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Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

"“Tenalach - The relationship with the land, the sky, the water and the deep connection that allows you to hear the earth sing and be one with nature”

Following on from their many mutual remixes and first collaborative EP “Pleamar” (Wonderwheel Recordings 2020) Chancha Via Circuito y El Búho return with a new EP “Tenalach"" which sees the duo enter new territories and soundscapes. This mysterious, atmospheric and melancholic EP is like the soundtrack to a videogame that takes place in a strange and wonderful parallel universe.

Imagine Zelda set in the jungles and mountains of Latin America.

Croaking frogs sit next to driving snares on the genre-defying Sapo Cururú, birds float above strobing synths on Oropéndola while Sumay’s epic synth lines melt into Chancha’s trademark percussions on Sumay. Opener El Samurai is perhaps the closest to the pair’s well-known folktronic sound, marrying cowbells with bowing violins and its animal-esque synth line.

While the BPM may have risen, this is neither ‘downtempo’ nor ‘umtempo’ and an EP that cannot easily be pigeon-holed - it is fresh and original. It also reflects a darker side to the pair’s music, a sub-conscious reflection of a changing world, holding in each song a constant tension and the desire to escape to new realities where the connection between humans and nature is blurred and equal."

Lee Ranaldo and Rob Menard have been friends and collaborators for years and this split cassette release on Important Records' Cassauna label amplifies their unique musical personalities and sonic compatibility. Both artists contributed over 30 minutes of music making this a pair of mini-albums on one tape.

Ranaldo plays Farfisa, electric guitar, tres, marimba, bass and bells, taking the listener on a lyrical, hazy, ride full of life, time and echoing riff shimmer. Massive vibes from author, artist, Sonic Youth gtr slinger.

Rob Menard (Ascension Sound), delivers a mini-album of washed out, minimal lo-fi astral guitar and feedback drones. Menard founded the 20 Guitar Circular Wall Of Angelic Sound and practices vibrational frequency healing.

“The Blue Hour” is the second VA of Berlin-based THISBE Recordings, following “Black Ink” released in 2022. Curated by label owner Pyrame, The new compilation is an invitation to cruise through the blue hour, that unique time of the day from dusk to night.

During that special time lapse, as the sky goes through several shades of blue, so goes the record: Dominik Marz´s “Bura´s Hymn” brings us straight above the Earth´s surface with a track as atmospheric as it can get, before Radial Gaze & Balam´s collab tune “Foreclosed” sets the scene for a groovy dance above the clouds.

We have already lost sight of the ground when World Wild Web initiates an immersion into an enigmatic phase of the voyage with his track “Extase”, where we do not really know in which time-space we find ourselves any more. Agle hints at a possible spot: “Sahel”, a tune that feels like a breeze across the desert, before Philip Lawns shakes everyone up with the upbeat “Johns”, bringing our feet back just above the ground. Volta Cab wraps up our imaginary trip with “Krasnodar Nights”, bringing a treat for the soul and some peace of mind. The night can now settle down.

Ambient Maximalism in Synths, Strings, Harps, and Horns. A sonic excursion, taking inspiration from public parks across the globe, Big Majestic features Kronos Quartet soaring above desert vistas on West Coast Sky Forever, Shabaka Hutchings' kaleidoscopic shakuhachi and tenor saxophone meditations on Spiritual Sun and Primrose Hill, James McVinnie performing an electrifying synth organ epic on Blue Sky | Mirrored Glass, and the otherworldly voice of Lisel beckoning the listener into the unknown.

American Pulitzer Prize winning composer and sound artist Ellen Reid is set to release ‘Big Majestic,’ an album of music written for her acclaimed GPS-enabled work of public art, Ellen Reid SOUNDWALK, that reimagines urban parks as interactive soundscapes. The album features performances by the Kronos Quartet and Shabaka Hutchings. SOUNDWALK premiered in New York's Central Park, and continues to expand to urban parkland around the world, including Los Angeles' Griffith Park, London's Regent's Park & Primrose Hill, and Tokyo's Ueno Park. The project has already been featured on NPR, the New York Times, the Washington Post, and the LA Times.

There are albums that tap into the very heartbeats of rhythm, melody and intricate sound design, pulsating with every musical note. This is the case of 'Séptimo Sentido', the new album by Buenos Aires-based producer Seph.

Sebastián Galante aka Seph is no stranger to these realms; with almost two decades of experience under his belt, he has established himself as one of the leading talents in the Argentina techno scene and as one of the most intriguing minds in alternative Latin American electronic music. His productions have found a home in cutting edge labels such as Insurgentes –a platform led by the DJ and producer from Medellín (Colombia) Verraco, and sister label of TraTraTrax, which has reduced gaps between the Latin electronic scene and the rest of the globe– or his own label Aula Magna Records. He has also fostered collaborations, among which stands out his project Oscean alongside Andrés Zacco, a project that was recently released on the legendary Berlin label Tresor.

In his new album 'Séptimo Sentido', Seph exhibits superlative production skills and masterfully showcases the widest palette of the braindance sound, that intersection where countless genres and sub-styles can coexist. Here we hear echoes from the mid-90s that revive undeniable references of early IDM; but with a renewed form, under a fiercely contemporary new skin.

At the core of this intriguing album, we find an artist whose devotion to experimentation takes his rhythmic and melodic obsessions through vibrant magical-techno-urban landscapes, where radiant colors and mutating forms collide in a bold and imaginative sonic journey.

'Séptimo Sentido' hails from the prism of perception, beyond the five senses and a step further than instinct, hunting for mysterious resonances with the cosmos; like a space portal inviting us to float a handspan above the ground.

With 'Stone Flute', the free-improvising duo's third studio album proper, Galecstasy returns to the universe of synthesizers to deliver an aural odyssey, conjuring the ancient tones of a forgotten world.
The album was entirely conceived and recorded in, and around, the majestic landscapes of Joshua Tree National Park in the magnificent high desert of southern California. From atop the mountain, the two sonic surveyors were witness to a 360 degree view of the stars at night. From above, the giant rocks looked like immense wise faces looking up at the sky, or even huge bodies resting on the Earth and looking up at space. It was during this time that Galecstasy started a ritual that ended up being called the “Moon Cruise”. This would involve waiting for the full moon to rise and then driving into the national park after dark. They would turn off the headlights of the car and drive slowly through the alien landscape lit up by the moon. Boulder fields took on the shape of temples; faces carved into the rocks everywhere they looked; giant heads with smiles or haunting expressions; and the knowledge that people had been living, dancing, and making music here for thousands of years. It was during these enchanting escapades that 'Stone Flute' was conceived.
In the mountain-top recording studio, the band were utilizing every potential space to tap into the best vibrations the land had to offer. Where the mic was placed: Perhaps a giant boulder once stood, or an ancient tree. One could feel the different energies of every room. The fireplace in the living room was built of giant lava rocks for the music to swirl around. Sounds would spill and climb around the house.

"The living room was just a beautiful tangle of synthesizers and plants. It was an inspiring place to make great records. We channeled the music of the boulders buoyed by the energy shooting up from the fault lines. The good feelings emanated from the studio, it had become our own temple and the birthplace of 'Stone Flute'."

With 'Stone Flute', the free-improvising duo's third studio album proper, Galecstasy returns to the universe of synthesizers to deliver an aural odyssey, conjuring the ancient tones of a forgotten world.
The album was entirely conceived and recorded in, and around, the majestic landscapes of Joshua Tree National Park in the magnificent high desert of southern California. From atop the mountain, the two sonic surveyors were witness to a 360 degree view of the stars at night. From above, the giant rocks looked like immense wise faces looking up at the sky, or even huge bodies resting on the Earth and looking up at space. It was during this time that Galecstasy started a ritual that ended up being called the “Moon Cruise”. This would involve waiting for the full moon to rise and then driving into the national park after dark. They would turn off the headlights of the car and drive slowly through the alien landscape lit up by the moon. Boulder fields took on the shape of temples; faces carved into the rocks everywhere they looked; giant heads with smiles or haunting expressions; and the knowledge that people had been living, dancing, and making music here for thousands of years. It was during these enchanting escapades that 'Stone Flute' was conceived.
In the mountain-top recording studio, the band were utilizing every potential space to tap into the best vibrations the land had to offer. Where the mic was placed: Perhaps a giant boulder once stood, or an ancient tree. One could feel the different energies of every room. The fireplace in the living room was built of giant lava rocks for the music to swirl around. Sounds would spill and climb around the house.

"The living room was just a beautiful tangle of synthesizers and plants. It was an inspiring place to make great records. We channeled the music of the boulders buoyed by the energy shooting up from the fault lines. The good feelings emanated from the studio, it had become our own temple and the birthplace of 'Stone Flute'."

