quête:slowly

It’s not just since James Bond and the introduction of World Overshoot Day that we’ve known: The world isn’t enough. We need an Extrawelt! Arne Schaffhausen and Wayan Raabe have been tinkering with this celestial body for over two decades, and it seems to be slowly nearing completion. You certainly can’t accuse Extrawelt of lacking ideas. They are, so to speak, the legitimate descendants of the legendary planet designer Slartibartfast from Douglas Adams’ “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”. No doubt, the downright insanely creative bossa nova-techno bastard “Honey Hunter” will be mentioned in the same breath as Slartibartfast’s award-winning Norwegian coastlines by future civilizations. The other three tracks aren’t half bad either. Take our word for it.
Nicht erst seit James Bond und der Einführung des world overshoot days wissen wir: Die Welt ist nicht genug. Wir brauchen eine Extrawelt! Die Herren Arne Schaffhausen und Wayan Raabe werkeln seit über zwei Jahrzehnten an diesem Himmelskörper und er scheint so langsam bezugsfertig zu sein. Man kann Extrawelt nun wahrlich keine Ideenarmut vorwerfen. Sie sind quasi die legitimen Nachkommen des legendären Planetendesigners Slartibartfast aus Douglas Adam’s “Per Anhalter durch die Galaxis”. Der geradezu irrwitzig kreative Bossanovatechno-Bastard “Honey Hunter” wird von künftigen Zivilisationen in einem Atemzug mit Slartibartfast’s preisgekönten norwegischen Küstenlinien genannt werden. Auch die anderen drei Tracks sind nicht von schlechten Eltern. Glaubt’s und werdet selig.
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“I thought I knew you, but you are alien to me.”

Twelve years have passed since TWINS NATALIA’s debut album, “Destiny Room”, but Dave, Marc and Steve have never really stopped working on new ideas and projects, including the release of a mini-album from Marc’s solo project SHIBUYA STATION. This featured their first collaboration with Greek artist KRIISTAL ANN (also known from PARADOX OBSCUR), who provided the vocals for the track “Madness”. This led to Anna being invited by TWINS NATALIA to perform lead vocals on their cover version of KNOW’s “Knights of Pleasure”. The results were so pleasing that, from then on, Anna was persistently ’pestered’ to work on a TWINS NATALIA EP, which slowly morphed into a complete album entitled “I Died On Mars”. The album is a journey through electronic soundscapes and pure, dark ’80s minimal synth-pop, full of melancholia, haunting melodies, elaborate synth sound design and sequencing, ranging from neat to gnarly, and, of course, KRIISTAL ANN’s charismatic voice icing the cake.

“I Died On Mars” presents us with further surprises: TWINS NATALIA version of “The Dagger In Me” by ’80s Greek post-punk legends THE HANDS OF CAIN, as well as “A Different Hum” by PARADOX OBSCUR, a song that surely needs no further introduction. Anna has not shied away from specially re-recording the vocals for this version, while both versions have been given some distinctly Twins Natalia-specific additions and treatments. Furthermore, Anna has contributed her own composition “Find Me I A Fantasy”, so you’re in for a treat or two, for sure.

Mastering by Nikolas Haldoupis at SoundCave Studios Athens.

Graphic design by Steve Lippert with some original photography by Kriistal Ann.

East London based quintet IAN bring a sense of jovial camaraderie through their heavy, loud and droning post-rock dirges on debut album 'Come On Everybody, Let’s Do Nothing!' through UK charitable label Human Worth.

IAN (the band) are refreshing newcomers in the UK's heavy underground. The East London based quintet will be releasing their stirring debut album Come On Everybody, Let's Do Nothing! on Vinyl and Digital via independent label Human Worth on October 17th – a labour of love between five old friends and ex-bandmates from Exeter’s fertile early '00s DIY punk scene.

Self-described as "a band that appreciates the peaks and troughs of post-rock as much as the crunch of the riff," IAN's striking debut delivers five dirges that merge earth swallowing riffs with the atmospheres and dynamics of their post-rock heroes, such as Godspeed You! Black Emperor, with the bite and visceral heft of Cult Of Luna and Amenra. Thoughtfully captured by Wayne Adams (Petbrick, Big Lad) at his London based Bear Bites Horse studio, IAN craft slowly mounting riffs, with anguished screams, woven with elegant cello playing, field recordings and earthy timbres. Come On Everybody Let’s Do Nothing!, and the band IAN as a whole, is the culmination of 25 years of musical comradeship and the need to find inspiration in films, noise and the drudgery of middle-aged life.

Rising UK independent label Human Worth have pressed up a limited run of Eco Mix Vinyl, housed in a stunning sleeve designed by guitarist Craig Murray, with a very small batch of Bandcamp Exclusive Signed Prints. 10% of all profits will be donated to charity Mermaids – supporting trans, non-binary and gender-diverse children, young people and their families since 1995.

"A harsh mix of post-rock aggression and dark ambience. As jovial as they were incredible." ~ The Sleeping Shaman

2026 Repress

What an unbelievable record. From the wild cover to the iconic breakbeats, Roots from Ian Carr’s Nucleus is one of the dopest albums we know. This is seriously thick, funky-prog jazz-rock heaven. Originally released on Vertigo in 1973, other than a couple of versions at the time for other territories, Roots was never re-pressed since so it’s gone on to become another one of those impossible to find records.

Maybe it was a little too out there for the time, but it’s aged very, very well indeed and this Be With re-issue, re-mastered from the original analogue tapes, shows off just why this deserves to be back in press.

Genius trumpeter and visionary composer Ian Carr was one of the most respected British musicians of his era. He was a true pioneer and saw the potential in fusing the worlds of jazz with rock, just as Miles Davis and The Tony Williams Lifetime did in the US. In late 1969, following the demise of the Rendell-Carr quintet, and tiring of British jazz, Carr assembled the legendary Nucleus. Regarding music as a continuous process, Nucleus refused to “recognise rigid boundaries” and worked on delivering what they saw as a “total musical experience”. We can get behind that.

Under bandleader Carr, Nucleus existed as a fluid line-up of inventive, skilled musicians. This constant evolution and revolution was all part of the continuous musical exploration and discovery that took jazz to new levels.

Working together with producer Fritz Fryer and engineer Roger Wake, the seven compositions by Carr, Brian Smith and Dave MacRae that make up Roots flirt with perfection, and Nucleus at that time made up of the cream of 1970s UK jazz with Brian Smith on tenor saxophones and flutes, Dave MacRae on piano and electric piano, Jocelyn Pitchen on guitar, Roger Sutton on bass, both Clive Thacker and Aureo De Souza on drums and percussion, Joy Yates delivering the vocals and of course Carr on trumpet.

The spellbinding title track immediately renders the album indispensable. Riding the illest of loping breakbeats, “Roots” is low-slung, doped-out heist-funk. An absolute monster. If it sounds familiar then that’s likely down to it being sampled by Madlib for Lootpack and Quasimoto’s “Loop Digga”, as well as by a whole host of beat manipulators. “Roots” conjures prime instrumental hip-hop / beat music, only 20 years ahead of its time. Truly, these are the roots. Through sinuous bass, twinkling keys and a hypnotic guitar riff, a smoky brass motif weaves its way into a gloriously deep haze around Carr’s solos. “Roots” is over 9 minutes long, but there’s not a single wasted second, not surprising given that this is a condensed version of an originally 40 minute long commissioned composition.

The soothing vocal fusion delight of “Images” follows. Meticulously constructed, with gorgeous flute work from Brian Smith, with Joy Yates’ silky vocals and Dave MacRae’s Rhodes never sounding better. The cool, driving “Caliban” closes out the first side. Originally the third movement in a four part commission to celebrate Shakespeare’s birthday it stands up on its own, all robust rhythms and blended brass. Keyboard colour and Carr’s trumpet are splashed across the funk drums and basslines (and there’s even some bamboo flute). This really is fusion: the elements of jazz and rock coming together in beautifully synthesis.

Side two opens in riotous fashion with the short, thrilling samba of “Wapatiti”. Next up, “Capricorn” forms a smoothed-out, jazzy constellation. Mellow and dreamy, its twinkling percussion and languid horns slowly build the vibe before head-nod drums and a killer bassline enter the fray. With a distinct heaviness that Black Sabbath would’ve envied, “Odokamona” is a venomous slice of riff-soaked jazz metal (yes, you read that right), elevated by Carr’s wah-wah horns.

