing vocals more reminiscent of musical styles further south than Morocco. We started asking around whether anyone knew the band with no immediate success until we asked Tony Day, a musician from Morocco who helped us during our search for Fadoul’s family. His sharp memory came through once again, remembering all the names of the Attarazat Addahabia band members and even how to contact the bands singer and leader Abdelakabir Faradjallah. After visiting him at his home in Casablanca with our Moroccan colleague Sabrina multiple times, he shared his personal story. His father arrived in Casablanca from Aqqa at the age of six and his mother came from Essaouira. Abdelakabir was born in the neighbourhood of Benjdia in 1942. Abdelakabir Faradjallah studied fine arts in Casablanca, graduating in 1962. He also played soccer in the second team of "Jeunesse Societe One". His brother-in-law Ibrahim Sadr worked for one of the biggest football teams of the time in Morocco called "Moroco Sportive Union", which allowed him to travel to France occasionally. While Ibrahim was never part of the band he brought along a few instruments from trips.


Yet the majority of the instruments they could not afford to buy were build by Faradjallah and Abderrazak, Faradjallah's brother who passed away early. For instance they had built a Spanish guitar and a drum made of wood barrel and sheepskin by themselves.During the 1950s Faradjallah was booked as a singer for surprise parties with friends. He started to write his first songs including "L’gnawi" in 1967 and wanted to make people discover Gnawa culture, or maybe rather his take on the culture to be more exact. Faradjallah recalls his first interaction with the genre in the streets of the Dern neighbourhood, where he used to go to elementary school. Gnawa is one of the essential musical genres of Morocco. It combines ritual poetry with traditional dances and music linked with a spiritual foundation. Musically a lot of influences originated from West Africa as well as Sudan. Gnawa is usually played by a selection of specific instruments such as the qaraqab (large iron castanets centrally associated with the music), the hajhouj (a three string lute), guembri loudaâ (a three stringed bass instrument) and the tbel (large drums). People would put shells on their clothes and instruments and use incense at their parties. "Sidi darbo lalla - lala derbo khadem..." came from Gnawa verses Faradjallah used to sing when he was 14. The lyrics tackle a global (im)balance of power and the question of social status in this course. The band Attarazat Addahabia was formed in 1968. The original line-up included 14 members, all from the same family. They played their first small concerts here and there starting in 1969. Later in 1973 they performed bigger shows for instance at the Municipal Theatre followed by the "Al Massira Show" at Velodrome Stadium in downtown Casablanca. Their first album "Al Hadaoui" (the one you are listening to) was recorded at Boussiphone studios in 1972 and was never released before. Nobody seems to remember the exact reason why Boussiphone ended up deciding not to put the album out. The album's title track also served as the basis for Fadoul's "Maktoub Lah", who frequented the same circles as the band for some time.

Their shows sometimes could go as long as 12 hours, starting at 5pm in the afternoon, with an occasional break here and there. In the 1980s the band took a brief break. Faradjallah recalled the reason for that break like this: "Zaki, the bands drummer, had fallen in love with a young girl from Mohammedia. Soon after, he fell very ill. The group members were convinced that the girl had given him ‘s'hor’ (a kind of local Moroccan version of "black magic"). For four years, the whole group stopped playing. It was unthinkable to find another drummer to replace Zaki, even temporarily." So they waited four years for Zaki to "get back on his feet" before going back on stage. Apart from very few gigs here and there Faradjallah stopped playing music in the mid 1990s. Some members from the younger generations formed a new band and still play frequently to this day. Faradjallah runs a television repair shop coupled offerings beverages and snacks in the Belevedere /Ains Sbaa district of Casablanca. While Faradjallah was primarily a musician, he would work for the local cinema and paint their posters for new movies by hand and he designed all artworks and cover posters of the band.

And this eventually led to him participating actively in our first exhibition dealing with Habibi Funk’s work in Dubai 2018. He helped us by creating calligraphic complementations on large photo prints for that show.