After 20 years of living on the road in different places, Six Organs of Admittance had returned home to Humboldt County - a far country, to some, but still part of the world through which creatures of all kinds are moving through and contributing to. And some of them are human. Alone together - forming connection and exchange out of thought and expression - no different from the people on the other side of the Redwood Curtain. It was there, where Six Organs had long ago emerged, in the name of everything cycling, of circles that spiral concentrically and remain unbroken, the new music was conceived. In moments, it was as if the future had somehow wrapped around 360 degrees; elsewhere, the systems and patterns inside the writing and recording only became evident later - like a recognition that cumulus and nimbus clouds which passed through the sky the day before contained familiar shapes. Informing the songs accordingly as he went, Ben picked up on modes both musical and lyrical, threading backward through the time of Six Organs of Admittance. Almost marinating in it as a way of life. Working on the music and the vocals, then spending some time with them while stepping away from them. Walking the dog and coming back to them Time is Glass is made of that kind of time. Alone time. Recorded in the visceral environs of home, Time is Glass is sharply focused, even as misty impressionist mountains float through the background. Sweet and spiny, "The Mission" sings its purpose, before turning abruptly to the orchestral rumble of "Hephaestus": rural industrial psychedelia, ecosystem goth, synths arcing to lift a helplessly earthbound community into the firmament above. Winding almost imperceptibly back into song with "Slip Away", the time of the record becomes clear, moves fluidly, relaxed but aware, from event to event. People and things coming around again. The intuit, passing through wormholes and time, sounding deep then dissolving into the universal. The acoustic sounds ringing, layered suddenly, then clear again. Explosions of a new kind of distortion. Ecstatic melodies. Communing. The space of a day. The space of a season. Time is Glass, and Six Organs of Admittance is here and will be here, again.

EIGHTEEN AND I LIKE IT… (MISC. COLOURED VINYL))if you survived trips 1-17 with one tiny speck of psychedelic sunshine intact, Brown Acid The 18th Trip will be your coming of age nightmare. Vintage underground '70s hard rock, coming at you from bizarre angles, local scene wasteland America when everybody was out for themselves and the drugs went bleak. The guitars kill, the attitude is twisted, even the sex is headed down the wrong road. Real people, no compromise, pure and potent. Get stoked, take the 18th Trip and know that the artists will get paid for pulverizing your soul! "People… are you ready?, 'cause the music now is getting so heavy"… Back Jack out of St. Louis, Missouri in 1974 launch our trip with "Bridge Waters Dynamite". It's an invocation to rock flashing on Mark Farner whooping up a Grand Funk crowd, then getting to the point quickly with berserk guitar assaults. Heavy riff with power chord stalks beneath as you take their advice… get loose and blow up the past. Smokin' Buku Band dropped my jaw with the audacious track "Hot Love" coming on like some fractured fever dream burlesque of Led Zep moves out of Hollywood in 1980. Swooping elongated vocals above, a total Zep chord move at the end of each verse. Writer/producer Steve Shauger aka Shag Stevens gets a brilliantly messed up sound quality here, the ideal polar opposite of slick. The extended guitar break is an epitome of serendipitously crude virtuosity, simply outrageous! Coming at you from way outta left field is "Moby Shark" by Atlantis, a hilarious and strange Baltimore pre-punk vibed dose of D.I.Y. meets hard rock. Lon Talbot is the mastermind, the flip side of this impossibly rare Mekon Records label single was featured in an obscure 1978 B-movie titled "The Alien Factor". Follow the lyrics closely, when the ominous jaws jaws jaws start coming after you you you… the song's big hook is so preposterously catchy the shark attack feels like good news. Inquiring minds should know that the band formerly known as Atlantis can now be found by searching for the Lon Talbot Group! Tommy Stuart and the Rubberband's "Peeking Through Your Window" from 1970 opens with a spooky organ riff, slips into a gushy fuzz/organ groove akin to "Mustache In Your Face” by Pretty. The singer creates downright creepy vibes, a stalker peeking through the girl's mind like a peeping Tom at the window up to no good. The lyrics evoke a disturbing scenario. Tommy Stuart also made a strange LP titled Hound Dog Man in 1977 and some terrific rare garage singles under the names Magnificent Seven and The Omen & Their Love in the mid '60s. Nothing better than an angry two chord guitar attack with cowbell to set the stage for this rant about getting "Ripped Off" by love. Taken from their rare 1977 LP on Dynamite Records, Chicago Triangle was Marvey Esparza, Dave Guereca, Jose 'Tarr' Perez and Robert Aguilera. They unleash such strong brain-scrubbing wah wah frenzy in the guitar break here that it seems to perversely mock it's own intensity! Like I said, Brown Acid the 18th Trip comes at you from all kinds of uncanny angles. Damnation of Adam Blessing out of Cleveland, Ohio unleashed a stone killer psychedelic hard rock classic "Cookbook" in the late '60s, this track "Nightmare" from 1973 has them cooking again at full power. A different singer, name change to Damnation and then Glory, unleashing a deadly dose of dark progressive heavy rock drama peaking when spooky 'oooo-wa-oooo' background vocals emerge during a bizarre spoken bit. It unfolds like a mini-epic and includes some remarkably brutal guitar and turbulent organ, too. "Swing your sword, all aboard… bid farewell to the dreamer" Dalquist exclaims. Cynical view of human nature, idealism is over, war is coming, it always does. Opens with a cold menacing riff and atmosphere reminiscent of "Synthezoid Heartbreak" by Maya. Mournful despondent vocals ride an insistent churning groove, gnarly guitar break moves into free noise territory. This rare track is from a local various artists benefit album titled Kangaroo Jam issued for the Waco Family Abuse Center in Texas circa 1980. The Pawnbrokers "Realize" is prime proto heavy rock emerging out of psychedelic garage roots in 1968 Fargo, North Dakota. Unusual arrangement, terrific sustain guitar tones like on the first Blue Cheer LP, even a rip on Hendrix "Manic Depression" with unison voice and guitar ascent near the end. They made three 45s and were active from '65 to '69. Hats off to Blake English, Kent Richey, Paul Rogne and Steve Harrison, you nailed it in just a hair over two minutes! As pure and creative as the original psychedelic garage hard rock gets. Parchment Farm from Union, Missouri gigged with the likes of ZZ Top and Foghat back in the day and unleashed the amazing "Songs Of The Dead" in 1971. Primitive riff/chord pattern dosed with some funky prog moves, sky turning black, 'is this heaven or hell' type disoriented confusion… may as well grab your guitar and sing songs to the dead. Robert 'Ace' Williams on bass, Paul Cockrum on guitar, Gary Reed on keys and Micky Waterman on drums, replacing Mike Dulany (R.I.P.) Cool that they use the Blue Cheer misspelling from Vincebus Eruptum for the band name! Ominous organ, thick minimalist fuzz riff, funky psychedelic wah wah flashes and freaky sex combine in one twisted dance titled "Rockin' Chair" by Brothers Of The Ghetto. Out of Chicago in 1975 with some Santana atmospherics and a delicious fuzz wah screamin' guitar break, the groove is highlighted by an off the wall vocal which sounds eerily detached in a subtly sleazy way. Rene Maxwell is the writer of this hard-rock boogie-down hybrid straight out of the twilight zone. It was issued on Ghetto, a subsidiary of the peculiar Kiderian label that released the Creme Soda LP. Now that your head is totally skewered, go Back Jack and play side one again! (Words by Paul Major)