The album closes with MacRae’s exceptionally cosmic “Southern Roots and Celebration”. Very much in conversation with Weather Report, it opens as a languorous, spiritual jazz of chiming keys and serene guitar that turns slowly, gorgeously into a mid-paced, brass-laced banger. It’s another sure-fire party starter and the sound of the band having a righteous blast, building an ecstatic chaos that ends with Yates screaming.

And of course we need to talk about Keith Davis’ cover for Roots. Perhaps the coolest record cover of all time? Certainly one of the most bonkers. Just your run-of-the-mill high-gloss, acid-tinged airbrush dystopian/utopian living-room party scene. Consider this your chemical flashback trigger warning.

Front-and-centre the hip-to-death green robot holds court with their giant ball of yellow barbwire wool, hooked up to… something(?) being teased out from under the stairs (probably best not to ask). A thoroughly zoned-out, long-legged Pop Art party-goer lounges half-plugged in to the painting behind her as a pair of legs flail into shot from the the top of the stairs opposite. We won’t even begin to guess what the chap’s up to in the middle, but the view out of the windows is rather nice, and someone’s already got the hoover out ready to tidy up. All of the Nucleus sleeves are something special, but this particular one? Crikey.

This Be With edition of Roots has been re-mastered from the original Vertigo master tapes, Simon Francis’ mastering working together with Pete Norman’s cut to weave their usual magic with these wonderful recordings. The crazy cover has been restored at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.

A dream come true for A Colourful Storm to be releasing an early gem by Tenniscoats, a duo whose DIY spirit, boundless creativity and lust for life and collaboration has left an indelible mark. From self-releasing albums and tapes on their own Majikick imprint to meeting kindred spirits The Pastels, Bill Wells and Jad Fair in between outings for Morr Music, Chapter and Häpna, to name but a few, Tenniscoats have embodied an understated determination and optimism for over two decades.

"A foghorn melodica, voice, fractions, fragments, nothing and everything all at once. We Are Everyone opens out slowly, a little eerily, magic tumbles into play in well-measured rations. Meanwhile, on the cover, Saya and Ueno's heads seem to merge into the sky as if living amongst the wisdom of the clouds. Or maybe somewhere between sleep and reality, like Ueno's description of Tenniscoats' music. We Are Everyone is one of those records where you almost feel engulfed in its making - you feel like you're in the room with Tenniscoats as they push themselves to the limit, trying to make the very best record they can." - Stephen Pastel

There is a hush most of us only knew as children, the warm drift between familiar household sounds and being carried to bed, a place that belongs to you and to some self you have not met yet. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, lives in that dream space and then keeps walking, slipping out of time and waking somewhere new, barely familiar enough to feel like home yet wholly your own. She came up in a Jamaican household on the edge of the Florida Everglades, an existence built of extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and a student of sound, built his own speakers and kept three sound systems going across as many rooms. His low end would rise through her bedroom floor like some wayward cat while she lay above it with folk records, finding harmonies that were new and hers alone. Two musics in one room. Lushness as past and premonition. She found folk on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel, while everyone around her called it sleepy music. She did not mind being the only one. The solitude let her fall for harmony first, before words, before anything else, and harmony is still the thing she reaches for. Generationally speaking, the music was already in the air. Her grandfather, Colin Smith, is a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar and built his own rumba boxes, worked to keep Jamaica’s oldest acoustic folk form alive. Mento is the root of all of it: ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything after. He is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own.


Made slowly and by hand with her longtime partner Evan Wright, Follow the Light lays the harmony of folk over the rhythm of dub, with Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washed guitars of Cocteau Twins haunting its outer edges. Voice and guitar seeking each other out first, then everything else stacked across long days in the studio they keep at home, restraint kept on purpose. The lead single “Without You” is the whole method surfacing, split open and sparkling like a geode in a creek bed. Angelic heroics, and nothing less.


At the heart is family. Her grandmother Aggie, the light behind “Memory,” guiding still. And underneath, the quieter truth the record keeps: none of us are only one person, but a continuum of selves, the ones who shaped us and the ones we have yet to meet. Future you is an ancestor your current self gets to greet. Press play and the same invitation is yours: A few minutes out of time, a place that turns familiar the longer you stay until you surface somewhere new and find it was yours all along

There is a hush most of us only knew as children, the warm drift between familiar household sounds and being carried to bed, a place that belongs to you and to some self you have not met yet. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, lives in that dream space and then keeps walking, slipping out of time and waking somewhere new, barely familiar enough to feel like home yet wholly your own. She came up in a Jamaican household on the edge of the Florida Everglades, an existence built of extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and a student of sound, built his own speakers and kept three sound systems going across as many rooms. His low end would rise through her bedroom floor like some wayward cat while she lay above it with folk records, finding harmonies that were new and hers alone. Two musics in one room. Lushness as past and premonition. She found folk on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel, while everyone around her called it sleepy music. She did not mind being the only one. The solitude let her fall for harmony first, before words, before anything else, and harmony is still the thing she reaches for. Generationally speaking, the music was already in the air. Her grandfather, Colin Smith, is a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar and built his own rumba boxes, worked to keep Jamaica’s oldest acoustic folk form alive. Mento is the root of all of it: ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything after. He is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own.


Made slowly and by hand with her longtime partner Evan Wright, Follow the Light lays the harmony of folk over the rhythm of dub, with Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washed guitars of Cocteau Twins haunting its outer edges. Voice and guitar seeking each other out first, then everything else stacked across long days in the studio they keep at home, restraint kept on purpose. The lead single “Without You” is the whole method surfacing, split open and sparkling like a geode in a creek bed. Angelic heroics, and nothing less.


At the heart is family. Her grandmother Aggie, the light behind “Memory,” guiding still. And underneath, the quieter truth the record keeps: none of us are only one person, but a continuum of selves, the ones who shaped us and the ones we have yet to meet. Future you is an ancestor your current self gets to greet. Press play and the same invitation is yours: A few minutes out of time, a place that turns familiar the longer you stay until you surface somewhere new and find it was yours all along

The sun sat high above the desert outside Joshua Tree on October 17, 2024, baking the rocks and shrubbery outside the Farrington Observatory as a small group of invited guests ventured up a steep path towards the telescope. Kyle Simon, the artist and printmaker who founded the Observatory, was standing outside the print studio sat below the towering cylindrical building, greeting friends alongside his wife Sarah and lifelong friend Brian Weitz, the musician widely known as Geologist of Animal Collective. Simon and Weitz had spent the previous day testing and retesting a system that would transform the light of the oncoming full moon captured by the gigantic telescope into a signal that would modulate the control voltage of Weitz’s modular synthesizer. As the sun dipped below the horizon line, the audience gathered on a small wooden patio surrounded by speakers while Weitz readied himself behind the array of patches and knobs. Simon addressed the group, presenting the history of The Sirens, the sonic exploration of the night sky’s mystical and scientific significance about to unfold.

The music conjured under the Hunter’s Moon that night is now documented on this first official release of The Sirens, which was conceived by Simon and Weitz as a recurring performance piece and sound installation. Over a decade ago, Simon began immersing himself in literature on humanity’s sonic relationship to the celestial realm, including Homer’s Odyssey, Plato’s “Spindle of Necessity, ” Kepler’s Harmonices Mundi, and the field of astroseismology. He fitted homemade telescopes with photodiodes and optical sensors to make the images audible, finding latent patterns in the noisy sonic signals he began receiving from the stars. With Weitz, the process expanded as the signal was routed through an analog amplifier and set to modulate the pitch, filter, and other elements of his synthesizer. Together they developed a system of improvisation, with Simon adjusting the telescope to change the intensity of the light based on its relationship with the moon’s position (imagine a theremin player moving their hands in subtle, meaningful motion), and Weitz responding to that input in real time: bending it, amplifying it, or letting it stand on its own. The duo debuted the piece at the Integretron in Joshua Tree in 2018, providing a crucial proof of concept for the performance at Farrington featured here.

