Buscar:sprawl

In the Company of Serpents traffic in sonic catharsis. Their music inhabits the strange fringes between sludge metal and sprawling spaghetti western scores, constantly striving for visceral power and raw intensity, contrasted with eerie, spare instrumental passages. Founded in Denver, Colorado in 2011 the band quickly managed to establish a name for themselves. Several releases followed in the years to come and In the Company of Serpents managed to impress the masses on stage as well. Late 2019/early 2020 the band started to work on their album ‘Lux’. It turned out to be one of the most impressive Doom/Sludge Metal albums ever recorded. The band self-released the album in limited edition during 2020 but soon afterwards Petrichor noticed their supreme musical qualities and decided to offer the band a chance to release the album worldwide. A deal was made, hands were shaken and you now all have to face the impending doom before you. The music of In the Company of Serpents is so intense it mimics the gravitational pull of a black hole.

In the most literal sense, globally renowned whistler Molly Lewis makes her gorgeous
and curious compositions out of thin air.
New entrees into the Exotica canon; sprawling, would-be Spaghetti Western scores;
and a dash of Old Hollywood glamour - the whistle-led songs on her debut EP ‘The
Forgotten Edge’ are as complex, delicate and indelible as anything performed with
viola or piano.
“Whistling is like a human theremin,” said Lewis, an Australian native who’s spent the
last several years in LA and whose performances there and around the world are
changing any preconceived notions of whistling by the room-full.
That’s not to say Lewis is all serious and snooty about the craft. Quite the contrary.
Her sense of humour is witty, self-deprecating and zany. She’s as likely to reference
the slapstick Leslie Nielsen film series ‘Naked Gun’ for music video concepts as she
is a classic piece of noir cinema.
Look no further than the equatorial and breezy opening cut ‘Oceanic Feeling’, a
lovely walk across the flotsam-sprinkled sands in the rum-pumping vein of Les
Baxter. Meanwhile, the title track - and really, the entire collection here - is a loving,
albeit rather haunting, salute to one of Lewis’s heroes, the Italian composer and
musician Alessandro Alessandroni, whose whistle and guitar you hear on the title
theme of Ennio Morricone’s ‘A Fistful of Dollars’. Lewis and her ensemble create
classic cinema for your mind.
Her own love for the artform began when, around the age of twelve she was given
the CD ‘Steve ‘The Whistler’ Herbst Whistles Broadway’. Something contained in it
clicked. “It wasn’t that I was immediately obsessed, but I knew it was something I
could do well,” Lewis said.
The daughter of a musician mother and a documentary filmmaker father who often
focused his films on niche communities and topics, Lewis recalls watching a
television documentary with her parents about The International Whistlers
Convention in Louisburg, North Carolina. “My dad said, ‘If you ever make it into the
competition, I’ll take you there’,” Lewis said. Turns out, there was no bar to entry, just
a small fee. And so, several years later, she and her father travelled to the
convention. New to the form, Lewis didn’t take home one of the bigger prizes but they
were awarded the prize for Whistler Who Traveled The Greatest Distance. “We really
just used the trip to drive around the United States,” she said.
After studying film in Australia, Lewis moved to Los Angeles to be close to the film
industry. There, her circle of artist friends grew naturally and with providence - her
unique talent drawing more and more recognition. And over the last few years,
Lewis’s Café Molly events at LA spots like Zebulon, Non Plus Ultra and The Natural
History Museum have become fabled, elegant happenings with appearances from
guests like John C. Reilly, Karen O and Mac DeMarco.
Recorded with a crack team of friends and musicians during 2020’s quarantine, ‘The
Forgotten Edge’ is rife with incredible performances from Thomas Brenneck (Sharon
Jones & The Dap-Kings / Budos Band), Joe Harrison (Charles Bradley, Lee Fields),
Eric Hagstrom (Brainstory), Abe Rounds (Meshell Ndegeocello, Andrew Bird, Blake
Mills), Leon Michels (El Michels Affair), Gabriel Rowland and Dave Guy.

DEEWEE ‘s new releases now worked with Because Music. Formed in 2012, Asa Moto purvey non-standard body music from their Ghent outpost, Studio Martino. Closely affiliated with famed Soulwax imprint, DEEWEE, the Belgian duo’s recorded offerings carefully juxtapose expert synth-work with aesthetic imperfection. Charming melodies and throbbing rhythms come courtesy of archaic tone generators and acoustic instrumentation alike, landing Asa Moto in a zone of confident sonic idiosyncrasy. Their studio prowess has hardly gone unnoticed and during their breakout year of 2018, Resident Advisor, Redbull and the BBC were quick to take note of the group’s steady ascent. Via their ever-changing live performances, Asa Moto have become regular fixtures on the European touring circuit, touching down for club nights and festival appearances across the continent. As astute selectors, they operate a bi-monthly radio show in Brussels, digging into their sprawling collection, ranging from obscure jazz records to contemporary electronic cuts. Asa Moto have re-adapted their unmistakable strain of body music into a live show, which premiered on the Mainstage of the Lokerse Feesten 2019 and at the 40th anniversary of Ancienne Belgique in Brussels. In 2020, they co-produced and mixed the Turkish band, Altin Gün album 'Yol' marking the first time that the band has collaborated with outsiders.

NMB are releasing their much-anticipated fourth album, “Innocence & Danger”, on 27th August 2021. The band comprise Neal Morse, Mike Portnoy, Randy George, Bill Hubauer & Eric Gillette. With NMB’s previous two releases being concept albums, it’s perhaps remarkable that “Innocence & Danger” is a series of unrelated songs, but drummer Mike Portnoy says “After two sprawling back to back double concept albums in a row, it was refreshing to get back to writing a collection of unrelated individual songs in the vein of our first album.” Six years on from “The Grand Experiment”, Morse is more enthusiastic than ever about the talents and contribution of his fellow band members on “Innocence & Danger”: “The band is really so extraordinary – and is such an amazing team: Mike’s drums are huge, Randy’s bass playing is an ever-solid foundation and Eric’s vocals are becoming crazy good now: often I’ll sing the verse, Eric sings the chorus, Bill sings the bridge and Eric will bring it home. It seems to work really, really well. And both Bill and Eric’s soloing is amazing: they have really hit it out of the park on this record.” Available on Ltd 2CD+DVD Digipak (feat. ‘Making Of’ Documentay), Standard 2CD Jewelcase, 3LP+2CD Boxset & as Digital Album.

At the end of a crooked, narrow alley, tucked away behind a cluster of spindly palm trees that protect it from the intense, direct Southern California sun and shield it from the persistent dusty haze is the lair of Zen 2000, a new project from a Los Angeles native who's been intimately involved in the city's latest wave of electronic music and Nik Mercer, creative lead behind Let's Play House.

The imprint has set out to, through a tight and concise series of 7-inches, explore spacey textures and ambient colors from an amorphous cast of friends and family members, all either also from L.A. or with a deep spiritual connection to the city.

House of Ho, the name behind this debut single, is a little bit of both, stuck somewhere between the island of Hong Kong and the City of Angels; the pair of tracks included here were written, recorded, and produced between the two cities. Perhaps as a result of claiming both Western and Eastern Hemispheres as their place of origin, the songs sound fundamentally “in between”: in between sprawled-out, wandering ambient and sharply scored instrumental exercises; in between late-night trumpet figurations that twinkle around the Canyons and neon-lit karaoke-bar backing tracks that hit with a particular, sugary snap.

“an aggressively modern merger of Rush’s arena art rock, U.K. prog
classicism especially Pink Floyd and King Crimson and the post-grunge
vengeance of Tool” Rolling Stone
Having recently announced that Snapper Music will be representing Porcupine
Tree’s Transmission label worldwide, new CD and LP reissues of the band’s extensive catalogue will roll out throughout 2021.
Originally released in 2007, ‘Fear Of A Blank Planet’ was Porcupine Tree’s ninth
studio album. It was the band’s biggest selling album at the time, was their first
album to break into the Billboard top 100 in the USA as well as charting across
Europe, earned the band a Grammy nomination and has been featured in Rolling Stone Magazine’s Greatest Prog Albums Of All Time.
‘Fear Of A Blank Planet’ was an ambitious 50-minute piece of music made of
6 tracks that flow together to create a cohesive whole, the British art-rockers
Porcupine Tree created a concept album based on the Bret Easton Ellis novel
‘Lunar Park’, with lyrics that addressed how the adolescent protagonist battled
his bipolar and attention-deficit disorders with a regimen of prescription drugs
and Internet overstimulation.
The music used sprawling vocal melodies, atmospheric guitars and drums that
tumbled through chaotic passages to echo the main character’s manic-depressive states. ‘Fear Of A Blank Planet’ features guest appearances from Robert
Fripp (King Crimson) & Rush guitarist Alex Lifeson.
Porcupine Tree released their last album, ‘The Incident’, in 2009, marking another step forward in the incredible journey of the band that began as a solo
studio project created by Steven Wilson in the late eighties to a multi grammy
nominated act and one of the world’s most revered live bands, selling out arenas across the globe and wowing fans with their incredible performances.
This new Transmission version of ‘Fear Of A Blank Planet’ will be released as a
2LP gatefold 140gm edition.
“a dramatic, wide-screen, expertly executed, genuinely thrilling rock record” Q
Magazine

’Angelo lost his shit over it. Aaliyah’s 3rd favourite track of all time is on it. David Bowie rocked up with it to a TV interview, declaring it “the most exciting sound of contemporary soul music”.

