Suche:stretch

Carrying on from recent archival releases from masters of Indian classical tradition such as Kamalesh Maitra and the Dagar Brothers, Black Truffle is pleased to present a previously unheard recording of a concert by Pakistani vocalist Salamat Ali Khan. Born to a musician family in Hoshiarpur in the northwestern state of Punjab, Khan moved with his family to Lahore in Pakistan after the 1947 partition of India, becoming a child musical prodigy. Khan was a master of the kyhal form of Hindustani classical vocal music, a style integrating influences from Middle Eastern musical traditions that gives the singer a great deal of improvisational freedom. Travelling widely across the globe from the 1960s until his death in 2001, Khan approached ragas performed in the kyhal style as expressive forums for risk-taking improvisation, enlivened by ceaseless ornamental invention.

This remarkable recording was captured by Michael Hönig (of krautrock legends Agitation Free) in concert at Berlin’s Neue Nationalgalerie as part of the MetaMusik festival in 1974 (which also featured Nico, Tangerine Dream, and Roberto Laneri’s Prima Materia, among many others). Khan, who is also heard accompanying himself on a specially tuned alpine zither (in place of the traditional swarmandal, an Indian style of zither), is joined by Shaukat Hussein Khan on tabla and Hussein Bux Khan on harmonium. The lack of a familiar underlying tanpura drone gives this performance a weightless, floating quality, with all three of the musicians playing masterfully with the interaction between silence and the pulse propelling each section of the raag.

As Khan explains in his opening remarks, this performance of the rainy season Raag Megh is divided into three parts, each with its own tempo and rhythmic scheme (tala). The opening vilambit, in a twelve-beat tala, stretches out for over twenty minutes, lingering for a long time in a space of meditative calm, Khan lightly strumming the zither while exploring the lower end of his range in languorously extended notes. Virtuoso tabla interjections at first barely state the tempo, and the interplay between musicians is so spacious that we hear scraps of audience noise and the squeak of the harmonium’s mechanism in between the notes. Gradually picking up rhythmic definition and melodic complexity, after around fifteen minutes the music builds dramatically, with Khan letting out emotive yelps and swooping scalar shapes ranging across his full vocal range. This flows seamlessly into the following jhaptal, at a faster tempo in ten beats, which then makes way for the concluding teental, very fast in sixteen beats, which becomes a frantic improvisational exchange of daring rhythmic disruptions from the tabla, flowing harmonium melodies, and a stunning variety of vocal approaches from Khan, ranging from rapid-fire staccato consonants to guttural growls.

Accompanied by stunning black and white concert photographs, the LP also contains a moving and entertaining recollection from acclaimed German musicologist Peter Pannke, looking back on his experience assisting Khan and his musicians in Berlin at the Metamusik festival (including a mouth-watering description of a feast cooked by the maestro himself). As Pannke describes in his account of attending the concert, the beauty and spiritual intensity of this music leaves the listener speechless.

Library of the Occult Records unviels ‘Music to Accompany the Poems of Edgar Allan Poe’ a haunting double LP that threads the legendary poet’s dark romanticism through the minds of some of the most evocative contemporary electronic artists.
The Library’s ever-expanding circle now united as the Library of the Occult Electronic Orchestra, bring their own haunted visions to Poe’s bleak and beautiful world. Ivan The Tolerable stretches krautrock pulses and experimental noise into something hypnotic and strange, while The Heartwood Institute channels vintage occult nostalgia. Sermons by the Devil drapes everything in a ritualistic haze and Klaus Morlock, ever the maestro of unease, paints in slow-moving shadows, melancholic, cinematic, and tinged with the surreal. It’s a record for twilight listening, flickering candles, and the spaces between.

Folwark is a duo composed of Francesco Marcolini (guitars, synths, vocals) and Tommaso Faraci (drums, theremin, vocals). Their music fuses syncopated rhythms, introspective loops, and psychedelic mantras, forging an intense connection with listeners that transcends sound, reaching into emotional and spiritual depths. "All Shadows Stretched" blends heavy grooves, psychedelic explorations, and deep spiritual themes, creating a rich and immersive listening experience. The band's signature dynamic setup of guitars, drums, theremin, synths, and vocals shapes a powerful, emotionally charged soundscape. Produced by Folwark, mixed and mastered by Lorenzo Stecconi (Amenra, Ufomammut, ZU).

Crack the coffers, Oh Sees have spawned another frothy album of head-destroying psych-epics to grok and rock out to. Notice the fresh dollop of organ and keyboard prowess courtesy of Memory Of A Cut Off Head-alum and noted key-stabber Tom Dolas, while the Paul Quattrone / Dan Rincon drum-corps polyrhythmic pulse continues to astound and pound in equal measure, buttressed by the nimble fingered bottom end of Sir Tim Hellman the Brave and the shred-heaven fret frying of John Dwyer, whilst Lady Brigid Dawson again graces the wax with her harmonic gifts. Aside from the familiar psych-scorch familiar to soggy pit denizens the world over, there’s a fresh heavy-prog vibe that fits like a worn-in jean jacket comfortably among hairpin metal turns and the familiar but no less horns-worthy guitar fireworks Dwyer’s made his calling card. Perhaps the most notable thing about Smote Reverser is the artistic restlessness underpinning its flights of fancy. Dwyer refuses to repeat himself and for someone with such a hectic release schedule, that stretching of aesthetic borders and omnivorous appetite seems all the more superhuman!

* The first release on Entire Records, in the shape of the soundtrack score to Academy-nominated 1976 documentary about the Bakhtiari tribe composed and performed by G.T. Moore and Shusha Guppy

* Available on vinyl for the first time since its original release.

* Musically encompassing Persian-flavoured and folk-tinged instrumentals and Farsi-language a-capellas.

* G.T. Moore is a singer and songwriter whose career stretches back to the late 60s when he was a member of folk band Heron. In the mid-70s he formed G.T. Moore and the Reggae Guitars. Later in his career, he would work with the likes of Lee Perry, Johnny Nash and Poly Styrene.
After 50 years in the music business, Gerald (G.T.) is still effortless bridging musical genres.

* Shusha Guppy, born in Tehran, was a talented writer, editor, songwriter, and singer.
Between 1971 and 1995, she recorded over ten albums of both Persian and Western folk songs.
She passed away in 2008.

After a collage tape collab with Bardo Todol back in 2022 (SUC52, Magnetic Road to Hell) Robert Millis finally gets his Discrepant debut proper, a much overdue entryin our random catalogue of lost musical oddities.

The not so self explanatory title Interior Music explores Millis obsession with hidden sounds and its anomalies. An hermetic rearrangement of emptiness could be another more big headed title. But I leave the man to talk about his thing:

‘’The phrase interior music occurred to me a few years ago as a way to describe some recent work. It’s about the resonances inside of hollow wooden chambers (and hollow heads) like gramophones and talking machines, music boxes, instruments, metal containers, and resonant rooms. It’s about exploring tiny audio fragments—single notes, vinyl and shellac surface noise, recording mishaps and anomalies—and arranging them into something meaningful. It is about my own interior mishaps and anomalies and attempts to arrange THEM into something meaningful. It also references “interior design” with the placement of sounds in specific locations, layers or in juxtapositions.

Inspirations include Steve Roden’s lowercase work, Toshiya Tsunoda’s field recordings, Eliane Radique’s slowly shifting ambiances, and the musique concrete of Pierre Schaeffer, as well as the dhrupad and kayal traditions of Indian classical music—especially Kesarbai Kerkar and the Dagar family who have a sublime way of stretching out individual notes and exploring their endless permutations, combinations and connotations.’’