The first thing the listener hears on The Sirens is the opening of Farrington Observatory, the cranking of motor and metal. As the lens of the telescope is exposed to the evening air, a wavering drone emerges from the synthesizer, flickering at the margins, the tuning of the oscillators adjusting to the rapidly cooling desert air. The piece progresses and the drone becomes a luminous, spherical constant, bathing the listener in pure tone as Weitz draws out harmonically ambiguous melodies that spiral upwards. Electronics crackle and convulse, coalescing into dense dissonance before widening out into an open octave. Just as the moon orbits the Earth and the stars shift as the planet rotates, so each sonic element appears in flux, interrelationships slowly forming and falling away. Divided into two parts, The Sirens flows as a continuous conversation between the artists and the starlight completing its thousand-year journey across the galaxy.

The Sirens belongs primarily to a lineage beyond music: of sea captains navigating by looking skyward, of astrophysicists studying the formation of the Milky Way, of the modern myths of werewolves, of the stories embedded in constellations. As Simon writes in the album’s extensive liner notes, “These stories and explorations reveal a collective yearning to become conscious of our connection to the universe, our deep-seated desire to understand how we fit into it all.” This music underscores the history of the night sky as the place where poetry and science find common ground, where exploration hinges on the imagination. Driven by curiosity and ingenuity, Weitz and Simon look up and wonder.

"Here is a tender journey through loss and rebirth — a raw exploration of grief, heartbreak, and the emptiness that follows. It unfolds the fragile moments after losing a beloved friend, the fragile attempts to mend a fractured love, and the sudden rupture that shakes the soul to its core. Amidst the turmoil, anxiety pulses and the body aches with memories too heavy to hold. Yet, slowly, the darkness gives way to light. Breath returns. Support is found in unexpected places. Memories surface through hypnotic whispers, guiding the way back to softness and hope. This is not a story of instant healing, but a delicate awakening — a reckoning with old patterns, a reclaiming of the self, a learning to love differently.

Intimate and universal, fragile yet fiercely alive."

Theory Therapy presents “Smoker’s Choice,” the second release and first full-length from Alien D, the project of New York producer Daniel Creahan. Following last year’s “For the Early Hours of a World in Bloom” EP, the record takes on a decidedly more spacious, inward bent, with softened rhythms and arrangements given more room to breathe, folding electronics and acoustic composition into a shifting, ethereal wash.

Featuring a range of collaborations across the record, including guest vocals from his wife Ellen, Creahan’s electronics serve as a base for a series of dubwise interpolations of his collaborators’ work, from washed-out zither and bowed banjo to scorching saxophone leads.

There’s a particular pleasure in the obfuscation here, each instrument buffed into a mass of sound. A sub-bass tone might linger beneath the surface before receding into the haze; a groove can feel steady one moment and subtly shift the next. Repetition becomes less about locking into a pattern than watching it slowly change, like the same view seen through moving water.

“Smoker’s Choice” finds its depth in these small shifts, with dub rhythms, soft-edged electronics and acoustic inflections reaching something dreamlike but tactile, where atmosphere and groove are never quite separate. The record feels like a snapshot of several forces moving in slow motion – a landscape of drifting forms and blurred boundaries, where nothing feels entirely fixed.

Label head Len Faki joins forces with Icelandic dub techno pioneer Exos for Infinity In Loop, a joint exploration into cavernous depths and shifting tonal landscapes.
Two versions of the title track fill the entire A-side, each unfolding with patient intent. Drifting across icy atmospheres and static hums, Infinity In Loop’s first incarnation slowly builds into a mesmerizing, minimalistic loop—punctuated by delicate percussion and a faint, comforting sprinkle of melodic warmth amidst the arctic chill. The second iteration leans more into a classic 90s dub techno framework, launching straight into a steady pulse anchored by echoing chord pairs and crisp, high-energy percussion.
On the B-side, the duo shifts towards raw, dancefloor-driven territory. Aurora delivers impressive tension with dry, jacking rhythms, snappy percussion, and haunting vocal fragments cut up to drive the groove forward. Closing out the EP, Circuit Flux pairs sub-heavy low-end with unpredictable rave energy. Nostalgic 90s vocal cues, pitched-up hooks, and fidgety FX swell and recede over staunch synths—creating a dynamic, deeply layered track that constantly shifts between space and peak-time momentum.

Discrepant presents Fantarombo, a new album by Giovanni Lami.

While his previous works often moved through memory, residue, degradation, and dialogue with existing materials, Fantarombo takes shape as an unstable, bodily gesture.

Sound is not recalled or reconstructed, but triggered, pushed, and set in motion as an active force. Lami approaches modular synthesis as a physical, hands-on practice rather than a technical exercise or display of system mastery. The modular setup becomes a responsive body: something to be nudged, listened to, and occasionally resisted.

The pieces unfold through slow accumulations, unstable feedback paths, and carefully misaligned sequences. Rather than driving toward resolution, the music lingers in states of suspension, allowing small shifts in voltage, timing, and texture to reshape the whole. Chance and duration play a central role, with structure emerging gradually from repetition and drift.

There is an unmistakably organic quality to the sound: porous, tactile, and quietly resonant. A sensitivity to space, grain, and micro-movement, where subtle changes carry as much weight as overt gestures. On Fantarombo, process takes precedence over control, and the circuitry is allowed to speak back, resulting in music that feels intimate, unstable, and quietly insistent, revealing itself slowly through sustained attention.

A music of unresolved behaviours, suspended somewhere between obsolete digital optimism, imaginary systems and malfunctioning computational folklore.

Two tracks extending towards the 10 minute marker, very much in the unique style of Robert Mononom which was already being refined throughout his previous 3 EPs, now culminating in 2 excursions throughout deep hypnotic/psychedelic machine made sounds. A side is built on an aggressive triple and double beat kick drum with a very dubby "big room" presence upon which waves of other nuances in noise get overlayed slowly transforming the 165+ BPM experience throughout what sounds like an extended live mix. B side goes in more spacial/atmospheric direction where hi hats take control over the kick, capturing the witness in a whirlwind of dubbed out overlaying rhythmic patterns. A sound so raw and pure in its introspection, clearly showing Robert's capacity of developing an aesthetic of his own.

Deep, deep stuff on the debut album from K Wata. Long and dubwise, dark and detailed. With bass that fills and warms a space.

All noir. Cast shadows against the wall. Weight being shifted and distributed with singularly delicate poise, like a knife being balanced on the end of a finger.

There’s a silvery, loose flow state to this record that maybe reveals the way some tracks were first written to be deployed live at Sustain Release 2025. Then taken back to the lab and tightened up further into the album’s final form, with beautiful mixing work between Kenzo and Chris Botta.

With that in mind, Give U Space unfolds slowly and fluidly, giving the listener the chance to access and open up to the deepness of the sound, being led down a path. It rolls and builds momentum and groove, and ratchets tensions up toward peaks of energy "Whisper Dub" and "There Will Be Love".

The tunes feel architectural. Rooms to be in and settle into. Simultaneously stripped back and then etched with neat little details and characterful or atmospheric sound choices. The silhouette of slo mo Memphis and Houston trap is a leading influence, especially with the drums. Mixing with bits of click’n’cut sampling and psychoacoustic tricks, the penumbra of dub techno and drowsier dubstep, and SG’s soft vocals rising in the ether.

The presence and inspiration of the sound system is obvious in all of Kenzo’s work, the music can rattle when spun up louder or blended into the club. But K Wata’s uniqueness and signature comes from an often equally inward facing quality, touched by distance and longing and a sort of chiaroscuro incandescent light set up.



Written and produced by K Wata.

Mixed by K Wata and Christopher Botta at Fer Sound Studio.

Vocals on “Give You Space” and “Go” by SG.

Clarinet on “Radio Embrace” by Eugene Lai.

Mastered and cut by Mike Grinser at Manmade.

Art by S. Gong

Nine-time GRAMMY® winner Anderson .Paak and GRAMMY®-nominated rapper Cordae have been operating on the same wavelength for years. What started as pure chemical reaction on 2019’s “RNP” slowly turned into one of hip-hop’s most natural, low-ego partnerships, fueled by back-and-forth gems like “Two Tens” and “Summer Drop” and a series of dynamic TV performances that felt more like two best friends hanging out than a polished routine. On their debut collaborative album, Heavy Is The Crown, that organic bond gets the full-length treatment it’s always deserved.

At its core, the project is a tightrope walk between serious real-life stakes and uncompromising fun. The title isn't just bravado—it speaks directly to the shared weight both artists carry as the primary providers and anchors for their families. But instead of letting that pressure crush the vibe, .Paak and Cordae lean into each other. Meeting as total equals, .Paak’s elastic, soul-drenched musicality anchors Cordae’s razor-sharp lyricism, allowing both to unpack the heavy reality of success and family responsibility without ever losing their spark.