In 1996, Lewis Taylor released his self-titled masterpiece. A true modern classic, it’s an album that was years ahead of its time. Forget 25 years ago, it could easily have been made in 2021. An effortless blend of neo-soul, sophisticated pop, smart grooves and laid-back white funk, it enjoyed rapturous reviews from critics and music legends alike. But the album never managed to make an impact and given what was likely a token vinyl release at the time, the original records have long since been near-impossible to find. Lewis Taylor’s Lewis Taylor remains a holy relic for some and criminally unknown to most.

Lewis Taylor’s impeccable influences created a dazzling sonic palette: the LP as a whole suggests the visionary brilliance of Prince; the vocal stylings evoke the yearning power of Marvin Gaye; the effortless guitar playing shares the virtuosity of Jimi Hendrix; the haunting tones conjure Tricky; the innovative production and engineering invite comparisons to studio mavericks like Todd Rundgren and Brian Eno; the multi-layered, complex harmonies flash on Pet Sounds-era Brian Wilson; the dark, drama is reminiscent of both Scott Walker and Stevie Wonder; the complex arrangements create textures and moods with the feel of Shuggie Otis on Inspiration Information; the bold experimentation is akin to progressive artists like Faust and Tangerine Dream; the atmosphere is in conversation with Jeff Buckley’s Grace… and we could go on. That might all sound like marketing hyperbole, but not as far as Be With is concerned. It is a genuine wonder how an album this good could’ve passed so many people by.

But despite all the reference points, the similarities are really only skin-deep because the album sounds truly original. It occupies its own distinct, strange universe that feels dark and brooding one moment, bright and joyous the next. Ultimately, Taylor sounds like Taylor.

Although you wouldn’t know it from the credits, the album wasn’t the work of Lewis alone. Sabina Smyth gets an executive producer credit on the original sleeve, but in fact she worked with Lewis on the production and arrangements, did a lot of the backing vocals and she co-wrote Track, Song, Lucky and Damn with Lewis.

Lewis clarified all this in a Soul Jones interview with Dan Dodds in 2016. He explains how not giving Sabina the credit she was due at the time was an unfortunate consequence of where his head was at and he’s now trying to set the record straight.

Together they created an exquisite and sensually-charged record, with a freshness to the writing that makes the songs catchy, melodic-yet-deep and sometimes even funky. The music is predominantly guitar-led and a mixture of organs and synths, live drum loops and electronic percussion make for a sort of modern soul backing orchestra.

On the surface the album is gorgeously laidback, but beneath the lush, sometimes slick, production there’s a murkiness in the seriously gritty funk/hip-hop instrumentation. Lewis Taylor can be a claustrophobic listen. Even its one-word, often seemingly throw-away track titles add to the sense of unease. In its most positive moments, there’s still a sense that things aren’t quite right. The magic comes from this compelling tension.

The languid, strutting “Lucky” is a sensational opening statement. Sinuous electric guitar winds around the shaking percussion with a killer bass line rattling your bones, and Lewis’s voice is sublime. Its six-and-a-half unhurried minutes manage to distill the work of Marvin, Al Green and Bobby Womack because yes, it’s *that* good. Up next is the tough, dusty drum and jazzy, unsettling psych-guitar workout of “Bittersweet”. Aaliyah described it the “perfect song”, which says it all. By turns loping and soaring, tightly coiled and blasting free, 25 years on its discordant, swaggering majesty still sounds like future R&B.

The swinging, blue-eyed funk of “Whoever” oozes sophisticated sunshine soul for hazy days before “Track” sweeps in. The music tries to lift us up, beyond the reach of the vocals trying to drag us back down as Taylor sings “my mood is black as the darkest cloud”. The spare, dubby electro-soul of “Song” closes out the first half of the album with barely contained dread as it creeps towards the lush, synth-heavy coda.

The smouldering “Betterlove” eases us into the second half, coming on like a languorous response to the call of “Brown Sugar”, before sliding into the shuffling, softly-rocking “How”. Somehow the remarkable “Right” manages to both warm things up and smooth things out even more. Taut yet luxurious, it’s definitely not wrong.

“Damn” was to have been the album’s title track and you might also be able to hear its influence on D’Angelo’s Voodoo, maybe most obviously in the chaotic closing moments of “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”. Building to a screeching wall of noise that suddenly cuts dead, “Damn” sounds like the natural end to the album, with the celestial a cappella “Spirit” serving as a heavenly reprise.

When it came to the sleeve, art director Cally Callomon heard Taylor’s music as “sideways off-camera glances at a plethora of influences he had” and wanted to interpret that visually: “I went off into night-time London to see if I could find his song titles in off-beam low-fidelity photographs. I even found a shop called Lewis Taylor”. With a slide for each of the album’s ten tracks, nine of them are on the inner sleeve and the slide for “Damn” makes the front cover. It should’ve been the album’s title, but concerns over distribution in the US scuppered this.

One of UK soul’s most fascinating artists, Andrew Lewis Taylor is an enigmatic figure and a hugely under-appreciated talent. A prodigious multi-instrumentalist who got his start touring with heavy blues/psych outfit the Edgar Broughton Band, he released two albums of psychedelic-rock as Sheriff Jack before Island signed him on the strength of a demo alone. But Taylor was destined to be one of those artists unable (or unwilling) to be pigeonholed and despite the best efforts of Island’s publicity department the music never sold in the quantities it needed to or deserved to. Island eventually let him go in the early 2000s and in June 2006, Lewis Taylor retired from music.

Typical for the mid-90s, this CD-length album was squeezed onto a single LP for its original vinyl release. Simon Francis’s fresh vinyl mastering now spreads out the ten tracks over a double LP so nothing is compromised. And as usual, the records have been cut by Pete Norman and pressed at Record Industry. The original artwork has been restored at Be With HQ and subtly re-worked to work as a double.

This sprawling psychedelic soul opus really is a forgotten should-be-classic. We know that there are those of you who know, and as for the rest of you, we’re a bit jealous that you’re getting to hear Lewis Taylor for the first time.

If your brain has a shortlist of bands that instantly evoke New Wave, Suburban Lawns deserve a slot right next to the likes of Devo, Talking Heads and the B-52's. After putting out two singles on their own Suburban Industrial imprint, the Lawns signed to I.R.S. Records and released their debut LP in 1981. While the band gained cult status thanks in part to a Jonathan Demme-produced music video which aired on Saturday Night Live, their self-titled album would sadly be the five-piece's only full-length statement.

Suburban Lawns' asymmetrical aesthetic is personified by co-vocalist Su Tissue, whose mesmerizing stage persona was at once childlike and terrifying. Her unique style embodies the awkward/arty female singer of the Reagan era, while the group's male vocals – courtesy of Frankie Ennui, Vex Billingsgate and John McBurney – maintain the satirical themes of Southern California's postwar mirage of limitless sprawl.

Suburban Lawns' catchiness can be attributed to their drum-tight performance and taut songwriting. Listen to the vocal trade-offs on "Anything," which could have easily come out on any purely Punk label from LA at the time, while Tissue's deadpan delivery on "Janitor" glides into the best art-warble this side of Lene Lovich, broaching the possibility of nuclear annihilation with a murmured "Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom."

From a West Coast scene dominated by 7-inch singles and EPs, the Suburban Lawns' lone LP remains in a class with precious few. It's not surprising that they found acceptance in the Hollywood punk scene, despite their Long Beach roots, and would influence other bands such as Minutemen. This is not a disc that will get parked in your collection hoping to get pulled once in a while; this is a record you will play.

In celebration of the 20th Anniversary of the release of
legendary singer / guitarist Thalia Zedek’s ‘Been Here
and Gone’, Thrill Jockey are proud to present the
album on vinyl for the very first time, remastered by
Sarah Register.
Thalia Zedek has been one of the most enduring rock
musicians of the past four decades. From her
auspicious beginnings in bands Uzi, Live Skull and
Dangerous Birds to her wider recognition in Come,
Zedek established herself as a singular voice accruing
accolades from critics and contemporaries including J.
Mascis, Kurt Cobain and Bob Mould.
‘Been Here and Gone’, her debut solo release,
originally released on Matador in 2001 on CD, marked
a turning point in Zedek’s music. As Come were
coming to a close, Zedek began exploring writing and
performing as a solo artist, eventually backed by violist
David Curry, pianist Mel Lederman (both went on to
perform with Zedek for two decades), as well as former
Come bandmates Chris Brokaw and Daniel Coughlin.
The idiosyncrasies of her voice were laid bare for the
first time, revealing an even greater depth to her
unique songwriting. The more spacious and rich
arrangements sprawl and whisper with powerful
vulnerability.
Deluxe packaging featuring photos of the recording
session on the inner sleeve. Includes digital download
card.

