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I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a musical career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

“I Talk To Water”, das fünfte Album des dänischen Produzenten Kölsch für Kompakt, ist zweifellos das persönlichste Statement des Künstlers bislang. Während alle Markenzeichen, die seine Musik so beliebt und kraftvoll machen, immer noch präsent sind – üppige, melodische Techno-Tracks; schwebende, tranceartige Elemente; sinnliche, fiebrige Texturen – ist “I Talk To Water” auch eine tiefe und intime Annäherung an Familie und Geschichte. Es ist ein wunderschönes, fein ausgearbeitetes Dokument des Verlusts und der Erinnerung, und es verfolgt den langen, ungebrochenen Faden der Trauer, der durch unser Leben läuft, sobald wir diejenigen verloren haben, die wir liebten.

Der emotionale Kern von “I Talk To Water” besteht aus Aufnahmen von Kölschs Vater, Patrick Reilly, der 2003 an Hirnkrebs verstarb. Durch die Pandemie und ihre damit verbundenen Lockdowns, die plötzlichen, entfremdenden Veränderungen im Alltag, fand Kölsch sich in Gedanken an den Tod seines Vaters und seine fortwährende spirituelle Präsenz wieder. Er überlegte, wie er eine so bedeutende Figur in seinem eigenen Leben am besten verewigen könnte. Diese Aufnahmen öffneten ihm sozusagen ein Portal, um Vergangenheit und Gegenwart miteinander zu verbinden und sie auf sensible und poetische Weise zu verweben.

Kölschs Vater war Musiker – “er tourte in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren, vor allem im Nahen Osten, auf dem Hippie Trail, spielte Gitarre und schrieb im Laufe der Jahre einige Songs”, erinnert sich Kölsch. “Aber alles in allem entschied er sich, sich auf die Familie zu konzentrieren, anstatt eine musikalische Karriere zu verfolgen.” Reilly spielte und schrieb jedoch im Laufe der Jahre weiterhin Musik, obwohl Kölsch das Material lange Zeit nicht angehört hatte: “Ich hatte nie den Mut, es anzuhören, weil ich mich einfach zu zerbrechlich fühlte, seine Stimme anzuhören. Es ist so schwer, das durchzustehen.”

Während der Pandemie hörte sich Kölsch jedoch durch das fragmentierte Werk, das sein Vater im Laufe der Jahre produziert hatte. “Ich beschloss, die Musik meines Vaters zwanzig Jahre nach seinem Tod endlich zu veröffentlichen”, reflektiert er. “Dieses ganze Album handelt von dem Verlustprozess, welcher für mich generell eine der Hauptantriebskräfte in meinem musikalischen Leben ist. Der ganze emotionale Aspekt von dem, was ich getan habe, basierte auf dem Gefühl, dass er nicht mehr da ist.”

Auf “I Talk To Water” sind Aufnahmen von Reilly in drei Songs zu hören. Seine Gitarren ziehen nachdenklich durch “Grape”, bieten einen üppigen Melodiefaden, den Kölsch mit klickenden, treibenden Rhythmen und dröhnendem, melancholischem Bass umwickelt. “Tell Me” ist ein schönes dreiminütiges Kunstlied, eine traurig-schöne Reflexion, minimal geschmückt mit sanften Tasten und einem gedämpften Puls. Und auf dem Abschlusstrack “It Ends Where It Began” lässt Kölsch die akustische Gitarre seines Vaters im Mittelpunkt stehen, ein überraschend folkiger Klagegesang, den Reilly ursprünglich 1996 aufgenommen hatte. “Er hat es tatsächlich für mein erstes Album aufgenommen, das nie veröffentlicht wurde”, enthüllt Kölsch, “und ich hatte es ewig liegen.”

Diese drei erdachten Kollaborationen zwischen Vater und Sohn sind ausgewogen und zart. Aber ihre Beziehung prägt auch die wunderschöne Musik, die Kölsch im Rest von “I Talk To Water” geschaffen hat, angefangen bei dem nervösen, aber üppigen “Pet Sound” (benannt als Hommage an eines von Reillys Lieblingsalben), den flimmernden Synthesizern und sehnsüchtigen Vocal-Samples in “Khenpo”, den ekstatischen Erschütterungen in “Only Get Better” oder den langsamen Schwenks und subtilen Enthüllungen in “Implant”.