That balance is what makes the album tick. To drive the point home, the album art pays homage to the cult comedy Step Brothers—a nod to the silly, irreverent friendship that birthed the music in the first place. Heavy Is The Crown doesn't feel like a forced corporate crossover or a calculated career move. It’s a record about brotherhood, family, and what happens when two masters of their craft step into the studio simply because nobody makes them laugh, rap, or create quite like the other.

Nine-time GRAMMY® winner Anderson .Paak and GRAMMY®-nominated rapper Cordae have been operating on the same wavelength for years. What started as pure chemical reaction on 2019’s “RNP” slowly turned into one of hip-hop’s most natural, low-ego partnerships, fueled by back-and-forth gems like “Two Tens” and “Summer Drop” and a series of dynamic TV performances that felt more like two best friends hanging out than a polished routine. On their debut collaborative album, Heavy Is The Crown, that organic bond gets the full-length treatment it’s always deserved.

At its core, the project is a tightrope walk between serious real-life stakes and uncompromising fun. The title isn't just bravado—it speaks directly to the shared weight both artists carry as the primary providers and anchors for their families. But instead of letting that pressure crush the vibe, .Paak and Cordae lean into each other. Meeting as total equals, .Paak’s elastic, soul-drenched musicality anchors Cordae’s razor-sharp lyricism, allowing both to unpack the heavy reality of success and family responsibility without ever losing their spark.

That balance is what makes the album tick. To drive the point home, the album art pays homage to the cult comedy Step Brothers—a nod to the silly, irreverent friendship that birthed the music in the first place. Heavy Is The Crown doesn't feel like a forced corporate crossover or a calculated career move. It’s a record about brotherhood, family, and what happens when two masters of their craft step into the studio simply because nobody makes them laugh, rap, or create quite like the other.

After almost twenty years of releasing music, Sven Tasnadi finds himself circling back to some of the sounds that first drew him into house music. Explorer was written at home following a longer break from producing and after moving out of his studio, a change of setting that coincided with a shift in priorities. "The tracks on this EP came together at home after a longer break from music and after I moved out of my studio," he explains. "Musically they are very deep and minimal, at times almost meditative. They were inspired by a new chapter in my life as well as my never-ending love and connection to artists like Lawrence from Smallville and Frank & Tony from Scissor and Thread."
That sense of returning to something runs through the whole record. For much of Tasnadi's career, producing and DJing were closely connected, with many releases naturally shaped by the club. Things have changed. "DJing is no longer my main focus, so I can dedicate myself to these deep and minimal sounds again, free from pressure or expectations," he says. "In a way, after almost twenty years of releasing music, things have come full circle for me."
"Atlas (Chapter 1)" and "Atlas (Chapter 2)" grew from the same initial idea but followed separate paths during production. Chapter 2 came first, while Chapter 1 emerged later from a variation Tasnadi discovered while the track was still essentially a loop. "I was still looking for the right theme for the original idea when another version suddenly opened up," he recalls. He saved that variation for later so he could stay focused on the first version. When he returned to it, the two had developed distinct enough identities to stand independently. Their shared DNA is still audible in the restrained rhythms, slowly shifting details and the way small changes carry much of the movement.
The title track moves further into dub techno, another longstanding passion for Tasnadi. "Explorer is almost a classic dub techno track," he says. "Subtle movements within a constantly repeating pattern create a particular atmosphere. It feels like the track could just keep going forever." It is a patient approach to repetition that he connects to artists such as Moritz von Oswald and his friend Daniel Stefanik.
"Megasektor", one of the first tracks Tasnadi made at home with a new equipment setup, brings the EP into deep house territory. "To me it's almost classic deep house, or at least how I define deep house for myself." Warm, compact and gently propulsive, it provides a natural closing point for a record that is ultimately less about changing direction than reconnecting with an instinct that has always been there.
Explorer captures Tasnadi at a point where making music has become more personal again. The four tracks come from following ideas for their own sake and from rediscovering the deeper, more minimal sounds that have stayed with him throughout his career.

You know the pattern: someone calls their album "Balearic," and you immediately expect chill-out terraces, pan-flute samples, and the umpteenth return of the Café del Mar sunset. Devi G. refuses this reflex almost maliciously. The title is a trick—an invitation to disappointment for those hoping for postcard exoticism. What is actually being negotiated here is erosion, but that of the body itself: the abrasion one inflicts upon oneself in the excess of the night, when partying turns into wear and tear, and a rush becomes a graze that only becomes visible in the morning. No backdrop, then, but a wound one has voluntarily acquired.

Instead of the usual Ibiza xylophones, Devi G. digs into the rift between idyll and wear. The result reads like a séance—less José Padilla, more as if Kevin Martin had re-recorded a Manuel Göttsching record on a dying four-track deck. The target area lies somewhere between the waterlogged ambient sketches of Huerco S. and the faded dub-afterglow of Actress, but Devi G. remains consistently on his own, grainier frequency.

Balearic Abrasions (title track) opens without haste, demanding almost without impatience: no motif, no rhythmic handhold, just a slowly tilting balance between warm texture and rough surface. The grain never feels forced—it is not a lo-fi costume, but an integral part of the statics themselves. Where other ambient producers strive for perfection, Devi G. consciously seeks the breaking point. Rhythm remains a tool, never an ambition. Those expecting quick resolution will be disappointed; those willing to listen will receive a depth effect that is rarely this vivid.

Exit Through Thee Gift Shop tips into harder territory: dub-techno reduction meets industrial edge, carried by a stoic kick drum that knows no mercy. Metallic textures slice through the sub-bass, while repetitive chords hypnotize like a defective loop. Central to this is a rare Terence McKenna recording, which functions less as spoken-word ornamentation and more as a disruptive spirit between memory and media archaeology. The title—Banksy reference included—turns this into a biting punchline: radical electronic abstraction positioned against the hyper-commercialized art world.

Morning Depth pushes the claustrophobia further, somewhere between post-industrial and deep-sea dub. The track refuses any peak-time logic, preferring to disintegrate into itself, subcutaneously, methodically. At the end, a casual, almost banal vocal sample (“i defiantly prefer chocolate”) breaks into the cool machinery—a small, profane fissure that makes the coldness of the rest of the piece all the more apparent.

Desiré Algorithmic is the album's most calculated moment: a stoic, repetitive bassline as a foundation, topped with fragile melody fragments that flash like glitches in faulty code. The title reads like a promise from nightlife—a figure that suggests much and delivers nothing, because behind the façade there is simply nothing, only simulation. The track carries exactly this principle: promise without substance, desire without body, just rendering. Only in the final third does a melancholic saxophone break into the sterile structure—organic, imperfect, and for that very reason more credible than everything before it. It is the moment in which the real briefly flashes through the surface of the dummy before it closes again.

All-inclusive Residue concludes the album as sedimentation rather than dramaturgy: dub-techno remnants, industrial patina, salty ambient surfaces that settle rather than compose. The refusal of consumption as a sonic principle—brittle, stubborn, with a gravity that lingers long after.

Verdict: Balearic Abrasions is not easy listening with a sea view, but an exercise in patience and friction. The restraint with which Devi G. avoids climaxes will frustrate some—for everyone else, that is exactly where the record's strength lies. No sunset. Rather, what remains on the rocks afterward.

Culoe De Song brings ancestral rhythm to his Crosstown Rebels debut EP, ‘Moonhound’.

The Afro house veteran delivers a three-track excursion, featuring remixes from Manoo. One of South Africa’s most storied house exports, Culoe De Song, lands on Crosstown Rebels for the first time with ‘Moonhound’, a three-track EP fusing organic, electronic textures around a minimal core. His take on deep, Afro-house has carried him from a breakout year in 2008 to an acclaimed run of albums via labels including Innervisions, Mule Musiq and his own De Song Music. With a career spanning more than fi fteen years, he has shared line-ups with the likes of Black Coff ee, Seth Troxler, Louie Vega, Carl Craig, Âme, and, in particular, label boss Damian Lazarus, at some of the world’s most renowned festivals and venues. His arrival this August feels like a natural convergence of two paths that have long run in parallel, less like a debut and more like an overdue reunion that channels percussive rhythms into a stripped-back, hypnotic core.