Robert Millis is a sound artist known for his work with Climax Golden Twins, the Helen Scarsdale Agency, the soundtrack to cult horror film Session 9, the Victrola Favorites book and cassette series, and many releases on Sublime Frequencies including Indian Talking Machine, Paris to Calcutta: Men and Music on the Desert Road, compilations of the earliest music recorded in Korea, Japan and Myanmar, and the documentaries This World is Unreal Like a Snake in a Rope and Phi Ta Khon: Ghosts of Isan. Somehow he is a Fulbright scholar (to India 2012-13) and the recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship (2020). He has or currently does play with AFCGT, Idol Ko Si, and/or Telescoping.

"Amazing! Like stumbling on a treasure-trove of unheard Charlie Patton and Blind Willie McTell 78s, but imbued with the spirit of Mahlathini and Ladysmith." Joe Boyd

'But for this compilation of rescued songs masterfully restored from rare 78 rpm shellacs, few could imagine the diversely beautiful roots of Zulu Guitar Music emerging during the period 1950 – 1965. Story-tellers and master musicians appropriate outlaw personae, re-purpose country and western, Hawaiian and other styles, to stretch and challenge our notion of “the Zulu guitar”.

Twenty-five songs (18 on vinyl) plunge us into the depths of the migrant experience. Translations in the liner notes offer us glimpses of pugnacity, melancholy and heartache, all coloured by the paternalism that circumscribed the singers’ apartheid-dominated lives.

The early *mbaqanga* undertow in many of the songs subverts the wanderlust of Country and Western music into a fugitivity burdened by nostalgia. Something irretrievable has been lost, prompting a blending of ideas and cultures to make sense through thankless acts of musical divination. Inadvertently they have been thrust into the role of the antihero, where outwitting competition for lovers is as important as evading the Black Jacks (apartheid’s municipal cops) and their informants.

Considering the politically repressive period that this music emerges from, we can surmise that the specificity in the storytelling went a long way towards evading censure. But even when words are absent, there is a narrative arc suggested by the musical expression.

With most of the master tapes wilfully destroyed or lost, modern transcription and restoration techniques from the original shellac discs present the original sound most likely more clearly than ever heard before.'

Produced for reissue by Chris Albertyn and Matt Temple at Matsuli Music and Siemon Allen at Flatinternational.
Artwork design by Siemon Allen.
Liner note and translations by Kwanele Sosibo.
Audio restoration and lacquers by Frank Merritt at The Carvery and pressed at Pallas, Germany.
Original 78rpm recordings sourced from the collections of Chris Albertyn at Matsuli Music, and Siemon Allen at the Flatinternational Archive.

For RSD 2025 the influential band will be releasing a new double LP edition of their Nine Sevens box set of 7" records first released in 2018. Combining the run of early singles with more obscure later period tracks underlines the strength in depth that Wire had. This is pop art as art/pop and an exploration of the blank canvas of pop culture and how far that canvas can be stretched going from three minute constructs to ambient washes. The 7" single was always the ultimate artefact and statement with the A side being the band momentarily paused in time and distilled and freeze-framed into the forever with less than three minutes of electric sound. These "sevens" released from 1977 to the end of that decade, signpost the band's remarkable development from their brilliantly monochromatic early phase to the textured complexity of the almost psychedelic unzipping of their sound and vision. In some ways the compilation of Nine Sevens onto a double album makes for quite a weird documentation of the band in this period. The first disc, to some extent, follows the script of a singles / greatest hits collection but the second one goes wildly off-piste and ends up somewhere quite far from where the collection started. A conventional Greatest Hits collection, besides being conceptually a bit naff would, if strictly based on charting singles, consist of only one song! A Best Of is subjective and somewhat pointless in the age of the Spotify playlist that anyone can make. The only thing really that these tracks have in common (besides being by Wire) is that they were released or destined to be released on 7" by Wire in the period 1977-1980. - Nine Sevens is both title & elevator pitch!' Wire always understood the language of pop and also the artfulness of playing with it, deconstructing it and reassembling it into new and thrilling shapes. Decades later, these adventures into sound are like slices of delicious, perfect pop/noise and hits from a parallel universe. Track list:Side A1 Mannequin 2 Feeling Called Love 3 12XU 4 I Am the Fly5 Ex-Lion Tamer 6 Dot Dash *7 Options R * Side B 8 Outdoor Miner (single version) * 9 Practice Makes Perfect 10 A Question Of Degree * 11 Former Airline *12 Map Ref. 41ºN 93ºW Side C 1 Go Ahead * 2 Our Swimmer * 3 Midnight Bahnhof Café * 4 Second Length (Our Swimmer) **5 Catapult 30 ** Side D (154 EP) 6 Song 1 * 7 Get Down 1 + 2 * 8 Let's Panic Later *9 Small Electric Piece * * previously unreleased on vinyl album ** recorded in 1980 but not released until 2014

"After a first appearance on the "Various 1" EP, Oshana now makes her full release debut on Altered Circuits. The "Origins EP" is, in the artist's words, a collection of old-meets-new four-to-the-floor club flavours. Originating from her live set practice, it's a proper representation of where she's currently at: making a push for the bigger and bolder. Her obvious talent for meticulously stacking textures doesn't stop her from shifting to the stripped-back and straightforward when needed. The constant throughout is a sensibility for the dancefloor, which never lets anything get in the way of groove and rhythm. "Above We Soar" drops right into the action with a menacing bassline and equally gloomy synthesizer layering. The cut's gothic-black palette works a charm merging palpable tension with restraint. It builds for 4 minutes towards a drop - and then a slamming acid line succeeds in cranking the energy even up another notch. "Space And Time Dimensions" is a loopy roller which, by the sound of its reverb levels and ambient noises, might have been recorded at a missile silo. The stretched vocal samples and ever-evolving drums propel it forward in a vintage, Chicago house type way. There's a moment of calm when those briefly fall away; one of its quirky basslines subsequently makes room for a slick little polyrhythm sine, and everything clicks even more. On the other side, "Girls In The Front" doesn't loosen the reins either, as hefty kicks and another sturdy bassline immediately set the tone. The air appears charged with static electricity, and Oshana's way of niftily adding and subtracting seamlessly draws the listener into a groovy trip. 5 minutes fly by, and then the lead still has to emerge. The one that eventually comes in is huge and hypnotic. Topped off with a selection of vocals that burst with impatience, the track hints at the anthemic. Closer "Origins" taps into a more progressive and trance side with its modulated formant bassline, jittery arpeggiator lead and heavily flanged flourishes. A gust of electronic flutes and sleek chords take a turn for the - almost - idyllic. Not for long: not uncharacteristically, it switches back to the main beat and back into more ambiguous yet familiar territory."