Es gibt auch den Titelsong, in dem Kölsch von Gast Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros) begleitet wird, der ein Mantra für die innere Reflexion singt: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrells Auftritt bringt eine weitere Klangfarbe, einen weiteren Geist in das Album, der gut zu seinem jüngsten Interesse an elektronischer Musik passt. “Er war völlig fasziniert von der Idee, mit Wasser zu sprechen”, sagt Kölsch und denkt darüber nach, wie wir kollektiv zur Natur als Trost, Zuhörer, Führer durch die Trauer neigen, um die Gelände des Herzens zu kartieren. Diese Kartierung ist etwas, in dem Kölsch im Laufe der Jahre erstaunlich geschickt war; Tanzmusik für Körper und Geist, sowohl für das Hier und Jetzt, als auch für das Leben danach.

A familiar face in space·lab’s catalogue, Rambal Cochet’s deep-diving new EP, Mixed Reality, marks the occasion of the label’s eighth release with four tracks traversing the darker edges of psy-prog. Opening track, ‘Talpa Lionis’, mines the spiralling depths of a psychedelic abyss, driven by a dark, tunnelling bassline reminiscent of mid-90s psy trance. Titular track, ‘Mixed Reality’, is tonally brighter. Brimming with buoyant, prog energy, its liquefied melody submerges the track’s percussion in a glowing, ambrosial fluid. On the B side, ‘Sequence 2000’ grows from the ground up. A rippling, cosmic-hued melody traces ever wider reaches, circling the track’s drums as they rise from deep below ground-level. Skittering high-ends flutter organically through the track’s length, lulling us into a state of all-enveloping hypnosis. To close, ‘Aura 900’ unfolds onto expansive, new-age atmospheres. Delicately sinking into a delectable, chugging pace, its patient speed creates a sense of spaciousness, leaving room for the track’s melody to breathe. Mixed Reality journeys through vast terrains - an EP for introspective listening and mind-opening dancefloor experiences alike.

"We find ourselves venturing into the depths of a rugged terrain. In our hands, we hold stones and minerals, each possessing its own distinct texture, weight, and sonic potential. It is through the artistic touch and through the musical instruments that these earthly treasures, once dormant, are awaken to life." — Sara Oswald + Feldermelder

The 3rd collaboration of prolific cellist Sara Oswald and electronic musician Feldermelder evokes captivating sensations that oscillate between impending doom and hope. The albums' sonic journey is highly immersive, transporting the listener from one cerebral landscape to another. The transformative nature of metallic elements being integrated in sustained orchestral tones weaves the sonic tapestry, resulting in a captivating experience for the listeners. The organic sounding — reminiscent of minerals' timbres — brings a touch of brightness and a distinctive edge, while the orchestral harmonic structures lend a sense of grandeur and continuity. The origins of this music remain enigmatic, while the tracks of the album gradually unveil concealed aspects and the hidden truth.
One can step into a realm where melodies are reborn, as Sara Oswald's cello spins tales and emotions burst forth. Nature's eternal splendor intertwines with the essence of music, as she infuses harmonies with the soul of mountains. Vibrant hues come alive with delicate strokes, and cascading notes resonate with a select few. Feldermelder conjures profound echoes that swirl like ancient whispers of the earth's primordial past. He sculpts textures, from fragmented glitches to expansive atmospheres, that warp the fabric of reality. The two musicians merge together harmoniously, blending the acoustic and electronic worlds into a transcendent unity. This fusion of contrasting elements adds a unique and intriguing quality to the music. The cello's warmth merges with pulsating electronic beats, creating a symphony of contrasts and sonic upheaval. Each composition is woven in intricate layers, combining electroacoustic architecture with delicate precision. A subtle balance of chaos and control permeates the music as it meanders through the labyrinth of the mind. The soundscape unfolds like a grand tapestry, distant echoes murmuring like grains of sand.

Trained in baroque cello and advocating improvised music, Sara Oswald is the perfect match for sound artist and electronic musician Feldermelder. She plays solo, composes for film and theatre and collaborates with musicians like The Young Gods, Pascal Auberson, Sophie Hunger and Julian Sartorius. Feldermelder is a polymathic creative whose artistry spans composition, sound design, installation and code. He is co-founders of -OUS and part of Encor.studio, a collective of artists who specialise in creating immersive audio-visual installations. Through his work, he explores the idea of secrecy and its impact on our lives, using music and sound to create a thought-provoking and immersive experience for his audience.