Title track ‘Moonhound’ eases in slowly, layering organic textures over brooding rhythms as whimsical, drifting elements and soft synth lines pull it into a steady ebb and fl ow. ‘The Spiker’ follows, driven by a punchy bassline and animalistic vocal calls and chants, before crisp percussion builds and breaks down into panning melodies for a blissful close. With releases on MoBlack, Classic Music Company and Deeply Rooted, French house mainstay Manoo brings his instinct for groove to ‘The Spiker’, with his ‘Abstrakt Remix’ showcasing a hypnotic rework that stretches the original’s key elements into a tone-setter for the evening ahead. He then doubles up via his ‘Club Remix’, a digital-only addition that trades the ‘Abstrakt’ interpretation’s slow build for echoing synths and syncopated rhythms, bringing a heads-down, functional cut built squarely for the club.

It's fitting that Mike Jefford is both a photographer and a musician, his music career having slowly evolved like a developing photo coaxes Technicolor images out of the shadows. His sonic palette began taking shape in Medway, Kent with darker, grittier strains: teenage grunge and metal turned into drum & bass and IDM, following the Brighton club scene to Berlin as Positive Centre, until he made a nest in rural Portugal where Laguna Seca’s bright, expressive range would blossom.
A longstanding friendship with Chris Clark supported Jefford’s most pivotal artistic evolution yet, jumping from a decade of techno dusk to music practically overflowing with life as Laguna Seca debuted on Throttle Records.
“O tempo” can mean “the time” or “the weather” in Portuguese, two intensely changing powers whose many different connotations Jefford reflects in a highly varied tracklist. The breadth of climatic catharsis permeates through textural production and songwriting experiments, down into the very bedrock of the album’s engineering process where Jefford traces the long signal chain of time: the amps, desks, and tapes of Motown, the vinyl mastering studio’s intricacies, the Akai samplers that gave modern hip hop its “ghostly and impressionistic” sound, the software that drives electronic music today.
Much as 2026’s O Tempo was inspired by vintage tonality, retro aesthetic, and the likes of CAN, Kraftwerk, and Jimi Hendrix, it’s not an exercise in nostalgia; this is music that could have only been made with today’s technological advancements, revelling in anachronisms and collisions between hindsight and present tense.
It’s tempting to view Jefford’s projects as opposites, but they come from the same sonic values. Positive Centre’s “bleak” and “sinister” world is also incredibly detailed, constantly updating pile-driving grooves with microscopic flourishes and vast ambient swells. The flaring psychedelia of Laguna Seca is a continuation of those textural, material, and kinetic explorations, where plate reverb splashes, blistering and crunchy beats, vocal glimmers, and guitar swagger are all glued together by recurrent themes of memory and time. As each of his projects travel to the same destination, all of Jefford’s roads have eventually led to vibrant colour.


WHIMM formed around the shadowy heart of the Toronto post-punk underground over a decade ago. The partnership between Mounir Al Shami and Andrew Matthews has emitted sporadic musical shards over time, while slowly evolving into something so much bigger than its beginnings. Ideas seep out of every corner of No Promotion, showcasing a burning desire to explore and challenge while delivering very direct sonic offerings. The result is an album that feels as if you took the entire Coil discography and smashed it into pieces, assembling these precious songs from the fragments. Or as if Vangelis beckoned Section 25 to the studio in hopes of recording the score to a seedy film. The resulting LP is in a state of flux – equal parts motion and decay.

Patrick Flegel, of Cindy Lee, welcomed Al Shami and Matthews into REALISTIK Studios in Montreal to engineer half of the tracks for the album, including lending guitar to the opening track "Five in Decline." That influence is evident early on, as the first three songs are taken from those sessions. "Five in Decline" throbs and barks before racing through the hallways closing in around it. "Another Labour" slows to a spidery waltz as anxious melodies call out to one another. "Returnal" pulses, floats through the night sky and haunts you forever. "Rye" carves a percussive pathway toward similar travellers like Terry Riley and Jon Hassell, before the lament of "A Death Remembered" forms the perfect midpoint for the record. A slow build countered by twitching drums and blanketed by organs recorded at Metropolitan United Church in Toronto, it feels like emotion right on the edge of resolve.

"Rhymes of December" screeches through on a solitary train under the towering cityscape as the flickering lights blur past, its doors opening to the candlelit altar of "After the Last Sky" (those beautiful organs again) with an operatic swirl. "K'20" throws you into a claustrophobic and chaotic cab ride (Who is talking? Are those sirens?) until you finally find the quiet of the early morning, waiting at the window for the sun to join you once again as the first notes of "No Promotion" are delicately plucked. The final song from the Flegel sessions, it is over eight minutes of contemplative beauty. A restless heart that is ready to rest. Closing with a final apparition in the key of The Caretaker, "After the Last Sky (Reprise)" is a return to melody when words lose all meaning.

Al Shami and Matthews weave their lyrics throughout, words describing a search for lucidity, and of reactions and reflections. Al Shami – speaking from the Palestinian diaspora – ruminates on displacement, both personal and collective. His journey from having "been without a land and I can still see clearly" in "Rhymes of December" to a more defiant "we will be back again, no matter how it ends or where we've been" in "Returnal" takes a very insular turn on No Promotion. That sense of alienation pulls at the very center of a relationship when land and circumstances separate: "And after our last breath, all that's left in me is our flesh and fears, your last words would swim for years, you'll never find a home in me." Hearts on the outskirts that know the direction.

Josh Ludlow - one half of MAKE A DANCE - one of London’s most beloved duos - steps out on his own for a rare solo outing on legendary London imprint Rhythm Section International.

A late contender for EP of the year - the record meanders menacingly across four tracks of mind-altering, dissociative Brain Music, precision engineered to transport a listener and hypnotise a crowd without losing any dancefloor impact.

Interestingly, Bradley Zero (RS label boss) and Mr. Ludlow have a connection dating back to the late 2000s, when they were both drummers in rock and roll bands...almost 20 years later - a shared love of experimental electronic music has brought them back together, resulting in this spellbinding EP.

Channelling a much darker, heads down, aggressive sound than the uplifting house M.A.D have become known for, the record begins with 'Brain Music’, which serves as a Detroit techno-inspired wormhole of a track, guiding us into a parallel, inner dimension.

Time Upside Down is next up and it becomes apparent we have entered another realm entirely. The introductory bars of the song feel like a long journey down a dark tunnel. The sound design and acoustic backdrop are so evocative you can almost see it. Obnoxious bass notes reverberate through the space created by the track, slowly giving way to flurries of high-pitched, resonant acid lines - the sum of which escape easy classification. It would be lazy to call it house music, misleading to call it techno - but it’s definitely not tech house. Elements of disco, electro, post-punk, balearic and Weatherall-esque chug are all in the mix but essentially, this is its own thing - this is Brain Music.

The record continues to the penultimate track “The Kettle”, which starts off in more familiar upbeat, bongo-house territory before the calm is betrayed by a hovering intensity which grows out of nowhere before making space for a humungous bass synth melody - so big in fact that it has never once failed to elicit club-wide bass-face; which for a mid-tempo track is no mean feat. We round things off with ‘Mean Mother’, the most playful of the bunch: a Chicago house-indebted workout reminiscent of Paranoid London at their most visceral. The track feels familiar and almost safe until the synth-work is cranked up to 11, creating a cacophonous SH-101 build-up into a disco-esque drop that would get even the most reluctant raver jumping up and down for more.

Besides all the theatrics and acoustic world building, the evocative sound design and the insatiable, no-nonsense grooves - the thing that makes these tracks stand out is the attention to detail. No two fills are alike, every embellishment is EQ’d and polished to perfection - yet no immediacy is lost. The tracks feel alive, intentional and constantly evolving. Hyperbole aside - we have a serious, generational talent on our hands whose mastery of the equipment, understanding of the dynamics of the dance and unabashed
playfulness is being harnessed into something that stands out head and shoulders above the crowd.

Floating dubby synths and layers of improvisational percussion collide in a freaky swirl on 'Magnolia'
Jazz-influenced chords and broken beat sensibilities quietly move the low-slung groove of 'Patchouli'.
On 'Vine', kecak-like rhythms intertwine with spacious synths, creating a cosmic jungle atmosphere through a leftfield dub house approach.
Steel pan echoes dissolve into space and slowly ascend throughout 'Hydrangea'.