In celebration of the 20th anniversary of the release legendary singer/ guitarist Thalia Zedek's Been Here and Gone, Thrill Jockey is proud to present the album unlike it has ever been heard before: on vinyl, re-mastered by Sarah Register. Thalia Zedek has been one of the most enduring rock musicians of the past four decades. From her auspicious beginnings in bands Uzi, Live Skull, and Dangerous Birds to her wider recognition in Come, Zedek established herself as a singular voice accruing accolades from critics and contemporaries including J. Mascis, Kurt Cobain, and Bob Mould. Been Here and Gone, her debut solo release originally released on Matador in 2001 on CD, marked a turning point in Zedek's music. As Come was coming to a close, Zedek began exploring writing and performing as a solo artist, eventually backed by violist David Curry, pianist Mel Lederman (both of which went on to perform with Zedek for two decades), as well as former Come bandmates Chris Brokaw and Daniel Coughlin. The idiosyncrasies of her voice were laid bare for the first time, revealing an even greater depth to her unique songwriting. The more spacious and rich arrangements sprawl and whisper with powerful vulnerability. "There was definitely something magical about the making of Been Here and Gone," says Zedek. "I'm not sure if it was because it was made at a studio called Higher Power in a recently desanctified church in Stuyvesant, NY, or if it was because it was the end of a century, not to mention a millennium, the end of a decade of being in Come, the longest running band I'd had up to that point, and the end of 5 years of unhappy breakups and tumultuous relationships in my personal life." The eleven tracks that comprise Been Here and Gone embody that tension of uncertainty with a hopeful edge of renewal. Zedek's indelible resilience lifts even the somberest laments into triumphs. Even on the album's three cover tunes, including a haunting rendition of Leonard Cohen's "Dance Me to the End of Love," Zedek's voice and guitar color every note with raw emotion, making each passing gesture personal. Been Here and Gone channels the thunder and roar of Zedek's past into a fragile magnificence.

We're extremely proud to present HAPPENSTANCE, a sprawling jazz-concrète project produced by Johannesburg composer and double bass player Shane Cooper. Approached in 2020 by interdisciplinary arts space The Centre For The Less Good Idea to create audio work, Cooper drew on his network in the thriving South African jazz scene, bringing in Bokani Dyer (piano), Cara Stacey (bows), Daliwonga Tshangela (cello), Gontse Makhene (percussion), Jonno Sweetman (percussion) and Micca Manganye (percussion).

Two days of free-flowing composition, improvisation and investigative recording followed, with the results captured on a vintage reel-to-reel tape machine. This tape was fractured and reassembled by Cooper, bringing into surreal focus tiny ecosystems of sound, like curls of static clasped from the air and brought under the magnifying glass. The results - two long, standalone pieces - are dizzying, weightless; musique concrète melding with jazz-schooled virtuosity in a dubbed out bricolage of interludes and u-turns.

Recommended for fans of Abdullah Ibrahim, Tony Allen, Floating Points and Daphne Oram.

For nearly two straight years following the release of their critically acclaimed debut, Chasing Lights, Ida Mae lived on the road, crisscrossing the US from coast to coast as they performed hundreds of dates with everyone from Willie Nelson and Alison Krauss to Marcus King and Greta Van Fleet. And while those shows were certainly formative for the electrifying British duo, it was what happened in between — the countless hours spent driving through small towns and big cities, past sprawling suburbs and forgotten ghost towns, across rolling plains and snow-capped mountains — that truly laid the groundwork for the band’s transportive new album, Click Click Domino. Written primarily in the backseat of a moving car, the record embodies all the momentum and possibility of the great American unknown, offering up a series of cinematic vignettes full of hope and disappointment, promise and regret, connection and loneliness. The songs on Click Click Domino are raw and direct, fueled by an innovative mix of vintage instruments and modern electronics, and the performances are loose and exhilarating to match, drawing on early rock and roll, classic country, British folk, and 50’s soul to forge a sound that’s equal parts Alan Lomax field recording and 21st century garage band. Turpin and Jean produced the album themselves, recording primarily on their own in their adopted hometown of Nashville during the COVID-19 pandemic, and while the collection is certainly bolstered by appearances from high profile guests like Marcus King, Greta Van Fleet’s Jake Kiszka, and Ethan Johns, the heart and soul of the record remains Ida Mae’s intoxicating chemistry, which has never felt more vibrant, ambitious, or self-assured. Now married, Turpin and Jean first met a little over a decade ago while attending university in Bath. The pair bonded immediately over their love for the sounds of bygone eras, and they quickly earned rave reviews everywhere from the BBC to the NME with their raucous first group, Kill It Kid. Starting over fresh as a duo named for Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee’s “Ida Mae,” the first song they ever harmonized on, Turpin and Jean relocated to Nashville in 2019 and released Chasing Lights to similarly widespread critical acclaim. Rolling Stone hailed the album’s “stomping swirl of blues and guitar-heavy Americana,” while The Independent lauded its “retro lustre” and “impressive experimentation,” and NPR’s Heavy Rotation called it “tightly drawn, harmonic and hypnotic.” The music helped the earn the duo a slew of support dates with the likes of Greta Van Fleet, The Marcus King Band, Blackberry Smoke, Josh Ritter, Rodrigo y Gabriela, and The Lone Bellow, as well as performances at Bonnaroo, the Telluride Blues & Brews Festival, the Philadelphia Folk Festival, Germany’s Reeperbahn Festival, and Switzerland’s Zermatt Unplugged.

Akron, Ohio's If These Trees Could Talk blend metal with sprawling post-rock to create their own brand of contemplative and kinetic instrumental rock. "Red Forest is a lush, epic tongue bath of an album, the aural equivalent of a long mediation session in which new levels of consciousness are attained. We love it — and we’re confident you will, too. " - Metal Sucks

Binding a deep social and political conscious with rigorous musical experimentation, the Brussels based, Italian pianist, performer, composer, Giovanni Di Domenico, delivers Downtown Ethnic Music, the 4th instalment of Die Schachtel’s Decay Music series, focused on inspired contemporary experimental efforts in the ambient, ethereal, and emotively abstract music.

Over the last decade or so, Giovanni Di Domenico has carved a deep path through a diverse number of discrete fields within experimental music, working in various ensembles - Abschattungen, AufHeben, Bonjintan, Cement Shoes, Delivery Health, Going, etc. - as well as producing a discography of critically heralded solo efforts, and intimate collaborations with Jim O'Rourke, Tatsuhisa Yamamoto, Akira Sakata, Arve Henriksen, Tatsuhisa Yamamoto, Alexandra Grimal, Nate Wooley, Chris Corsano, and others.

Downtown Ethnic Music encounters Di Domenico reimagining the future of urban music, pluming the mysterious and emotive depths of self, to arrive at vision of sonorous utopia, radically divergent from those of the past. Hybridizing numerous forms of musical practice, while making a conceptual nod to Jon Hassell’s notion of the "fourth world”, as well as the cross-temporal transnationalism of Roberto Musci, Aktuala, Futuro Antico, and the Third Ear Band, Di Domenico’s vision of democracy - rendered through the creative metaphors of sound - is a true to life, bristling conflict, as open-ended as it is ordered, and as dramatic and tense as it is beautiful, playful, and refined.

A colorful tapestry of ideas, experiences, histories, and reference points, woven from a pallet of electronics, synthesis, and various acoustic sources - the intervening rhythms of drummer João Lobo, vocals by Pak Yan Lau and Patshiva CIE women choir, the horns of Ananta Roosens and Jordi Grognard etc. - across the length of Downtown Ethnic Music, the boundaries between idiom, expressive concept, collective, and individual blur, giving way to a visionary, forward-thinking rendering of electroacoustic music, that subtly reminds us of the social and political potential of art.

Seamlessly incorporating bubbling electronic abstraction, sprawling ambience and long tones, throbbing kosmische, acoustic free improvisation, and the human voice, Giovanni Di Domenico’s Downtown Ethnic Music represents a high-water mark in an already astounding career. Issued by Die Schachtel in a one-time edition of 250 copies, pressed to 180g marble vinyl and housed in a pro-printed inner sleeve and jacket, contained in a silk-screen PVC sleeve.