Bristol’s Remotif makes his highly-awaited debut on space•lab with his wormhole of a new EP, ‘Substation Fever’. Kicking things off on the A side, the title track enters the scene with spacious, organic drums, building in energy as we tunnel through its course; travelling from the cool, oxygenated air of a forest-scape into dazzling, far-reaching intergalactic realms.

Next up, ‘Substation Fever’ gets a dreamy reimagining courtesy of Leeds legend and space•lab regular, Adam Pits. Channelling the energy of Remotif’s original into a hazy, blissed-out cloudscape, this track was made for accompanying early morning sunrises where orange-hued dashes of light reflect off the surface of gently rippling water.

On the flip side, ‘Hi Tek Lo Life’, crackles with the fluctuating electrical impulses of a TV without signal or a radio between channels. Flecked with corroded vocal samples and billowing synthlines, this is a track that explores the inbetween - the moment when connection is almost lost, but not quite. There is a beauty in the roughened-edges of these partially obscured details.

The final track of the EP, ‘The Signal Prevails’ is perhaps an answer to its precursor. Opening out onto trip-hop-esque terrain, this track follows the path set out by a blurred-out, echoing vocal as it deftly works its way through narrow, winding pathways of powerful 90s-style breaks.

A much-loved DJ regularly making an appearance on space•lab’s lineups, we are delighted to now showcase Remotif’s skill in the studio with this mind-opening new EP.

2025 Repress

On his fourth album proper, Now Here No Where, Danish producer Kölsch (aka Rune Reilly Kölsch) is charting new terrain. Fans of his ‘years trilogy’ – 1977, 1983 and 1989, released on Kompakt over the past decade – were privy to a kind of sonic diary, an autobiography, tracking the artist’s early years through three albums of superior, meticulously rendered techno. Calling in collaborators where needed – most notably, the strings of Gregor Schwellenbach – there was still something deeply personal going down, not quite hermetic, but internally focused; the albums proved not only Kölsch’s mastery of his chosen form, but also his capacity to make techno personal, individual, and to trace histories of the self through music. But on Now Here No Where, Kölsch finds his feet firmly planted in the present. Reflecting on his new album, he notes, “It is fascinating to write about memories and feelings that have had years to manifest and develop, but how would I approach current emotions?” It’s a good question: our past coheres through the narratives we build around memories, but the moment we’re in, the newness of the now-ness, is harder to navigate; this story is as yet untold. For Kölsch, this makes Nowhere Now Here “an album about life in the year 2020. A time defined by confusion, misinformation and environmental challenges. It is an emotional interpretation of personal and mental challenges, observations and personal growth.” Kölsch does this with music that effortlessly balances emotional heft with the dancefloor’s brimming desires. It’s a space that Kölsch has navigated for a while now – one of techno’s breakthrough acts, an in-demand DJ across the globe and a prolific and restlessly creative producer, he’s also Kompakt’s biggest-selling act – but Now Here No Where ratchets up the lushness, making for a delirious drift across twelve tracks that are at once perfectly poised and deeply trippy. “Great Escape” is an elegant swoon, an opener that pivots on a sigh and a prayer; then “Shoulder Of Giants” bustles into view, subliminal clatter and an aching violin line giving way to a riff that glows with fluorescence and iridescence. “Remind You” combines an odd ECM jazziness with notes from a twenty-first century torch song; “Sleeper Must Awaken” mines huge buzzing synths and lets them float, in and out of sync, with reduced, ticking beats; “Traumfabrik” (dream factory – there’s a giveaway) is oddly lush, the tones malleable and plastic, morphing across a glitching undertow. There are sad, emotional washes of strings throughout the penultimate “While Waiting For Something To Care About”, while “Romtech User Manual”’s patterns twist and shape in the light. Throughout, Kölsch never keeps his eye off the dancefloor, and you can tell this is his still his home. “The amount of energy and joy I experience every time I perform, has a profound effect on me. It has inspired me so much of late and has become an integral part of my musicality.” “The way we join in expressing our hope for the future every weekend has given me so much,” Kölsch concludes. The club as a temporary autonomous zone, as a space both of freedom and of politics; somehow, that’s all here, Now Here No Where. “Most of all, it is an album about hope.”