A fusion of tropical Asian moods and the chaotic spirit of Western free jazz.

The third private session from RYOTA OPP.



High Praise indeed from Japanese legend Chida (see below)

"Four fresh, deep tribal tunes that transform the dancefloor into a misty forest. I love them all..." - CHIDA (Ene/Mascaras)

Fourth volume in Dave Huismans' beloved ex_libris series - a tightly focused suite of slowly unfolding, percussive midtempo mosaics. Bare-bones with maximal dynamics, the narratives are driven by rhythm this time. A diversion of sorts, yet very much from the same environment as previous volumes. Alive as ever.

handstamped copies designed by Bernie van Vlijmen
mastered & cut by Anne Taegert @ Dubplates & Mastering

Hell Yeah welcomes back Tonarunur for an EP of future-facing Balearica straight out of his native Iceland. Someone Else EP is drawn from vast production archives and reveals two distinct sides to his sound, with artwork from Planet Luke.

Tonarunur last appeared on the label with a track for the Buena Onda compilation in 2021, and has also released his unique blend of electronic boogie and space disco on Citizen of Vice, Eskimo Recordings and Whiskey Disco. Whether laying down horizontal Sunday sounds or soundtracking the dance floor, he always brings a strong sense of personality.

Both A-side cuts feature Norway's bass player Arctander, starting with opener 'Someone Else' is a lithe mid-tempo groove with a playful, wriggling groove and sun-dappled 80s keys. The blissful 'Dawn' unfolds slowly through liquid rhythms, gently broken beats and cosmic melodies awash with good vibrations. On the flip, 'Lundur 1' drifts into the stars on shimmering pads and floating grooves and is romantic yet melancholic, before 'Lundur 2' closes with a more grounded rhythm and wispy melodies tracing patterns across a starry night sky.

Equal parts sunset escapism and after-hours introspection, Someone Else EP drifts effortlessly between the club and the cosmos.

The annual Bonkers Music compilation is back with another dose of high-energy bangers. For its seventh anniversary, the series takes a fresh step forward, exploring a slightly evolved musical direction while keeping the distinctive sound that defines it. “Year VII” lands on 12” vinyl.

A1 David Meyer & Ludviq – Mandanga 2.0 (Feat Nick Hanzo)

The collaboration between Ludviq and David Meyer strikes a compelling balance between tension and movement. Drawing from underground electronic influences, Mandanga 2.0 evolves through hypnotic layers, acid-driven momentum, and a powerful groove, resulting in a distinctive cut that feels both immersive and uncompromising. Mandanga 2.0 is a dark, hypnotic electronic track built around squelching acid sequences, deep rolling grooves, and haunting vocal elements from Nick Hanzo. Atmospheric textures and a relentless rhythmic drive create a tense, immersive journey through shadowy soundscapes, blending raw energy with a refined sense of space.

A2 Neskeh – Liquid Sky

A raw trip built entirely around samples from Liquid Sky, Neskeh’s one of all-time favorite films. Crunchy saturated highs, basement-shaking low end, heroin-soaked wonky vocals, and freaky alien leads drifting through the mix. A warped tribute to an iconic soundtrack. Welcome to the space trippy club

A3 Your Reference – Afterparty

Julia Konor aka “Your Reference” one of the hidden gems of Barcelona’s underground scene, lands for the first time on the label with “Afterparty”
”Afterparty” draws inspiration from abandoned industrial spaces, empty warehouses, and nights where the only thing that mattered was the music. No rules, no expectations. Just raw energy, dusty air, concrete, and people completely immersed in the moment. The track is a personal postcard from that world.

B1 Lebollet & Mar Bravo – Aleta

“Aleta” is one of those Colombian words that somehow made its way into our shared language. We use it for raw, intense, dark tracks. Hard to translate. Makes sense when you feel it.

B2 Funboys – Skin In The Game

“Against the persistent ebb and flow of a breaking heart’s pulse, echoes of half-faded memories tease your attention… On the edge of forgetting, you can almost remember. And then it hits you – the coalescence of feeling into colour and form, warm in its familiarity, powerful in its simplicity. Uncanny, because it was right there all along. Don’t hold your breath… Listen!”

B3 Milla Campollo – Brote Psicodélico

“Brote Psicodélico” emerges from a hypnotic intersection of acid rhythms, psychedelic textures and raw downtempo energy. The track slowly unfolds through repetition and movement, creating a constantly evolving state between tension and release. Dark, trippy and physical, it is built around a groove that pulls you deeper with every layer. Distorted elements and acidic patterns weave in and out of the rhythm, giving the track an organic yet alien character. A journey designed for listening, less about following a linear narrative and more about entering a state of mind, where the boundaries between rhythm, body and psychedelia begin to blur.

Since its inception, Isness has developed its own identity alongside Analogical Force, focusing on atmospheric and introspective electronics. For its third release, the label welcomes Kid Bucle, the new alias of Ibrah PM, formerly known as Malsum within the d&b scene. Memorabilia marks both his debut on the label and the beginning of a new creative chapter. Across six interconnected tracks, the Memorabilia EP explores memory, landscape and emotion through fluid compositions and richly detailed sound design. Echoes of labels such as Merck or Chocolate Industries can be felt throughout, alongside traces of classic IDM, yet the result remains fresh and distinctly contemporary. Rather than seeking immediate impact, the EP rewards attentive listening, gradually revealing new layers with every return. Deeply immersive and emotionally resonant, Memorabilia further reinforces Isness as a platform where atmosphere, narrative and emotional depth take center stage.

Faitiche presents the debut solo album by cellist, sound artist, and composer Topu Lyo: “quiet scenes from tokyo” brings together sixteen miniatures for solo cello and tape echo that oscillate between abstracts drones and rhythmic pizzicato sketches – all recorded at Topu’s Tokyo apartment. The constant traffic noise from a nearby highway has become an accompanying soundtrack for his compositions and can be heard on the recordings. Topu’s playing is marked by a distinctive idiom oriented more towards abstract electronic studio effects than classical technique.

The artist spoke to Jan Jelinek about his work:

JJ: A solo cello album may seem like an odd fit for a label that has to date released only music that is electronic in the broadest sense. But I think “quiet scenes from tokyo” complements the Faitiche repertoire exceptionally well. Its sixteen miniatures showcase the cello in all its complexity: the bowed passages sometimes recall a tape feedback drone; the pizzicato playing conjures up the percussion recordings of Moondog; and the abstract textures might be mistaken for the product of a granular sampler rather than rapid finger work on the cello. I’m constantly surprised by just how rich and varied this album is – without ever losing the charm of its sketch-like quality. Could you say a few words about the making of your album – first of all, from a rather technical perspective: what production tools did you use, and why?

TL: My production tools were very sparse. Just a solo cello and my Roland 301 Space Echo, which I only used at the end, running everything through it during mixing, tape only. After years of working with electronics, pedals, and synthesizers, moving to Tokyo pushed me toward minimizing my setup. But my aesthetics shifted too, toward simplicity. I wanted to strip everything back to just the acoustic cello and see how far I could push it — replicating some of my favorite electronic effects through extended technique: slow portamento, LFOs, filters, detune, noise. I’d also been listening to a cassette of ocean sounds for years. When I moved to Tokyo I was horrified to find myself living directly across from a freeway. Eventually the freeway started sounding almost identical to the ocean — and that ended up playing a prominent part in the recording.

JJ: That’s super interesting: mimicking electronic production as a compositional idea for the cello! You say the sound of the freeway is crucial to the album: I, too, tend to interpret steady traffic noise as a positive soundscape – do we hear the freeway on the album? I can also hear other field recordings, for example on “a street car with announcements”. Can you say a bit about how these field recordings influence your playing?

TL: Yes, you can hear the freeway on the album! The freeway is most prominent in “old trees in lonely spring”, “yuyake koyake”, and “the moon” (you can clearly hear individual cars). When I first began recording I had my balcony door shut tightly, but after a while I began leaning into the highway sound and slowly opening the door little by little to control the amount of noise. “streetcar with announcements” was a moment I was recording and a car passed by making announcements in the background. I loved how it sounded! Same thing with “yuyake koyake”, and later I realized that every day at 5pm the same song plays to mark sunset, telling children it’s time to go home. Having this bedrock of sound puts less pressure on me to put music on top or to play more notes.