Clear Vinyl

DDS catch enduringly absorbing sonic alchemist Jim O’Rourke at his knottiest and most ingenious in a wormholing suite of amorphous rhythm and psychedelic electronics - a massive RIYL Autechre, Roland Kayn, Bernard Parmegiani, NYZ, Keith Fullerton Whitman.
Playing up to and into DDS’ freeform aesthetics, O’Rourke renders 40 minutes shearing hyaline synth tones and ruptured rhythm generated at his Steamroom facilities in Tokyo, a modular outzone trawling that harks back to his iconic Mego releases and some of the more recent Steamroom experiments. It’s an ideal addition to the ever expanding DDS cosmos, following Demdike’s recent ‘Drum Machine’ expo with a slice of purist and screwed modular magick that transcends early
electronics and modern styles in pursuit of musical sensations that defy stylistic brackets.
‘Too Compliment’ was assembled using a bespoke Hordijk modular system, a rare West Coast-style setup hand made by Dutch engineer Rob Hordijk. O’Rourke focuses on the frequency shifter here, using it to coax out fluxing tone thickets, haphazard frequencies and elongated drone corridors.
It’s transportive stuff, harking back to the early days of private press academic synth music but also sitting on edge alongside Autechre’s recent long-form work, as well as O’Rourke’s classic “I’m Happy, And I’m Singing, And A 1, 2, 3, 4” In O’Rourke’s hands, the mass of electronics takes on throbbing, organic dimensions, congealing
grey matter and purplish veins of fluid in viscous transitions that glisten and spark with invention as they form new tissue. What comes out is as unearthly as the earliest electronic music, but also
blessed with a psychedelc spirit in a way that’s long kept O’Rourke right out on his own, teetering between paradigms yet never settling into any single style. If you’ve always been keen on finding a way into that sprawling soundworld, ‘Too Compliment’ is a perfect entry point into a highly rewarding creative macrocosm.

The New Studio Album Of Epic Black Heavy Metal From The
Norwegian Legends
“Five heavy dinosaurs looking in wonder and bewilderment at the stars” Fenriz
With the highly revered Norwegians remaining ever-dedicated to the art of the
riff after 35 years of existence, Darkthrone return for album number nineteen
and a new dose of metallic godliness. On the back of 2019’s triumphant ‘Old
Star’ opus, the duo of Nocturno Culto & Fenriz present a 41-minute maelstrom
of Epic Black Heavy Metal across five sprawling compositions.
Organic and dynamic, the album is an exploration of the very finest vintage
metal and the best of doom, all delivered in the unmistakable Darkthrone style,
whilst also incorporating instruments such as the Moog to further expand upon
these soundscapes.
Eschewing the process of using their own Necrohell II studios - which has
served the band so well over the last 15 years - & welcoming a change of environment and the opportunity to experiment with new ideas, ‘Eternal Hails......’
was recorded at Chaka Khan Studio in Oslo, & engineered by Ole Ovstedal &
Silje H gevold, breathing new life into the sound while retaining the essence of
Darkthrone’s natural, raw feeling.
The cover artwork features the piece “Pluto and Charon” (1972), from renowned science fiction artist David A. Hardy; a hugely inspirational image for
both Fenriz & Nocturno Culto spanning several decades, and this also stands
as a symbolic link between the genre-bending styles apparent on Darkthrone’s
earliest works, to those same traits evident on ‘Eternal Hails......’.

Roy Montgomery, a pioneer of the NZ underground, believes there is
always new sonic terrain to investigate. His latest series of albums for
Grapefruit marks forty years of rigorous exploration in which he’s
managed to navigate disparate genres, scenes, and atmospheres, always
at the forefront of experimental independent music. To commemorate,
Grapefruit will be releasing four new Montgomery albums in 2021.
The first installment, Island Of Lost Souls, arrived to great acclaim
in January. The second and latest album, His Best Forgotten Work,
features Montgomery’s rare, brooding vocals across nine gorgeous
tracks recorded from his home in Christchurch, New Zealand.
His Best Forgotten Work follows the intense, all-instrumental Island
Of Lost Souls. It departs in spirit with darkly buoyant variations on
popular songs, including two highly anticipated covers of legendary
songs by The Carpenters (“Superstar”) and Tim Buckley (“Song To
The Siren”). Montgomery shows the listener that these influences
aren’t such strange bedfellows after all; one need only listen closely.
Where some might be inclined to relax and lean into their legacy
at this stage in a sprawling career, Montgomery’s new music
continues to seek and challenge. His compositions are beautiful as
well as disconcerting, and often speak to precarity and dread. His Best
Forgotten Work is a title with tongue planted firmly in cheek, alluding
to the artist’s position of enjoying a peculiar bit of fame in relative
obscurity. But listening to his dry wit and rich voice, one will find it
isn’t easily forgotten.

Five years after the release of ‘Pressure Loss’ the modern master of electronic minimalism Nicola Ratti returns to Where To Now? in collaboration with Japanese MC ‘MA’, for a suite of submerged, outsider Trip-Hop.

‘Shinkai’ meets at the crossroads of the gloomy sonic snapshot world of Tricky, the South London DIY avant pop bloom of Curl/Mica Levi, the outer fringes of Hip-Hop heralded by the Anticon crew, and the deep textured minimalism of Machinfabriek.

‘Shinkai’ heralds the first time Nicola Ratti has worked with a vocalist, and MA’s unique brand of ritualistic vocal methods and experimental approaches to intonation and inflexion only enhances Ratti’s otherworldly soundscapes. The depth of meaning behind MA’s lyrics further expands this sprawling sound world, revealing a twisted beauty, a deep insight into the melancholic world MA reflects upon within his abstract wordplay – on ‘Suiso’ MA laments above Ratti’s mourning electronics….

“A ship with the wind in the sails erased a path to the skies.

Gone forever,
In sandy finality,
A scene never to be repeated,
Never to be understood.

Never to hatch,
Dreams of never continuing beyond the crossroads
A painting dissipates as the allure runs dry
Without consulting the dusk, dawn never arrives.

Agonising over the silence brought on by a stumble,
Attacked from all angles until I find my ground once more.
What comes next does not matter - just as long as it comes.
A not-so-distant-future, born from certain uncertainty.

Let me face it with wavering reservations,
Bury me in it
My sins left unanswered
Cover the snow on which it falls.

An unthawing aquarium.
An unanswering aquarium.

Hiding, evolving, recollecting, transferring,
A precarious contradiction befalls.
Timeframes cut, edited and replaced with resentment
The ritual aesthetics of a secret ceremony.

The thoughts of once again,
Fills me with dread and rage.
Painted in blood.

Alas, it was fun...”

On the surface this is an unlikely (yet inspired) collaboration – MA has been a part of the Tokyo Hip-Hop underground for many years, over which time he has stylistically leapt into noisier, more experimental territories. We have Rabih Beaini to thank for shining a light on MA’s talents, with the 2019 LP ‘AMA’ being released on Morphine records, and Beaini opening new doors for experimentation and collaboration.

‘Shinkai’ was composed and recorded between January and April 2020. The pair had met a couple of times in Japan first and then in Europe, undertaking a live collaborative experiment combining sounds and words that had not been designed to be performed together, ‘Shinkai’ reflects the fluidity of this encounter and is in essence a consequence of it.

Ratti assigns the following poetic grounding to the intentions and thematic form of the album – “Shinkai means deep sea, a place most of us will never see except on the surface. The sea depths do not belong to us, they are not places for us, we do not know them and they disturb us, they are a material that we can look at without seeing. I have always thought that height, verticality in general, was not a familiar dimension except in relation to our physicality. The horizon reassures us, the depth disturbs us. The Italian language is written and read horizontally, from left to right, the Japanese language can be written vertically and read from right to left. Does the horizon still reassure us?”

Locked in a 486 glow, lightblink machines nightlight, being enters lighttime limelight. The long nineties already distending, the Major midbloats, crowds throng superclubs- strobelit honeys on a podium in Ibiza already blasted a stratosphere away from mildewed badflats, emphysemic parlours, the fug of week old washing drying slowly on the rad. Ach we’ll hang it out in the morning fire another joint of badhash and turn that tape over. We are being Here. beings disconnected, shut ins, psychick worriers, long walks to and from clubs, mostly dark, always raining, or mizzling anyway, lug bigbrick machines into cabs and Venue, setup and playing live and right now from the lounge lobby at Sativa, down the stairs from the caustic, twitching thrashpit being sits, being works. Dole sludge, shirking class zeroes, scoff pizza rolls w salad cream, that headchef gaffer never reckoned you’d graft at the potwash, a slick fur of rotfood dish slop residue right to the elbow, absolutely bowfin. Rumours of other places, people, scenes, tapes sent and emissaries return, invites to get trains, overnightbus south to London. being brought water to the ‘wells in South London and monthly emissions snaked out into the world, into badflats elsewhere where gowched couch tatties sprawl and the being burrowed deep into memories.. Tea is toast and sandwich spread and endless crisps as the binbags pile high in the backyard, the being blinks, it’s a twilit morning and it’s time to go to bed.

