Suche:second tension

Leeds-based noise-rock band Thank drops their second EP Please. Coming out as a joint venture between Buzzhowl Records and Belgium's EXAG, Please is the follow-upto the group's debut EP, 2017's Sexghost Hellscape. While the tension in Please could be too much for some bands to hold, Thank sustainit expertly across the four tracks here. This is thanks in part to superbly-balanced production by Rob Slater and Jamie Lockhart (Greenmount Studios) as well as a meaty mastering job from Declared Sound's Dominic Clare. Furthermore, vocalist Freddy Vinehill-Cliffe (Beige Palace) acts as a lightning rod for both elements of Thank's sound. Vinehill-Cliffe's lyrics tackle by turns Catholic guilt, deaths in the family, his experiences in therapy, sex, loyalty and betrayal. Whatever the subject matter, every syllable of Please is delivered in a selfflagellatingyelp that is equal-parts Xiu Xiuand post-Nite Flights Scott Walker. Such a tragi-comic performance is the perfect focalpoint for Thank's harsh, powerful Please. "A brutally deranged band that mixes krautrock and experimental electronic music into their caterwauling punk, reforming noise rock with robotic grooves and manipulatedsynths." - Post Trash "Thank trade in groovily abrasive riffs, burbling synths, disco-punk drum patterns and high level ranter vocals." - The Quietus

Modularz is proud to welcome back Venezuelan-born, Buenos Aires-based producer Michel Lauriola for his second full-length release on the respected American techno imprint. A rising figure in the global underground scene, Lauriola has consistently earned acclaim for his raw, immersive sound—an aesthetic rooted in precision, intensity, and emotional depth. With this new release, he further refines his unique sonic identity, presenting a gripping body of work that blends driving, hypnotic rhythms with a bold approach to sound design often described as sonic brutalism.

Each track on the 8-track release is a testament to Lauriola’s dedication to the craft, weaving together pounding drums, industrial textures, and layered atmospheres that build tension with surgical focus. His work evokes the stark energy of warehouse spaces, late-night dance floors, and the darker corners of techno culture, while still maintaining a sense of control and finesse. There is a narrative quality to the arrangement—one that guides listeners through a landscape of intensity, depth, and release.

Lauriola's return to Modularz marks a significant moment for both artist and label, as the project continues to push boundaries and elevate the label’s already rich catalog of forward-thinking techno. This release is not only a showcase of his technical skill and creative vision but also a powerful statement of where modern techno is headed: uncompromising, emotionally resonant, and undeniably physical. Whether heard in a club, warehouse, or on headphones, this is music that demands attention and rewards deep listening.

For her second full-length as Plume Girl, Sowmya Somanath crafts a space where boundaries of language, feeling, and sound start to dissolve. ‘Unnameable Glory’ ruminates on the limits of expression, and the luminous freedom that emerges when we let go of the need to name. Elaborating on the exploratory songs of her debut, Plume Girl continues to bring together Hindustani classical improvisation, ambient soundscapes, and experimental pop.

Somanath’s voice—from gentle murmur to radiant call—guides the listener through dreamlike arrangements: sunrise guitar arpeggios, humming choirs, heartbeat kickdrums, and synths tremble. Elsewhere field sounds and old family recordings are collaged, a woman’s giggle transposed into a piano melody, a sloshing body of water mirrored by synth bleeps. Plume Girl conjures moments of revelation, drawing from the natural beauty and intuition, that unnameable glory.

Is there a divinity or a wholeness that exists beyond language, belief, or tradition? Unnameable Glory both celebrates and gently challenges the notion: Can we honour the creative richness of culture while also seeing through the divisions it creates? Can we meet the world—and each other—without assumption, without fear, with eyes made new? In these songs, the sacred is found not in grand gestures, but in the anonymous freedom of simply being: the iridescence of oil and water on a street, the smile of a stranger, the hush that settles by a creek.

At the heart of the album is a sense of curiosity and surrender—a willingness to listen without judgment, to let the moment be unnameable, to allow wonder to arise and dissolve. And yet, as Somanath notes, there’s an impulse to capture that’s tough to ignore; a need to replicate and remember. Unnameable Glory dwells in this tension: between holding and letting go, between the urge to define and the beauty of what cannot be contained. There is a quiet, revolutionary joy in simply living and sensing together. Music becomes a meeting place for the whole, the holy, and the unnamable.

Originally published by Tomlab in 2001, “Seleya” is the second full- length issued by Kristian Peters’ Novisad project. Twenty-four years after its initial release, the album’s thirteen loop-based arrangements continue to resonate with striking clarity. Keplar presents Seleya with a previously unreleased bonus track from 2004 and a fresh vinyl cut by LUPO.

These evocative miniatures feel haunted with the passage of time, bearing traces of the exploratory studio workflows, tactile imperfections, and emerging technologies that would have given birth to them: plain DAW manipulations, aliasing digitalia, the tones and timbres of the “misused” equipment ambient musicians utilized before Ableton, Eurorack, and the rise of the boutique electronics that have streamlined electronic music production.

In our present epoch, these compositions feel almost eerily nostalgic, documenting the sort of trembling, wide-eyed spirit and enviable naivety that characterizes cultural production as it ventures into new waters, unfettered by the sediments of established methodology and trend. This tendency to avoid aesthetic orthodoxy results in music that refuses to settle into predictability. Subtle frequencies drift and collide, counterpoint loops run in quiet opposition, and elegant dissonance gives rise to unexpected harmony. The album’s emotional power lies in these tensions, in the way it balances melancholy with beauty and familiarity with complexity.

"Wind, Again" is Sary Moussa’s fourth studio album and second album on Other People. Based between France and Lebanon, Moussa returns with a riveting electro-acoustic album informed by his ever-changing relationships to space, listening, and resonance as well as his growing interest in the study of harmonics in electronic and electro-acoustic music.

Years in the making, “Wind, Again” approaches distinct musical worlds and languages by bringing together improvisations by musicians performing on Western and West Asian instruments such as the Hammond organ, clarinet, saz, and buzuk with electronic arrangements and textures. Rather than force a rapprochement of these musical worlds through the instruments, and keenly aware of the weighty sonic histories they carry, Moussa proposes another way through which they can exist together in contemporary electronic composition.

Composed of six tracks, each of which demonstrate an array of recording and processing techniques, the album generates moments of tension produced by the synthesis of textural, tonal, and harmonic encounters that Moussa calls “shadows”, which outline an impressionistic musical language, existing at the edge of familiarity. Such moments permeate tracks like “Everywhere at once” and “Violence” that open with the Hammond organ and the saz respectively and slowly reveal an expansive field of sounds that showcases each of the musicians’ characteristic performances and Moussa’s densely layered textures. It is a latent yet unrelenting tension through which the composer invokes rather than represents a collective experiential state, especially familiar to those who know his environment. In “Wind, Again” these shadows are articulations of sounds steeped in traditions they are never quite tethered to. Such articulations are implied and alluded to, they play within a musical reference without the latter explicitly existing in the recording, always teetering, never completely here nor there.
Sonically and musically, the album is fueled by the cultural, social, and personal realities that Moussa was brought up and lives in.