Neon Pink Vinyl. For their tenth LP in a career spanning more than two decades, Tulsa's Unwed Sailor deliver their heaviest riffs, loudest squalls, and most deeply textured arrangements yet. Cruel Entertainment is a catalogue of contrasts - dissonance and harmony, hardcore crunch and post-rock grandeur, complexity and catchiness - that adds a vibrant new dimension to the second phase of their discography, spanning thus far from 2019's landmark Heavy Age up to the "vivid, starry-eyed psychedelia" (AllMusic) of 2024's Underwater Over There. Opener and lead single, "Rock Candy", roars in with a gale of feedback, pounding drums, and nimble bass, until a latticework of howling guitars ushers us into a more goth-tinged space. It's a characteristically intricate, energetic composition that flows with remarkable ease between its parts, and wastes not a moment of its three minutes. "Monster Collecting" brings a rare combination of melancholic and driving energy, reminiscent of avowed heroes New Order, but ups the ante with a tight, fastpaced rhythm section and litany of guitar lines, until opening up into a cascade of reverberating textures and tenuous sweetness. According to Ford, the title Cruel Entertainment refers to "the hardships of being an artist and musician in the crowded, imbalanced world of social media and streaming," where the completion of a new work demands that the creator also be a promoter, content strategist, and agent, among many other intensifying challenges. Pointedly drawing inspiration from noisier, rowdier bands - including Fugazi, Quicksand, and Cherubs - here they seek a much-needed catharsis in the ongoing fight to keep the creative soul intact. Second side standout, "Monty Donahue", typifies this form of release, as massive, mid-tempo percussion leads a fluid low end theme - inspired by the dual bass assault of Dianogah - and Swatzell's chords burst into shimmering nebulas across a labyrinthine arrangement that's equally loud and beautiful. Title track, "Cruel Entertainment", is a mosaic of sound for which Ford's bass provides the mortar: taut drums list between the channels, washes of guitar stretch to the horizon, and metallic heaviness punctuates the drift. There is a confident immensity here, proving that, although Unwed Sailor have witnessed a wild amount of changes in the music industry, their knack for creating complex, vital, and masterfully produced work remains untouched.

Detroit’s Apollo Brown and Rochester’s Hassaan Mackey operate in a world where every drum slap lands like a timeworn truth and every bar drips with lived-in wisdom. Brown’s production is rich with that signature crackle—soul loops stretched and repurposed into something both hauntingly nostalgic and unmistakably fresh. Mackey’s delivery is sharp yet unhurried, weaving Northern NY grit with effortless poise. It’s the kind of record that doesn’t beg for attention but demands respect. Now available on Black & Yellow Starburst Vinyl. Sounds Beautiful Like The Truth.

'Trá Pháidín are an Irish nine piece collective from Conamara, Galway, a wild coastal region of West Ireland where Gaeilge remains the first language. The group are currently lighting up Ireland's underground with their joyful noise, a unique and unpredictable blend of traditional Irish folk, post-rock, jazz, and Dadaist absurdity. The glorious album An 424 takes us on a psychogeographical journey along the 424 bus route which follows this remote stretch of coastline, introducing us to the landscapes and the characters who depend on the buses. Expect wild improvisational flights filled with brass, woodwinds, harp and fiddles alongside relentless grooves.

Here's what the band themselves have to say about the album:

Psychogeography is a funny aul term......the effect geography and landscape of a certain area has on the psychology, identity and nature of the local people...........I suppose

Notoriously, Conamara is famous place for psychogeoraphy due to the work of the great Tom Robinson. He walked every coastline in every area contemplating the geography, culture, history, Gaelic language, English language and folklore of the area while he was drawing it's best map with great depth and detail.

Right, so I've given context, a few buzzwords and some interesting names, now it's time for the absurd stuff....

"Bóthar Chois Fharraige" (the R336 and whatever anglicized name they call it) is well known by everyone in the South Conamara Gaeltacht (Gaeltacht is an area where Irish/Gaeilge is the dominant language, there aren't many because we were colonized by the British and our government doesn't care about its own language). The people of Conamara travel this road almost every day by car, by bike, on Peadar Óg's buses or of course, through the medium of the 424 (the bus service provided by Bus Éireann, Ireland's public-private bus company). From Bearna to Carna (maybe sometimes a detour in Casla going as far back as an Cheathrú Rua and/or Leitir Mealláin)

Every passenger is well versed of gorgeous views of the landscape that is on offer on this journey. Included are Cuan na Gaillimhe/Galway Bay, An Bhoirinn/the Burren, na hOileáin Árann/the Arann Islands,Aillte an Mhothair/the Cliffs of Moher, Portach Mhaigh Cuilinn/the bogs of Maigh Cuilinn, Bóthar Loch an Iolra/Eagle lake road, Cuan Casla/Casla Harbour, Cuan an Fhir Mhóir/Greatman's Bay, Cnoc Mordáin/Mordáin hill, Sléibhte Mhám Toirc/the Maamturk Mountains and Na Beanna Beola/the twelve pins. Passengers would also be well used the unique character of the bus. Depending on the day, you will get a unique perspective of the "complicated identity" of the Gaels as the bus travels from the Gaeltacht into anglophone Ireland, or maybe going the other way.

This is a topic you could write a PhD about (and maybe someone already has). But, if you are someone who grew up or lives in this region, you have a particular understanding at this stage of how complicated Gaelic psyche is and the kind of spectrum of identity along bóthar Choise Fharraige. With the landscape in mind, this bus journey is a great meditation of the various topics of life.

‘Bhfuil tionchar ag an mbus ar nádúr na ndaoine?
Nó an bhfuil tionchar ag na daoine ar nádúr an bhus?'

'Does the bus effect the nature of the people?
Or do the people affect the nature of the bus?'

Le gach dea-ghuí,
TP.

(translated from Gaeilge by Peadar-Tom Mercier)'

»Carpet Of Fallen Leaves« is an introduction to the folk-pop world of Eddie Marcon. It follows in the footsteps of other collections of Japanese artists on Morr Music, such as yumbo, Andersens, and the »Minna Miteru« compilations. »Carpet Of Fallen Leaves« draws together songs from Eddie Marcon’s twenty-two-year history, including fragile, yet rich in melody material, collected from a prodigious run of limited edition, self-released CD-Rs.

Eddie Marcon is the project of Eddie Corman and Jules Marcon, who met through their involvement in Japan’s underground music scene. Eddie was a member of noise-rock duo Coa, while both Eddie and Marcon were part of psych-rock collective LSD-March. Forming in 2001, Eddie Marcon’s sound is markedly different from these groups, though they do, at times, share a sense of psychedelic dislocation, through the gentle, limpid pace of their songs. But with Eddie Marcon, melody and gentleness is at the music’s core.

They’ve long marked out their own, unique territory within a worldwide community of psych-folk and folk-pop artists; sharing their music through a subterranean network of colleagues and friends, they count groups like The Pastels and The Notwist as their fans, and Eddie has collaborated with the likes of Shintaro Sakamoto, and Aki Tsuyuko (in Tondekebana, and with Marcon and Ippei Matsui in the quartet Wasurerogusa). Eddie Marcon have also recently worked with drummer Ikuro Takahashi, who’s played with groups such as Fushitsusha, Maher Shalal Hash Baz, and Nagisa Ni Te.

Across the songs on »Carpet Of Fallen Leaves«, Eddie Marcon’s songs are performed by Eddie on guitar, organ and vocals, and Marcon on bass; they’re variously joined by Takahashi, Yojiro Tatekawa (drums), Tomoko Kageyama (vibraphone), Yasuhisa Mizutani (flute), Madoka Asakura (vocals), and Ztom Motoyama (pedal steel). The arrangements are pared back to best serve the core of each song, and the playing is gorgeous – fluent but not showy; capable of great intricacy, but aware that simplicity is key to direct communication.