‘Voyager’, the seventh album from Current Joys, rattles with the
live-wire feeling that’s thrummed through all of Rattigan’s previous
releases: quavering, scream-itself-hoarse vocals and selfinterrogation via song. But here, that bristling, sentimental rock ‘n’
roll cacophony is overlaid with a soundtrack orchestra guiding it
along. It’s an odyssey, a grand-sounding journey of self-discovery
spread across sixteen tracks.
Part ekphrasis, part personal, it’s Rattigan learning new ways to
understand his own feelings and identity while inspired by the
highly-stylized, striking storytelling of filmmakers like Alfred
Hitchcock, Terrence Malick, Agnès Varda and Andrei Tarkovsky.
‘Voyager’ is unlike anything Current Joys has released before.
On his new album, Rattigan eschews lo-fi home recordings for a
full band and recording sessions at Stinson Beach Studios. As a
vocalist/drummer in his other band Surf Curse, Rattigan had finally
opened up to the possibility of working in a professional studio.
It’s all held together by the fervour of Rattigan’s creative process.
He believes in the premonitory power of music and he latches onto
the song ideas that strike him in the moment, propelled by an
abstract existentialism or burst of feeling more than anything else.
It imbues ‘Voyager’ with an intensity and intimacy - with the sense
that you’re getting to hear, all at once, the disparate parts that
make a project - or person - into a sprawling, cinematic whole.
Similar to Tame Impala or Mac Demarco in their early days,
Current Joys is singular and with a fanbase that extends far
outside of traditional indie fans. The band managed to establish an
indie and mainstream audience while flying under the radar of
DSPs and nearly all other industry levers. They are one of the first
indie bands to have their place fully created and cemented by
TikTok.
Double LP packaged in a gatefold sleeve

As if the ever evolving style and sprawling narratives of Creeper didn’t already keep him busy enough, Will Gould reacted to last year’s initial lockdown by delving into the archives to complete the debut EP from his side project SALEM. Working alongside his friend and collaborator Matt Reynolds, SALEM quickly sold-out the first vinyl pressing of their self-titled debut EP while also earning fresh acclaim and streaming an In The K! Pit show for Kerrang!.

Now the second chapter in the SALEM story emerges from the underworld with the news that they’ll release their new EP ‘SALEM II’ on May 7TH and now share the first taste of the EP in the shape of the new single ‘DRACULADS’.

‘DRACULADS’ opens with the kind of larger-than-life b-movie horror love letter that can only come from Gould’s poison pen: “Maybe the blood of Jesus Christ is laced upon your lips / I get a little closer to God and too drunk each time we kiss.” It sets the tone for a blitzkrieg rush of melodic punk and raucous rock ‘n’ roll that only stops for breath for the song’s cabaret croon breakdown.

Elsewhere, the EP builds upon the style that SALEM established with their debut. From the tongue-in-cheek reference to The Smiths on the opening track ‘William, It Was Really Something’ to the closing ‘Heaven Help Me’, SALEM play it fast, frenetic and fun. As with the best old school punk EPs, ‘SALEM II’ is an escapist rush of attention that commands your attention for 15 minutes before it’s time to drop the needle back to the start.

Distorted classical choral recordings, synths, processed guitar… The exquisitely complex human-machine interface experiments conducted by Stefano Pilia are kept in a delicate balance by John Duncan‘s lyrics and the soulful quality of his vocals, for an album of electroacoustic songs that are a unique blend for both artists. Seeds and memories from the past are re-actualized in the present through a machine electroacoustic compositional process creating a dark, gloomy and terrifying image of the future. Duncan’s lyrics offer a counterpointing liberation to the machine processes in action here, poetically revealing the dark and intimate struggle between the human soul and its rapport with the machine.

These recordings are a point of departure for Matilde Piazzi‘s inspired liner notes and photos, that take this release to another level entirely, becoming a metaphor for contemporary efforts to reach the limits of knowledge and discovery, their heroic nature and their inevitable failure.
Both artists worked on their respective sections in isolation, Pilia in an industrial area of central Bologna, Duncan in the wilderness several kilometers south of the urban sprawl. Together, their recordings developed an almost magnetic attraction that seemed to meld effortlessly.


The experience of listening quickly takes on a cinematic quality, exquisitely moving from an oceanic uplifting (Try Again) to the depths of apocalyptic, unsettling vocals (Fare Forward), constantly maintaining a lush, richly complex tapestry. The linear understanding of time is suddenly gone, dominated by a crushing machine-defined present, with Duncan’s lyrics and vocals becoming a shamanic portal to a possible future.
‘Try Again’ is released on digital/LP and was written, recorded and mixed by Stefano Pilia and John Duncan. Mastered by Ivan Pjevcevic. LP edition comes with insert, lyrics obi and text/photography by Matilde Piazzi.

Red Vinyl

The unmissable, head-twisting debut LP by Cairo’s 1127 returns on red vinyl pressing for those who missed its shockwaves for the first time back in summer 2019, Huge recommendation if you’re into Autechre, Arca, Croww w, Rabit...
Getting right under the skin with its hugely variegated palette of brutalist, rhythmic power electronics and evocative location recordings, ‘Tqaseem Mqamat El Haram 2016-2019’ resembles something like a soundtrack to a Neil Blomkamp flick set it Cario, Egypt, 2050 where stifling heat and pollution means everyone wears
breathing apparatus and hover cars sputter about its dusty sprawl. It’s surely one of the most shocking and transfixing sides from North Africa this side of the debut LPs by 1127’s peers, Myslma and Zuli, and should be prized by anyone with an ear for futurist rhythms and microtonal synths of a modern, Afro-futurist order.
Comprising collaged chunks from 1127’s archive arranged in a seamless, diffracted flow that recalls Autechre as well as the mutant adjuncts in Arca’s &&&& or Croww’s ‘Prosthetics MechaMix’, the results feel as though scraped from the insides of 1127’s skull, capturing and rendering the sounds of Cairo street raves ricocheting
with spasms of gristly noise, strafing into pockets of cutthroat flashcore and dropping out into smoky,
intimate scenes of Arabic dialogue, all threaded together with a distinctive taste for metallic microtonal synthlines and coruscating noise.

Los Angeles-based harpist Mary Lattimore returns with Silver Ladders, the full-length follow-up to acclaimed album Hundreds of Days. Since 2018, Lattimore has toured internationally, released collaborative albums with artists such as Meg Baird and Mac McCaughan, and shared a friends-based remix album featuring artists such as Jónsi and Julianna Barwick. At one of her festival appearances, Lattimore met Slowdive’s Neil Halstead: “A friend introduced us because she knew how big of a fan I was and Neil and I had a little chat... The next day, I just thought maybe he’d be into producing my next record.” He was. Lattimore traditionally records her albums holed up by herself, so the addition of Halstead’s touches as a producer and collaborator leave a profound trace. “I flew on a little plane to Newquay in Cornwall where he lives with his lovely partner Ingrid and their baby. I didn’t know what his studio was like, he’d never recorded a harp, but somehow it really worked

Recorded over nine days at Halstead’s studio stationed on an old airfield, Silver Ladders finds Lattimore exercising command and restraint. Her signature style is refined, the sprawling layers of harp reigned in and accented by flourishes of low end synth and Halstead’s guitar. The music can feel ominous but not by compromising vivid wonder, like oceanic overtones that shift with the tides. This material is colored by specific memories for Lattimore; “Neil has this poster of a surfer in his studio and I’d look at it each day, looking at the sunlight glinting on the dark wave. In these songs I like the contrast between the dark lows and the glittering highs. The gloom and the glimmer, the opposites, a lively surfing town in the winter turned kinda rainy and empty and quiet.”

Lattimore and Halstead reformed three existing demos and improvised the remaining four songs. Among the batch she brought with her, the title track recalls a trip she took to Stari Grad, Croatia on the island of Hvar. “I spent some days there just swimming in the bay, silver ladders right into the sea.” The image stuck with her when she found herself performing at a cliffside wedding overlooking the Pacific. “Before anyone showed up, I had time to set up and play and this song came to me, ‘Silver Ladders (to the sea)’, so I made a little recording on my phone to remember it.” This sketch expanded; a delicately glittering harp melody comes over the horizon, swelling and rolling towards the shore on ebbs of synth and refractory delay.

The Besnard Lakes have passed through death and they’r e here to tell the tale. Nearly five years after their last lightning-tinted volley, the magisterial Montreal psych-rock band have sworn off compromise, split with their long-standing label, and completed a searing, 72-minute suite about the darkness of dying and the light on the other side. The Besnard Lakes Are The Last of the Great Thunderstorm Warnings is the group's sixth album and the first in more than 15 years to be released away from a certain midwestern American indie record company. After 2016's A Coliseum Complex Museum - which saw Jace Lasek and Olga Goreas attempting shorter, less sprawling songs - the Besnards and their label decided it was time to go their separate ways; with that decision came a question of whether to even continue the project at all. What use is a band with an instinct for long, tectonic tunes - rock songs with chthonic heft and ethereal grace, five or 10 or 18 minutes long? How do you sell that in an age of bite-sized streaming? How do you make it relevant? "Who gives a shit!" the Besnard Lakes realized. Ignited by their love for each other, for playing music together, the sextet found themselves unspooling the most uncompromising recording of their career. Despite all its grandeur, ...The Last of the Great Thunderstorm Warnings honours the very essence of punk rock: the notion that a band need only be relevant to itself. At last the Besnard Lakes have crafted a continuous long-form suite: nine tracks that could be listened together as one, like Spiritualized's Lazer Guided Melodies or even Dark Side of the Moon, overflowing with melody and harmony, drone and dazzle, the group's own unique weather. Here now, the Besnard Lakes finally dispensed with the two/three-year album cycle, taking all the time they needed to conceive, compose, record and mix their opus. Some of its songs were old, resurrected from demos cast aside years ago. Others were literally woodshedded in the cabanon behind Lasek and Goreas's "Rigaud Ranch" - invented and reinvented, relishing this rougher sound.