Amanaz were serious, and they made a serious stab at an album. They titled their album Africa, according to original band member Keith Kabwe, “because of how it was shared and how its inhabitants were butchered and enslaved, its resources stolen… all the atrocities slave drivers committed. “ Thus, their “Kale,” a blues sung in Nyanja, that traced the continent’s arc from slavery to Zambia’s independence closes the album. Kabwe and rhythm guitarist John Kanyepa have a winsome softness to their vocals, which sit politely aside the feral growl of drummer Watson Baldwin Lungu, bassist Jerry Mausala and bandleader/lead guitarist Isaac Mpofu. Africa’s vibe ranges from anxious (“Amanaz”) to escapist (“Easy Street”) to straight-up pissed-off. On the “History of Man,” his voice whiskeyburned, his distorted guitar buzzing like swarming hornets, Mpofu indicts his species.
There’s a darkness to Africa not found on any other Zamrock records, and a melancholy drifts throughout, specifically on Mpofu’s more restrained “Khala My Friend,” which stands as an effective, bleak situation for the Zambian everyman, the average citizen of a struggling, new nation, who might have had relatives in conflict-torn countries on the horizon, who might have been struggling to find his next meal, who might have seen a bleaker future than his president promised. Then there’s the clear Velvet Underground-influence on the nostalgic “Sunday Morning,” which, as Kabwe
recalls, was the first song written for the album, back in 1968, when Velvet Undergound and Nico was a new release - and the underground funk of “Making The Scene.” The album also tackles traditional Zambian music and early-‘60s rock – punctuated, of course by Kanyepa’s wah-wah and Mpofu’s fuzz guitars. But every time Amanaz get too deep, too violent, they come back with an accessible song and woo their listener back to the groove. “Green Apple” is a civil song, featuring Kanyepa’s sighing guitar. It is a perfectly arranged album, from the dichotomy of Mpofu’s and Kanyepa’s lead and rhythm guitars, to the vocal harmonies, to the rhythm section’s sense of space and time, which allows Africa’s funk to build. Inexplicably, Africa was given two separate mixes and two separate presses: one version is dry, with the vocals and drums mixed loud, the other slathered in reverb, with the vocals and drums disappearing into the mix, and with the guitar solos mixed much louder. We’ve presented them both here as they each have their appeal: it’s up to the listener to pick the one he or she prefers. This is a highpoint of the Zamrock scene and we hope that this can be seen as its definitive reissue.

Ivory colored vinyl, limited to 150 copies. "When did time start flying by so fast? It's getting harder to recall the past." The opening lines of As Friends Rust's upcoming album Any Joy are a fitting start for a band that has existed in one form or another for over 25 years (minus a hiatus from 2002-2008). Originally formed in the late `90s, As Friends Rust has been through a few iterations, but it is the core line-up of vocalist Damien Moyal, guitarist Joseph Simmons, guitarist James Glayat, and drummer Timothy Kirkpatrick that are creating thought-provoking melodic punk music for the modern age. With three EPs, two 7 inches, and a full-length in their history, As Friends Rust already have a lifetime of work in their pocket, but the seven songs on Any Joy might just be their most striking yet. Originating in Gainesville, Florida and now spread across the country, As Friends Rust wrote, recorded, and produced Any Joy mostly from the comfort of their own homes. Vocals in Ann Arbor, MI, guitars in Gainesville, FL and Brooklyn, NY, with the exception of the drums, which were recorded in a studio by John Howard in Gainesville. Not currently having a permanent bassist, the band called upon friend Andrew Seward (of Against Me!) to play bass on most of the record, with additional contributions from Simmons. Mixed by James Paul Wisner in Orlando, FL and mastered by Matthias Lohmöller in Germany, the creation of the album was truly a collaborative and international effort. Working in separate spaces allowed the band to experiment more as the songs came together, resulting in a familiar but fresh sound that has more bite than past releases. It's more focused, more direct, more confrontational, more catchy, while still staying true to the band's melodic punk and hardcore roots. Lyrics tackle everything from the emptiness of emoticons as a form of communication on "Positive Mental Platitude" to the need for political and social activism versus the occurrences of daily life on "??No Gods, Some Masters."