EIGHTEEN AND I LIKE IT… (MISC. COLOURED VINYL))if you survived trips 1-17 with one tiny speck of psychedelic sunshine intact, Brown Acid The 18th Trip will be your coming of age nightmare. Vintage underground '70s hard rock, coming at you from bizarre angles, local scene wasteland America when everybody was out for themselves and the drugs went bleak. The guitars kill, the attitude is twisted, even the sex is headed down the wrong road. Real people, no compromise, pure and potent. Get stoked, take the 18th Trip and know that the artists will get paid for pulverizing your soul! "People… are you ready?, 'cause the music now is getting so heavy"… Back Jack out of St. Louis, Missouri in 1974 launch our trip with "Bridge Waters Dynamite". It's an invocation to rock flashing on Mark Farner whooping up a Grand Funk crowd, then getting to the point quickly with berserk guitar assaults. Heavy riff with power chord stalks beneath as you take their advice… get loose and blow up the past. Smokin' Buku Band dropped my jaw with the audacious track "Hot Love" coming on like some fractured fever dream burlesque of Led Zep moves out of Hollywood in 1980. Swooping elongated vocals above, a total Zep chord move at the end of each verse. Writer/producer Steve Shauger aka Shag Stevens gets a brilliantly messed up sound quality here, the ideal polar opposite of slick. The extended guitar break is an epitome of serendipitously crude virtuosity, simply outrageous! Coming at you from way outta left field is "Moby Shark" by Atlantis, a hilarious and strange Baltimore pre-punk vibed dose of D.I.Y. meets hard rock. Lon Talbot is the mastermind, the flip side of this impossibly rare Mekon Records label single was featured in an obscure 1978 B-movie titled "The Alien Factor". Follow the lyrics closely, when the ominous jaws jaws jaws start coming after you you you… the song's big hook is so preposterously catchy the shark attack feels like good news. Inquiring minds should know that the band formerly known as Atlantis can now be found by searching for the Lon Talbot Group! Tommy Stuart and the Rubberband's "Peeking Through Your Window" from 1970 opens with a spooky organ riff, slips into a gushy fuzz/organ groove akin to "Mustache In Your Face” by Pretty. The singer creates downright creepy vibes, a stalker peeking through the girl's mind like a peeping Tom at the window up to no good. The lyrics evoke a disturbing scenario. Tommy Stuart also made a strange LP titled Hound Dog Man in 1977 and some terrific rare garage singles under the names Magnificent Seven and The Omen & Their Love in the mid '60s. Nothing better than an angry two chord guitar attack with cowbell to set the stage for this rant about getting "Ripped Off" by love. Taken from their rare 1977 LP on Dynamite Records, Chicago Triangle was Marvey Esparza, Dave Guereca, Jose 'Tarr' Perez and Robert Aguilera. They unleash such strong brain-scrubbing wah wah frenzy in the guitar break here that it seems to perversely mock it's own intensity! Like I said, Brown Acid the 18th Trip comes at you from all kinds of uncanny angles. Damnation of Adam Blessing out of Cleveland, Ohio unleashed a stone killer psychedelic hard rock classic "Cookbook" in the late '60s, this track "Nightmare" from 1973 has them cooking again at full power. A different singer, name change to Damnation and then Glory, unleashing a deadly dose of dark progressive heavy rock drama peaking when spooky 'oooo-wa-oooo' background vocals emerge during a bizarre spoken bit. It unfolds like a mini-epic and includes some remarkably brutal guitar and turbulent organ, too. "Swing your sword, all aboard… bid farewell to the dreamer" Dalquist exclaims. Cynical view of human nature, idealism is over, war is coming, it always does. Opens with a cold menacing riff and atmosphere reminiscent of "Synthezoid Heartbreak" by Maya. Mournful despondent vocals ride an insistent churning groove, gnarly guitar break moves into free noise territory. This rare track is from a local various artists benefit album titled Kangaroo Jam issued for the Waco Family Abuse Center in Texas circa 1980. The Pawnbrokers "Realize" is prime proto heavy rock emerging out of psychedelic garage roots in 1968 Fargo, North Dakota. Unusual arrangement, terrific sustain guitar tones like on the first Blue Cheer LP, even a rip on Hendrix "Manic Depression" with unison voice and guitar ascent near the end. They made three 45s and were active from '65 to '69. Hats off to Blake English, Kent Richey, Paul Rogne and Steve Harrison, you nailed it in just a hair over two minutes! As pure and creative as the original psychedelic garage hard rock gets. Parchment Farm from Union, Missouri gigged with the likes of ZZ Top and Foghat back in the day and unleashed the amazing "Songs Of The Dead" in 1971. Primitive riff/chord pattern dosed with some funky prog moves, sky turning black, 'is this heaven or hell' type disoriented confusion… may as well grab your guitar and sing songs to the dead. Robert 'Ace' Williams on bass, Paul Cockrum on guitar, Gary Reed on keys and Micky Waterman on drums, replacing Mike Dulany (R.I.P.) Cool that they use the Blue Cheer misspelling from Vincebus Eruptum for the band name! Ominous organ, thick minimalist fuzz riff, funky psychedelic wah wah flashes and freaky sex combine in one twisted dance titled "Rockin' Chair" by Brothers Of The Ghetto. Out of Chicago in 1975 with some Santana atmospherics and a delicious fuzz wah screamin' guitar break, the groove is highlighted by an off the wall vocal which sounds eerily detached in a subtly sleazy way. Rene Maxwell is the writer of this hard-rock boogie-down hybrid straight out of the twilight zone. It was issued on Ghetto, a subsidiary of the peculiar Kiderian label that released the Creme Soda LP. Now that your head is totally skewered, go Back Jack and play side one again! (Words by Paul Major)

tapetopia 006 In 1983, some more subdued sounds began to waft from the GDR punk underground into the second half of the ’80s. At five to the end of time, it was perpetually striking midnight and the occasional punk band would mix a little laudanum into their potential for aggression. Portents in this vein preceded a dark wave whose foamy crest would break on fog walls of dry ice. Especially in Leipzig and East Berlin, a chain-rattling zeitgeist produced bands that drew from a dark well. Many of these bands arose from the still hot or already cold ashes of punk. The two founding fathers of Neuntage Alt, René Glofke and Taymur Streng (nicknamed “Strangler”), knew each other from the East Berlin punk scene. The third man aboard, Mike Sauer, played drums in the early 1980s for Sendeschluß, a punk band that, lost in thought somewhere in the no-man’s land between punk and post-punk, faded away in 1984. Punk was no longer the order of the day, but it was a form of expression among many and easy to combine. Glofke and Streng found common ground in experimental set-ups with such otherworldly names as Medusa Brahma or Die zeitweilige Erscheinung.
From this far-flung point of departure, a short tunnel led straight into the black light of Neuntage Alt, the coldest star in the low-hanging sky above East Berlin. Neuntage Alt appeared at the end of 1986, during the last blackout phase of the GDR, on the threshold between the underground and the so-called “other bands” – a scene that used the non-socio-critical approach of German Wutwave (“anger wave”) in order to be allowed to perform publicly. In the context of this scene, Neuntage Alt did not belong to the inner circle. Moreover, the band’s subcultural base was initially in Mahlsdorf, on the south-eastern edge of East Berlin. This was where the DIY sound studio of amplitude apostle and great modulator Taymur Streng was situated. Strangler held the position of house electrician and keyboard god in various projects. One of them had the bland alias Mahlsdorfer Wohnstuben Orchester, behind which the avant-garde court chapel of the bungalow studio was concealed. There Taymur also conspired with the East Berlin underground band Ornament & Verbrechen (tapetopia #001). Ronald Lippok of Ornament & Verbrechen remembers how once, at the opening of a joint session, he and his brother Robert attended Taymur’s engaging slide show of his collection of test patterns. Afterwards, they created a piece with the psychedelic title “Das sentimentale UfO”, which sheds an iridescent light on the bizarre atmosphere in the studio. Taymur’s obsession with technology was legendary. The home studio was also his living space; a circuit, a machine park of screwed and soldered equipment, a single keyboard orgy. His own creations were also based on circuit diagrams found in the radio amateur magazine “Funkamateur”. Its somewhat clueless subtitle “Praktische Elektronik Für Alle” (Practical Electronics for All)

Anna Gréta goes gentle...into her second album on ACT, “Star of Spring”. The Reykjavik-born pianist, singer and a songwriter, who has lived in Stockholm since 2014, has her own way of approaching the art of quiet, artful, deeply personal songs, often drawing inspiration from the beauty and power of Iceland’s natural landscape. Her 2021 ACT debut "Nightjar in the Northern Sky" was named after a bird, and this follow-up album lands gracefully on a flower, the “glory of the snow”, also known as the "star of spring", which symbolises the ending of winter and the arrival of spring.

But look closer, and there are always other levels of meaning. Her "Nightjar”, the rare bird she once saw in front of the northern sky, was a metaphor for the search for the things which are special and essential. In fact, almost all of Anna Gréta's lyrics have more than one significance, and her storytelling has now taken a leap forward on "Star of Spring". She says of the little flower on the title track: "I wasn't just inspired by the way it takes over the meadows in spring and turns them from green to blue, but also by the fact that it blooms because it is compelled to do so. It cannot do anything else."

Anna Gréta's starting point to creating music was and is the piano. She first studied classical music, then switched to jazz. She only started singing later, when she was writing the songs for Nightjar and wanted to express herself in words. Anna Gréta's debut as a singer, pianist and songwriter earned her international acclaim: Downbeat Magazine called it „an album with the metamophoric diversity of a year’s seasons and a voice like the everchanging colours of the Northern lights“, France Musique “a remarkably immersive experience” and Jazzwise “starkly beautiful”.

On "Star Of Spring" Anna Gréta has further developed her individual style. Her vocal lines can resemble piano motifs, often doubling them and resonating with an impressively quiet vibrato, sometimes quirkily reminiscent of Björk, at other times with the brooding ease of Norah Jones. The album also bears a very distinctive production style. For each of the songs, Anna Gréta has created her own little world of choirs, rhythmic textures and various smartly used keyboard instruments. The album ranges from the hymnal and elegiac - in "She Moves" or in the title track - to the playful and cheerful "Space Time" or the extremely pared-down melancholic ballad "Denouement". And even if the general mood of the music exudes above all warmth and comfort, Anna Gréta also deals with serious topics, such as the forced birth control of women in Greenland during the 60s and 70s in the song "The Body Remembers".