London-based record label Wisdom Teeth kicks off 2021 with something close to home: Blush - the playful, dynamic debut LP by label co-founder, Facta. Recorded unusually quickly over a short stint in early 2020, the record is the product of a period of refreshed and unfussy creativity. It’s an innovative and distinctly contemporary album that moves a good few steps beyond the artist’s work to date - loosely rooted in UK dance music but taking added influence from ambient, modern classical, dreampop, Balearic, folk music and beyond. The result is a lush, ornate record populated by aqueous pads, bleeping arps, wandering melodies and sparse broken rhythms; acoustic instruments that play out alongside FM synths, all processed with a pristine UV sheen inherited from modern pop music. The record opens with ‘Sistine (Plucks)’ - a crystalline synth piece with a stumbling, shifting metre revolving around an odd-ended MIDI harp loop, coloured through with washed-out pads and snatches of found sound. This breezy mood follows through to ‘On Deck’, where an FM vibraphone rings out on top of woozy, warping chords and a subby soca groove. Moving forward the record moves cohesively through a range of shifting moods and hues. The machine jazz of ‘Brushes’ is tense and coiled, with nods towards Burnt Friedman, Photek and Eli Keszler. ‘Iso Stream’ sees a rich, colourful sprawl of arpeggiated synths and dissociated vocal chops unspool slowly to form pooling, lowlit melodies. Title track ‘Blush’ is a forlorn Autonomic love song built from clicks-n-cuts - like dBridge & Instra:mental reduced and reinterpreted by SND. Throughout, bold, broad melodies take centre stage, and the tracks build like compositions rather than loops or club tools. There are echoes of the dancefloor - particularly in the slo-mo bruk of ‘Verge’ and the glacial subs underpinning ‘Diving Birds’ (a collaboration with friend and Trilogy Tapes regular Parris) - however the end results find us somewhere far off. ‘Blush’ is the second long-form release to come from Wisdom Teeth following K-LONE’s 2020 debut album, ‘Cape Cira’, which was widely ranked as one the best LPs of 2020.

The American rock/metal band Alter Bridge released their third album AB III in 2009. It was a new venture in which they combined progressive metal and hard rock. The album received acclaim from many music critics. Rob Laing from MusicRadar called it “one of the guitar albums of the year” and Rick Florino from Artistdirect gave the record a perfect 5 out of 5 score and said “it’s a sprawling masterpiece that illuminates just how brilliant this band truly is”. “Isolation”, the band’s most successful single to date, is one of the many highlights the band recorded for this album. It doesn’t matter if you like to call it a metal or a hard rock album, because it’s the music that speaks for itself.

Alter Bridge was formed by Creed bandmembers Mark Tremonti, Scott Phillips and Brian Marshall. They recruited vocalist Myles Kennedy, and have since released five albums, all of which charted in both the UK as well as the US charts.

Having previously released on RNT as part of duo Balako, Diogo Strausz now makes his solo debut on the label with an absolutely stunning offering of electronic Brazilian jazz. A São Paulista now living in Paris, Strausz made international waves earlier this year with his piece ‘Pausa,’ a grand and sprawling orchestral work written and recorded by musicians around the world in isolation.

The two songs on Strausz’ new Emancipação EP showcase his gift for instrumental composition that feels at once both fresh and timeless, informed heavily by the classic Bossa Nova and Samba repertoires of his native Brazil, yet translated through a modern production lens, and executed with exceptional musicianship. The end result is an undeniably unique sound that will fit equally well in the collections of jazz and MPB aficionados, as in the crates of modern DJs and listeners alike.

Driving anywhere in Texas can cost you half a day, easy. For example, it’ll take you over four hours just to get from R&B singer Leon Bridges’ hometown of Fort Worth down to Houston, where the psychedelic wanderers in Khruangbin hail from. The state is vast, crisscrossed with rugged expanses of road flanked by limestone cliffs and granite mountains, forests of pine and mesquite, miles of desert or acres of sprawling grassland, all depending on what part you’re in. And it’s all baking under the Texas Sun that lends its name to Bridges and Khruangbin’s new collaborative release. “Big sky country, that’s what they call Texas,” Khruangbin bassist Laura Lee says. “The horizon line goes all the way from one side to another without interruption. There’s something really comforting about that.” On ‘Texas Sun’, these two members of the state’s musical vanguard meet up somewhere in the middle of that scene, in the mythical nexus of Texas’ past, present, and future - a dreamy badlands where genres blur as seamlessly as the terrain. It calls equally to the cowboys bootscooting at Billy Bob’s in Fort Worth, the chopped-andscrewed hip hop fans rattling slabs on the southside of Houston, the art-school kids dropping acid in Austin, the cross-cultural progeny who grew up on listening to both mariachi and post-hardcore out on the Mexican borders of El Paso. All of these things, overlapping in a multi-coloured melange, purple hues as vivid and unpredictable as one of the state’s rightfully celebrated sunsets. A journey through homesick reminiscences, backseat romances and late night contemplations, the kind of record made for listening with the windows down and the road humming softly beneath you. Like the highways that inspired it, ‘Texas Sun’ is guaranteed to get you where you’re going - especially if you’re in no particular hurry to get there. Khruangbin and Leon Bridges are critically acclaimed artists with extensive coverage in print and online, including the New York Times, NPR, FADER, four Grammy nominations (Leon Bridges), The New Yorker, Washington Post and Pitchfork, among many others.

It is the simple thing that is so hard to do. This is the paradox that musician Lael
Neale has lived within throughout her development as an artist. It is the reason she
became enthralled with poetry. Poems are a distillation. Lael says, “this challenge to
winnow away what is unessential is the most maddening and, ultimately, rewarding
part of writing a song.”
Lael’s new album ‘Acquainted With Night’ is a testament to this poetic devotion.
Stripped of any extraneous word or sound, the songs are lit by Lael’s crystalline
voice which lays on a lush bed of Omnichord. The collection touches on themes that
have been thread into her work for years: isolation, mortality, yearning and reaching
ever toward the transcendent experience.
Lael grew up on a farm in rural Virginia but for nearly 10 years called Los Angeles
home. Those years were spent developing her songwriting and performing in venues
across the city but the right way to record the songs proved more elusive. She says,
“Every time I reached the end of recording, I felt the songs had been stripped of
their vitality in the process of layering drums, bass, guitar, violin, and organ over
them. They felt weighed down.”
In a moment of illumination, the solution presented itself: do the simple thing. In
early 2019, in the midst of major transition, she acquired a new instrument - the
Omnichord - and began recording a deluge of songs. Guy Blakeslee, who had been
an advocate for years, set up a cassette recorder in her bedroom and provided
empathic guidance, subtle yet affecting accompaniment and engineering prowess.
Limited to only 4-tracks and first takes, Lael had to surrender some of her
perfectionism to deliver the songs in their essence.
The first song she recorded was ‘For No One For Now’, which calls to mind the
agitated beat of driving fast on the freeway against the backdrop of the San
Fernando Valley’s bent palms. The song contrasts romantic idealizations with the
banality of folding sheets and toasting bread. It highlights her oft-thwarted attempts
to enjoy the day to day while her mind wanders off toward the dream, the ideal.
While Lael returned to her family farm in April 2020, Los Angeles is a player on this
album and ‘Every Star Shivers in the Dark’ is an ode to the sprawling city, the
outskirts of Eden. One can envision her walking from Dodgers Stadium to downtown,
observing strangers and her own strangeness but determined to find communion
with others. ‘Blue Vein’ is her personal anthem, a Paul Revere piece that gallops
through the town as a strident declamation. It is an amalgam of thoughts, concerns
and lessons as she nearly speaks the words, unmasked by flourishes, ensuring the
meaning cuts through.
Normally a morning person, Lael recorded most of these songs in the darkening of
the early evening, and so became ‘Acquainted With Night’.
CD in gatefold altpack.
LP first pressing on white vinyl.
Cassette with three-panel J-card in clear case.