Both personal and musical ties with the musicians who feature on the album is central to Moussa’s practice. In the title track “I will never write a song about you”, musician Julia Sabra opens with rolled piano chords, followed by Paed Conca on clarinet and Abed Kobeissy on buzuk, before Moussa’s electronic processing pieces together, lifts, and sustains the melodic direction of the track that emerged from the musicians’ separate improvisations. For Moussa: “The initial connection between the three performances was made on a track that no longer existed, the original recording was both an obstacle and necessary step for the track we hear on the record. It’s as if we were all telling different stories and I pulled on the thread that held them together”. The track, and more generally the record, is tinged with a melancholy of things lost, though it never fully succumbs to it.
“Everything inside a circle”, Moussa’s most personal track and for which he provides the only vocals on the record, harkens back to a childhood memory of listening to music with his mother in a car: “There was a sound I was looking for — a memory of a sound and how I first heard it. This track is a hybrid of that memory and what I wanted to make of it”. The track relies heavily on generativesystems and perhaps embodies most the ambiguous quality of the record’s music in its refusal to be pinned down by one musical tradition or another.
“Wind, Again” is both familiar and alien, cold and warm; it pays homage to the mechanics, materials, and tactility of the instruments and converges acoustic and synthetic spaces. What anchors the sound of the album are the elements of a whole that cannot find its own idiosyncrasy and that is precisely why Moussa’s album is a tour de force.

Stepping up to the plate for the second release of our catalog, we are pleased to share 'Aura Protocol', a four-track collection that taps into the emotive and melodic depths of 90s influenced progressive house from Mexico based Producer, Mahkina.

The A1 track ‘God, How Do I Handle This’ kicks off the EP with an introspective mood, blending atmospheric pads and hypnotic bass-lines. The deep, melodic structure recalls the emotional core of 90s prog, while evolving into an intricate tapestry of sounds. The second track ‘Flavour & Spice’ plays into Mahkina's latin roots. A fusion of playful percussion, and lush chord progressions, evoking the vibrant energy of classic 90s house, with an added modern twist from the artist's production style.

Flipping over to the B-Side, ’Sacoodelo" takes listeners to a well placed euphoria. Combining driving rhythms with evolving loops and rich synth work, its experimental side takes influence from the rhythmic structures of classic trancey house. The final track ‘Connected’ feels like the emotional and sonic culmination of the EP. Taking the listener on a more expansive journey, weaving through moments of tension and release via atmospheric build-ups, emotional breakdowns, and a sense of resolution toward the end.

RLF002 is a well represented embodiment of Mahkina's ability to fuse classic styles with contemporary sounds, resulting in an immersive, dynamic listening experience that resonates with both the heart and the body.

Mia Zapata was the greatest rock singer of her time. She may have likely been the greatest blues singer in punk rock history, the woman who married the 78 and the '78. Tragedy did not make this true. Mia Zapata made this true, and the ferocious, spring-loaded shrapnel frame that was built around her by Andy Kessler (guitar: metronomic and furious), Matt Dresdner (bass: fluid, punching, beat-addicted and melodic), and Steve Moriarty (drums: martial and explosive) - who, with Mia, combined to form The Gits - made it true. The Gits were formed at Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio in mid-1986, grabbing and swapping pieces of art, thrash, noise, punk rock, classic rock, and all the sorts of magical silly and bookish jingle bells that an old-school liberal arts education handed you; for the next few years they worked on turning it all into something tough, sensitive, both brutal and kind. Andy, Matt, Mia, and Steve moved to Seattle in middish 1989, landing in a house on Capitol Hill where they (and fellow travelers) wood-shedded and rehearsed for the next few years. The Gits put out three EPs in 1990 and '91 before signing with C/Z Records and releasing their first full-length album, Frenching the Bully. Seattle quickly claimed the quartet as their own and embraced the Gits blend of ferocious fangs and soft heart, the slug/slap of the guitars, and the gorgeous, soft underbelly of the poetic emotions. These qualities not only fit in with the doe-eyed/sharp-clawed grunge ethos but earned the Gits the respect of their peers, including Nirvana, who tapped them to open a major local show in 1990. Then other stuff happened, and their frantic, confessional barbed-heart snowball began rolling up hill very, very fast; the Gits "quickly" (hah! After half a decade learning to implode and explode hearts and stomping their boots on manifold beer-softened, Marlboro-weeded wood stages!) inspired rapture, awe, and the levitation that happened when peak emotion meets peak grindage in front of amps spitting out something that sounded like the mad marriage of Bolan swagger and Dischord tension_ all fronted by a genuinely incomparable woman who held her heart in her mouth and shared it, in all its celebration and fear, without hesitation. The Gits were an angry, inflamed slinky fully in tune with and tuned by the Bessie Patti Smith of her time, truly the only singer who could summon Joplin, Poly Styrene, Sam Cooke, Iggy Pop and Ian MacKaye all in the same goddamn song. In 1993, less than four weeks after accepting an offer from Atlantic Records, Mia died. I leave it at that, because this is not about death; it's about an extraordinary life. I do not say, "You should have been there," I say, "We are lucky so many of us were, and I am so glad we have this extraordinary evidence of the power and gifts of Mia and the Gits that you now can hold in your hands." And I note that Frenching the Bully, this extraordinary testament to the soul, shock, fury and feeling of the Gits, has been long out of print on vinyl and CD, and this new edition - remastered by legendary Seattle engineer Jack Endino - joyfully rectifies that. -Tim Sommer

This new anniversary edition from London's the Duke Spirit marks 20 years since their adrenaline-charged debut roared onto the UK indie scene. Originally released in 2005, it's now remastered and paired with a second LP of B-sides, demos and rarities, pressed on heavyweight yellow and red splatter vinyl. It's a suitably bold presentation for a record that remains as full-throttle and emotionally raw as ever. Built around the magnetic presence of vocalist Liela Moss and the jangling, distorted interplay between guitarists Luke Ford and Dan Higgins, this is a sound forged in post-punk grit and heavy rock swagger. Tracks like 'Lion Rip' and 'Love Is An Unfamiliar Name' still land with venom, but it's the depth and tension of songs like 'Fades The Sun' and 'Hello To The Floor' that show their full range. The bonus material only adds to the mythology i 'Boot Hill (demo)' and 'Scratching Around (demo)' offer glimpses of the band's early energy in the raw, while 'Souvenir' and 'Now Be Still' stand strong on their own. It's a beautiful document of a band at full force, and a reminder that sometimes the most exciting sounds are the ones that never tried to fit the moment.

Ltd edition in transparent yellow vinyl!



The Mystery Lights 2nd outing on Daptone's rock subsidiary, Wick, sees them digging deeper into their cavern of influences, taking on tips from Suicide, The Kinks and Television as they look to build on their already party fuelled, raucous sound.

The Mystery Lights story begins in 2004 in the small town of Salinas California when friends Michael Brandon and Luis Alfonso -whose shared fondness for groups like The Mc5, Velvet Underground, Dead Moon, and The Fall (just to name a few) -decided to join forces and craft their own brand of unhinged rock and roll. From there they spent the better part of 10 years touring relentlessly before migrating to Queens, New York in 2014.

With a live show known for its raw, visceral energy and relentless assault –leaving little to no stoppage between songs –they barreled through countless NYC haunts and DIY venues, quickly amassing a fervent local following. The buzz soon caught the attention of Daptone Records execs who were in the beginning stages of launching a new rock-centric imprint, Wick Records. Impressed by the groups’ musicianship, groove, endless supply of energy, and understanding of musical history the Mystery Lights were quickly signed to Wick. Though a rock band at heart, the parallels to what Daptone Records had traditionally looked for in their Soul artists was undeniable. Soon sessions were booked with Producer/Engineer Wayne Gordon, and the release of their debut single “Too Many Girls” b/w “Too Tough to Bear” launched to mass critical fanfare.