Songs like »Mayonaka No Ongaku« stretch their limbs languidly, the music shivering with beauty as guitar and cymbal drift across Eddie’s poised vocal delivery. »Tora To Lion« began as an improvisation, but it’s become a firm favourite of the group’s fans: as Eddie says, »it has become a very important song for us, to the extent that it can be said to be our representative song.«

Perhaps the most moving thing about »Carpet Of Fallen Leaves«, though, is the way it captures the subtle yet significant moments of everydayness that ask for our attention. »Shoujo«, a song for a beloved cat who passed away, possesses rare emotional resonance. »At the end of the song,« Eddie remembers, »I wanted to have her throat rumbling endlessly.« When the song was cut, a television voice appeared behind the purring, saying ›thank you‹. »For us, it felt like words from Poco-chan, and tears came to our eyes.«

Time in the context of the cosmos is not merely a measure of change but a profound mystery permeating all aspects of existence. It is both present and elusive, like the light of a distant star we see but can no longer touch at its source. The cosmos poses a fundamental question: what is time? Is it the stream in which we exist or an illusion crafted by our perception? The grandeur of the Universe reveals the extraordinary malleability of time. Gravity can slow its flow, while velocity can stretch it to infinity. At the event horizon of a black hole, time can nearly halt, transforming a moment into an eternity. This teaches us that time is not a universal truth but a phenomenon dependent on conditions and perspective

Ziúr lines up with The Tapeworm for an exclusive cassette-only release featuring Kenichi Iwasa, exploring the electroacoustic realms.

Invited to perform solo at Tarek Atoui's performance series at Kunsthaus Bregenz in October 2024, Ziúr decided to write a new piece for the occasion. This composition, 'Turn Liquid Into Dust', was then performed within the framework of Tarek Atoui's 'Waters' Witness' exhibition as an 8-channel spacial audio piece, transmitting sounds through the installation's structure – metal bars, stones, compost piles… Composed in London in autumn 2024, its principal source of sonic material is recordings of Atoui's instruments which Ziúr had recorded in his studio in Paris during the summer of 2024. In addition, she invited the Japanese woodwind player and virtuoso Kenichi Iwasa to join on all pieces, his contribution providing a binding element, tying the pieces together.

Opener 'A Cold Drip' consists solely of Iwasa's spectral squalls. The tense noir drone of 'Long Call' features a string instrument built by Atoui. For the airy yet dense title track, Ziúr recorded an organ named The Reed Box, with Iwasa floating atop its smoggy soundbed. Closer 'Chips 'n' Crumbles' echos and reverberates with the rattles of household items Ziúr found around her home.

Driven by a relentless appetite for boundless experimentation, Ziúr has been subverting expectations since she was a teenager, corkscrewing through hardcore, metal and punk before veering towards electronic music's turbulent fringes. She produces just like she DJs, gathering a wide variety of ingredients and figuring out the most intriguing, unexpected ways to simmer them into a coherent narrative that helps listeners synchronize the conflicting messages that surround them. Genre isn't a fixed point for Ziúr, but a colour in a vast palette that stretches across history and borders, helping illustrate music that's powerfully subversive. Her The Tapeworm edition follows acclaimed recordings for Planet Mu, PAN, Objects Limited and Hakuna Kulala.

Kenichi Iwasa is a London-based improviser and multidisciplinary artist from Japan, also known for his legendary Krautrock Karaoke night as well as collaborations with visual artists and musicians such as Beatrice Dillon, Maxwell Sterling and Linder Sterling. He currently performs with Naima Karlsson under the name Exotic Sin.

Listen to This.” As the original working title for Bitches Brew, the instruction and invitation remains to this day as the best way to approach a record that shattered conventions, altered music history, and, 55 years later, still sounds far ahead of its time. The template for jazz fusion, Bitches Brew is rightly ranked by virtually every significant outlet among the 100 greatest albums ever made. Sewn together with vibrant colors, voodoo textures, and ethereal moods, the 1970 landmark emerges with supreme detail and nonpareil feeling on Mobile Fidelity’s UltraDisc One-Step 180g 33RPM 2LP vinyl set.

Sourced from the original master tapes, strictly limited to 5,000 numbered copies, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, this definitive-sounding 55th anniversary reissue enhances every element of a double album that established new possibilities for studio recording techniques. You’ll hear wide and deep soundstages, separation between instruments, and an extremely broad dynamic range. If ever a jazz album can be said to have gone to outer space and back, this is it.

Sourced from the original master tapes, strictly limited to 5,000 numbered copies, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, this definitive-sounding 55th anniversary reissue enhances every element of a double album that established new possibilities for studio recording techniques. You’ll hear wide and deep soundstages, separation between instruments, and an extremely broad dynamic range. If ever a jazz album can be said to have gone to outer space and back, this is it.

Davis conceived Bitches Brew by having the musicians stand in a semi-circle. There, he pointed at them with vague directions for tempo, solos, and cues. The collective improvisation and interplay spawned a galaxy of melodies and grooves that were later spliced together by producer Ted Macero. Benefitting from the ultra-low noise floor and superb groove definition of this pressing, these distinct creations take shape with utmost realism. Compositions stretch across jet-black backgrounds and paint canvases laden with millions of colors and shades. Juxtaposed percussion, loose jams, and melodic segues explode with impressionistic verve.

Bitches Brew also boasts visionary artwork. By design, the lavish packaging and gorgeous presentation of the UD1S Bitches Brew set call attention to such matters. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, it features special foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendor of the recording. It is made for discerning listeners who desire to fully immerse themselves in everything surrounding the album, from the images to the tones. And this is one effort where every last detail matters.

Gathering a Hall of Fame-worthy lineup of musicians and tweaking it according to his desires, Davis follows through on his idea to “put together the greatest rock and roll band you ever heard.” Central to his proposition is the presence of two (and sometimes three) drummers and two bassists, a tactical move that makes rhythms a central focus. Akin to the futuristic album cover art, the drum-driven suites head toward distant universes and uncharted territories. At once hypnotizing and grooving, they chart maverick adventures via quixotic rock, funk, and R&B elements.

A without-a-net experiment involving interchangeable double-quintet lineups, Bitches Brew explores the previously unimaginable with electrified instruments — Fender Rhodes piano, processed trumpet, dissonant guitars, and bass among them — and an emphasis on feeling over composition. Mesmerizing and soothing, jarring and smooth, overt and subtle: The music seemingly covers an entire map of emotions and sensations, and like no record before, ties together the groundbreaking creativity of the multiple disciplines that were changing popular culture at the end of the 1960s and dawn of a new decade.

Conceptually, Davis described Bitches Brew as “a novel without words” and “an incredible journey of pain, joy, sorrow, hate, passion, and love.” The vast psychedelic expanses of warped echoes, liquid reverb, and tape loops confirm such ambitious contrasts of light and dark, fear and hope. Yet the most absolute characteristic of the watershed effort lies in how it resists definitive interpretation and encourages free thought — the very principles Davis used to conceive Bitches Brew.

More About Mobile Fidelity UltraDisc One-Step and Why It Is Superior
Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab’s UltraDisc One-Step (UD1S) technique bypasses generational losses inherent to the traditional three-step plating process by removing two steps: the production of father and mother plates, which are created to yield numerous stampers from each lacquer that is cut. For UD1S plating, stampers (also called “converts”) are made directly from the lacquers. Since each lacquer yields only one stamper, multiple lacquers need to be cut. Mobile Fidelity's UD1S process produces a final LP with the lowest-possible noise floor. The removal of two steps of the plating process also reveals musical details and dynamics that would otherwise be lost due to the standard multi-step process. With UD1S, every aspect of vinyl production is optimized to produce the best-sounding vinyl album available today.