Stephen Steinbrink discovered a short YouTube video of a street magician who approaches a highschooler walking home in Barstow, California. “Here, let me show you my idea,” he says, as he places a quarter on the kid’s hand. The magician performs some relaxed flourishes, and the coin vanishes. In silence, the kid stares at his hand at the nothing where there once, indisputably, was something, until his wonder finds a single word: “Cool.” The title of Disappearing Coin, the new album from Oakland songwriter Stephen Steinbrink, comes from this short clip. “When I look at it now,” he says, “I relate to the kid, who’s obviously uneasy in his body, and going through the experience of being a teenager in the early 2000s growing up in a bleak desert town like I did. I also relate to the coin, an inanimate disc of possibility. And I relate to the magician, an absurd facilitator of sending what is tactile and concrete into the wispy conceptual realm.” “I’ve watched it probably a hundred times,” he says. “It cracked me up but also blew my mind open the feeling of wonder I experienced watching this video became a guide as I navigated new ways of staying in the realm of what’s both real and magical.” Following the 2018 release of Utopia Teased, Steinbrink completed an apprenticeship in the nearly-lost art of Stained Glass, becoming a glazier at a studio that over three years, fully restored the enormous 90-year-old windows in San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral. He committed to his Buddhist study, beginning lay monastic training before the process was thwarted by the pandemic. He dove deeper into music production for other artists, engineering two albums by Boy Scouts released on Anti- Records in 2018 and 2021. Steinbrink delighted in the way these pursuits pulled at the thread of ego’s tapestry and decentralized him from his craft, allowing him to embody a new role as a creative caretaker engaging in practices that felt communal and restorative. “As I slowly began writing for myself again, I tried to imbue my new songs with this sense of playfulness and wonder I felt while exploring these other interests.” He says. Feeling unlocked from the pressures of perfection that he often felt in his earlier work, creating Disappearing Coin felt buoyant and healing. “The album feels like an integration of all of my past musical selves zeroing in on the present,” Steinbrink explains, “I felt free to explore new ways of writing, through different perspectives, experimenting with fictional songwriting, visual archetypal language, and total collaboration.” This “total collaboration” was a joyous new venture after years of solo performing and recording. The album can be seen as a 42 minute session of show and tell, the manifestation of Steinbrink repeating the mantra of “Here, let me show you my idea” to himself over and over. Disappearing Coin is at once a welcome return for the veteran Steinbrink and the debut of a totally new artist, one who has found a new path to himself with new goals of openness, curiosity, and self-acceptance. “Recalls the magic pop purity of Arthur Russell...its minimalism manages to feel enlightened and transformative.” PITCHFORK // “Melodic and self-assured. Steinbrink delivers his knotted lyricism with a smooth lilt.

Santilli returns to Mad Habitat after a European sojourn on Growing Bin! The Eora-based multi-instrumentalist is one half of Angophora, but his solo work exists in the lineage of electro-acoustic visionaries like Steve Tibbetts. With each subsequent release, Santilli strikes the balance between mining his well-defined personal aesthetic and expanding his vision.

The instrumental palette of this record is centered around guitar and synthesizer, bolstered by an incredible array of idiophones and membranophones. There is no shortage of spellbinding moments, like the glacial synths that pan across “Mirrors”, the cascading beauty of “Colours” or the woodland symphony of “Hollow” - the latter even recalls the environmentally-focused work of Waak Waak Djungi’s Peter Mumme.

There’s a common thread across this album in the way it evokes the expanse of nature that Santilli spends much of his time in. All 9 tracks feel like a glimpse into an exquisitely realized scene and across all of them, Santilli's music is suffused with an unhurried sense of ease. The music here feels immersive and panoramic as a result, and we’re grateful to share a glimpse into the worlds Santilli captures.