There is a directness of expression and emotionality, even sensuousness about the new album, and that is not least because Anna Gréta’s band has developed and become a properly played-in unit with the experience to take this album’s more complex arrangements in its stride. The sheen and brightness of her piano playing is contrasted with a deeper voice, that of her father Sigurður Flosason's bass clarinet, on three tracks. "This album is more playful and experimental," she says. "A lot of things were easier for me than on the first album. And while I was still completely focussed on my own world then, now I was even more conscious and aware of what was going on around me."

The result is music that is rooted in jazz, but at the same time goes far beyond it in a very subtle and deeply touching way.

Recorded in an abandoned water tank in rural northwest Colorado and inspired by Muriel Rukeyser’s circa-1935 poem of the same name, violinist Leslee Smucker explores the range and saturation of intense natural reverb on Breathing Landscape. The artist pushes her instrument to the limit –by turns percussive, sweeping, and scraping– and, on several tracks, utilizes her own voice as well, resulting in an album that combines breathtaking beauty and visceral texture. Leaning into the meditative quality being present in one moment can provide, this is music you can feel on your skin, calling out from our decomposing modernity into the indifferent sky above. Conjuring deep time but captured in one day, the album is simultaneously immediate and vaporous, primeval-sounding yet unapologetically modern. When you travel out of the mountains down into the rangelands of what we know today as western Colorado, the horizon opens up to reveal an ancient and scarred land. Cell phone coverage is spotty at best and towns are sparse. Time escapes our efforts to contain it and is instead etched into the hot, dry canyons. Approaching The Tank, outside the settlement of Rangely, oil pumps work ceaselessly on the other side of the gravel road, extracting a grim future. Inside The Tank it is 20 degrees warmer than outside, a zone of strange harmonics, exchanges of sound and stillness, and explorations of landscapes both exterior and interior. In what she describes as a "sauna of sound", Smucker "was transported by the reverberation to another realm. Birds and trucks passed outside, while the wind was an integral part to the sound making

Meteora - a chain of Greek-Byzantine monasteries was built around the 14th century on top of sandstone rock formations in the fading range of the Pindus Mountains, in the Thessalian lowlands of Greece At an over 600 meters high, some of them were only accessible by rope ladders or winches for hundreds of years. Makiko Hirabayashi learned of this place during a concert tour to Athens and was immediately captivated by its symbolic power: the isolated units which nevertheless exist in a larger context; fragile and floating, but at the same time firmly grounded. The opening title of the new, fifth album of her trio seems to have been perfectly chosen; "Warp", relating to the space above the early monasteries on the rock formations, as well as connecting the album to her previous release Weavers, in which much was woven with warp threads. A high-pitched bass, the subtle use of electronics, like everything else that follows, seem to emerge somehow from outer space. These are seemingly simple structures that only reveal themselves as complex architecture upon repeated listening - meditative and fleeting, but at the same time permanently carved into the rock. Minimalistic piano figures from which melodic fragments emerge, in their very clarity offer ample material for improvisation. With onomatopoeic percussion, an impressionistic and scenic painting is sketched in "Birds Ascending", whereas enthralling rhythms lead the way in "Chestnut Alley" or the sky-racing "Meteor". In between those, you find the improvised miniatures like "The Door" or "Slip", aspherical connections between worlds: imaginary doors, rope ladders or hinges. After the lockdown album Weavers, Makiko Hirabayashi is back in the piano trio setting with Klavs Hovman on bass and the legendary percussionist/ drummer Marilyn Mazur, reclaiming her space and time. Some of the material produced here has been part of their live repertoire for some years and gone through a maturing process, becoming an integral part of the whole album put together in the spirit of Meteora.

Will Anderson believes in true love—as both concept and catalyst, aspiration and inspiration. During his 34 years, the Hotline TNT founder and architect has found such love perhaps half-a-dozen times. Each instance has prompted some enormous swing of commitment, like a cross-country move or simply being honest about his budding attraction. It is a hopeful and vulnerable way to exist, a way to ensure maximum bruising during the fall of the breakup. And so far for Anderson, that is how it has always ended, whether the air has slowly seeped out of some once-full balloon or whether it has simply popped, those expanded feelings expelled in an instant. This tension is the brain, blood, and beating heart of Cartwheel, Hotline TNT’s second LP and an endlessly romantic testament to reaching for something that slips forever out of grasp. The byproduct of Anderson’s decades-long quest to pin down the surging sound long in his head, Hotline TNT has come to notice in the last four years through loose association with a feverish surge of shoegaze revivalism. And Hotline TNT indeed trucks in the touchstones you might expect: skywriting guitars that bathe in fluorescent hazes of distortion, blown-out drums that pound as though they’re trying to escape a concrete box, and honeyed vocals that try to rise above the chaotic mess in true-to-life mimesis.

In a realm where the threads of fate intertwined with the tapestry of existence, there existed a timeless construct we call “MENG”. This transcendental domain pushed a sanctuary where an unholy wisdom was safeguarded. Within its twenty-two walls, the experiences of countless sages and seekers resided, forming a reservoir of enlightenment, of vision and of identity.

Among the enigmatic texts that adorned the shelves of The Memory Palace, one stood out—the "Tubular Heaven," a chapter that held the essence of the universe's patterns and transformations. The book we speak of is the Book of Change - I Ching. Legend has it that the Memory Palace embodied the vibrations of those who sought its wisdom, guiding them to the Slow-Chain’s pages where hexagrams unveiled the secrets of existence.

Amidst this cosmic dance of knowledge, there lived a young wanderer whose name we do not say out loud. Driven by a deep yearning for understanding, this Warrior ventured into the city of Tanoy. With every step, he felt the resonance of centuries long gone, as if the walls whispered to him the essence of reality itself - “you may fall as long as you stand up again. Repeat this 1000 times and you will understand me. Only then can we control the sound.” As he reached for the illuminated Book of Change, a light was cast onto a newly fabricated realm of questions.

One hexagram, in particular, was essential. The cryptic symbolism was perplexing. Upon meditation, we slowly begin to realize that life is indeed a tapestry of imperfections, yet from these glitches we arise with profound growth and transformation.

As our curiosity spikes, we delve into the pages that follow, discovering an unexpected connection between I Ching and the world of Jeans, no denim. In ancient times, the craft of weaving denim mirrored the wisdom of these hexagrams. Just as threads interwove to create a durable fabric, I Ching reveals how life's experiences intertwine to form a meaningful existence. Denim, like life, is sturdy yet adaptable - a true testament to the harmonious balance between falling and standing.

As this journey comes to a gentle end, we must stress that hexagrams prove that other divination systems exist. It has become clear that the patterns hitherto observed are not confined to one culture, tradition, mind or body. Instead, they echo throughout history, manifesting in various divination systems across our globe. Hexagrams are a universal language, transcending boundaries and demonstrating the interconnectedness of humanity's pursuit of higher understanding.

We can now truly emerge from the Memory Palace, carrying the wisdom of everything above us. It’s time to Drag A Friend into this Made Up Reality. Or is it? We now understand that life's glitches are the catalysts for growth and that just as threads wove together to create denim, experiences wove together to create a meaningful existence.
As we walk beneath the open sky, we whisper into the wind, "Hexagrams are the echoes of universal truths, proving that the search for wisdom knows no bounds."

The chimes tingle in the deep subset of your imagination. As the pages of the Book of Change unfurl one last time, the shimmering tapestry of our shallow minds unravels.

We have revealed the kaleidoscopic corridors where perceptions dance in hallucinogenic symphony to the hymns of our rich minds.

The return of one of the most individual producers in Detroit - Erik Travis.

With acts like HiTech, reconfiguring Ghettotech for a new audience, now is the time to check out his somewhat twisted take on electro.

The album marks the band's first since the departure of lead vocalist and founding member Woody Platt. The Rangers have added acclaimed singersongwriter Aaron Burdett as an official member of the band, bringing new ideas and harmonies to the sextet's ever-evolving sound. The album was recorded over a weeklong period at the Inn Bat Cave, a legendary spot that used to be Lynyrd Skynyrd's old hideout. On CD and first edition vinyl LP of Morning Shift is pressed on translucent orange vinyl and limited to 1,000 copies worldwide.