Kali Malone's The Sacrificial Code is the 2019 breakthrough album of the acclaimed composer's pipe organ pieces. Her temporally informed studies of harmonics and intonation breathed life into a suite of compositions which leaves the heart moved and mind still. This 2025 edition was mastered by Rashad Becker and features a new track Sacrificial Code III. Pitchfork praised the album for its "time-stretching properties" and "clean minimalism." Resident Advisor described the album as an "exercise in concentration, restraint, and focus." Tiny Mix Tapes emphasized the "intensity and intimacy" of the album, pointing out how Malone's close miking technique brings out every textural detail of the organ, creating a highly focused and immersive listening experience.

Cataleya Music continues 2025 in style with the powerful Bring Me Down. Alton Miller is no stranger to the label, having remixed Mark Francis' Exclusively last year. Miller has a Detroit House pedigree stretching back to the 1980s and today can be found on labels like Mister Bear and Quintessentials. Detroit's Maurissa Rose has worked with everyone from Dave Lee to Theo Parrish. Bring Me Down appeared on Sound Signature in 2017 and is back now with new remixes. Alton Miller's Remix features a strong vocal display and understanding keys.
The Instrumental focuses closely on those keys and organic percussion. Coflo continues his relationship with Cataleya with stellar remixes. Coflo's Vocal Remix employs a flute, which gives Maurissa's vocals a melancholic tinge. His Instrumental sees the flute fly alongside a sturdy backend. Cataleya Music is already shaping up for a strong 2025.

Konsudd finds the hyperkinetic Konduku teaming up with close pal Aa Sudd as they match subtlety with intensity. Their high-definition production leads on these spacious works of art, with dynamic layers of atmospherics punctured by dense kick drums. They take care to address soundsystem physicality, loading their kicks with irresistible subs down low and finely chiselling the double-time rhythms up top for an extra boost of energy.

No less deep, in fact debatably deeper still, Ghost Dubs aka Michael Fiedler returns after the runaway success of his highly acclaimed 'Damaged' 2LP (1500 units sold and 'Dub/Reggae album of the year' for 2024 in The Wire Magazine), with 'Extended Damaged Versions'. Six dubbed out reworks of tracks from last year's album, deconstructed by the man himself, again for The Bug's PRESSURE label. Kicking off with the irresistible seismic grind of 'Dub Regulator', a dancefloor driven beast that miraculously eclipses the original mix, the opening cut increases in weight and intensity seductively, upping the fx drenched madness with its incessant droid hypnotics. The album's mutant dub techno relentlessly probes, stretches and disfigures all of the previous originals, version by version, on this fascinating follow up release to 'Damaged'.

As Fiedler surgically splices and dices his own original source material into successively more warped variants, gleefully atomizing the originals into molten space echo fragments. 'Thin Dub' is a masterclass in simultaneous saturation and evaporation, wilfully liquified in the heart of the echo chamber. Anyone already smitten by 'Damaged' (ie Pole, JK Flesh, Echospace, Valentina Magaletti etc have all graciously, recently acknowledged its greatness), will definitely find further reverb drenched nourishment on 'Chemical Version', which releases a whirlpool of heavily sedated delay trails, and ends up sounding like a wall of sound mirage, vaguely resembling prime Porter Ricks at their sub aquatic peak. Finally, the ambient pulsations of 'Lobotomy Version' sets the album adrift in deepest space, as this superbly crafted collection reflects Michael Fiedler doing what he does best, getting lost in his own mixing desk sorcery, whilst reflecting the captivating morphology of his live shows, where he magically revamps his heavyweight tracks into pure voodoo, casting spells effortlessly....Not an attempt to just milk 'Damaged', 'EDV' is itself a standalone triumph, an invaluable transformation of the original album's material into an epic, fresh, dub odyssey.

Elori Saxl's soundtrack for the VR film Texada is an exploration of the smallness of human existence within the grand scope of geologic time, mirroring the film's exploration of Texada Island's limestone-rich landscape. Saxl, inspired by her own experiences of island life on Madeline Island, assembled a soundscape that captures both the vastness of Earth's ancient processes and the intimate moments of human existence. Using analog synthesizers, baritone saxophone (performed by Henry Solomon), and processed field recordings of water and rocks, she created ambient layers that evoke cycles, waves, and the transformative forces of nature. The score begins with an exploration of Earth's origins and the emptiness of a rocky planet before life emerged. This foundation grows into pieces like "The Quarry," where the central geological feature, limestone, takes on a dynamic presence. As loops and rumbling textures evoke the rise and movement of stone over millennia, as abstracted creatures spiral upwards, full of life. The album concludes with "The Most Special Place," which serves as a final bridge between the cosmic and the intimate, leaving a lasting impression of how deeply human lives are intertwined with the ancient geology beneath our feet. Saxl's compositional process itself mirrors the themes of transformation and cycles. Working with limited time and resources, she recorded Solomon's saxophone parts early in the project, later repurposing fragments through re-pitching, stretching, and digital effects. As she explains, "I experimented with bringing out the human character of the saxophone by highlighting breath and imperfections while also pushing it into an alien/unrecognizable/bigger world through digital processing and effects." The result is a soundtrack that feels both organic and otherworldly, capturing the grand scope of Earth's timeline while remaining grounded in human emotion and connection.

2LP in printed inner sleeves + 12 page booklet with detailed info, secrets and unpublished pictures written by Walter Verdin himself. This collection dives deep into Verdin's prolific and experimental music from 1980 to the beginning of this millennium, capturing an era of a DIY punk spirit, improvisation, creative freedom and swimming against the tide.



We are thrilled to announce the upcoming release of 'Pingpong', a 2LP compilation showcasing previously unreleased works by Walter Verdin, the founding member behind Pas De Deux, the Belgian band which delivered 80's cult classics 'Rendez-Vous' & 'Cardiocleptomanie'. This collection dives deep into Verdin's prolific and experimental music from 1980 to the beginning of this millennium, capturing an era of a DIY punk spirit, improvisation, creative freedom and swimming against the tide.

This album is not just a compilation-it's a sonic journey into Verdin's unique approach to music-making, which he nurtured in the AV studio at KU Leuven's Audiovisual Department (AVD). Having begun his civil service there in 1980, Verdin was exposed to a rich array of audio and video tools that would shape his work for years to come. From the outset, Verdin's process was defined by an openness to experimentation, where he would explore sound and music organically rather than following pre-existing concepts.

The songs on Pingpong reflect his fascination with creating spontaneous, layered compositions. These recordings were made using limited tools, such as his duophonic Yamaha CS-40M synthesizer, borrowed drum machines, and tape loops, and were further enriched by techniques such as reverb and vintage sound manipulation. The results are raw, tactile, and full of personality-often more vibrant and personal than the polished, commercial recordings that would follow in professional studios.

Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, Verdin developed his craft, regularly drawing from his diverse interests in film history, soundtracks, video art, and avant-garde music. His innovative use of tape recorders, improvisational techniques, and later, MIDI and digital tools, makes for a fascinating and varied listening experience. This compilation includes everything from proto-techno and abstract new wave to avant-pop songs, sample-driven experiments, and the oddball TV-inspired tunes that have long been a staple of his work.

This selection is a true reflection of Verdin's "keen amateur" approach: a method focused on discovery, happy accidents, and unexpected results. These compositions aren't about achieving technical perfection, but about capturing moments of sonic exploration and transformation. The 21 recordings have been meticulously curated, with some tracks freshly arranged while others remain true to their original, unedited forms.

'Pingpong' finally brings these forgotten gems into the light. The album includes not only unreleased music but also fragments from Verdin's video art and multimedia projects, offering a rare glimpse into his creative evolution over two decades. Stretching up the boundaries between medium and message, aligning his own musical univers.