It is the simple thing that is so hard to do. This is the paradox that musician Lael
Neale has lived within throughout her development as an artist. It is the reason she
became enthralled with poetry. Poems are a distillation. Lael says, “this challenge to
winnow away what is unessential is the most maddening and, ultimately, rewarding
part of writing a song.”
Lael’s new album ‘Acquainted With Night’ is a testament to this poetic devotion.
Stripped of any extraneous word or sound, the songs are lit by Lael’s crystalline
voice which lays on a lush bed of Omnichord. The collection touches on themes that
have been thread into her work for years: isolation, mortality, yearning and reaching
ever toward the transcendent experience.
Lael grew up on a farm in rural Virginia but for nearly 10 years called Los Angeles
home. Those years were spent developing her songwriting and performing in venues
across the city but the right way to record the songs proved more elusive. She says,
“Every time I reached the end of recording, I felt the songs had been stripped of
their vitality in the process of layering drums, bass, guitar, violin, and organ over
them. They felt weighed down.”
In a moment of illumination, the solution presented itself: do the simple thing. In
early 2019, in the midst of major transition, she acquired a new instrument - the
Omnichord - and began recording a deluge of songs. Guy Blakeslee, who had been
an advocate for years, set up a cassette recorder in her bedroom and provided
empathic guidance, subtle yet affecting accompaniment and engineering prowess.
Limited to only 4-tracks and first takes, Lael had to surrender some of her
perfectionism to deliver the songs in their essence.
The first song she recorded was ‘For No One For Now’, which calls to mind the
agitated beat of driving fast on the freeway against the backdrop of the San
Fernando Valley’s bent palms. The song contrasts romantic idealizations with the
banality of folding sheets and toasting bread. It highlights her oft-thwarted attempts
to enjoy the day to day while her mind wanders off toward the dream, the ideal.
While Lael returned to her family farm in April 2020, Los Angeles is a player on this
album and ‘Every Star Shivers in the Dark’ is an ode to the sprawling city, the
outskirts of Eden. One can envision her walking from Dodgers Stadium to downtown,
observing strangers and her own strangeness but determined to find communion
with others. ‘Blue Vein’ is her personal anthem, a Paul Revere piece that gallops
through the town as a strident declamation. It is an amalgam of thoughts, concerns
and lessons as she nearly speaks the words, unmasked by flourishes, ensuring the
meaning cuts through.
Normally a morning person, Lael recorded most of these songs in the darkening of
the early evening, and so became ‘Acquainted With Night’.
CD in gatefold altpack.
LP first pressing on white vinyl.
Cassette with three-panel J-card in clear case.

Chicago-area native Josh Johnson’s vital presence in the vanguard of new jazz music is evident by his features on countless critically-acclaimed
projects like Jeff Parker’s Suite for Max Brown and Makaya McCraven’s Universal Beings.
When he moved to L.A. eight years ago, he thought his stay would be temporary. The saxophonist and keyboardist would spend enough time there to learn from his heroes Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter, but not a complete geographic pivot. But eight years later, Johnson is still in L.A., where he recorded his debut album Freedom Exercise with three ‘musically omnivorous’ friends (the very quality that inspired him to stay on the West Coast).
The songs on Freedom Exercise reflect this idea of genreless exploration ‘ a fluid combination of jazz, post-rock and electronic music. Ultimately, Johnson’s compositions are concise yet expansive, like an intimate gathering in a sprawling city.

The five members of Sun June spent their early years spread out across the United States, from the boonies of the Hudson Valley to the sprawling outskirts of LA. Having spent their college years within the gloomy, cold winters of the North East, Laura Colwell and Stephen Salisbury found themselves in the vibrant melting-pot of inspiration that is Austin, Texas. Meeting each other while working on Terrence Malick's 'Song to Song', the pair were immediately taken by the city's bustling small clubs and honky-tonk scene, and the fact that there was always an instrument within reach, always someone to play alongside. Coming alive in this newly discovered landscape, Colwell and Salisbury formed Sun June alongside Michael Bain on lead guitar, Sarah Schultz on drums, and Justin Harris on bass and recorded their debut album live to tape, releasing it via the city's esteemed Keeled Scales label in 2018. The band coined the term 'regret pop' to describe the music they made on the 'Years' LP. Though somewhat tongue in cheek, it made perfect sense ~ the gentle sway of their country leaning pop songs seeped in melancholy, as if each subtle turn of phrase was always grasping for something just out of reach. Sun June returns with Somewhere, a brand new album, out February 2021. It's a record that feels distinctly more present than its predecessor. In the time since, Colwell and Salisbury have become a couple, and it's had a profound effect on their work; if Years was about how loss evolves, Somewhere is about how love evolves. "We explore a lot of the same themes across it," Colwell says, "but I think there's a lot more love here." Somewhere is Sun June at their most decadent, a richly diverse album which sees them exploring bright new corners with full hearts and wide eyes. Embracing a more pop-oriented sound the album consists of eleven beautiful new songs and is deliberately more collaborative and fully arranged: Laura played guitar for the first time; band members swapped instruments, and producer Danny Reisch helped flesh out layers of synth and percussion that provides a sweeping undercurrent to the whole thing. Throughout Somewhere you can hear Sun June blossom into a living-and-breathing five-piece, the album formed from an exploratory track building process which results in a more formidable version of the band we once knew. 'Real Thing' is most indicative of this, a fully collaborative effort which encompasses all of the nuances that come to define the album. "Are you the real thing?" Laura Colwell questions in the song's repeated refrain. "Honey I'm the real thing," she answers back. They've called this one their 'prom' record; a sincere, alive-in-the-moment snapshot of the heady rush of love. "The prom idea started as a mood for us to arrange and shape the music to, which we hadn't done before," the band explains. " Prom isn't all rosy and perfect. The songs show you the crying in the bathroom,, the fear of dancing, the joy of a kiss - all the highs and all the lows." It's in both those highs and lows where Somewhere comes alive. Laura Colwell's voice is mesmerising throughout, and while the record is a document of falling in love, there's still room for her to wilt and linger, the vibrancy of the production creating beautiful contrasts for her voice to pull us through. Opening track 'Bad With Time' sets this tone from the outset, both dark and mysterious, sad and sultry as it fascinatingly unrolls. "I didn't mean what I said," Colwell sings. "But I wanted you to think I did." Somewhere showcases a gentle but eminently pronounced maturation of Sun June's sound, a second record full of quiet revelation, eleven songs that bristle with love and longing. It finds a band at the height of their collective potency, a marked stride forward from the band that created that debut record, but also one that once again is able to transport the listener into a fascinating new landscape, one that lies somewhere between the town and the city, between the head and the heart; neither here nor there, but certainly somewhere.

The 1975 will release their highly-anticipated second album 'I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it' The follow-up to the quartet's million-selling self-titled debut. It is a bold and brilliant record made up of infectious pop hooks and sprawling electro sonics, an ambitious stride forward for one of the UK's most exciting young bands. The album will be released on standard CD and double, heavyweight LP in gatefold sleeve. Both contain 28pg, full colour booklets and the LP comes with a download card. The CD is packaged in a standard jewel case. 4* Q album review and Q cover confirmed. The ban will emabark on a SOLD OUT UK tour in March.There will be outdoor advertisng and the band will be performing on Saturday Night Live and also in the Radio1 Live Lounge

Kiwi Jr. is a phenomenal "rock" and/or "punk" and/or "indie-rock" (whichever you like more) band from Canada, made up of Jeremy Gaudet (mic, guitar), Brohan Moore (drums), Mike Walker (bass), and Brian Murphy (guitar). Cooler Returns is their second album, and their first for Sub Pop. Despite being a snapshot of the pandemic-infused beginnings of this decade, Cooler Returns is truly a whole lot of fun. RIYL indie-pop from down under, things that are smart/exuberant/catchy all at once. Buildings burning in every direction; macabre unknowns in your friendly neighbor's basement; undecided voters sharpening their pencils: under pressure we could call Kiwi Jr.'s Cooler Returns "timely." But what year is it, again? On Cooler Returns, Kiwi Jr. cycle through the recent zigs & looming zags of the new decade, squinting anew at New Year's parties forgotten and under-investigated small town diner fires, piecing together low-stakes conspiracy theories on what's coming down the pike in 2021. Put together like a thousand-piece puzzle, assembled in flow state through the first dull stretch of quarantine, sanitized singer shuffling to sanitized studio by streetcar, masked like it's the kind of work where getting recognized means getting killed, Cooler Returns materializes as a sprawling survey from the first few bites of the terrible twenties, an investigative exposé of recent history buried under the headlines & ancient kings buried under parking lots. Not so long since their debut Football Money in archaeological time, unending gray eons later in the dog years of quaran-time, spiritually antipodean Canadians Kiwi Jr return to disseminate this year's annual report to the shareholders, burying the incriminating numbers in the endless appendices of a longform narrative record, a 3,000 word tract for stakeholders to pore over. These stories - memories of Augusts past, unrepressed & transcribed fast - go down easier thanks to meaningful changes enacted in 2019's KiwiCares Pledge: delivering on a promise to transition from Crunchy to Smooth by 2021, the caveman chug of Football Money has been steamed & pressed with the purifying air of a saloon piano - operated with bow-tie untied - and a spring green side-salad of tentatively up-tempo organ taps & freshly fluted harmonica. A chronically detuned spin of the dial through swivel-chair distractions & WFH daydreams, an immersive ctrl-tab deluge cycling through popular listicle distractions like the unentombing of Richard III, or the deja vu destruction of the Glasgow School of Art, Kiwi Jr. sing this song to an indoor audience, crisscrossing canceled, every other prestige distraction source wrung dry, only songwriting remaining to deliver engrossing tales to the populace, just how I imagine it worked in the old days. Fixing loose ingredients into a sturdy whip, Kiwi Jr. beam in live from the 9-5, striding into 2021 with a mastered brainwave that comes equally from the back room of the record store as the penalty box. And how do we, left holding this box of deliberate entanglements, sign off to those as yet uninitiated, undecided, uncertain, unseen, absent return coordinates - Best Wishes, Warm Regards, Good Luck? Cooler Returns, Cooler Returns, C o o l e r R e t u r n s ! Cooler Returns was produced by Kiwi Jr., mixed and engineered by Graham Walsh (METZ, Bully) in Toronto, and mastered by Phillip Shaw Bova at Bova Labs in Ottawa, Ontario.