Woods are in bloom again, inviting you to disappear into a new spectrum of colors and sounds and dreams on Perennial. Formed in Brooklyn in 2004, Woods have matured into a true independent institution, above and below the root, reliably emerging every few years with new music that grows towards the latest sky. Operating the Woodsist label since 2006 and curating the beloved homespun Woodsist Festival for the musical universe they’ve built, Perennial is the sound of a band on the edge of their 20th anniversary and still finding bold new ways to sound like (and challenge) themselves. Perennial grew from a bed of guitar/keyboard/drum loops by Woods head-in-chief Jeremy Earl, a form of winter night meditation that evolved into an unexplored mode of collaborative songwriting. With Earl’s starting points, he and bandmates Jarvis Taveniere and John Andrews convened, first at Earl’s house in New York, then at Panoramic House studio in Stinson Beach, California, site of sessions for 2020’s Strange To Explain. With a view of the sparkling Pacific and tape rolling, they began to build, jamming over the loops, switching instruments, and developing a few dozen building blocks. The album’s resulting 11 songs, 4 of them instrumental, are in the classic Woods mode--shimmering, familiar, fractionally unsettling--but with the half-invisible infinity boxes of Earl’s loops burbling beneath each like a mysterious underground source. From source to seed to bloom, each loop unfolds into something unpredictable, from the jeweled pop of the aching “Little Black Flowers” to the ecstatic starlit freak-beat of “Another Side.” They are blossomings both far-out and comforting, like the Mellotronic cloud-hopping of “Between the Past,” or sometimes just plain comforting, like the widescreen snowglobe fantasia of the instrumental “White Winter Melody,” touched by Connor Gallaher’s pedal steel. Woods have long used the studio as a place of songwriting, naming 2007’s At Rear House after their shared dwelling and recording space. But Perennial also carries with it an even longer view of Woods. Emerging from the process alongside the music was Earl’s reflection that “perennial plants and flowers are nature’s loops,” an idea rolling under the album’s lyrics like the loops themselves. It certainly applies to the band, too, who have quietly tended to a long, committed project of being a band in the weird-ass 21st century, both individually and communally. Though separated by coasts, the communal sprit carries through Earl, Taveniere, and Andrews’ collaboration, a living embodiment of the freedoms rediscovered every time a new collectively created piece of music emerges. For nearly two decades, Woods have survived subgenres, anchored in the fertile soil below hashtags like lo-fi and freak-folk and psychedelic and indie, and built a shared history that’s something to marvel at. As the flagship band for Woodsist, they’ve accumulated a striking extended family of collaborators (and Woods alum) that have made the label one of the most dependable imprints in the kaleidoscopic low-key underground. It’s a glow that’s transferred whole to the blissed-out Woodsist Fests held in Accord, New York in recent years, which have folded in a wide range of diverse sounds, from the the jazz cosmoverse of the Sun Ra Arkestra and adventurous legends Yo La Tengo, to a hard-to-even-count family tree of contemporaries, like Kevin Morby (who served a few tours of duty as Woods bassist) and Kurt Vile (who released his 2009 debut on Woodsist), a living community in sound. Perennial carries all of this, shaped by decades, but made in the moment, and here right now. The smell of the flowers doesn’t remain, but sometimes the flowers do. Jesse Jarnow Recorded and mixed by Jarvis Taveniere at Panoramic House in Stinson Beach, CA with additional recording at The Ship in Los Angeles, CA and Cottekill Bird Sanctuary in Stone Ridge, NY. Produced by Jarvis Taveniere and Jeremy Earl. Mastered by Timothy Stollenwerk at Stereophonic Mastering in Portland, OR. Jeremy Earl - vocals, guitars, drums, percussion, sk-5, mellotron, vibraphone, autoharp, loops Jarvis Taveniere - guitar, bass, upright bass, hammond, vocals John Andrews - piano, organs, mellotron, drums, vocals Connor Gallaher - Pedal Steel Kyle Forester - sax, wurlitzer

Woods are in bloom again, inviting you to disappear into a new spectrum of colors and sounds and dreams on Perennial. Formed in Brooklyn in 2004, Woods have matured into a true independent institution, above and below the root, reliably emerging every few years with new music that grows towards the latest sky. Operating the Woodsist label since 2006 and curating the beloved homespun Woodsist Festival for the musical universe they’ve built, Perennial is the sound of a band on the edge of their 20th anniversary and still finding bold new ways to sound like (and challenge) themselves. Perennial grew from a bed of guitar/keyboard/drum loops by Woods head-in-chief Jeremy Earl, a form of winter night meditation that evolved into an unexplored mode of collaborative songwriting. With Earl’s starting points, he and bandmates Jarvis Taveniere and John Andrews convened, first at Earl’s house in New York, then at Panoramic House studio in Stinson Beach, California, site of sessions for 2020’s Strange To Explain. With a view of the sparkling Pacific and tape rolling, they began to build, jamming over the loops, switching instruments, and developing a few dozen building blocks. The album’s resulting 11 songs, 4 of them instrumental, are in the classic Woods mode--shimmering, familiar, fractionally unsettling--but with the half-invisible infinity boxes of Earl’s loops burbling beneath each like a mysterious underground source. From source to seed to bloom, each loop unfolds into something unpredictable, from the jeweled pop of the aching “Little Black Flowers” to the ecstatic starlit freak-beat of “Another Side.” They are blossomings both far-out and comforting, like the Mellotronic cloud-hopping of “Between the Past,” or sometimes just plain comforting, like the widescreen snowglobe fantasia of the instrumental “White Winter Melody,” touched by Connor Gallaher’s pedal steel. Woods have long used the studio as a place of songwriting, naming 2007’s At Rear House after their shared dwelling and recording space. But Perennial also carries with it an even longer view of Woods. Emerging from the process alongside the music was Earl’s reflection that “perennial plants and flowers are nature’s loops,” an idea rolling under the album’s lyrics like the loops themselves. It certainly applies to the band, too, who have quietly tended to a long, committed project of being a band in the weird-ass 21st century, both individually and communally. Though separated by coasts, the communal sprit carries through Earl, Taveniere, and Andrews’ collaboration, a living embodiment of the freedoms rediscovered every time a new collectively created piece of music emerges. For nearly two decades, Woods have survived subgenres, anchored in the fertile soil below hashtags like lo-fi and freak-folk and psychedelic and indie, and built a shared history that’s something to marvel at. As the flagship band for Woodsist, they’ve accumulated a striking extended family of collaborators (and Woods alum) that have made the label one of the most dependable imprints in the kaleidoscopic low-key underground. It’s a glow that’s transferred whole to the blissed-out Woodsist Fests held in Accord, New York in recent years, which have folded in a wide range of diverse sounds, from the the jazz cosmoverse of the Sun Ra Arkestra and adventurous legends Yo La Tengo, to a hard-to-even-count family tree of contemporaries, like Kevin Morby (who served a few tours of duty as Woods bassist) and Kurt Vile (who released his 2009 debut on Woodsist), a living community in sound. Perennial carries all of this, shaped by decades, but made in the moment, and here right now. The smell of the flowers doesn’t remain, but sometimes the flowers do. Jesse Jarnow Recorded and mixed by Jarvis Taveniere at Panoramic House in Stinson Beach, CA with additional recording at The Ship in Los Angeles, CA and Cottekill Bird Sanctuary in Stone Ridge, NY. Produced by Jarvis Taveniere and Jeremy Earl. Mastered by Timothy Stollenwerk at Stereophonic Mastering in Portland, OR. Jeremy Earl - vocals, guitars, drums, percussion, sk-5, mellotron, vibraphone, autoharp, loops Jarvis Taveniere - guitar, bass, upright bass, hammond, vocals John Andrews - piano, organs, mellotron, drums, vocals Connor Gallaher - Pedal Steel Kyle Forester - sax, wurlitzer

You can't get Deeper if you're standing still. That's intentional, says the Chicago quartet's Nic Gohl. "Does it feel good when you're listening to this song? Does your body want to move with it?" These are the questions he asked himself as he and bandmates Shiraz Bhatti, Drew McBride, and Kevin Fairbairn were writing and recording Careful!, their third record and Sub Pop debut. "I wanted these to be interesting songs, but in a way where a two-year-old would vibe out to it," Gohl adds.

"It's pop music, basically." That "basically" qualifier is working pretty hard, as fans of 2020's Auto-Pain might suppose. On Careful!, they're not reimagining their sound so much as testing its limits. If you want to, you can hear echoes of David Bowie's Low in the snapping rhythm and gray-sky synths of "Tele," but you can also hear a bit of Auto-Pain in the nailed-in, stippling lines being spit out by Bhatti's drum programming and McBride's synthesizer.

"Fame" seems to stumble together and nearly fall apart, the dialed-up noise making the beat feel maniacal and a little invincible, the whole thing a series of short, snipped, autonomous gestures that are by now Deeper's trademark. "Build a Bridge" pushes in the opposite direction, using a prickly guitar line to launch into big, smeary art-pop, its emotional palette clear, well-defined, and easy to latch onto.

On "Sub," Gohl sings above and below the melody like Ian McCulloch, bellowing and wondering and ruminating and rounding into swaggering confidence that the band rises to meet. It's festival headliner music that still feels like it was written in a garage. That fraternal interdependence is near the center of Deeper's music. The musical and lyrical devotion to mutuality makes this restlessly curious, stylistically broad album feels like the most coherent portrait of who Deeper is. Or, as McBride ultimately frames it, "Careful! is about looking out for one another."