JJ: It’s astonishing how much this differs from what I’d imagined: I’d been picturing peaceful landscape recordings, but had never thought of a freeway. Which goes to show how open to interpretation traffic noises are. So the room by the freeway had a major influence on the album – how are you going to perform it live?

TL: The contrast between the freeway and the beautiful landscape in my head couldn’t have been starker. I too was imagining a beautiful landscape in which to create the album, but somehow it still worked out. I've been going back and forth a lot on live shows and I think the most honest way is to have it the most stripped down. I was thinking of using traffic samples etc., but I think the duet really comes from the background sounds from every unique venue/environment. So as it stands, I’ll just be doing acoustic solo cello.

With the stunning Planes In Reverse, Sascha Funke, the Berlin-born producer and DJ, and long-time member of the Kompakt family, releases his first album in almost a decade, since 2017’s Lotos Land. It’s a welcome return for one of the most eloquent and elegant producers in electronic and dance music, someone who’s always been able to say more with less, and the ten tracks here, moving effortlessly between techno, house, minimalism, disco house, and home listening tunes, are all gorgeously sculpted miniatures. With guest appearances from partner Julienne Dessagne (Fantastic Twins), with whom Funke has also worked in Saschienne, there’s something homely and family about it, too; a family of sounds, a home of tone. There’s also something consummate about Planes In Reverse, as though Sascha Funke has perfected the album format. There’s no flab here, no excess – it plays out like a perfectly designed experience, ten tracks, coming in under fifty minutes, an album where every moment matters.

It’s full of variety, but everything has the unmistakable Funke thumbprint, one that was developed during the late ‘90s / early ‘00s minimal techno and microhouse moment, but which was always open to other ideas and other sounds, too. Planes In Reverse came together quickly for Funke: “Last winter, I had two or three new tracks, which gave me a core feeling: ‘Ah, this could be the direction of something like an album.’ Sometimes it can be very easy that you wrap it up and then it becomes something coherent and solid. This happened within two or three months; it was very fast and direct.” Everything fell into place – the ten tracks revealed themselves, the album sat together as a whole, and the final piece of the puzzle was returning home again to Kompakt, who have supported Sascha Funke from the very start, releasing his first single, “Campus”, back in 1999.

Planes In Reverse opens stealthily with “What You See”, where rhythms percolate and bass prowls while gaseous textures fill the sonic spectrum. It’s also the first appearance of Fantastic Twins on the album; here, she speaks a hypnotic mantra, a prelude to the title track, where Dessagne has a pure pop moment, her voice ecstatic and vibrant. Indeed, Planes In Reverse plays out like thesis and antithesis ending in synthesis, the tracks nestling next to each other even as they shuttle between sounds, genres, perspectives. There are some beautiful moments dropped throughout Planes In Reverse – the heavenly textures that make the title track feel so cloud-bound; the glassy and orbital tones that drop from the skies through the disco house inspired “Karat”; the clamour and clatter of hyper-edited voices shuffling through “Splitter”; or the field recordings of Sascha’s son football training session that drop “Zockers” into a different place and space, slowly giving way to a beautifully paced electro-pop mantra. “In Germany,when the kids play a computer game, or when they play football, we describe it as zocken. They’re the players, they’re the Zockers.“ Funke explains.

Planes In Reverse winds down with the beautiful “Kruso”, where ticklish, loving arpeggios careen around the room, and drift-work chords shimmer and shuttle between your ears. It’s a perfect comedown to an album that feels breathes in and out at an organic pace, nothing above 130 BPM, everything sitting together just so. Indeed, that’s the feeling you take away from Planes In Reverse; it sums up the spirit of Sascha Funke productions perfectly, while also existing beautifully as its own world dreamt unto itself. It’s Sascha Funke down to the very essence. Nothing unnecessary, nothing extraneous: Pure Funke.

The 2018 album Igor Stravinsky’s The Soldier’s Tale is the adaptation by Roger Waters (co-founder of Pink Floyd) on the 1918 same-titled theatrical work. Waters recorded this version with members of the Bridgehampton Chamber Music Festival at Bridgehampton Presbyterian Church.

The original theatre work is one “to be read, played, and danced” by three actors (the soldier, the devil, and a narrator) and dancers, accompanied by a septet of instruments. The libretto relates the parable of a soldier who trades his fiddle to the devil in return for unlimited economic gain. The music is scored for a septet of violin, double bass, clarinet, bassoon, cornet or trumpet), trombone, and percussion. The libretto is adapted by Roger Waters from the translation by Michael Flanders and Kitty Black, based on the original text by Charles-Ferdinand Ramus.

The Soldier's Tale is available as a limited edition of 1000 individually numbered copies on green vinyl and comes in a gatefold sleeve with linen laminate finish. The vinyl package includes a 4-page booklet with lyrics and pictures.

Do not adjust your tuning! Cowper emerges disc in hand from the liminal static, exposing us all to his peculiar brand of outsider club chaos. Boldly, slowly, Goa-ing into the fray, these three tracks chew your ear off in the sonic language of acid, trance and progressive house, churning and gurning their way deep into the darkness. In the time since the first dispatch of edit excellence, Cowper’s Between Stations has firmly established itself as an essential underground outpost, adding tape releases by Tolouse Low Trax, Zato and Miles J Paralysis to a growing catalogue of genre-fluid mayhem, consistently captured by his essential Noods Radio shows. Introducing itself with a gut punching kick and gurgling prog throb, the first track here is simultaneously upbeat and downcast, a glorious gloom-core ode to narcotic indulgence.
Extra-terrestrial pads and choral synth hark back to childhood days of Perfect Dark before a trance lead interrupts all remaining neural connections. When that snare lands in the second half we’re in fully fledged techno-pagan mode, red-faced and rushing right till the end. Assuming that even xenomorphs dance sometimes, this end of the world apocalypso is absolutely their jam. Track 2 tunnels further into the planetary core, 16bit woodblocks and bells sitting atop synthetic swells and hoover-ish vamps, before a hooning bassline drops like a sledgehammer on your unsuspecting ear drums. An unexpected, but very welcome left turn into mid track breakbeat provides a moment of airy reprise before we lock back into the cavern-shaking groove until the run out abates. For the encore, Cowper didgeri-doesus with the oscillating bass and molasses-apache break of a techno-tribal, prog-frog delicacy. Complete with the type of mantra vocal usually found on pound-bin trance or superspenny Dream House rarities, and a little acid-gwamph resonance abuse Josh Wink would be proud of, this chug-athon sounds a bit like Psychic TV tuning into Psy-trance, which is a very good thing indeed. Dark, dense and musky stuff that will drive a proper dance floor wild.

Irish techno producer, Kerrie, returns to Tresor Records on the 24th of October 2025 with her second EP for the label. Entitled Echoes Of The Live Wire, this collection captures the beauty and essence of live performance; a moment in time never to be repeated.
This fixing of time is also given a different meaning as the EP explores the ways in which intense moments in our lives, both joyful and painful, are crystallised into memory, both beautiful and haunting, lingering long after they've passed.
Layered meanings are employed throughout as Kerrie explores this idea: Live Wire draws connections between circuit boards and the human nervous system, whilst also toying with multiple meanings of the word “live”.
Echoes Of channels classic Detroit techno influences, resonating with the distant hum of memories that refuse to fade, while Moment To Memory is a beatless, floating piece which slowly builds to an ecstatic crescendo.
Digital bonus tracks Recircuit and Reclaim add further depth to the core metaphor: the former a driving, minimal yet building techno work-out, and the latter a cathartic and emotionally open track that delivers intensity with vulnerability.
Echoes Of The Live Wire reflects on memory as a complex, dual-sided force where joy and pain coexist with equal weight. Her creative process becomes a form of meditation and emotional processing, using machines to process, reflect, and let go. The result is a body of work that loops back on itself, telling a story of fleeting moments and their lasting emotional imprints.

Named after the tendency to impose familiar likenesses, such as faces, on random - usually inanimate - objects, Pareidolia is Jake Muir's way of interpreting the consonances between so-called “ambient” music and extreme heavy metal. Extracting the headiest, most atmospheric sections from hundreds of death metal and black metal tracks, Muir plays the role of both DJ and electroacoustic composer, concocting a lysergic elixir of fractal distortions and prolonged, decelerated riffs that slowly evaporates into iridescent vapor. If there's any trace of the original sources left, Muir makes sure that residue is subtly bewildering, like clouds in the sky that form imposing, larger than life images, or trampled bracken that falls into the shape of “trve kvlt” insignia.