LTD. LOSER EDITION

Kiwi Jr. is a phenomenal "rock" and/or "punk" and/or "indie-rock" (whichever you like more) band from Canada, made up of Jeremy Gaudet (mic, guitar), Brohan Moore (drums), Mike Walker (bass), and Brian Murphy (guitar). Cooler Returns is their second album, and their first for Sub Pop. Despite being a snapshot of the pandemic-infused beginnings of this decade, Cooler Returns is truly a whole lot of fun. RIYL indie-pop from down under, things that are smart/exuberant/catchy all at once. Buildings burning in every direction; macabre unknowns in your friendly neighbor's basement; undecided voters sharpening their pencils: under pressure we could call Kiwi Jr.'s Cooler Returns "timely." But what year is it, again? On Cooler Returns, Kiwi Jr. cycle through the recent zigs & looming zags of the new decade, squinting anew at New Year's parties forgotten and under-investigated small town diner fires, piecing together low-stakes conspiracy theories on what's coming down the pike in 2021. Put together like a thousand-piece puzzle, assembled in flow state through the first dull stretch of quarantine, sanitized singer shuffling to sanitized studio by streetcar, masked like it's the kind of work where getting recognized means getting killed, Cooler Returns materializes as a sprawling survey from the first few bites of the terrible twenties, an investigative exposé of recent history buried under the headlines & ancient kings buried under parking lots. Not so long since their debut Football Money in archaeological time, unending gray eons later in the dog years of quaran-time, spiritually antipodean Canadians Kiwi Jr return to disseminate this year's annual report to the shareholders, burying the incriminating numbers in the endless appendices of a longform narrative record, a 3,000 word tract for stakeholders to pore over. These stories - memories of Augusts past, unrepressed & transcribed fast - go down easier thanks to meaningful changes enacted in 2019's KiwiCares Pledge: delivering on a promise to transition from Crunchy to Smooth by 2021, the caveman chug of Football Money has been steamed & pressed with the purifying air of a saloon piano - operated with bow-tie untied - and a spring green side-salad of tentatively up-tempo organ taps & freshly fluted harmonica. A chronically detuned spin of the dial through swivel-chair distractions & WFH daydreams, an immersive ctrl-tab deluge cycling through popular listicle distractions like the unentombing of Richard III, or the deja vu destruction of the Glasgow School of Art, Kiwi Jr. sing this song to an indoor audience, crisscrossing canceled, every other prestige distraction source wrung dry, only songwriting remaining to deliver engrossing tales to the populace, just how I imagine it worked in the old days. Fixing loose ingredients into a sturdy whip, Kiwi Jr. beam in live from the 9-5, striding into 2021 with a mastered brainwave that comes equally from the back room of the record store as the penalty box. And how do we, left holding this box of deliberate entanglements, sign off to those as yet uninitiated, undecided, uncertain, unseen, absent return coordinates - Best Wishes, Warm Regards, Good Luck? Cooler Returns, Cooler Returns, C o o l e r R e t u r n s ! Cooler Returns was produced by Kiwi Jr., mixed and engineered by Graham Walsh (METZ, Bully) in Toronto, and mastered by Phillip Shaw Bova at Bova Labs in Ottawa, Ontario.

Linus Hillborg’s solo debut Magelungsverket lures listeners through despaired soundscapes of justly tuned electroacoustic orchestral arrangements seeped in rich harmonic synthesis.

Magelungsverket is a rendering of materials from Hillborg’s own computer game hacking project, Orphan Works, where an obsolete game engine was modified to create an interactive installation in which participants drive through the purple midnight streets of a decrepit and abandoned Stockholm. The game's generative soundtrack interacts with the player’s haphazard navigation of a ceaseless digital void of factories, housing projects, run down bars, ditches and lakes. Displaced, uncanny narratives and depictions of both real and semi-fictional locations in Stockholm that could have existed - but do not - procures distinct sequences of sound constructed with the Buchla 200 system, programmed synthesis, bowed cymbals, metal clarinet and tape machines.

The rendered pieces on Magelungsverket have been adapted from Orphan Works’ interactive and generative material into separate, fixed compositions, bound by duration, each one named after a location in this fictional, virtual Stockholm. For instance, Vårbergsobservatoriet (The Vårberg Observatory), draws its name from an artificial mountain that exists in the outskirts of Stockholm, amidst the sprawl of residential areas far beyond the sparkling city center. It was built from garbage scraps left behind after the underground metro system was constructed in the 1970s. In this fictional version, a public observatory was wishfully imagined to have been built on top of it. However fictitious Hillborg has imagined these locations, it is a bittersweet reflection and fragmented mental image of a Stockholm that never existed. Magelungsverket will be released on the 4th of December in a limited run of 200 black vinyls and across digital platforms.

Linus Hillborg (b. 1989, Stockholm) is a composer, musician and sound artist based in Stockholm, operating in numerous fields, ranging from experimental musics and audio-visual installations to post-punk and noise formations.

Shame follow up their wildly acclaimed debut with a James Ford-produced peek into the riddled mind of the band's frontman, Charlie Steen. There are moments on Drunk Tank Pink where you almost have to reach for the sleeve to check this is the same band who made 2018's Songs Of Praise. Such is the jump Shame have made from the riotous post-punk of their debut to the sprawling adventurism and twitching anxieties laid out here. The South Londoner's blood and guts spirit, that wink and grin of devious charm, is still present, it's just that it's grown into something bigger, something deeper, more ambitious and unflinchingly honest. The genius of Drunk Tank Pink is how these lyrical themes dovetail with the music. Opener Alphabet dissects the premise of performance over a siren call of nervous, jerking guitars, its chorus thrown out like a beer bottle across a mosh pit. Songs spin off and lurch into unexpected directions throughout here, be it March Day's escalating aural panic attack or the shapeshifting darkness of Snow Day. There's a Berlin era Bowie beauty to the lovelorn Human For A Minute while closer Station Wagon weaves from a downbeat mooch into a souring, soullifting climax in which Steen elevates himself beyond the clouds and into the heavens. Or at least that's what it sounds like. From the womb to the clouds (sort of), Shame are currently very much in the pink.

Shame follow up their wildly acclaimed debut with a James Ford-produced peek into the riddled mind of the band's frontman, Charlie Steen. There are moments on Drunk Tank Pink where you almost have to reach for the sleeve to check this is the same band who made 2018's Songs Of Praise. Such is the jump Shame have made from the riotous post-punk of their debut to the sprawling adventurism and twitching anxieties laid out here. The South Londoner's blood and guts spirit, that wink and grin of devious charm, is still present, it's just that it's grown into something bigger, something deeper, more ambitious and unflinchingly honest. The genius of Drunk Tank Pink is how these lyrical themes dovetail with the music. Opener Alphabet dissects the premise of performance over a siren call of nervous, jerking guitars, its chorus thrown out like a beer bottle across a mosh pit. Songs spin off and lurch into unexpected directions throughout here, be it March Day's escalating aural panic attack or the shapeshifting darkness of Snow Day. There's a Berlin era Bowie beauty to the lovelorn Human For A Minute while closer Station Wagon weaves from a downbeat mooch into a souring, soullifting climax in which Steen elevates himself beyond the clouds and into the heavens. Or at least that's what it sounds like. From the womb to the clouds (sort of), Shame are currently very much in the pink.

Germany Exclusive on Smoke Marble Vinyl, only 1000 copies available. Shame follow up their wildly acclaimed debut with a James Ford-produced peek into the riddled mind of the band's frontman, Charlie Steen. There are moments on Drunk Tank Pink where you almost have to reach for the sleeve to check this is the same band who made 2018's Songs Of Praise. Such is the jump Shame have made from the riotous post-punk of their debut to the sprawling adventurism and twitching anxieties laid out here. The South Londoner's blood and guts spirit, that wink and grin of devious charm, is still present, it's just that it's grown into something bigger, something deeper, more ambitious and unflinchingly honest. The genius of Drunk Tank Pink is how these lyrical themes dovetail with the music. Opener Alphabet dissects the premise of performance over a siren call of nervous, jerking guitars, its chorus thrown out like a beer bottle across a mosh pit. Songs spin off and lurch into unexpected directions throughout here, be it March Day's escalating aural panic attack or the shapeshifting darkness of Snow Day. There's a Berlin era Bowie beauty to the lovelorn Human For A Minute while closer Station Wagon weaves from a downbeat mooch into a souring, soullifting climax in which Steen elevates himself beyond the clouds and into the heavens. Or at least that's what it sounds like. From the womb to the clouds (sort of), Shame are currently very much in the pink.