You can't get Deeper if you're standing still. That's intentional, says the Chicago quartet's Nic Gohl. "Does it feel good when you're listening to this song? Does your body want to move with it?" These are the questions he asked himself as he and bandmates Shiraz Bhatti, Drew McBride, and Kevin Fairbairn were writing and recording Careful!, their third record and Sub Pop debut. "I wanted these to be interesting songs, but in a way where a two-year-old would vibe out to it," Gohl adds.

"It's pop music, basically." That "basically" qualifier is working pretty hard, as fans of 2020's Auto-Pain might suppose. On Careful!, they're not reimagining their sound so much as testing its limits. If you want to, you can hear echoes of David Bowie's Low in the snapping rhythm and gray-sky synths of "Tele," but you can also hear a bit of Auto-Pain in the nailed-in, stippling lines being spit out by Bhatti's drum programming and McBride's synthesizer.

"Fame" seems to stumble together and nearly fall apart, the dialed-up noise making the beat feel maniacal and a little invincible, the whole thing a series of short, snipped, autonomous gestures that are by now Deeper's trademark. "Build a Bridge" pushes in the opposite direction, using a prickly guitar line to launch into big, smeary art-pop, its emotional palette clear, well-defined, and easy to latch onto.

On "Sub," Gohl sings above and below the melody like Ian McCulloch, bellowing and wondering and ruminating and rounding into swaggering confidence that the band rises to meet. It's festival headliner music that still feels like it was written in a garage. That fraternal interdependence is near the center of Deeper's music. The musical and lyrical devotion to mutuality makes this restlessly curious, stylistically broad album feels like the most coherent portrait of who Deeper is. Or, as McBride ultimately frames it, "Careful! is about looking out for one another."

Konformer are a band from Nuremberg in Germany.

Their members are;

Andreas Berg (Drums)
Kristian Krauß (Synthesizer)
Rainer Ruder (Bass)

Initially Konformer was not a project for the public, far away from expectations their sound was developed, with focus on only the essential, but that takes time.
The creation of their minimalist, rhythmic and repetitive groove patterns commence with bass loops and develop into modified strophic form.

Comparison with the likes of Early Kraftwerk and the output of cult German labels such as Brain and Sky are inevitable but Konformer sound a little bit like none of the above.
The record was produced and mastered by the 'Franconian Conny Plank' Frank Mollena at his Lonestar Studios in Nuremberg, Bavaria.

Behold the might of Rodan, the giant monster from the sky! In 1956, Toho unleashed their first colour kaiju picture: RODAN, directed by Ishiro Honda and produced by Tomoyuki Tanaka, is a terrifying tale from the creators of the original Godzilla that sees a giant Pteranodon rise from a deep underground cave after being disturbed by miners. Like the Big G, Rodan has mutated to excessive size after being exposed to nuclear radiation, subsequently soaring free above Kyushu to cause as much mayhem as possible as the JSDF do their best to protect the island from his bloodthirsty rampaging. It was inevitable that the man behind the music of Godzilla would also take on scoring RODAN, and the great Akira Ifukube created a score with a solemn edge as with Godzilla, which makes the music of RODAN fit in the larger universe while allowing it to feel unique to the character. For the main theme, Ifukube introduces a malevolent low piano and brass phrase before cointerpointing it with horns to create a howling menace worthy of Rodan. In contrast, beautiful but melancholy material represents the carnage the monster has brought upon the Earth; in a more upbeat mode, the composer includes another of his jaunty and jazzy marches for the JDSF in the guise of "Get Rodan". It's another Toho triumph from the great maestro Ifukube! (Charlie Brigden)

In 2015, when we launched Hip Dozer, we were overwhelmed by the amount of talent that was still championing this old school way of making beats and the incredible creativity that was circulating in the scene.

In a period where hip hop was evolving so much and going further (sometimes for the better but also for the worse), it was obvious to us that we had to defend this rising scene of young beatmakers who were so attached to the roots of old-school beatmaking but who were always taking it to another level.

It's been 7 years since we created Hip Dozer Records with our first anniversary compilation and that's what makes this compilation so special every time. Its purpose remains the same and will always be to champion the art of beatmaking that we love and to help showcase new artists in the scene.

This year we are lucky enough to have some of our favourite talents from the scene on board with artists like Saib, Flughand, Phoniks, Cookin Soul, SoulChef and Wun Two.

We would like to say a huge thank you to all the artists who have been involved in this project and who have been as enthusiastic as we are in making it happen. It has been such a pleasure since the beginning of this adventure and this is only the beginning. Much love to all of you who listen and support wherever you are.

Emotion Hospice is the debut LP by New York-based sound artist and writer Chaperone on Bedouin Records. Combining layers of doom electronics, dystopian ambient, and manipulated tape loops, Emotion Hospice reflects both the artist's suffering and recovery from addiction, as well as Philadelphia's history of socio-economic decay and misanthropy.

Emotion Hospice was recorded from 2016 to 2019, when Chaperone's David Coccagna lived and worked in his hometown of Philadelphia, a city notoriously known for its poverty, redlined city divisions, and fascist policing tactics. While exploring the sound of the city and the effects of its political and social climate, Coccagna also struggled with and managed to overcome a severe addiction to alcohol, tying further the misaligned nature of the self to the maladjusted world he grew up in that is reflected in the record itself.

Sonic thrills and their destruction is present throughout the record, as Coccagna experiments with the brutal manipulation of bossa nova, varying styles of jazz, hip hop, and rap, using 4-Track tape loops, shortwave radio frequencies, various apps on his iPad, and open source audio editing software. With Emotion Hospice, Chaperone liberates the inherent darkness of the cheerful and poppy music that he samples and transforms it into an extensive, doomy sound of a future that is dystopian, maladroit, suffering, but hopeful about human beings. The album was written and recorded entirely by Coccagna aside from the track featuring New York rapper and producer Andre Altrez, whose establishment of Girard Hall in Philadelphia was a beacon of DIY ethos that became legendary in the city in its own right.

Chaperone's Emotion Hospice is his first release on Bedouin Records. His cassette release Dead Pitbulls Slung On Tired Shoulders was his first outing for Bedouin's now defunct sub-label Bastakiya Tapes in 2017. This initial tape was the catalyst to a working relationship between Coccagna and label operator Salem Rashid as collaborators and colleagues.

If you find the time, please come and stay a while in abracadabra’s beautiful neighbourhood; a magically wonky wonderland where strangers leave as friends to a block party soundtrack as eclectic as it is infectious. The California duo’s album shapes & colors is a dazzling collage of psych-fuelled synthscapes and contemporary Baroque-pop of anti-capitalist movements and escapism, precisely pieced around their own working lives in a blue-collar town.
In the heart of Oakland’s industrial Jingletown above a former auto-repair shop in what was once a mechanics’ break room where poker rounds ensued, Hannah Skelton (Vocals, Synthesizers) and Chris Niles, (Bass, Synthesizers) constructed the angular 80s-tinged anthems (think John Hughes montages to Talking Heads) of their new album, to positively offset the pandemic’s amplification of dysfunctional society. “It reflects our current reality: a huge mess that is systematically broken but isn’t entirely lost,” Hannah tells. “We’re inviting listeners to conjure up every drop of hope and willpower left inside them, pour that into the giant vat of anger and frustration bubbling inside us all, and with this potion collectively enact the necessary change to bring love and light into this dark space.”
When Covid forced Hannah from her salon in San Francisco to become a backyard mobile hairdresser, what she saw inspired them both and the lyrical foundations for their new record. “I’d drive to mansions and people would complain about how hard the pandemic had been next to their swimming pool and tennis courts.” First meeting after the album’s co-producer Jason Kick (Mild High Club, Sonny and the Sunsets) recruited the pair for a Halloween band covering Eurythmics’ art-rock debut ‘In The Garden,’ the pair hit it off and shapes & colors is a product of the years that followed. It combines Chris’ own rhythmic demos following years on the road touring and opening for Amon Tobin, Matthew Dear and Generationals in Maus Haus with Hannah’s lyrical musings honed from project Cassiopeia, so even when topics are as heavy as the beats, they’re met with luminously positive arrangements of hope and warmth.
The by-product of a psychedelic New Year’s Eve escaping a monotonous 2020 reality, the title track itself captures fireworks over East Oakland as viewed from the pair’s couch whilst listening to Mort Garson’s Plantasia for 6 hours straight. The daydream collage of ‘inyo county’ is “a little souvenir taking me back into the bottled-up essence of a slow lazy morning, waking up in bed far from home,” Hannah tells recalling those enforced stay-at-home days. “It fell out of me because I was craving that blissful flavour.” Meanwhile ‘dawn of the age of aquarius’s new parallel reality evolved from a happy accident when their demos had reset to a drone which Jason reworked into a Laurie Anderson-esque breathy vocoder effect. Even bloops and beeps from a forgotten recording session at the Vintage Synthesizer Museum in Emeryville can be heard, where the pair used Mini Moog, Fairlight EMI and ARP 2600 to arrange their sound into shapes whilst distortion and dirt from mixing on 1979 Neve 5313 Console added to the recordings’ color.
Casting a brighter rainbow still, in all its pastel-hued glory, Hannah, also illustrated a self-portrait of the band for the album artwork. “It reflects our makeshift recording studio to encapsulate all aspects of that time and space,” she shares of their abode where, over an intense two-week period and fuelled by the aroma of fermenting vino from the winery below, their single chord, bass and drum-heavy, groove-first momentum took them on an unexpected journey whilst the next-door couple would fire pizzas in their yard and a grandfather across the road would sweep the street clean. “We’d drink coffee and start the day, consistently working, without interruption,” Chris tells of finding their flow. “The loft is a cool space with skylights, tall ceilings and no shared walls so we could be as loud as we wanted to be.”
Just as well. Diving into decades of electronica and crunchy sound effects, field recordings and animal sounds, blended with an infectious Latin influence, shapes & colors is bolstered by live percussionists Greg Poneris (drums), K. Dylan Edrich (Vocals, Percussion: congas, bongos, chimes, cow bells and wood blocks, tone drum and tri-tone whistle) and Tom Smith (Guitar, Synthesizers, Vocals).
NIMBY crews grab those earplugs now. abracadabra is your new noisy neighbour, and there’s no turning this party down.