Upon the release of their self-titled full-length on June 24th 2016 The Mystery Lights were quickly crowned “one of New York’s finest garage rock bands” by NME. Extensive touring, including multiple stops in Europe, Asia and Australia followed which found the group graduating from support slots at hole-in-the-wall clubs to headlining stages at major festivals worldwide.

After two years of break-neck, non-stop touring, the group settled back into Queens to prepare for their second full-length record, Too Much Tension(out May 2019). With Wayne Gordon in the producer’s chair and several intense writing sessions under their belt the group were back at Daptone’s House of Soul and ready to track. While keeping the hard-hitting approach of the first LP, Too Much Tension finds the group digging deeper into their well of eclectic influences, enriching their sound without echoing the past. Mixing the eerie, insistent synth sounds of groups like The Normal and Suicide, the energy and swagger of punk’s golden age, the pop sensibility of The Kinks, and the stark, deliberate execution of Television -The Mystery Lights are taking their idiosyncratic brand of rock and roll to dizzying new heights.

Cindytalk is the mercurial, expressionist outlet of Scottish artist Cinder, inspired by the crossroads of exploratory UK post-punk and early European industrial. Her work thrives on chance and transformation, collaging elements of noise, balladry, soundtrack, catharsis, and improvisation. "We were trying to find our own space," says Cinder of the formative period Camouflage Heart emerged from, amidst a move from Edinburgh to London and Cinder's evolving exploration of gender identity, well before culture at large was equipped to understand. With contemporary discourse we see that the project manifested her transgender ideas as visceral music. The guttural, feral sound marked a notably darker turn from The Freeze's sixyear run on the fringes of punk. Changing the project's name became vital, not just because they kept hearing the former was already taken, but the desire to embody the spiritual and sonic shift, "to uncover new pathways_to feminize it," she says. Cinder, with bandmates David Clancy and John Byrne, arrived at Cindytalk, a winking nod to Sindy, the British fashion doll rival to Barbie known then for its pull-string talking mechanism. "The goal was to have a more interesting narrative, more interesting dialogue. Music was ultimately my only way of talking to people. That was my conversation with the world, an abstracted conversation_an attempt to make some kind of tiny, tiny mark, if possible, you hope somebody will notice." Over the years, Cinder has heard from fans who did pick up on the signals and find refuge in Camouflage Heart. Camouflage Heart plays with tension and pace, from creeping to feverish to claustrophobic. The percussion moves between restless marches and barely-there pulses; for some parts, they scratched and hit a tin bath, among other objects. Guitar lines vibrate and stab as Cinder contorts her voice freely. She pulls poetry from a cerebral abyss, like "make the snake in your eye, pierce the camouflage heart" on the slow-droning centerpiece "The Spirit Behind the Circus Dream." In that register is raw power, both vulnerable and menacing, an ability to locate something deep and emotionally charged within. "I still remember that person who was way too intense for their own good," Cinder reflects. "I couldn't make a record like that now, certainly not vocally, while that anger hasn't dissipated; there's still a kind of warrior." For all the destruction and disintegration of Camouflage Heart, Cinder maintains the objective was never full-on fatalistic; these songs seek not to destroy but to poke and provoke, to transform and heal, to find cracks of light in a crumbling world. She points to the last lines of the opening track, "It's Luxury": "Don't look down," the lyric pines through static and rhythm. Cinder extrapolates, "I'm essentially saying, just keep fucking going. As time went on, for me, that falling became flying. Camouflage Heart is the beginning of believing in flight."

"JUJU" drops on May 17th (WERF Records) and is programmed at Gent Jazz Festival (July 11th)



Juju continues the work done on the second album half, with the Terre Sol Four quartet: Willems' voice, drums, percussion objects, keyboards and field recordings accompanied by the saxes of Marc De Maeseneer, Vincent Brijs and John Snauwaert.Juju fits perfectly in Willems' output. Also: in the coherent oeuvre it has become, it is perhaps her most consistent release yet. It's infectious as hell, carefully crafted, packs a punch and more accessible than ever before.



Everything is connected. Not just in the grand scheme of things - politically, culturally, socially,... - but also in the colourful universe of Karen Willems. A lifelong quest for profound experiences through organizing sound led to the crucial Terre Sol-series, four tapes released in 2020. Out of that fertile well, Grichte (2022) was born. A double LP that presented Willems as an original explorer as well as a committed bandleader, it was her boldest statement to date.

While the first (solo) album halfalready received a follow-up in K A A P M I J (2023), another tape release that suggested there's still a lot of ground left to uncover, Juju continues the work done on the second album half, with the Terre Sol Four quartet: Willems' voice, drums, percussion objects, keyboards and field recordings accompanied by the saxes of Marc De Maeseneer, Vincent Brijs and John Snauwaert. It was already something to behold on Grichte, swerving from introspective exploration to expressionist riff rock and semi-Dadaist avant-garde.

On Juju, the four-piece digs even deeper and the results are utterly spellbinding. One of the many attractions of Willems' recent work is that it combines relentless artistic experimentation with a commitment to broader socio-political issues. In essence, the artist tries to set up a discussion with her surroundings, sending out musical invitations to connect and participate, reminding ourselves of responsibilities that are too easily forgotten in these hectic, self-centered times. The refugee crisis is one, ecology awareness another, and it's hard not to consider "Voor De Stranden Verdrinken" ("Before The Beaches Drown") a caustic warning. Things need to change.

As said earlier, the music on Juju remains as adventurous as before, but this time around, the playing feels even more confident, diverse and punchy. If the album opener accentuates its urgency with a throbbing pulse and reed sirens, "Tako Deli" continues with rich vocal arrangements, roaring saxes and sweeping melodies. What follows strikes with vigor and consistency: "Nuuki" is as dense as it is infectious, while "Fuzzy Williams" manages to combine Ellingtonian abundance with Swans-like preaching.

And there's more, much more. Eccentricity and playfulness ("The Woo Woo Room, Dance Back In Style", "In Open Veld") go hand in hand with smoldering exercises in tension and release ("Koortsdromen") and a ridiculously infectious call for connection in antisocial times ("Come Vai"). Guest contributions by Nabou Claerhout, Kapinga Gysel, Esther Lybeert and Filip Wauters enrich the band's sound considerably. By the time you reach album closer "When Daytime Lands", Willems takes you on a short trip through that eerie soundscape-land she previously explored.

In short: Juju fits perfectly in Willems' output. Also: in the coherent oeuvre it has become, it is perhaps her most consistent release yet. It's infectious as hell, carefully crafted, packs a punch and more accessible than ever before. It's the sound of an artist at the peak of her powers, not just expanding her range, but digging deeper with obvious glee. It's not just intriguing; it's inspiring to witness..

"Dylan Hayes' album debut LP, We Don't Own, We Create, released on Futurepast, is a sonic trip balancing club functionality with experimentation. The two-discs project is a bold statement of artistic intent-where minimalism, industrial textures, and introspective loopy moods collide.

As the result of 8 years of research and experimentation, We Don't Own, We Create is an electronic sci-fi odyssey, unfolding across eight tracks balancing structure with unpredictability. Co-produced and mixed by Davy Vandegaer, this album is also the story of a friendship rooted in a shared vision-crafting a signature 'futurepast' sound where old-school techno aesthetics meet fresh, yet edgy, sonic treatments. The first disc unfolds like a waking dream. My Ikigai sets the tone with pulsating, introspective club energy, blending loopy synths and a growling bass. Plastic World plunges into eerie depths, weaving spectral vocals and fragmented rhythms. Silent Reverie in To Memory drifts through textured atmospheres and layered percussive echoes. Remind Me Ridley twists hypnotic techno into a dense, mantra-like piece-its reverbs and delays build an intensity conjuring into a foggy, shifting auditive illusion.