The idea for the album materialized when Muir was working on 2022's Talisman, his collaborative album with multi-instrumentalist Evan Caminiti. Processing guitar for the first time, Muir began to unpack his long relationship with rock music and its Escher-like maze of sub-genres, from the tech metal he obsessed over as a teenager to Loop and Main's drone-y, textured variants. Scraping the internet for unconventional contemporary metal albums, he stumbled across music that seemed to hover between different realms, merging its frenetic, noisy sections with psychedelic interludes that harmonize with classic industrial and avant-garde music, material like :zoviet*france:, Nocturnal Emissions and Z'EV.

For our fifth release, we invited Voorman and Siphonophora. Previously, we did pure split EPs, with one artist on each side, but for this one it felt more natural to have both artists share both sides of the record. There is a clear connection between their sounds, so bringing them together came naturally. The A-side is the more intense side, with repetitive elements that gradually change and build, while additional layers and distinct sounds are introduced throughout. These details slowly emerge around the sequences, adding depth and movement while keeping the sound deep and immersive. On the B-side, things get more stripped back. There is more space between the elements, with slower sequences and a calmer feel. The atmosphere and smaller details are given more room to truly shine through. Four deep and hypnotic cuts, moving from intense pressure into a deeper, more reduced sound.

Dajusch brings his distinctive sound to Backspin Records with 'Oracle', a five-track EP that showcases his instinct for powerful grooves, deep low end and carefully selected synth work, rounded out by a remix from Dutch techno veteran Sterac. Another strong addition to Regal's Backspin Records, this EP balances Dajusch's musical sensibility with his feel for high impact club music, keeping the focus firmly on club functionality.

Opening with 'Boxer', Dajusch immediately strips things down to their essential elements. A buzzing deep bassline provides the foundation while a repeated vocal hook becomes the central motif, surrounded entirely by percussion including a punchy kick, heavy toms and crisp hats. 'Narrow' introduces a saw wave synth that functions simultaneously as bassline and lead, gradually building tension through repetition and a slowly opening filter before a droning pad leads into the return of the drums. Closing the A-side, 'Reeses Piece' is built around a wide gliding Reese bass moving across di?erent notes. A heavy breakbeat, clean claps and hats provide the framework while a high-pitched vocal brings a distinct 90s rave energy, with swinging toms adding movement to an already groovy production.

On the flip side, the title track 'Oracle' shifts the focus towards melody, with Detroit-influenced synth work taking centre stage. A classy melodic motive is complemented by heavily processed vocals transformed into euphoric, drone-like elements, adding another dimension without losing the track's directness. 'Strings' closes the original material with a hefty saturated kick while string synths carry the main theme. Drums straight out of a classic drumcomputer and warm chords build into a more expansive breakdown before returning to the groove. Closing the EP, Sterac's remix of 'Narrow' takes the original saw synth motive into a more hypnotic direction, playing with its pitch and arrangement while reducing the percussion and pushing an already deeper kick further into the mix, giving the synth work more space to breathe.

With 'Oracle', Dajusch delivers a focused statement rooted in classic Techno while remaining connected to a modern sound. Another strong addition to Regal's Backspin Records, this EP balances Dajusch's musical sensibility with his feel for high impact club music', reinforcing the label's dedication to forward-thinking techno with a clear respect for where techno came from.

Luis Reich and Max Wurden's Reverence traverses superb ambient and electroacoustic territory with sustained tones, radio interference, fragmented speech and plenty of harmonies that shift almost imperceptibly. 'Sono' opens wide with drones meeting distant brass, before 'Lens' marries brooding bass pulses with floating brass top notes that pass by like half-remembered thoughts. The title track strips everything back to a sparse, suspended core and 'Horfunk' brings damaged broadcast noise to a textured soundscape. 'Studio Blue' closes out slowly and patiently with plenty of sonic decay. A subtly dramatic record.

*repress*

The prolific Lord Of The Isles (aka Scotland's Neil McDonald) has had a string of stunning 12's over the past few years on labels such as Permanent Vacation, Unthank, Shevchenko, Mule and of course his four track 'Year Of The City EP' on Phonica, which was widely acclaimed upon its release in 2012.

This time LOTI presents two long-form tracks, each a mini-masterpiece in itself. The 10 minute plus 'Greane' bursts into life after an intro of kicks and white noise hi-hats. It continues to slowly build, with pitch-bent synth lines and a pulsing bass-line making way for a melacholic shift in mood. Truly original stuff!

On the flip, a swirl of synthetic strings introduces 'Gigha', in a manner that brings to mind Rhythm
Is Rhythm's legendary 'Kao-Tic Harmony', before the drums and infectious acid-line join in. Over the 8 minutes they continue to interweave and play off each other to dazzling effect.

Artwork by Jack Featherstone, the designer of a number of sleeves for Border Community (including the highly praised campaign behind James Holden's 'The Inheritors', its singles and live visuals), Electric Minds, Warm and of course, Phonica.

Music From Memory presents ‘Sleep Machines’, a new collaborative album from UK ambient pioneers O Yuki Conjugate and German producer and DJ Philipp Otterbach.

Formed in Nottingham in 1982, O Yuki Conjugate have spent more than four decades developing a singular approach to what they now describe as ‘dirty ambient’. Emerging from the post-punk DIY scene and drawing early inspiration from artists including Cabaret Voltaire, The Durutti Column and Jon Hassell, the group gradually carved out a space between post-industrial electronics, ambient music and Fourth World experimentation. Centred today around founding members Roger Horberry and Andrew Hulme, their work has retained an outsider sensibility throughout its many periods of activity and hibernation.

Philipp Otterbach approaches music from an equally open-ended perspective. As a producer, collector and DJ, his work moves freely between drone, dub, techno, house and electronics. His sets and productions share a fascination with unexpected connections, allowing disparate sounds to drift into one another through intuition rather than fixed genre boundaries.

‘Sleep Machines’ began with a chance meeting at The Gun on Well St. in London. Otterbach asked, “Would you be interested in doing a collaboration?”

“A collaboration? Sorry, we don't do collaborations,” came the reply.

“But wouldn’t it be fun?”

“We don't do fun either.”

Despite themselves, O Yuki Conjugate tentatively sent over an initial track. An avalanche of ideas quickly came back, and what began as an unlikely proposal developed into 18 months of recording, file-swapping, mixing and repeated reworking between the UK and Germany.

Produced by Otterbach, the resulting ten tracks bring together recognisable elements of both sides while gradually dissolving the lines between them. O Yuki Conjugate’s hazy atmospheres, dubwise spaces and tactile rhythms meet Otterbach’s instinct for strange detail, low-slung electronics and shifting forms. Rather than functioning as a collection of separate pieces, the album moves without gaps, unfolding as a single continuous work in which one environment slowly slips into the next.

‘Sleep Machines’ is both O Yuki Conjugate’s first collaborative album and an unlikely meeting point between two generations of musicians whose work has consistently existed at the edges of established forms.

Berlin-based Mor Elian is back as Alloy Sea with a new work exploring spacious dub and tape-processed soundscapes following an ambient outing, Xoomin, back in 2023. This is music for quiet moments and private contemplation with slowly unfolding arrangements and many layers made from synth, hiss, texture and the scantest of melodic motifs. The release also features the project's first vocals with Emkay of Trickpony on 'Air Index' adding a human soul to the widescreen designs. It's a hugely evocative and cinematic world and another doozy from Elian that culminates with the eerie and sparse 'The Receiver', which is full of scattered found sounds that slowly coalesce into a rhythm.

Finnish-American producer Tin Man aka Johannes Auvinen has spent much of his career updating 80s Chicago acid house for a new era and on 2006's now reissued 'Love Sex Acid', the three 303-driven cuts recall the acid work of Laurent Garnier and Ludovic Navarre. 'Falling Acid' opens with a gloomy intro before building into clattering snares and a slowly intensifying 303 wig out. 'Let's Do It Acid' writhes hypnotically with a snake-like bassline and a haunting whispered sample, while 'Love And Sex Acid' leans into deep house, with tasty electric piano licks over acid textures. A still well-crafted new take on acid's roots that hasn't aged in the 20 years since the revered Finnish label Sahko first issued it.