New edition of this Soul Jazz Records out-of-print classic album available now as a new limited-edition one-off pressing triple yellow vinyl album (plus download code), and limited-edition one-off pressing special yellow CD edition. Soul Jazz Records" Space, Energy and Light is a collection of music by early electronic and synthesizer pioneers (from the 1960s through the 1970s), mid-1970s proto-new age gurus and 1980s guerrilla D-I-Y cassette-era electronic artists, spanning in total over a near 30-year time frame. All of these artists used electronic advancements in music technology as a means of exploring not only space and the idea of the future, but also of looking inwards to the soul and of creating music in harmony with the natural world.

New edition of this Soul Jazz Records out-of-print classic album available now as a new limited-edition one-off pressing triple yellow vinyl album (plus download code), and limited-edition one-off pressing special yellow CD edition.
Soul Jazz Records’ Space, Energy and Light is a collection of music by early electronic and synthesizer pioneers (from the 1960s through the 1970s), mid-1970s proto-new age gurus and 1980s guerrilla D-I-Y cassette-era electronic artists, spanning in total over a near 30-year time frame. All of these artists used electronic advancements in music technology as a means of exploring not only space and the idea of the future, but also of looking inwards to the soul and of creating music in harmony with the natural world.
From computer software and hardware experimentalists and sound pioneers such as Laurie Spiegel and Kevin Braheny, as well as Mother Mallard’s Portable Masterpiece Company – the first synthesizer ensemble created in collaboration with Robert Moog – through to musique concrète experimentation, the album shows how technological advancements and creative artistic expression often went hand in hand. 
In the mid-1970s artists Steven Halpern and Iaxos were instrumental in creating proto-new age music, experimenting in both the healing properties of sound and its relationship with the natural world. These artists also pioneered a new self-contained and underground D-I-Y approach to music, creating their own record labels, forming new distribution networks (with albums sold in meditation centres, health food stores and ashrams) far away from the commercialism of the mainstream music industry. In the early 1980s after the revolution of punk, these D-I-Y attitudes and ideas appeared once more in the growth of the distinctly anti-commercial and underground cassette-only careers of artists such as Germany’s Stratis and Carl Matthews in Britain.
Artwork includes some of the earliest photography of the Plieades star cluster dating from the 1880s.

"Listening to Space, Energy & Light in one sitting is a bit like experiencing constellations exploding within constellations inside your brain." Record Collector
"Incredible collection of spacey electronics and meditative soundscapes dating from the early 60s to the late 80s here, lovingly assembled by the Soul Jazz team. This compilation has it all if you like your music deep. Big names such as Iasos and Laurie Spiegel feature, but even if you think yourself a bit of a nerd in this field, there are some lesser known pearls to be found." Bleep
"Quite simply an amazing mix of some quite bizarre and interesting pieces of music, no way to describe it other than to buy it, put on some headphones and drift off to inner space.” Amazon
"New compilation charting almost three decades of experimental
electronic and synthesizer music from the most influential and often
unsung composers of their generation. Beginning and 1961 and
following the story until 1988, Space, Energy and Light connects
proto-new age gurus and DIY tape vigilantes who were equally
inspired by the advancements of new technology and its potential to
unlock utopian futures in both the music and the soul." Vinyl Factory

This land runs through Katherine Paul’s blood. And it called to her. In dreams she saw the river, her ancestors, and her home. When the land calls, you listen. And KP found herself far from her ancestral lands during a time of collective trauma, when the world was wounded and in need of healing. In 2020 she made the journey from Portland back to the Skagit River, back to the cedar
trees that stand tall and shrouded in fog, back to the tide flats and the mountains, back to Swinomish.

It is a powerful thing to return to our ancestral lands and often times the journey is not easy. Like the salmon through the currents, like the tide as it crawls to shore this is a story of return. It is the call and response. It is the outstretched arms of the people who came before, welcoming her home. The Land, The Water, The Sky is a celebration of lineage and strength. Even in its deepest moments of loneliness and grief, of frustration over a world wrought with colonial violence and pain, the songs remind us that if we slow down, if we listen to the waves and the wind through the trees, we will remember to breathe.

There is a throughline of story in every song, a remembrance of knowledge and teachings, a gratitude of wisdom passed down and carried. There is a reimagining of Sedna who was offered to the sea, and a beautiful rumination on sacrifice and humanity, and what it means to hold the stories that work to teach us something.

Chord progressions born out of moments of sadness and solitude transform into the islands that sit blue along the horizon. The Salish Sea curves along her homelands, and when the singer is close to this water she is reminded of her grandmother, how she looked out at these same islands, and she’s held by spirit and memory.

The Land, The Water, The Sky rises and falls, in darkness and in light, but even in its most melancholy moments it is never despairing. That is the beauty of returning home. When you stand on ancestral lands it is impossible to be alone. You feel the arms and hands that hold you up, unwilling to let you fall into sorrow or abandonment. In her songs Katherine Paul has channeled that feeling of being held. In every note she has written a love letter to indigenous strength and healing.

There is a joy present here, a fierce blissfulness that comes with walking the trails along the river, feeling the sand and th stones beneath her feet. It is the pride and the certainty that comes with knowing her ancestors walked along the same land, dipped their hands into the water, and ran their fingertips along the same bark of cedar trees.

This is a story of hope, as it details the joy of returning. Katherine Paul’s journey home wasn’t made alone, and the songs are crowded with loved ones and relatives, like a really good party. And as the songs walk us through the land it is important we hover over the images and the beauty, the moments that mark this album as site specific. The power of this land is woven throughout, telling the story of narrow waterways, brush strokes, salmon stinta, and above all healing.

Let it take you. Move through the story and see the land through her eyes, because it is a gift, a welcomed sʔabadəb.*

*The word “gift” in Lushootseed, the language of the Coast Salish people“

2023 Repress

***
Fragments of our mighty voice,
our blood is like tears.
Above us shook the starry sky.
Desolate are the hours
into which we are rising.
***

We would like to invite you on an excursion of sorts:

Close your eyes, leave the grey wash of daytime TV and ready meals behind, and let the whiskey-soaked Automatic Tasty be your spirit guide.
Slowly you will drift over multi-coloured hills, then over vermilion seas, rising in the sky following the Sun until you reach the very edges of Ideaspace itself. What lies beyond that boundary is entirely up to you.

Returning to Realplace temporarily, you should find a burning desire to turn something in your life upside-down. Again you will dive thru the mists of imagination. This time bring back gifts: shining, lustrous pearls; seeds which may grow to provide brain-fruit if properly tended to.

On future journeys, gather your friends around the twin-headed god of music and invite them to join you & Automatic Tasty, for this is truly Social media.

We would like to invite you on an excursion of sorts:

Close your eyes, leave the grey wash of daytime TV and ready meals behind, and let the whiskey-soaked Automatic Tasty be your spirit guide.
Slowly you will drift over multi-coloured hills, then over vermilion seas, rising in the sky following the Sun until you reach the very edges of Ideaspace itself. What lies beyond that boundary is entirely up to you.

Returning to Realplace temporarily, you should find a burning desire to turn something in your life upside-down. Again you will dive thru the mists of imagination. This time bring back gifts: shining, lustrous pearls; seeds which may grow to provide brain-fruit if properly tended to.