Auf seinem vierten Album “Now Here No Where” betritt der dänische Produzent Kölsch (alias Rune Reilly Kölsch) neues Terrain. Seine Trilogie mit den Jahreszahlen 1977, 1983 und 1989, die in den letzten zehn Jahren bei Kompakt erschienen war, hatte seine Fans durch eine Art akustisches Tagebuch, eine Autobiografie geführt, die die frühen Jahre des Künstlers über die Länge von drei großartig produzierten Techno-Alben nachgezeichnet hatte. Wo es nötig war, wurden Kollaborateure hinzugezogen - allen voran für die Streicher, arrangiert von Gregor Schwellenbach -, dennoch zeichnete die Musik immer auch etwas zutiefst Persönliches aus, etwas nicht Hermetisches, auf eine bestimmte Art immer auch nach Innen fokussiert. Die Alben bewiesen nicht nur, wie sehr Kölsch die von ihm gewählte äußere Form beherrscht, sondern auch seine Fähigkeit, Techno zu etwas Persönlichem und Individuellem zu machen und der eigene Geschichte durch Musik näher zu kommen.

Auf “Now Here No Where” steht Kölsch nun mit beiden Beinen fest auf dem Boden der Gegenwart. Mit Blick auf sein neues Album stellt er fest: "Es ist faszinierend, über Erinnerungen und Gefühle zu schreiben, die Zeit hatten, sich zu manifestieren und zu entwickeln, aber wie nähere ich mich meinen aktuellen Emotionen?”. Eine gute Frage: Unsere Vergangenheit wird im Innersten zusammengehalten durch Geschichten, die aus Erinnerungen entstehen, aber der Moment, in dem wir uns befinden, die Neuheit des Neuen, ist schwieriger zu beschreiben; die Geschichte ist noch nicht erzählt. Für Kölsch ist “No Here Now Where” daher "ein Album über das Leben im Jahr 2020. Eine Zeit, die von Verwirrung, Desinformation und ökologischen Herausforderungen geprägt ist. Es geht dabei um die emotionale Interpretation von persönlichen und mentalen Herausforderungen, von Beobachtungen und der eigenen, individuellen Weiterentwicklung".

Kölsch tut dies mit Musik, die mühelos kleine Gefühlsausbrüche mit den großen Sehnsüchten der Tanzfläche in Einklang bringt. Es ist dieser Zwischenraum, in dem sich Kölsch schon seit einiger Zeit bewegt, als weltweit gefragter und gefeierter Live Act, DJ und so unermüdlicher wie kreativer Produzent (nicht umsonst ist Kölsch der “biggest-selling-artist” bei Kompakt), doch “Now Here No Where” treibt all das noch weiter auf die Spitze: ein enormer Sog entsteht, der uns über zwölf Tracks hinweg gefangen hält wie ein perfekt ausbalancierter Trip. Der Opener "Great Escape" ist pure Eleganz, ein Track, der irgendwo zwischen Seufzer und Gebet hin und her schwankt; dann drängt "Shoulder Of Giants" ins Blickfeld, ein unterschwelliges Geklapper, eine wehende Geige, schließlich ein schillernder Riff, der in der Dunkelheit zu leuchten und zu glühen scheint.

"Remind You" kombiniert seltsamen ECM-Jazz mit einem sentimentalen Liebeslied des 21. Jahrhunderts; "Sleeper Must Awaken" schürft im Bergwerk riesiger Synthesizer, mal im Takt, mal aus dem Takt ticken die minimalen Beats; "Traumfabrik" ist ungewöhnlich “lush”, die einzelnen Töne, geschmeidig und modelliert, zerfließen in einem glitzernden Abgrund. Das vorletzte Stück "While Waiting For Something To Care About" wird von traurigen, emotionalen Strings untermalt, während sich die Strukturen von "Romtech User Manual" im Licht drehen und immer wieder neu formieren. Die ganze Zeit über behält Kölsch die Tanzfläche im Auge, und man merkt ihm an, dass sie immer noch sein Zuhause ist: "Die Menge an Energie und Freude, die ich bei jedem Auftritt erlebe, hat eine tiefe Wirkung auf mich. Sie hat mich gerade in letzter Zeit stark inspiriert und ist zu einem integralen Bestandteil meiner Musik geworden.”