Take a deep breath and dive into the works of an artist whose explorations pushed his boundaries of sound and technology.

A Belgian sonic cut up, ping ponging in between many worlds.

Posture and Sparkly Pony have joined forces on Sweat Repetition, a fresh 5-track split EP featuring remixes by Irelands finest Eoin DJ and dancefloor troublemaker 131bpm.

Dive into laid-back, soothing soundscapes combined with energetic drum workouts that will get your hips swinging.

Posture and Sparkly Pony have joined forces on Sweat Repetition, a fresh 5-track split EP featuring remixes by Irelands finest Eoin DJ and dancefloor troublemaker 131bpm.

Dive into laid-back, soothing soundscapes combined with energetic drum workouts that will get your hips swinging.

Donato Basile AKA DJ Plant Texture always wants his music to tell a story, and with his debut EP on Tresor Records, entitled Life, he’s now trying to tell the biggest story there is. According to the artist, “Life is about the fear of growing up”; both the anxiety itself and acknowledging and moving past it.
This narrative seems to have struck a chord with those who have heard the track, “People want to reflect themselves in the music; something personal. Lots of people have been in touch after hearing it; I guess they feel something melancholic in it. Personally, I imagine the track is like the life of a person; going from being born through childhood and youth and onwards, so perhaps they hear this?”
Having used an MPC since the early 2000s, Basile feels an intuitive connection to the hardware he uses, and so the creative process is very spontaneous: “I know where everything is so the music is made immediately. I make everything in the first ten minutes; after that if it’s not right then I just abandon it and start something else.” This immediacy, and familiarity with his equipment is apparent on the A-side, where Basile’s previous life as a drummer comes to the fore and tracks like Cycles and Ripetivo display his native understanding of groove but also how to stir things up - the three A-side tracks find classic techno rhythms seemingly falling apart only to snap back into place even stronger. The B-side finds Donato exploring more of his melodic side with WTT and the aforementioned title track showing Plant Texture’s love of breakbeat and classic techno.
The three digital bonus tracks continue this exploration of melody and syncopated beats - The EXP Days echos the wistful feeling of Life, as Basile meditates on the times spent at EXP, his record shop in Bari, which functioned as a meeting place for electronic producers in the area.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another foggy day in Yorkshire. A steel grey sky. Raindrops tracing one another down the windowpane. Kirk Barley sits in his studio and assembles compositions from scraps of found sound and live instrumentation. Melodies swell, withdraw and repeat like waves. Time slows. Accelerates. Slows again. The light bends, tweaked at the edges. Twisted by rhythms that never quite resolve.

Written, recorded and produced by Barley in Yorkshire in early 2024, Lux picks up where 2023 LP Marionette leaves off, conjuring a mystical, reflective space between formal minimalism and sonic imaginaries of northern landscapes.

And yet, where Marionette relied at times on more recognisable field recordings, Lux leans into Barley’s skill as an instrumentalist and sound designer, working from a palette of short samples and utilising a variety of alternate tuning systems to build, layer and coax his compositions into being. Most evident on tracks ‘Vita’, ‘Sprite’ and ‘Descendent’, these tunings create an otherworldly harmonic language that is easier to perceive than describe.

Alongside more familiar instruments of guitar, bass, drums, organ and clarinet, here Barley draws on plastic saxophones and bells, and recordings of glass, wood and metal sound objects to provide the organic matter. Rather than directly representative of the natural world, Lux enters into a dialogue with it which, like the grasses and flowers of the album’s cover, exists somewhere between reality and artifice.

On album opener ‘Cache’, Barley constructs his own sense of time from a recording of an umbrella crank, a sparse and spectral piece which hints at memories embedded in the track’s title. Introspection blossoms into new life on ‘Vita’, crumpling again into the percussive ambience of ‘Verre’. A track that takes its harmonic lead from the clinks of glass, it features Barley’s long-time collaborator Matt Davies on drums, whose nuanced, tonally sensitive playing gives ‘Verre’ a fizzing, ice-like quality.

There are several moments where Lux picks up on themes Barley explored under electronic moniker Church Andrews on recent works with Davies, stretching and distorting temporalities most explicitly on ‘Descendent’, whose ritualistic air unfurls around a pattern in exponential decline.

Embracing the surrealism Barley absorbed over years watching classic film noir and the works of David Lynch and Federico Fellini, Lux wends its way through the enchanted sound worlds of ‘Sprite’ and ‘Balanced’ before arriving at the album’s title track.

An expression of his recent experiments in live, prepared guitar, ‘Lux’ brings the album back to earth, returning us to the room where the rain has stopped, the clouds have parted, and the soft warmth of the spring sun is pouring in through the open window.

Bria Salmenas Solo-Debütalbum "Big Dog" erzählt eine Geschichte der Transformation - eine zutiefst persönliche Erkundung der Widerstandsfähigkeit und eine Erklärung der künstlerischen Unabhängigkeit, die durch Zusammenarbeit geschmiedet wurde. Lange Zeit als Frontfrau der kanadischen Post-Punk-Band FRIGS und als Sängerin in Orville Pecks Live-Band gefeiert, erreicht Salmena mit "Big Dog" den vorläufigen Höhepunkt ihrer künstlerischen Entwicklung. Getragen von ihrer souveränen Stimme, die abwechselnd zart, rau und trotzig ist, durchquert das Album das Terrain der Verletzlichkeit und Verbundenheit und markiert die Ankunft einer Künstlerin, die mutig zu sich selbst findet. "Big Dog" ist ein Album mit großen Gefühlen und großen Ambitionen. Musikalisch vereint es Elemente von hypnotischem Krautrock und schimmerndem Shoegaze, opulentem Gothic und pulsierendem Darkwave mit einer Mischung aus elektronischen Texturen zu einem ausgefeilten und oft unheimlichen Sound. Inmitten dieser weitläufigen Klanglandschaft stehen Salmenas kraftvolle lyrische Bilder und ihr großartiger Gesang im Mittelpunkt. Für Salmena ist es unmöglich, die persönliche Reise, die "Big Dog" darstellt, von der Zusammenarbeit zu trennen, die zu seiner Entstehung führte. Salmena arbeitete mit dem Produzenten und Multiinstrumentalisten Duncan Hay Jennings zusammen, der sowohl bei FRIGS als auch in der Band von Orville Peck spielte. Vor "Big Dog" gaben die beiden auf Brias zwei "Cuntry Covers" EPs klassischen und modernen Americana-Songs eine Gothic-Dream-Pop-Behandlung. Jennings, der nicht nur Salmenas engster kreativer Mitarbeiter, sondern auch ihr engster Freund ist, schrieb "Big Dog" mit Salmena über mehrere Jahre hinweg, in denen Salmena in LA und Jennings in Toronto lebte. Graham Walsh (Holy F**k, METZ, Debby Friday, Alvvays) half den beiden, ihre aufkeimende Mischung aus Rock und elektronischer Musik weiter zu verfeinern, während Meg Remy (vom von der Kritik gefeierten experimentellen Pop-Projekt U.S. Girls) sich vor allem auf Salmenas Gesang konzentrierte. Remy half dabei, die unvergesslichen Darbietungen, die im Mittelpunkt von "Big Dog" stehen, durch eine Reihe von kathartischen Treffen herauszukitzeln und drängte Salmena dazu, noch tiefer in die Bedeutung ihrer Texte einzudringen und wirklich über verschiedene Möglichkeiten des Einsatzes ihrer Stimme nachzudenken. Als "Big Dog" zusammenkam, wurde deutlich, dass Salmenas Songwriting eine rohe und intime Wendung genommen hatte, die weit über die Arbeit von ihr und Jennings auf ihren vorherigen EPs hinausging. Der Sound von "Big Dog" schwebt zwischen zwei Welten, düstere Punk-Ehrlichkeit, die immer unter einer glänzenden Atmosphäre brodelt, die man nicht ignorieren kann. Es gibt Anklänge an den Alternative Rock - man denkt an Holes "Live Through This", The Distillers, Mazzy Star - und mit Lee Ranaldo von Sonic Youth steuert eine echte Alternative-Rock-Ikone die Gitarre zu "See'er" bei. Aber es gibt auch eine Geschmeidigkeit, die ebenso sehr an den Coldwave der 80er Jahre erinnert wie an ekstatische Formen der Tanzmusik. Salmenas satte Stimme ist allgegenwärtig, ein konstantes warmes Glühen in einem Geflecht aus mechanischen Klängen. In seinem Kern ist "Big Dog" mehr als nur eine Platte über die Entdeckung, wer man ist, indem man schmerzhafte Erfahrungen verarbeitet. Es ist eine Platte über die Entdeckung, dass man nie wirklich allein ist.