The second disc marks the awakening, shaking off the haze with Beautiful Struggle, where abrasive loops, industrial bass surges, and dissonant synth layers build tension. Echoes of Fate condenses the album's ethos, unleashing pulsating stabs and humming rhythms that slice through the mix with razor-sharp precision. The eponymous We Don't Own, We Create is an electronic ode to the creative process, where haunting vocal loops weave through deep, trippy synth lines, blurring the boundaries between organic and synthetic. Closing on Mizze, the journey dissolves into pure introspection, fading into the ether.

The record balances four club-driven tracks and four experimental pieces, crafting a distorted, explorative soundscape-an immersive journey where dance music meets dark, avant-garde sound design."

Z.I.P.P.O returns to SK11 with his second EP 'Eleven', a collection of four tracks that defy formula while remaining anchored to the roots of techno. Boldly unconventional yet highly functional, each piece serves as a passage: a shift in tempo, tone, or texture, shaped by a deeply personal sonic vision. Rather than offering a fixed narrative, the record encourages fluid movement - between genres, emotional states, and sonic architectures. Eleven is a finely tuned exercise in tension, groove, and release a thoughtful and uncompromising work from one of Italy's most singular voices.

The EP kicks off with the title track "Eleven", which carries the weight of a timeless hymn - balancing melancholy and release through an impactful lead motif, anchored by a heavy, hypnotic kick. "Hypernova" dives into submerged territory, where swinging percussions, chopped vocals, and aquatic atmospheres unfold with eerie precision on its 909 workout. On the B side, "Kaus" moves in a state of continuous evolution: elegant and deep, driven by tribal rhythms and swelling chords that glide into trance-like dimensions. "Replication" closes the cycle with relentless pressure: twisted sound design, full-bodied groove, and a sense of motion that refuses to resolve.

With Short Circuit Control, Berlin electronic duo Diagram (made up of Brian Jonestown Massacre guitarist Hákon Aðalsteinsson and Fred Sunesen) re-emerges ith a refined yet unpredictable sound, a testament to resilience, collaboration, and the endless possibilities of analogue synthesis. What began as a bedroom project by Aðalsteinsson culminated in the debut album Transmission Response (2019, Fuzz Club), a raw and exploratory work that set the foundation for what was to come. When Sunesen joined, Diagram evolved into a live act, carving out a space for itself in Berlin’s underground music scene. Built on mechanical rhythms and eerie textures, their second album Short Circuit Control plays with tension and release, its analogue pulse imbued with a restless, human energy. There's a hypnotic, almost ritualistic quality to the music, where modular synths hum and crackle, beats loop and fracture, and melodies emerge like ghostly transmissions from some distant, flickering signal. The result is an album that feels both controlled and unpredictable—moody, immersive, and always teetering on the edge of something unknown. It is released on P.U.G Records, the new label from the Psychedelic Underground Generation music blog.

'Sexy Tears' is a bold departure from Tristanne's (fka Tristan) critically acclaimed pop-jazz debut Wellif and lets you veer into uncharted territory, from the first tone, the bittersweet and haunting violin tones fade in on opener 'Steady Mouth'. In a split second, Tristanne lets you vanish in a dazzling matrix deep down a rabbit hole, a place where Piero Umiliani's 70s sleazy giallo era sensually resonates with Oneothrix Point Never goldwave frequencies. With a whisper of panting tension, her soothing voice and sonic subliminal temptation she unravels her own lush love secret domain, unlocking deeply hidden lost emotions and mutated feelings.

While mellifluous harp chords in 'If Only' set a scene for a tantalizing new world utopia the percussive clutter of 'Whordus' syncopes and mutate this future dream with a chiastic slide into a videodrome for a jilted generation.

With the help from her musician friends Elisabeth Klinck (violin), Indr? Jurgelevi?i?t? (kanklès), Kaat Vanstralen (flute) and Gert Malfliet (drums), Tristanne's 'Sexy Tears' will hit you straight in the heart, like a modern-day Cupido with a well aimed dazzling sonic arrow. Ready to stay there forever.

Under her stage name Tristanne (formerly known as Tristan), Isolde Van den Bulcke makes music she defines as sitting in a 'grey zone'. By valorizing self-reliance and learning as much as possible from the get-go, the musician and producer hasn't let hardship nor pursuing a niche genre hold her back. She studied jazz vocals for 8 years, released 2 ep's before her debut album 'Wellif' in 2022.

Recommended if you like Piero Umiliani on a Sunday morning, Broadcast on the beach, Oneohtrix Point Never in a romantic mood, Autechre on Ice, Ennio Morricone on LSD, and Pierro Piccioni popping perks.

The debut album from CEM, 'FORMA' was developed as a soundtrack to Mauro Ventura’s series of "action painting performances" and uses various bell sounds (cowbells, doorbells, Shinto bells, singing bowls) to pick out anxious giallo sequences and heaving Dadaist formations.

CEM's best known for pneumatic DJ sets that have propped up Berlin's queer underground for a decade at this point, but don't expect to find any vaped darkroom tek on 'FORMA'. Each of the six compositions were commissioned for Ventura’s performative installation at Volksbühne in 2022, and CEM opted to represent the piece's themes of labor and repetition by sampling an arsenal of bells and metal objects that anchor his varying widescreen vignettes. 'The Calling' is a relatively subtle introduction, establishing the space with double bass drones and ratcheting digitally altered chimes - it's 'Bells Corrupt' that cements CEM's concept more righteously, harking back to Goblin's iconic 'Suspiria' score without pastiching any of its Italo-prog themes. Cycling ritualistic bell loops with squashed, industrial-strength thuds and granulised laptop belches, CEM silhouettes the tension and the vivid color of Argento's film, chrome plating the result.

'An Industrial Satire' is even more convincing; this one takes its cues from legendary German sound artist Limpe Fuchs, and the first part integrates scraped, alien resonances with CEM's loping industrial rhythms and squelchy EBM bassline. The real shift occurs in the second part, when CEM's choppy electroacoustic minimalism falls away to unlock his rolling hand drum performance, that he matches with a ghaita sample lifted from the Master Musicians of Joujouka's 1971 album with Brian Jones. With the future-facing deconstructions a memory, 'Statue Garden' beds reedy organ drones in eerie gallery ambiance, and closer 'The New Sincerity Test' finds Lithuanian performance artist Gertrūda Gilytė skewering the wellness industrial complex over nauseous subsonic oscillations and scratchy noise.

For their second album 'The Foel Tower', Quade holed up in an old stone barn in the cradle of a Welsh mountain valley.
The valley was a stark and windswept backdrop with little daylight, as the band would huddle around crackling fires each evening. “There was very much a feeling of being on the complete fringes of society,” the band says. “The last vestiges of settlement before the unrelenting barren moors that loomed over us.”
It was an environment that would shape the band – a Bristol four piece made up of Barney Matthews, Leo Fini, Matt Griffiths and Tom Connolly – and the record they have made. It’s an album that is as dreamy as it is melancholic, and as quiet and tender as it is forceful and potent – gliding across genres like winds blowing over those wide-spanning Welsh hills – to arrive at something the band half-jokingly, yet somewhat accurately, describe as “doomer sad boy, ambient-dub, folk, experimental post-rock.”

Quade is a band but it’s also a very close-knit group that have been friends since childhood who use this musical vehicle for interpersonal explorations and connections. “We’ve individually experienced a lot of difficulty over the last several years and Quade has represented a space to shelter from these,” the band says. “This means we often communicate extensively with each other about the issues affecting us individually and collectively. These conversations and concerns are central to The Foel Tower.”