"Die Art und Weise, wie wir an jedem Wochenende gemeinsam unsere Hoffnung auf eine bessere Zukunft zum Ausdruck bringen, hat mir viel gegeben", so Kölsch abschließend. Die Vision des Clubs als eine temporäre autonome Zone, als ein Raum von großer Freiheit aber auch von politischen Ideen, das ist irgendwie alles hier drin, Now Here No Where. "Es ist vor allem ein Album über Hoffnung."

With Coalescence, The Third Room brings together artists from distinct yet interconnected techno lineages, united by a shared understanding of the music as both physical and introspective. Rather than staging contrasts, the EP focuses on convergence, where propulsion, atmosphere and restraint fold into a coherent whole. Rene Wise & Ignez open the release with Anjos, pairing Wise's tactile, percussive pressure with Ignez's expansive, oceanic pads. The result sits at the intersection of functional drive and elevated, almost devotional space, reflecting a new generation's approach to techno as both tool and inner landscape. Norbak's remix draws the track further inward, deepening its hypnotic pull and extending its energy into a more meditative, slow-burning form. On the B-side, Claudio PRC & Luigi Tozzi present Onirica, a deeply restrained and immersive composition rooted in atmosphere, spatial detail and subtle psychedelia. Unfolding with patience, it rewards attentive listening and long-form dancefloor contexts. Markus Suckut closes the EP by reducing Onirica to its bare essentials, applying his signature economy and precision to heighten tension and focus. Coalescence reflects The Third Room's vision of techno as a shared terrain, where different voices and generations meet, align and quietly reinforce one another.

Cathartic avant-rock, literate DIY folk & experimental composition exploring displacement, love, climate change, belonging & the places we call home - RIYL Jim O’Rourke, Richard Youngs, This Heat, Richard Dawson, Flying Nun. ‘Real Home’ is the new album by the Manchester-born, London-based artist Kiran Leonard. His sixth album proper (not including innumerable tour-only CD-Rs and short-run cassettes), since his precocious debut in 2013, ‘Real Home’ finds Leonard invigorated by inspiration and experience, making passionate, literate, and mercurial music that explores displacement, love, memory, climate change, connections to home and more. Encompassing songs recorded after moving to South London, ‘Real Home’ reflects on ideas of belonging and domesticity through folkloric, stream-of-consciousness songwriting. Across nine tracks, Leonard traces lived impressions of the household and the city, expressing sentiments of dislocation, alienation and stasis, but contentment too. Infusing the avant-rock effervescence, terraced dynamics and visionary lyricism of his music with what he defines as a greater sense of openness, Leonard is as versatile, fervent and imaginative as ever on ‘Real Home’, yet his music is somehow more intimate, affecting, and acutely expressive. Shaped by dual considerations of simplicity and formalism, ‘Real Home’ is by turns beautiful, allusive, and ruminative, an album on which Leonard considers what his songs have resembled in the past and what they mean now. In recent years, Leonard has crafted eloquent chamber music inspired by the likes of James Joyce and Clarice Lispector (‘Derevaun Seraun’), responded to contemporary politics and communication breakdown in the digital age (‘Western Culture’), and compiled solo works and ensemble recordings for a longform ode to Jonas Mekas and to one of Leonard’s enduring themes; home (‘Trespass On Foot’). On ‘Real Home’, Leonard reiterates this abiding thematic focus yet ascends to new, different heights, in music of cathartic delicacy and dissonance where all the myriad dimensions of his work to date seem to crystallize. There are sinuous songs about struggle and defying the pace of city life through drift and diversion (‘Pass Between Houses’), stirring songs of intense feeling and crescendo, described as a form of speculative detective fiction (‘Theatre for Change’). There are touching solo piano ballads (the title track), symbolic contentions with carbon capture and climate change (‘Utopia of Bog’), modes of experimental minimalism (‘Void Attentive’), and other profuse feats of compositional range, embroidered with wild tendrils of narrative and lyrical depth. A record to pore over, and get lost in. Exemplifying the vast aesthetic scope of Leonard’s music, lead single ‘My Love, Let’s Take The Stage Tonight’ is inspired by country lodestar Hank Williams, Russian poetry and a late period love poem by William Carlos Williams. Yet for Leonard, the song signals a sense of accessible materiality, and is the product of a more linear approach to writing songs: “My imitation of the great Hank Williams, in spirit if not in substance…This is one of the best efforts on Real Home at a song-as-object. Looking at it now I realise I was trying to write a song that made itself known as a song to the listener, and I wonder whether that’s crucial if you want a song to transcend its context. And that this is either accomplished through a total openness – by being inviting, by laying the tricks of the song out plain to see, as Williams and his many ghostwriters did so well – or by adopting a knowing aloofness, positioning oneself against the listener but letting it be known that that’s what it’s doing. In this song I try both, but mostly the former: as in, I wanted to write a song where every line follows on from the next.” Imbuing the endlessly elaborate and inventive qualities of his music with a newfound streak of candid, clear-cut melodicism, Leonard has reached a special place in his artistry, on a record that feels familial, and expresses closeness. Assembled with affiliates including Lauren Auder, Otto Willberg, Jasper Llewellyn (caroline), Tom Hardwick-Allan (Shovel Dance Collective), Magda McLean (caroline, The Umlauts), Alex Mckenzie (caroline, Shovel Dance Collective), Isabelle Thorn (Dear Laika) & more, the recording process had a significant influence on the subject matter of ‘Real Home’, in sessions defined by close-knit camaraderie and artistic eccentricity: “The theme of the home obviously recurs throughout the record; the album was mostly recorded in domestic spaces with friends, and the name of the album is Real Home. I like the qualifier ‘real’, like you’re getting past the cloak of the word and towards the thing-itself…also nearly all the percussion in this record was recorded on items from my dad’s shed (jam jars, sandpaper, blocks of wood, etc). Real home record!” ‘Real Home’, like anything by Kiran Leonard, is a record of dazzling multiplicity. Yet it’s a companionable prospect with a central premise; a collection of songs where listeners old and new can find a home. An album led by a scene; of Leonard standing at the threshold, ready to welcome you inside. “Exceptional songs that linger” - The Guardian // “An autodidact of amazing talent & energy” – Pitchfork // “A ridiculous amount of talent…confrontational, celebratory, provocative or perverse – he manages all of these emotions & more” - The Quietus /