Steeped in classic dancefloor rhythms and sounds, ARTIFACTUAL RHYTHM presents a re-interpretation of club and DJ music through the lens of a live band with a jazz edge. Tapping into sounds of the 90s and 2000’s while keeping his foot very firmly in the now and beyond, Flood’s new body of work is both for the dancefloor and the listener.

Dubbed 'nu-jazz', 'jazztronica' and 'jazz house music', at its core Alex’s sound takes influence from house, UK garage, drum n’ bass, and broken beat. 'Artifactual' can be defined as 'made by human hands', and that’s exactly what Alex explores with this record; taking sounds and styles that are inherently electronic and giving them new life through the rawness of a live band underpinned by jazz and improvisational explorations. Music made by human hands.

Recorded live in a studio in Naarm / Melbourne and engineered, mixed, and co-produced by Lewis Moody (Energy Exchange Records), the album features a list of some of the finest players 'Down Under' including Erica Tucceri (flute), Finn Rees (keyboards), Dylan Paul (bass), as well as guest vocal features from the lyrical legend Cazeaux O.S.L.O on LIFE IS A RHYTHM, Kara Manasala on UK garage cut DON’T WAIT 4 ME, and New York soul queen Vivian Sessoms heating up some classic house energy on CAN’T GET ENOUGH.

Alexander Flood is one of Australia’s commanding beat-masters, possessing a unique and finessed arsenal of groove, power, and expertise on the drums. Leading his own band from the drum chair, Alex’s music pushes a fresh rhythmic and dynamic realm of live dance music leaning on nu-jazz, deep-house, broken beat, DnB, funk, and experimental sounds. The band has recently featured at Wellington Jazz Festival, Melbourne International Jazz Festival, SXSW Sydney, WOMADelaide, JazzMontez Frankfurt and various clubs across Europe and Australia.

Winning Australia’s Best Up and Coming Drummer Competition in 2016 was just the beginning of Flood’s accelerating trajectory in music. After graduating top of his University jazz degree in 2017, Alex signed with US label Stretch Music to release his debut album HEARTBEAT, followed by his sophomore release The Space Between in 2022. Later that year Alex toured Europe with heavyweight 6x GRAMMY nominee Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah’s band. While in Berlin Flood recorded his third album 'Oscillate' with an all-star lineup including Horatio Luna and Abase, releasing via Jakarta Records in May 2023. In 2023 Alexander was also the recipient of the highly prestigious Young Achiever Award at the Ruby Awards, as well as receiving the Robert Stigwood Fellowship (Government of South Australia).

2024 sees Alex join forces with Atjazz Record Company to release new music from his forthcoming album ARTIFACTUAL RHYTHM, as well as touring his band across Australia, New Zealand, Europe and the UK.

Some notable collaborators of Alex’s include Chief Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah, Abase, Horatio Luna, Atjazz, Vivian Sessoms, Cazeaux O.S.L.O, Nelson Dialect, the ASO, WASO, QSO, as well as working with brands including Red Bull Music and Istanbul Cymbals.

PRESSED ON RED SMOKE COLORED VINYL

Starting in the late 60s, jazz music started to take an interesting, and very soulful turn. Influenced by the funk of the day – from James Brown to Sly & The Family Stone – the art form, generally not considered a funky musical genre, started to stretch out and fit into the times. It was a fertile era, and to reciprocate, funk, soul and groovy rock fans started to discover accomplished, open-minded jazz artists like Les McCann, whose tunes made sense to their ears, even if bebop hadn’t grabbed them. This incredible album – long a favorite of forward-thinking hip-hop producers and DJs – washes over listeners from the first chords of the incredible album opener, “Sometimes I Cry,” led by McCann’s array of analog synthesizers and backed by an excellent rhythm section (Donald Dean on drums; Ralph McDonald on percussion and Jimmy Rowser on bass). Truth be told, highlights are hard to pick out, but fans never go long without returning to the fuzzed-out funk of “The Harlem Buck Strut Dance,” “Let’s Play (Til Mom Calls)” and “It Never Stopped In My Hometown.” These keyboard-drenched grooves sat alongside record stacks brimming with Stevie Wonder, Funkadelic, Marvin Gaye’s 70s soul and, of course, Miles Davis’ space funk experiments of the era (like Bitches Brew).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who is Beatrice? Who is Melissa? Could they be one and the same?

This is the question at the heart of Secret, the duo’s debut album—or at least, that’s what the music seems to suggest. If sound is an extension of ourselves, it can also become a character we shape. The main character of Secret isn’t visible to the human eye, and yet they give off an androgynous and timeless energy, rooted in multiple languages and spaces. As the album unfolds, we sense the fusion of two distinct energies combined into a single, composite being. This constantly shifting, blurred identity comes to life in the album’s profusion of genres: club music, ambient, chanson, trip-hop, UK garage, and tech house. The tracks stretch and contract, following the trajectory of a dual voice.

Behind Secret lies a mélange of perspectives. Beatrice M., a Franco-British artist at the head of the label Bait, curates an innovative blend of syncopated UK club styles (mostly dubstep) and trancy techno grooves. Melissa Weikart, a French-American songwriter trained in classical piano with a deep passion for jazz, makes intimate avant-pop songs that embody her unique, hybrid approach to music-making. The diverse musical collaborations in Secret reinforce a dynamic that is central to both of their artistic journeys from the start, and these collaborations melt seamlessly into the album’s overall aesthetic. Despite a confluence of influences, the implied development of this obscure, extraterrestrial main character grounds us in a refreshing coherence. Secret is rich in variety and style, but above all, it diffuses a calm and serene atmosphere. Even when the BPM speeds up, we are carried along, suspended in Beatrice Melissa’s uncanny world.

This incredible quadruple pack lands with a huge punch! Featuring some of the best in the business at their absolute peak, this 4 vinyl set is beautifully presented and sure to sell out fast!