On future journeys, gather your friends around the twin-headed god of music and invite them to join you & Automatic Tasty, for this is truly Social media.

The Zephyrs release their brand new album “For Sapphire Needle” on January 27th 2023 alongside Spanish comrades Acuarela, their first since 2010. With only 2018’s double A-side single “The Witches” and “The Crown Prince of Lies” in between, this represents their first collection of new songs in 13 years: from short and tightly constructed country-folk introspections to sprawling, spaced-out psychedelia, including a couple of extremely sharp pop glimmers and a killer Morricone-like instrumental. Originally conceived of as a series of 4 track EPs based on the seasons in which they were created, the recordings spanned into a patchwork of sessions with long-time collaborator and producer Michael Brennan at his Substation studio, neighboring a naval port in Rosyth. The ongoing recording sessions were made possible with the kind support of Robert Dillam, drummer for The Zephyrs and ex-guitarist for Creation band Adorable. With songs ranging from short and tightly constructed country-folk introspections to sprawling, spaced-out psychedelia, what resulted was an album near to double length. The collection presented as “For Sapphire Needle” is a cut-down selection of these songs. The record opens with “Leatherback”, a Crazy Horse inspired wall of distorted guitars drawing on lyrics from The Zephyr’s first album and pre-history, followed by the four songs earmarked for the first of the seasonal EPs – Winter – whose artwork was photographed in the alley behind Traceyann Campbell’s (Camera Obscura) house in Glasgow. Elsewhere on the album, “I tell you what” had much of its writing and recording initiated in a wooden shack near Aviemore and “Bolder” tells the story of overheard bar-side conversations and delayed flights in Denver airport, where lizard people live underground and some say the new world order lays dormant. The domestic depression of “How have you been today” precedes closing opus “Aliens”, inspired in equal measures by the maturation as social control science fiction of The Tripods and the schlock b-movie imagery of Rocky Erickson’s The Evil One. The album is the work of older and more consistent The Zephyrs. Stuart, David and Robert joined by collaborators: guitarist John Brennan and keyboardist Will Bates. The songs and sounds are sculpted out of slabs of time with friends at the Substation, a de facto weekly youth club for musicians who refuse to grow old. The triple bridges of Queensferry, the shipbuilding cranes of Rosyth docks and Babcock's shop - one of the few places in Scotland you can buy a real periscope over the counter - are just some of the backdrops as the Zephyrs rehearse for nobody but themselves. Yet, ever since Jean-Luc Picard himself told us that "this is not a holiday", it has become a unique and unbeatable way of peering up above the waterline, reinventing themselves and returning to the scene. Indeed with 10 songs in 46 minutes which wade across Gram Parsons and Big Star, Slowdive and spaghetti Western: folk, rock and shoegaze… as if they were trying to shorten the path to the California sky passing through Scotland and then Almería in Spain.

When British Airways got privatized and listed on the London Stock Exchange, somewhere in Canada the first Starbucks outside of the US opened, and the Walt Disney Company signed an agreement with the French Prime Minister to construct Disneyland Paris. In the sky above southern Argentina, Equatorial Guinea, Cameroon, Sudan, Ethiopia, Djibouti, northern Somalia, and the Atlantic Ocean a hybrid solar eclipse materialized for 7.57 seconds, whilst Margaret Thatcher performed for 45-minutes on Soviet television. Some days later, The Simpsons cartoon first appears as a series of shorts on The Tracey Ullman Show, Diego Maradona wins his first Italian soccer championship with Napoli, and Eighteen-year-old West German pilot Mathias Rust lands a private plane on Red Square in Moscow. In the mists of the world's first conference on artificial life at the Los Alamos National Laboratory, the first Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant in Mainland China opens in Beijing, and Prozac gets approved for use as an antidepressant in the United States. Much give way for the future, down there in 1987, the year that marks the title of Benedikt Frey’s freshest mini album, out into the world on R.i.O., the label he runs with some pals in the North of Berlin. It’s a dubby melancholic conqueror, wistfully, repetitive, drilling, absorbing, spooking. It makes you dream. Not particular of the year 1987. But it’s all there: The Red Square, the untouched land of the Val d'Europe, Diego on fuego. Six dark-ish tracks in trance, melancholic dub, downbeat heaven, journey music depths, all full of light and yet so dark. Futuristic dramas linked to a speculative past. In our dreams all might look different. The eclipse may last 27- minutes. You meet Neuromancer cyberpunks and blade running Ghost dogs, all taught to hack by Phrack. Cristal clear melodies, sampled voices, and veiled basslines, analogue scopes, and digital ropes, longing for a past that storm into the future. A time where deep listening widens the acoustics into infinity, while neon glows charm the light smog. Benedikt Frey been down there. Or maybe not. His latest music tells stories from the bygone, vested with the forthcoming. Come in and look out. There is nothing to see, yet so much to hear.

While so many follow the status quo, Mat Zo has always danced to the beat of his own drum. From his days topping both the drum & bass and trance charts simultaneously (releasing on Hospital Records as MRSA), to his current status as a big room innovator, collaborating with Public Enemy's Chuck D and dropping genre-blurring 70-track contributions to BBC Radio 1's Essential Mix, the precocious talent is destined to play by his own rules.

Supported by DJs as diverse as Skrillex, Madeon, Pete Tong, Above & Beyond, Steve Aoki and A-Trak, the LA-living producer's much anticipated debut LP 'Damage Control' is a bold, brilliantly diverse statement of intent from one of the scene's most unique talents. In a world of EDM sound a likes, this is electronic dance music with integrity and ambition. The release of the album will coincide with an extensive upcoming world headline tour, which sees Zo playing renowned dance music hubs such as Ministry of Sound in London, Light in Las Vegas, Create/Avalon in Los Angeles, Miami's LIV nightclub, Toronto's Guvernment and New York City's famed Pacha. (See full list of dates below).

The product of nearly three years dedicated work, 'Damage Control' represents a star of the future coming of age. Including his Beatport No.1 smash 'Easy' (feat. Porter Robinson) and recent hook-up with hip-hop legend Chuck D (Public Enemy) on 'Pyramid Scheme', Zo's 14-track LP also features the sun-soaked melodies of his innovative future single 'Lucid Dreams' - another track that perfectly embodies his uniquely quirky take on big room sounds.

What really sets the album apart from the pack are its diversions away from the dancefloor. 'Damage Control' takes in everything from electro-charged French house ('Only For You' feat. Rachel K. Collier), classy trance vibes ('The Sky' feat. Linnea Schossow) and big room progressive, through to wonky, trap-styled beats ('Caller ID' and 'Little Damage'), UK garage updates ('EZ') and hip-hop ('Moderate Stimulation').

Retaining a cohesive thread throughout thanks to Zo's unmistakable sense of fun and infectious grasp of melody, 'Damage Control' is tipped as one of the most forward-thinking debut artist albums of 2013.

ElectronicaA Mountain Of One are set to return to the musical landscape with their brand new track “Custard’s Last Stand”, released 6th August through their new label AMORE via Above Board distribution. It is the first new piece of music the band have released in over a decade.

”Custard’s Last Stand” shows the band, made up of musical soulmates Mo Morris and Zeben Jameson, have lost nothing in the past decade. Recorded over Skype during the coronavirus pandemic, with Mo now in Bali and Zeben in west London, it is a shimmering, modern classic, experimental but accessible, melodic and adventurous. As ever, it is utterly unique, made in a musical universe all of their own.

“Custard’s Last Stand” EP is out 27th August, and will come with an incredible Dub Versions from dub pioneer Dennis Bovell MBE, as well as another new track “Stars, Planets, Dust, Me”. He has also provided a rare vocal performance.

The forthcoming album will be released this autumn. The whole project has been mastered then remixed for a forthcoming album by the legendary Ricardo Villalobos.

When A Mountain Of One AMO1first started performing, they quickly became one of the most-acclaimed bands out there, with the likes of i-D, Sunday Times Culture, Pitchfork, NME and more raving about them and their inspired and original approach, led by Mo and Zeben’s almost telepathic understanding.

Sold-out shows and awesome reviews followed with “Collected Works” and “Institute of Joy”, two phenomenal records that have stood the test of time, criss-crossing Balearic, folk, jazz, dance, rock and psychedelia.

A Mountain Of One have collaborated to create a coming together of music and virtual reality. With NYX VX, the band have developed a virtual world, one that will help provide inspired opportunities for artists looking to identify, connect and engage with audiences on multiple levels. This is the first stage of a new world that people will be building out and inhabiting, as venue for performances, home for musical and visual archives, space for play and exploration. Welcome to 'Stars, Planets, Dust, Me'.

Watch the teaser, soundtracked by new single “Custard’s Last Stand” HERE

The band also supplied the music for the stunning short film from acclaimed director Daniel Lindegren, filmed in London over lockdown. Check that out HERE