"PRONTO" is the debut album by ARYA, an Italian-Venezuelan artist who grew up in Milan. ARYA arrives with this first full-length album after the EPs
Peace of Mind (2021) and Punto Zero (2023), collaborations (Mahmood, Venerus, Ghemon, Dardust, Calibro35, and many others), and an intense live
activity, which have made her one of the most interesting voices on the Italian neo-soul/R&B scene.
Born from a personal journey of therapy and awareness, "PRONTO" takes shape as a concept album, transforming the emotional investigation into a
coherent and layered musical narrative. The title captures the meaning of the project: "Pronto" is a word that crosses all the languages present on the
album—Italian, English, and Spanish—taking on different meanings ("subito," "presto"), and is also the first word uttered in the intro. A term that introduces the listener to a space of availability, anticipation, and presence.
The entire album was produced by Claudio La Rocca (Sup Nasa), a key figure in building the project's sonic identity. Giuseppe Seccia, Matteo D'Ignazi,
Martina Tedesco, Tiziano Codoro, Stefano De Vivo, and Giulia Gentile also contributed to the album, recording the instrumental parts and contributing
to the arrangements and production of some tracks.
With "PRONTO," ARYA takes the listener on a journey through different levels of her emotional history, until the elevator starts moving again and leaves room for a new possibility of balance.
ARYA (AryaDelgado) is an Italian-Venezuelan artist born in Milan in 1994. Daughter of salsa singer Orlando Watussi, she grew up surrounded by music
and quickly developed a sensibility that blends Latin roots, nu-soul, and contemporary R&B, with a strong focus on the emotional and narrative dimensions of her writing. In 2021, she released her debut EP, Peace of Mind, followed in 2023 by Punto Zero. These releases attracted press attention
and led to collaborations with artists such as Mahmood, Venerus, Ghemon, Dardust, and Calibro35. Over the years, she has consolidated an increasingly recognizable presence, alternating songwriting, solo production, and an intense live schedule in Italy and abroad. In 2024, she accompanied Mahmood on tour and released the single, "Si Potesse Tornare." In 2025, La Noche En Que Te Fuiste and Onda were released, songs that marked the
beginning of a new artistic chapter and anticipated the release of “PRONTO,” her debut album, released in February 2026. An intimate and layered
work, which focuses on vulnerability as a language and confirms ARYA as one of the most personal and aware voices of the new Italian soul scene.