In many ways, the making of this record – or any Quade record – goes way deeper than the simple writing, construction and recording of music. It is a profoundly deep and meaningful experience. “A key theme of the album relates to why we connect with specific places in the way that we do,” the group says. “We often remove ourselves to isolated valleys, sheltered from some of the painful personal struggles that we have experienced as a band. These become spaces in which we collectively purge ourselves of some of these difficulties hoping to make Quade a physical and emotional place of solace. This album celebrates these places that we’ve been able to retreat to and recuperate.”

It is a deep, dense record that is stuffed with musical, cinematic and literary influences – from Ursula La Guin and Cormac MacCarthy through to RS Thomas and Yeats – but despite the heavy, introspective and anxious nature of some of the material, it is also a record that is remarkably deft, agile and considered.

Made with producer Jack Ogborne and mixer Larry ‘Bruce’ McCarthy, there is a pleasing duality to the final sound of the record. One that feels fragile and intimate but also powerful and forceful, as introspective as it is expansive, and a record that is as detailed and textured as it is wide open and spacious.

The album title also pays homage to the place that shaped it so greatly. Within this remote Welsh valley stands the Foel Tower, a stone structure filled with valves and cylinders that can raise and lower the level of the reservoir to draw off water. Which it can then send as far as 70 miles to Birmingham. However, in the late 1800s this land was occupied by local farmers and families in the hundreds until the British Government acquired the land, cleared the valleys, and promptly displaced them in order to begin serving the vastly expanding industrial English city. The band dug into the history and politics of this and wove it into the themes they were already thinking about, using what the Foel Tower stands for as something of a contemporary metaphor. “This tension was something that we wanted to explore without the haughty judgement of our more metropolitan lifestyles,” they say. “And to explore how this specifically relates to ourselves: how can we envisage a genuinely ecological future for ourselves – one that is accessible, affordable and in harmony with endangered rural practices.”

What makes The Foel Tower such an incredible record is that it feels born of a time, place and situation that only existed in that very moment. It’s a snapshot of those 10 days spent in rural Wales and all the feelings and anxieties the band were experiencing at that specific time, magically caught on tape. “The album very much feels tied to this valley for us and the conversations and experiences we shared there,” they say. “It brings up a great deal of poignancy for us, an emblem of some fleeting respite from the strains we all have to experience. But there’s also deep sadness knowing how transient these moments are – in fact, there’s just a great deal of sadness in this album. But it’s also a record that while personal, resigned, and emotionally burdened, is ultimately hopeful.”

The signal mutates. Following the first installment, Parallax Effect PT.2 finds Versalife shifting gears, distilling his unmistakable rhythmic instincts into something even more elastic and unpredictable. Smeared low-end and restless sequences coil around a framework of percussive movement, flickering between restraint and momentum. There's an underlying tension--one moment held in suspense, the next unfolding into fluid motion. The machine logic remains intact, but with an organic pulse running through it, shaping each track in real time. A fitting counterweight to PT.1, this second chapter bends the perspective once more, closing the series with a sense of motion still lingering in the air.

Mazy Fly, the second full-length by the Bay Area artist SPELLLING, explores the tension between the thrill of exploring the unknown and the terror of imminent destruction. Chrystia Cabral spent the summer of 2018 in her Berkeley studio reflecting on the thresholds of human progress and longing for a new and better tomorrow. She was struck by the way the same technologies that have given humans the ability to achieve utopian dreams of discovery have also brought the world to the precipice of dystopic global devastation. Despite the darkness of this reality, Mazy Fly is defiantly optimistic. It is a celestial voyage into the unknown, piloted by Cabral. Mazy Fly musically traverses the spaces between languid, honey-soaked vocals and distant angelic whispers, from thumping 808 club beats to crunching tape loops, and from silky, smooth R&B to whirling organ sonatas. Cabral became enamored by the idea of flight as a harbinger of both progress and apocalypse, and that was expressed in the textures and compositional techniques she utilized. Swarms, flocks, flies, angels, spaceships, flying saucers - all are represented sonically by Cabral and her Juno-106 synthesizer.

Z Records returns with a Hustle-tastic 12" to light up both your life and DJ sets. It's the boss himself Dave Lee who kicks off with his extended rework of a bonafide Brit Funk classic in the shape of Hi Tension's 'British Hustle'. Featuring David Josephs's signature vocals over the chugging Caribbean rhythm track, its a song that's never received an extended club mix from the tapes since its first release in 1978. His second cut is a Re-Wriggle of a Funky Worm volume pumping classic that becomes a fat-bottomed house jam with stomping brass, ear-worm vocal hooks and Latin inspired keys. "On the flip' (as they say) is Foreal People's 'Tango Hustle' - a driving clav heavy, jazz funk workout complete with chanting dance instructions over various solos. Add in an Acapella and some 'Hustle Beats' and you have a very muscular package.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Berlin based Greek artist Georgios Papamanoglou returns to his Deep Series imprint with the ‘Instan Bliss’ EP this March, accompanied by two remixes from Iron Curtis.

Georgios Papamanoglou has been been involved in the underground House and Techno scene since the turn of the millennium, making him mark through his multiple imprints Diaphan Music and Deep Series with releases from himself and other artists such as Nekes and Ekkohaus among others. After a few years hiatus 2023 saw Georgios return to relaunch his Deep Series label with the ‘Dark Path’ EP, featuring a remix from fellow Greek Techno stalwart, XDB. Here he returns with his new project ‘Instant Bliss’ made up of two originals and two remixes from the much loved Office Recordings and Hudd Traxx regular, Iron Curtis.

‘Millions Of Sounds’ opens the release and sees Georgios lay down a bubbling arpeggio lead line, shimmering analogue drums and intricately oscillating synth lines all dynamically evolving and unfolding throughout. Iron Curtis’ ‘Drama Mix’ of ‘Instant Bliss’ follows and sees the German artist employ hypnontic atmospherics, cinematics strings and a choppy bass sequence alongside stripped back drums.

Opening the b-side is Iron Curtis’ second remix the ‘Supersorry Mix’ of ‘Instant Bliss’, this time round laying focus on squelchy 303 licks, crisp breakbeats and an underlying textural tension. Papamanaglou’s original of ‘Instant Bliss’ then completes the package, a nine minune cinematic journey through enchanting strings, polyrhythms and robotic glithes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The single release from Jimi Tenor's second thematic album on Timmion Records offers two very different moods. "Summer of Synesthesia" takes us back to those dreamy summer days, a natural overpour of sensations mixing together, sounds becoming colors before turning into flavors. Synthesizers grow into delicate layers over Cold Diamond & Mink's rhythm, and when your heart can hardly bear the beauty of it all, Tenor's soft lyric places the cherry on top. "Tsicroxe" on the flipside couldn't be more different, kicking into gear with a demonic organ arpeggio that sounds like you've just been dropped into a Dario Argento scene. Even though the familiar funk from Cold Diamond & Mink eases the dread a bit, when Tenor busts in with the eerie flute solo, the ritual closes in on its conclusion.

The contents of the backwards vocal bits at the end shall be saved for your turntable so make sure to rewind that track, selector! Also Available From Jimi Tenor & Cold Diamond & Mink: Is There Love In Outer Space? 7", Gaia Sunset 7", Is There Love In Outer Space? LP / CD. The single takes listeners on a sonic journey: “Summer of Synesthesia” flows with warm, dreamlike beauty, while “Tsicroxe” dives into intense, mysterious depths, showcasing Tenor’s dynamic range. Blending synth layers with Cold Diamond & Mink’s classic funk rhythms, both tracks bring elements of 70s soundtrack-style tension and ethereal soul, appealing to fans of both cosmic grooves and suspenseful soundscapes. Tenor’s layered synthesizers, haunting flute, and even backward vocal elements add a captivating texture, making “Summer of Synesthesia” b/w “Tsicroxe” a must-have for fans of genre-blending, atmospheric music.