Chaotic Shimmer is a collection of songs that vary in texture and genesis. The A side has a stronger sense of familiarity with the more rocking numbers, while the B side stretches out in more exploration. Some of the same electronic elements of 2024's Black Holes Don't Choke can be found in songs like "Music For The People" and "Caught Waiting". There is also a subtle nod to Minor Threat in the lyrics of "Caught Waiting". The track "Path I'd Like to Follow" is dreamy and meditative - channeling JJ Cale or late sixties San Francisco fog. The opening track is a rocket ship waiting to escape the dull confines of this singular consciousness, and it creates a space for the title track to transcend at will. All of the songs were recorded by Charles Moothart at his studio in Los Angeles. He wrote, performed, recorded, and mixed everything heard on this album. Reserving the right to do as thou wilt is rock and roll 101. The world is chaos, and chaos is creativity. To accept and embrace this is to tap in to the Chaotic Shimmer - a transcendent energy. Music is for the people. Charles Moothart is a multi-instrumentalist based in Los Angeles. He plays guitar in bands like FUZZ and Primitive Ring, as well as drums in GØGGS and Moonhearts. He was the touring drummer for Ty Segall's Freedom Band, as well as the Ty Segall and White Fence collaborative tours. Moothart has also released solo work under his initials CFM.

Don Kashew returns to Subject To Restrictions Discs with the album ‘Bellows’. A haunting, melodic, maudlin affair, as one would expect from the Zurich-based producer, with a variety of ‘breathing’ instruments as a fulcrum, that challenges any physicality.

The compositions draw from the pool of New Age music and neo-folk of the 80s and 90s. But ‘Bellows’ stretches and looks at the future, deliberately blurring lines that were supposedly anchored. So, Don Kashew has begun a new phase in his musical expression; quivering, but grounded and interwoven in a rich arras of synth work and overlapping woodwind sounds.

"Every night we've been listening to RATTLE. They have a stark yet deep trance percussion vibe that is both holistic and rocking." Thurston Moore
“Quietly dramatic and loudly intimate.” The Quietus
“Two drum sets. Two voices. One great idea.” MOJO
Rattle are Katharine Eira Brown and Theresa Wrigley, they formed in 2011 after meeting on the live circuit whilst both playing in other bands. Katharine was a guitarist who had recently started playing drums in the band Kogumaza, whilst Theresa was the drummer in Nottingham band Fists. They’ve since released two long-players, 2016’s self-titled debut album Rattle (Upset The Rhythm / I Own You) and 2018’s Sequence (Upset The Rhythm) to much critical acclaim in the music press, and with James Acaster discussing the debut on his BBC Sounds podcast Perfect Sounds!
Rattle have honed the four songs that make up ‘Encircle’ by playing them live over the last few years, adapting and stretching them into endlessly inventive new shapes, playing with the concept of time and expectation. ‘Encircle’ was recorded at Foel Studios, Wales, produced and mixed by Mark Jasper, and mastered at Liminal Audio by Shaun Crook. The stunningly colourful artwork was created by Martha Glazzard, who was also responsible for Rattle’s other mesmeric covers.
‘All Burning’ opens the album, a live favourite of cyclical tumbling and evolving wordplay. ‘All Burning’ was built up gradually layer by layer with Theresa’s cumulative snare work and Katherine’s urgent calls for action: “hold your doctor, hold your daughter, hold your horses”. If ‘All Burning’ represents fire, then it’s accompanying 12-minute long track on Side 1, ‘Argot’, is informed by the air. ‘Argot’ is a song about uncertainty, with Katherine singing wordlessly across the majority of the track. “I prefer to sing wordlessly often because it feels a bit more expressive and universal” asserts Katherine. The track feels truly epic with a satisfying release that comes with the eventual introduction of the bass drum and snappy hi-hat section.

Side 2 also pairs a shorter song with a long-form composition. ‘Ritual’ is worked up from a simple snare drum pattern which becomes more and more overlapped into an elliptical form of waltz. Katherine considers ‘Ritual’ as “very earthy song - lots of low lying mist on the ground swirling around and the drums coming together to summon something”! ‘Ritual’ was inspired by a visit to the ruins of Boleskine House so multi-dimensional themes and occult practice loom large. ‘Your Move’ is a step-up gear change with the band wanting it to feel like the tape had suddenly started to spin faster, urging movement, venturing action. Clocking in at over 15 minutes, ‘Your Move’, is mesmeric and boundless, hypnotic in its minimalism of doubled-drums and almost tribal vocal cycles.
With ‘Encircle’ Rattle have grown again, these songs are alive with elemental power. They build-up and disintegrate, existing in two places at once, embracing the nuance, tracing the circle’s edge. These are modes of song as pure gesture and eternal imagination, refined in mirrors after midnight.
Rattle has performed at The Barbican, London and toured the UK with Animal Collective and Thurston Moore Group and Europe with The Julie Ruin and Protomartyr, and performed with Hot Snakes, Bill Orcutt Quartetand Codeine.

"Every night we've been listening to RATTLE. They have a stark yet deep trance percussion vibe that is both holistic and rocking." Thurston Moore
“Quietly dramatic and loudly intimate.” The Quietus
“Two drum sets. Two voices. One great idea.” MOJO
Rattle are Katharine Eira Brown and Theresa Wrigley, they formed in 2011 after meeting on the live circuit whilst both playing in other bands. Katharine was a guitarist who had recently started playing drums in the band Kogumaza, whilst Theresa was the drummer in Nottingham band Fists. They’ve since released two long-players, 2016’s self-titled debut album Rattle (Upset The Rhythm / I Own You) and 2018’s Sequence (Upset The Rhythm) to much critical acclaim in the music press, and with James Acaster discussing the debut on his BBC Sounds podcast Perfect Sounds!
Rattle have honed the four songs that make up ‘Encircle’ by playing them live over the last few years, adapting and stretching them into endlessly inventive new shapes, playing with the concept of time and expectation. ‘Encircle’ was recorded at Foel Studios, Wales, produced and mixed by Mark Jasper, and mastered at Liminal Audio by Shaun Crook. The stunningly colourful artwork was created by Martha Glazzard, who was also responsible for Rattle’s other mesmeric covers.
‘All Burning’ opens the album, a live favourite of cyclical tumbling and evolving wordplay. ‘All Burning’ was built up gradually layer by layer with Theresa’s cumulative snare work and Katherine’s urgent calls for action: “hold your doctor, hold your daughter, hold your horses”. If ‘All Burning’ represents fire, then it’s accompanying 12-minute long track on Side 1, ‘Argot’, is informed by the air. ‘Argot’ is a song about uncertainty, with Katherine singing wordlessly across the majority of the track. “I prefer to sing wordlessly often because it feels a bit more expressive and universal” asserts Katherine. The track feels truly epic with a satisfying release that comes with the eventual introduction of the bass drum and snappy hi-hat section.

Side 2 also pairs a shorter song with a long-form composition. ‘Ritual’ is worked up from a simple snare drum pattern which becomes more and more overlapped into an elliptical form of waltz. Katherine considers ‘Ritual’ as “very earthy song - lots of low lying mist on the ground swirling around and the drums coming together to summon something”! ‘Ritual’ was inspired by a visit to the ruins of Boleskine House so multi-dimensional themes and occult practice loom large. ‘Your Move’ is a step-up gear change with the band wanting it to feel like the tape had suddenly started to spin faster, urging movement, venturing action. Clocking in at over 15 minutes, ‘Your Move’, is mesmeric and boundless, hypnotic in its minimalism of doubled-drums and almost tribal vocal cycles.
With ‘Encircle’ Rattle have grown again, these songs are alive with elemental power. They build-up and disintegrate, existing in two places at once, embracing the nuance, tracing the circle’s edge. These are modes of song as pure gesture and eternal imagination, refined in mirrors after midnight.
Rattle has performed at The Barbican, London and toured the UK with Animal Collective and Thurston Moore Group and Europe with The Julie Ruin and Protomartyr, and performed with Hot Snakes, Bill Orcutt Quartetand Codeine.