Freak Frequency was a fitting title for the new material Greg Obis was planning for Stuck, the frenetic and twisted post-punk outfit he formed in 2018. Inspired by the doomy social economics of Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism, the bleak worldbuilding of horror games Demon’s Souls and Bloodborne, and the bombastic yet arty satire of Devo, Obis channelled his audio analogy into Freak Frequency, an album ringing out with explosive sounds and ideas.

Stuck formed after Obis’ previous projects, Yeesh and Clearance, called it quits in short proximity. Obis is on guitar and vocals, which span from booming theatrics to ecstatic yelps. The project’s rhythm section is completed by shoegaze guitarist-turned-chugging bassist David Algrim and tightly wound drummer Tim Green—also a graphic designer, and the artist responsible for Stuck’s distinctively unified visual aesthetic. Original co-guitarist Donny Walsh contributed freely inventive lines for the first few years of the project, including on Freak Frequency; Ezra Saulnier of Red Tunic, the newest member of the band, now brings calculated contrapuntal riffs to match Obis’ parts.

The building blocks of Stuck include the egg punk eccentricities of Uranium Club and The Coneheads filtered through noise rock power, à la Jesus Lizard or Slint; that melange is glittered with the precision microtones of Unwound and Women. “I want the feeling of immersion and chaos and tension, with a big guitar amp playing a big chord,” says Obis of his inspirations, citing friends and peers Cloud Nothings and Preoccupations. “But I want it delivered by having a lot of smaller points of light poking through.”

In fact, writing for Freak Frequency began while Content’s recording was still underway—beginning with “Scared,” which features acoustic layers under feedback squalls. “Time Out,” with motoric guitars in the sputtering lineage of Wire, was also composed in late 2019. Obis wrote it about the cycles of compulsion and shame woven into social media use, and the way negativity drives algorithmic engagement. It became an exciting exercise for the group in ramping up speed; “I thought I knew how far I could push Tim’s tempos,” Obis recalls. “But Tim kept insisting we do it 20 bpm faster than what I had. He is an absolute monster for playing that.”

Album opener “The Punisher,” a spiral staircase of disembodied guitars and rhythmic slams over a 2/4 beat, came in the aftermath of the January 6 insurrection. It felt immediately emblematic to Freak Frequency, and Obis describes it as his favorite Stuck track: one he wishes he could write again and again. “It hits all the boxes that Stuck can do: it’s goofy, but there’s a lot of intricate guitar interplay, and at the end, there’s a big payoff,” he explains. The last song written was “Do Not Reply,” a pre-album single that came to Obis after engineering for Melkbelly and channelling their earworm melodies. Algrim wouldn’t let it on the record unless Melkbelly’s front person Miranda Winters dueted on vocals; she was happy to oblige, and the gritty epic closes Freak Frequency.

With slippery snark, percussive heft, and funhouse mirrors of sludge, Freak Frequency delivers its needed screeds with gratifying nuance. If Stuck’s interpretation of this messed-up world goes down like a bitter pill, it’s only because its sugar coating is too delicious to keep from eating.

After taking time out from working together to focus on separate musical projects, maverick composer Alan Roberts (Jim Noir) and crowd-rousing vocalist Leonore Wheatley (International Teachers of Pop / The Soundcarriers) have re-joined forces to introduce Co-Pilot. Each the other’s wing person, they’re plotting an escape through Manchester’s claustrophobic grey skies with the pencil case colour of a hand-sewn multi-coloured primary school patchwork quilt. “We are both the creators in charge of navigating Co-Pilot’s overall sound which changes from track to track,” Leonore hints at what to expect. “There are about 6 different genres on one album, it's a pick n mix record!”