Watkins Group returns to Frequency Consortium for its second release, pushing further into the murky depths of dubbed-out desolation. Dubh Dubs (Dark Dubs) takes its name literally—seven tracks of cavernous low-end pressure, submerged echoes, and spectral atmospheres, drawing inspiration from the voids between worlds, the unseen corners of deep space, and the eerie stillness of unknown places.

Where Beanntan a’ Bhròin charted a course through the bleak grandeur of the Highlands, Dubh Dubs plunges headfirst into the abyss, embracing the weight of isolation and the slow decay of time. Watkins Group crafts a sound that feels at once infinite and suffocating—pulsing, restrained, and heavy with the dread of something just beyond reach. Tape-warped textures and submerged percussive mutations unfold in glacial movements, calling to mind the nocturnal dub abstractions of Porter Ricks, the blackened ambience of Thomas Köner, and the sub-heavy spirals of Rhythm & Sound at their most ghostly.

A study in tension and negative space, Dubh Dubs marks another compelling entry in the Frequency Consortium catalog—an offering for those drawn to the darker recesses of sound, where every echo leads deeper into the unknown.

In loving memory of my brother and kindred spirit - Marcus Rafferty

Parade Ground has always been the duo of brothers Jean-Marc and Pierre Pauly from Brussels, Belgium formed in 1981. Taking cues from Post-Punk, Coldwave, Dada and Surrealism, Parade Ground channeled suffering, tension and rage through pulsing synthesizers, skeletal guitar, severe bass and Jean-Marc’s expressive vocals as the most melodic and emotional instrument. The Golden Years is an 11-song, career-spanning collection of Parade Ground’s long out-of-print 7” and 12” singles as well as rare compilation tracks from the pioneers of electronic body music created during 1982-1988.

Parade Ground first appeared on the Nationale Rockmeeting LP in 1982, striking straight to the heart with the passionate plea “I Shut My Eyes.” Later that year the brothers met Daniel B. and Patrick Codenys of Front 242 beginning a collaborative partnership that continues to present day. In 1983 they released their debut 3-song 7” EP Moan On The Sly on the New Dance label, musically a hybrid of Joy Division and Fad Gadget. 1984 brought further explorations into the world of electronic body music with the 3-song Man In A Trance EP and 2 tracks on the live concert compilation Mask Promotion both records released on Front 242's Mask Music label. The following year the single Took Advantage/Moral Support 12” was released incorporating then, state-of-the-art modular synthesizers programmed by Daniel B. and back-up vocals from Flo Sullivan (A Formal Sigh, Shiny Two Shiny). Then in 1987 the brothers collaborated with Colin Newman of British post-punk band Wire, who produced and lent his vocals, guitars and keyboards to two songs ("Moans"/"Action Replay") while Daniel B. produced flipside "Gold Rush" on the Dual Perspective EP that stands alongside 80s anthems from Tears for Fears, Modern English, Echo & The Bunnymen. Finally in 1988 their debut album Cut Up was released on Play It Again Sam Records and featured the singles Strange World and Hollywood. In 1993 the brothers wrote and composed the vocals on two Front 242 albums Up Evil and Off. After 15 years of silence the boys released their second album Rosary in 2007 and continue to write new material and tour with their extensive catalog of dark dance classics. Each LP includes a 6-page press kit with lyrics, discography, photos and liner notes by Daniel B. of Front 242. The history of Belgian electronic music would not be complete without a trip through “The Golden Years” of Parade Ground.

The single release from Jimi Tenor's second thematic album on Timmion Records offers two very different moods. "Summer of Synesthesia" takes us back to those dreamy summer days, a natural overpour of sensations mixing together, sounds becoming colors before turning into flavors. Synthesizers grow into delicate layers over Cold Diamond & Mink's rhythm, and when your heart can hardly bear the beauty of it all, Tenor's soft lyric places the cherry on top. "Tsicroxe" on the flipside couldn't be more different, kicking into gear with a demonic organ arpeggio that sounds like you've just been dropped into a Dario Argento scene. Even though the familiar funk from Cold Diamond & Mink eases the dread a bit, when Tenor busts in with the eerie flute solo, the ritual closes in on its conclusion.

The contents of the backwards vocal bits at the end shall be saved for your turntable so make sure to rewind that track, selector! Also Available From Jimi Tenor & Cold Diamond & Mink: Is There Love In Outer Space? 7", Gaia Sunset 7", Is There Love In Outer Space? LP / CD. The single takes listeners on a sonic journey: “Summer of Synesthesia” flows with warm, dreamlike beauty, while “Tsicroxe” dives into intense, mysterious depths, showcasing Tenor’s dynamic range. Blending synth layers with Cold Diamond & Mink’s classic funk rhythms, both tracks bring elements of 70s soundtrack-style tension and ethereal soul, appealing to fans of both cosmic grooves and suspenseful soundscapes. Tenor’s layered synthesizers, haunting flute, and even backward vocal elements add a captivating texture, making “Summer of Synesthesia” b/w “Tsicroxe” a must-have for fans of genre-blending, atmospheric music.

We are glad to introduce you to our new full length album, sound designed and arranged by Spanish duo Crime as Service. Their musical output has always been solid and consistent, always offering diverse visions on techno sound.

For this particular work they have explored the deepest side of their sound palette, starting with the beatless intro Unlocked, made of subtle drones and field recordings.

Next track is Altered Circuits, a bass heavy groove on the first bars soon followed by mechanical components colliding with atmospheres and micro drone. A combination of pressure and deepness.

Shadow Crew follows with a continuous sequence over a shuffled beat, the usual textures appear on top of the main synth line spicing the mood, until bleeps and asymmetrical components complete the equation.

Zombie Botnet changes the mood drastically, adrenaline goes up and new sonic components add hypnosis to the overall feel as the track goes by.

Second slice of plastic opens with Lazarus Group, intense and dark with super effected synth lines running through the stereo field wisely.

Darknet Operation, as the title suggests, is opaque and gray but also liquid with water samples appearing randomly along the arrangement. The groove behind is relentless and effective, one more time mixing intensity with mindfulness.

Unknown Exploits shares similar feelings as the previous one, a combination of tension and sonic details.

Closing the release, Deconstructed Blockchain, aimed directly for the dancefloor with a psychedelic approach on the main sound, constantly mutating and evolving as the minutes go.

A solid collection of well-crafted techno tunes, aside from tendencies and hype, made to last.

Big'n was, is and always shall be a legacy noise rock band from Chicago (est. 1990) comprised of vocalist William Akins, guitarist Todd Johnson, bassist Fred Popolo, and drummer Brian Wnukowski. After releasing a stellar debut album (1994), followed by their sophomore and signature effort Discipline Through Sound on Skingraft Records (1996) and a split single with Shellac, the band became inactive for some years. In 2018,Big'n recorded and releaseda new EP, Knife of Sin,via Computer Students. In 2022, they released DTS 25, an expansion of their pioneering second album. Both were recorded by the late, great Steve Albini. Big'n is back once again with a ruthless new album, End Comes Too Soon - their first in 28 years - released via Computer Student. It"sall still here as presentand disciplined as ever - BrianE's powerful, reliably precise drumming with melodic phrasing that shapes the songs, Fred's metallic superstructure of a bass that builds the defined framework of the music, Todd's clangorous guitar that has more harmonic content than a lot of his noisier peers, and William Akins' yarling vocals, the most recognizably human thing about the band, that convey layers of tension and intent, all the emotional content of a hellbound therapy session. Tragically, on May 7, 2024, Steve Albini suddenly passed away of a heart attack. Naturally, Big'n were shocked and devastated. End Comes Too Soons' title comes from a lyric, and is unrelated to Albini; still, the album became a roundabout love letter to the man, his studio, and his legacy. Like its predecessors, the album is structured by snippets of musical interludes or Transmissions - and there are six here, under the common code "XMSN."

Dentelles Records is proud to present its latest vinyl release!

We are excited to share the newest release from Greg All, the founder of Dentelles Records and the visionary behind the celebrated Les Dentelles Electroniques festival. This 2-track EP is a perfect reflection of his passion for music that unites people on the dance floor, offering two tracks that will resonate with house music lovers worldwide.

The first track, Last Night, delivers a powerful Tech House groove that will get you moving from the first beat. With its infectious rhythm and captivating vocal layers, this track is a true crowd-pleaser — full of energy and just the right amount of tension to keep the dance floor alive.

The second track, Tomorrow, shifts gears into the realm of Afro House, offering a rich, percussive journey complemented by an evocative vocal performance. It’s a track that speaks to both body and soul, with a driving energy that builds towards an emotional crescendo, sure to resonate deeply with listeners.

This EP marks another milestone for Dentelles Records, bringing together the unique sounds of Greg All with the infectious spirit of the festival. Whether you’re experiencing it live in the club or streaming it at home, Last Night and Tomorrow will transport you into the heart of the celebration.

Dentelles Records est fier de présenter sa dernière sortie vinyle !
Nous sommes ravis de vous présenter la toute nouvelle sortie de Greg All, fondateur de Dentelles Records et créateur du célèbre festival Les Dentelles Electroniques. Cet EP de deux titres est un parfait reflet de sa passion pour la musique, une musique qui rassemble les gens sur le dancefloor, et offre deux morceaux qui résonneront avec les amateurs de house à travers le monde.

An Avrin returns to Scuffed Recordings with four new originals and a remix from Sonia Calico.

An Avrin has been a firm favourite of the UK label since his 2019 appearance on the Scuffed Presents Vol.3 compilation with the track ‘Cave People’, which saw heavy rotation from DJs like Ross From Friends and rRoxymore. Returning to Scuffed the following year with the ‘Clodhopper’ EP, the London-based producer further developed his wobbly, esoteric sound, which draws extensively from a range of electronic influences.

Since then, An Avrin’s catalogue has become a go-to for under-the-radar club heat, with a string of self-released EPs and an appearance on Bristol’s Slippery Sounds marking him out as a vital name to watch.

The ‘Parisian Pitstop’ EP is his second release on Scuffed, and sees An Avrin building on his previous work while also expanding his horizons into different tempos and styles.

The A-side opens with the one-two of the title track - which is as good a primer on An Avrin’s sound as it’s possible to have - and ‘Stumbler’, both high-impact tracks with raucous breaks bouncing off warped vocals and relentless bass.

On the B-side is ‘Plata’, which builds tension with more melodic elements, before crashing into thunderous kicks and glitchy grooves. An Avrin ups the ante on ‘Is It?’, the last of the four originals on the EP, and the highest tempo of the bunch.

Taiwan-based producer Sonia Calico rounds off the release with her remix of ‘Plata’, a rowdy rework that pits grimey bass up against intense, rolling percussion.

Early DJ support has come from Surgeon, Emerald, Naina, Ciel, and Louise Chen.

For the first time in their diverse second act, they allow themselves to be a rock band, freed of adornment and embellishment. As much as Carlson’s guitar has always been the focal point of EARTH’s music, it’s been surrounded by consistently diverse instrumentation. Here the dialog between Carlson and Davies drumming remains pivotal, underpinned by the sympathetic bass of Bill Herzog (Sunn O))), Joel RL Phelps, Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter) and thickened by additional layers of guitar from Brett Netson (Built To Spill, Caustic Resin) and Jodie Cox (Narrows). Perhaps the largest left turn on Primitive And Deadly, though, is the prominence of guest vocalists Mark Lanegan and Rabia Shaheen Qazi (Rose Windows) who transform the traditionally free ranging meditations of EARTH into something approaching traditional pop structures.
On “Rooks Across the Gates,” a song stylistically the closest to the folk inspired modality of Angels Of Darkness, Carlson stretches out into some of his most lyrical playing to date, creating an almost symbiotic relationship between his performance and the vocals of old friend Mark Lanegan. “From the Zodiacal Light,” meanwhile, takes the late 60s San Franciscan/freaked-out jazz-rock transcendence of The Bees Made Honey In The Lion’s Skull and quickly re-appropriates that sound into a musky torch song for the witching hour.
This contradictive tension between a band pushing itself ever-forward whilst surveying their history is reflected in the albums twin recording locales. The foundation of the record was laid in the mystic desert highlands of Joshua Tree, California where EARTH recorded hour after hour of meditations on each track's central theme at Rancho de la Luna. Upon returning to Seattle these were edited, arranged and expanded upon at Avast with the help of long-term collaborator Randall Dunn (who was previously at the helm for the Hex, The Bees Made Honey In The Lion's Skull and Hibernaculum sessions).

BigʼN was, is and always shall be a legacy noise rock band from Chicago (est. 1990) comprised of vocalist William Akins, guitarist Todd Johnson, bassist Fred Popolo, and drummer Brian Wnukowski. After releasing a stellar debut album (1994), followed by their sophomore and signature effort Discipline Through Sound on Skingraft Records (1996) and a split single with Shellac, the band became inactive for some years. In 2018, BigʼN recorded and released a new EP, Knife of Sin, via Computer Students™. In 2022, they released DTS 25, an expansion of their pioneering second album. Both were recorded by the late, great Steve Albini. BigʼN is back once again with a ruthless new album, End Comes Too Soon — their first in 28 years — released via Computer Student. It's all still here as present and disciplined as ever — Brianʼs powerful, reliably precise drumming with melodic phrasing that shapes the songs, Fredʼs metallic superstructure of a bass that builds the defined framework of the music, Toddʼs clangorous guitar that has more harmonic content than a lot of his noisier peers, and William Akinsʼ yarling vocals, the most recognizably human thing about the band, that convey layers of tension and intent, all the emotional content of a hellbound therapy session. Tragically, on May 7, 2024, Steve Albini suddenly passed away of a heart attack. Naturally, BigʼN were shocked and devastated. End Comes Too Soonʼs title comes from a lyric, and is unrelated to Albini; still, the album became a roundabout love letter to the man, his studio, and his legacy. Like its predecessors, the album is structured by snippets of musical interludes or Transmissions — and there are six here, under the common code "XMSN."