Happy in the haze of many boozy hours the album was recorded over just a few months whilst holed up and hanging out in Al’s city centre Dookstereo studio. The former Mill allowed the pair to relax, laugh and create without constraint. Armed with their original demos and vocal recordings from Al’s flat, they’d nip by the offie to pick up some Dutch courage before setting to work: building arrangements from a drum beat and basic chord pattern, the pair were so in tune they rarely spoke, allowing only the music to lead the way. “We’d communicate through nods of agreement or grimaces of dismay,” Leonore recalls. “Using the instruments with Al in production mode, we let the sound dictate the process whilst being drunk enough to follow it.”
The sound of life coming full circle after honing their separate crafts, Leonore had previously played keys and vocals in Jim Noir’s live band before moving on to front International Teachers of Pop for two critically lauded albums of joyous dancefloor filling bangers - their self-titled debut (2019) and Pop Gossip (2020). During that time Al would further expand Jim Noir’s universe with AM Jazz, which was celebrated as the no.1 album in Piccadilly Records’ ‘End of Year Review’ (2020), followed by the Deep View Blue E.P. (2021) cementing his status as one of Manchester’s finest songwriters.
As Leonore added her vocal magic to Al’s early demos of what would eventually become Co-Pilot’s ‘Spring Beach’ and a crooked original version of closing track ‘Corner House’, the vibe was prophetic “like the ending of Grease as Danny and Sandy take flight through the clouds”, letting their imaginations fly. The songs were the catalyst to spark a new phase of the pair working together, picking up where they left off. “From messing about with sounds during rehearsals in the very beginning it was always clear we liked the combination of sounds we made,” Leonore recalls.
Powered by a ‘try anything’ approach, Co-Pilot blends the musical DNA of what you’ve come to expect from each of the pair’s previous flight paths. “Whatever is switched on or nearby gets used. There's no 'correct' for us. If it sounds good, record it,” Al tells. United through typically turbulent wonky pop and lurking samples, whether culled from 70s TV themes or recreations of past and found sounds (see Al’s 60s tropicalia guitar on ‘Brick’, or the innocent ‘Swim to Sweden’ which opens with an ice cream van jingle Al recorded from his bedroom window) their process offers up a bucket load of Easter eggs. The album even features snippets from dearly departed pal Batfinks whilst ‘Motosaka’ is perhaps the most expensive 2-minutes on the album, featuring a Columbia Records Japan-cleared sample of Ryuichi Sakamoto’s ‘Thousand Knives’. Its synth squelches and Tom Tom Club funk also received the blessing of Haroumi Hosono, Godfather of Japanese Electronica, who agreed to being sampled in an original version of the song. “We just kept listening back and hitting gold,” Al recalls. “I was thinking ‘yeah, not sure what this is but I like it! We were buzzing with what we had made.”
But the sound wouldn’t come without self-imposed instrumental challenges. Thanks to an old mellotron sample on ‘Move To It,’ the moog riff and nautical accordion breaks on ‘Swim To Sweden’ and the 6/8 and 7/8 jaunt of ‘Brick’, time signatures were lovingly skewed to create Co-Pilot’s unique mood. “It was a bastard getting the drums right,” Leonore reveals, “but I like the wonkiness”. Levelling up through the lyrics, the words of smoky and evocative ‘She Walks In Beauty’ are based on a Lord Byron poem, with the sentiment of remembering Leonore’s late grandparents. “I wanted to see how much I could get away with just singing on one note, and how I could harmonically change everything else around it vocally,” she says. Elsewhere ‘Can You See’ was written from the perspective of a concerned sister to a brother which tells of keeping someone safe. “The lyrics are quite metaphorical about day-to-day happenings, people loved and lost. Others are rhythmic nonsense! It’s up to the listener to figure out what’s true.”
It’s clear from Al’s productive production techniques and Leonore’s knack for vocals and lyricism, Co-Pilot’s course is engineered by two aeronautically adept sonic storytellers. “We share a pretty similar sense of humour,” Al tells, “It is funny listening to this quite serious album but knowing we were giggling as we recorded it all. It’s been great to have another brain to bounce off.” Their destination might be unknown, but the clouds are about to part for a sound that is light years ahead. “You'll like at least one song,” Leonore suggests, “and hopefully them all.”