BigʼN was, is and always shall be a legacy noise rock band from Chicago (est. 1990) comprised of vocalist William Akins, guitarist Todd Johnson, bassist Fred Popolo, and drummer Brian Wnukowski. After releasing a stellar debut album (1994), followed by their sophomore and signature effort Discipline Through Sound on Skingraft Records (1996) and a split single with Shellac, the band became inactive for some years. In 2018, BigʼN recorded and released a new EP, Knife of Sin, via Computer Students™. In 2022, they released DTS 25, an expansion of their pioneering second album. Both were recorded by the late, great Steve Albini. BigʼN is back once again with a ruthless new album, End Comes Too Soon — their first in 28 years — released via Computer Student. It's all still here as present and disciplined as ever — Brianʼs powerful, reliably precise drumming with melodic phrasing that shapes the songs, Fredʼs metallic superstructure of a bass that builds the defined framework of the music, Toddʼs clangorous guitar that has more harmonic content than a lot of his noisier peers, and William Akinsʼ yarling vocals, the most recognizably human thing about the band, that convey layers of tension and intent, all the emotional content of a hellbound therapy session. Tragically, on May 7, 2024, Steve Albini suddenly passed away of a heart attack. Naturally, BigʼN were shocked and devastated. End Comes Too Soonʼs title comes from a lyric, and is unrelated to Albini; still, the album became a roundabout love letter to the man, his studio, and his legacy. Like its predecessors, the album is structured by snippets of musical interludes or Transmissions — and there are six here, under the common code "XMSN."

Clothilde’s new album sounds like a constant departure from almost everything. Up until now, her music pieces seemed uncontrolled, a total commitment to the machines. She was, somehow, in between us - listener, audience - and the idea of a machine producing sounds she doesn’t seem to control. Of course, none of this was entirely true, she was mostly in control, but the fantasy, the orchestration of it was beautiful. It was sci-fi-ish, Metropolis-magnificent.

In “Cross Sections” everything is purposely under control. We feel, without being told, that Clothilde is directing the narrative, inviting us to partake of this raw and austere electronic sound, forcing us to learn to enjoy it. This is new. Whereas before she would expect you to stay put and listen, eventually you would understand and give in. Or your body would. Now she is telling you to be there, she doesn’t want to be alone, she wants us to feel this subterranean urgency at all costs.

The real eureka moment comes with “Medullary Rays”, when we start cohabiting with the sounds, when they feel familiar. The darkness becomes real; it is palpable how she is stretching each sound and making them come to life at every moment. It is violent, brutal. Like every track, it's a relief when it ends, it's like coming out of a car crash alive. Much of the A side of is Clothilde pushing the boundaries of her sound. She is not testing but finding new ground and sharing it with us. She is exorcising, demolishing and building over and over again, she is crying and screaming, dozing off with the demential levels of bass, making us constantly listen to alarm bells. She is scaring the shit out of us.

The B side keeps the levels of anxiety high up, especially on the 13-minute “Ring”. Surrealistic drones come and go, every second sounds like the end of something, the accumulation of tension is torrential and it never, never stops. We hope there is a conclusion to this. But there is not. “Cross Sections” builds and feeds on this darkness but, in a way, it is self-contained. Never explodes, never releases itself from itself. It is a continuous process of catharsis that it is never over. It never aims to be. Like, you know, life itself.

We've all been there. It feels familiar. Now it has a sound, or sounds. It can be heard and it is outer dimensional. “Cross Sections” is a tremendous effort from an artist trying to survive something. You never know what is. You don’t need to know what it is. It is just there. Cliché but it has to be said: highest possible volume on this one.

The dB's 1981 second album & Power-Pop classic is available once again & newly remastered. Pop Dose noted “Repercussion is essential listening. It is necessary. It is pure and magnificent. It is a triumph...listen to it and absorb it.” Uncut stated “..this is The dB's' finest, the tension between the two writers' styles reaching its quasi­ psychedelic peak.” 9/10. The album was produced by Scott Litt (later a long-standing R.E.M. producer) giving it a fuller, more modern overall sound. The dB’s signed with the British label Albion and released 1981’s Stands for deciBels and 1982’s Repercussion, which became instant favorites among the fans, critics, and college-radio programmers fortunate enough to hear them. But the fact that the albums were available only as high-priced, sparsely distributed imports kept the band from reaching a wide audience in those pre-Internet days. The band will be touring select US cities in the Fall of 2024 and Winter of 2025 to support the first-ever US vinyl releases of the band's debut and Repercussion.

After four tape editions on Seil Records, Sofie Birch's 2019 debut record "Planetes" is finally available on vinyl featuring new artwork and a beautiful analog remastering.

Sofie creates dream-like, elegant ambient music with an emphasis on exploration and wonder. Her distinctive organic and melodic sound is shaped by improvising with analog synthesizers, acoustic instruments, and field recordings. Repetitiveness is clinically avoided with harmonic progressions that resolve all tension brilliantly. Planetes was described as a beautiful sound universe where the atmospheric sound surfaces and textures gently and elegantly take the listener to new places all the time by Danish experimental music media Passive Aggressive.

For this record's 5th anniversary, apart from the regular vinyl edition, there are two special editions. The first one comes in translucent blue vinyl and includes a limited edition K7 inspired by 70’s yoga tapes. It contains a 20-minute guided meditation on one side and two beautiful unreleased tracks on the other. The second special edition comes in yellow vinyl and includes an inner sleeve with stickers so that you can create your own cover/ constellation for the record.

Sofie's own words about the release:

“It's a dream coming true to see my debut release Planetes coming out on vinyl for its 5th anniversary! Planetes means “a wanderer” in Greek, and I love how this word describes the wandering of celestial bodies, and how we humans wander through life both on a physical and spiritual plane. Wandering is being alive. Wandering is moving, and everything is always moving and changing. Shifting and transforming. The music was created with recordings from a pilgrim trip in Italy with my mom on a little cassette recorder and the music evolved from synth improvisations and the discovery of trusting sound as it is and creating music from immediacy rather than concept.”

Danny Tenaglia’s new EP on Nervous Records features “Tonight” and “Out From Obscurity” and a remix of his prior Nervous Records release “Move That Body.”

With ”Tonight,” Danny kicks things off with the title track - treating us to both ‘No Beats Intro’ and ‘Beats Intro’ versions. And in doing so - manages to deliver, hands-down, one of the most tantalising and majestically rousing opening gambits we’ve heard in some time.

And when ‘Tonight’ finally bursts its aural banks, circa 1 minute 30 seconds - with the most seamless of transitions, we suddenly find ourselves surfing a decadent wave of hazy Rhodes, staccato bass and mesmeric vocal work - ebbing and flowing right up to it’s opulent and wonderfully soporific conclusion.

Next up we have DT’s re-rub of George Vidal’s ‘Out From Obscurity’; a veritable pressure-cooker of a track, that spins and weaves a sense of poise, tension and drama which escalates stealthily throughout. A stripped-back, rolling synth-driven’, made-to-measure for the 2024 club floor.

Finally - closing this souped-up invigorator of a release - we have ANTRANIG’s remix of Danny and Cevin Fisher’s ‘Move That Body’… a fully tribalized, menagerie-wrapped groove; which wears the sweat, the writhe and all that heat - very much on it’s visceral, live-and-direct sleeve.“

Everything Around You is a co-release presented by K and Perennial.The second LP from Feeling Figures was in fact recorded before their first. Amongst the stuttered starts and stops of the pandemic, a window opened for `The Figs' to commit 11 songs to tape. After gradually preparing new and resurrected material, they gathered in drummer T's basement in the omicron winter of early 2022 to document their strongest songs on his recently acquired reel-to-reel. Compared to `Migration Magic', `Everything Around You' is a considerably deeper dive into the Figs universe, a more deliberate collection that includes compositions which push into the expanse, drawing from a broader palette of art rock influences. The songs on this album navigate tensions between the personal and political, encompassing inner turmoil and deep-seated desires for change at the entangled axis of individual and social transformation. `Everything Around You' is their most fully-realized accomplishment to date; the best recorded representation of their boundless, idiosyncratic approach to guitar-based music. A summation years in the making, years in waiting, finally set free.