Following the strong reception of their second album, Totem of Quiet Mystic (2023) Jiyu have earned praises from outlets such as Jazzwise, Enlace Funk and The Chillout Tent, as well as support from a wide range of iconic DJs including Patrick Forge & Chris Coco. The singles to this new album, Cumulus & the Subterranean, Smell of Fire and Deep Woods, have immediately been embraced—drawing glowing reactions and airplay from dj's like, Phil Cooper, Dj Vadim, Fred Everything, David Patterson, Jon Kennedy and Curtis Colin

On this third album from Jiyu, the Copenhagen band stretch their cosmic–spiritual jazz language into deeper, wilder terrain. Dropping April 10th on vinyl and digital via Dubsoul Records, the record captures six musicians in full telepathic flight, recorded at 12 Ton Studio in Copenhagen. Across eight tracks, elastic basslines, jazz-dub-soul—tinted drums and percussion, Wurlitzer and jazz-guitar glow and flute-swept atmospheres drift between grounded groove and open-sky improvisation, while guest vocalist Mai Lan Doky adds dreamlike textures on Cumulus & the Subterranean. From the shuffled broken-beat pulse of Smell of Fire to the slow-burn haze of Deep Woods, the Wild Things album is a rich analogue-soul excursion—earthy, exploratory and tuned to the outer frequencies.

The sibling duo behind the music on Graceful Degradation — organ and drums, nothing more, nothing less — carve out a sound that feels unmistakably organic in a world drifting steadily toward the synthetic. Their interplay is entirely live, subtle in its details yet dynamic in its momentum, built on the kind of instinctive communication only brothers can share.
The music is fully instrumental, unfolding in a borderland where dreamy retro pop dissolves into the hazy textures of shoegaze and the unruly pulse of noisy, electronic leaning jazz. It’s a sonic world that feels both familiar and elusive, nostalgic yet inherently restless. Melodies shimmer and blur, rhythms swell and contract, and the space between the notes becomes as expressive as the notes themselves.
What emerges is a sound that resists easy categorization: warm but unpredictable, intimate yet expansive, grounded in the physicality of two musicians performing in real time. The organ breathes like a living organism, shifting from soft focus ambience to swirling, saturated harmonics, while the drums move with a fluid, human elasticity — sometimes whisper quiet, sometimes erupting with raw, kinetic force.
In this in between terrain, the duo has always found its identity and its freedom. Their music doesn’t chase perfection; it chases presence. It embraces imperfection, celebrates spontaneity, and insists on staying alive in a landscape where so much is becoming weightless and automated.
This is instrumental music with a pulse: subtle, dynamic, and unmistakably human.

Alex Zhang Hungtai steht auf ,Dras" still da, aber es ist eine Stille, die jede Menge Möglichkeiten hat. Diese neun Stücke wurden 2019 in der Saint Joseph Oratory in Montreal aufgenommen (kurz bevor ein Klavier kaputtgemacht wurde) und lagen während der Pandemiejahre auf seiner Festplatte, bis endlich der Funke übersprang. Was jetzt entsteht, fühlt sich an, als würde man jemandem dabei zusehen, wie er die Konturen seiner eigenen inneren Landschaft nachzeichnet, wobei jede Melodielinie eine sorgfältige Auseinandersetzung mit dem Unbewussten ist. Dies ist nur im weitesten Sinne ein Saxophon-Album. Das Terrain hier ist taktil und unerbittlich. Im Titeltrack werden schwierige Melodien auseinandergerissen und zu emotionalen Drones geformt, wobei Dissonanzen ineinandergreifen, während Töne mit metallischem Glanz ihren Weg durch die Sinne bahnen. ,El Khela" bricht sich in spektrale Schichten, die mit ewiger Schwerkraft ziehen, während ,Estado" Trost in seiner eigenen Dunstglocke findet, mit Rhythmen, die kaum hörbar sind, aber mit ihrer Kadenz, die sich an grauen Wänden abzeichnet, vorwärts führen. Es sind kleine Momente, die zu kathartischen Klangatmen werden und jeweils neue Passagen durch die psychische Geografie offenbaren. Es liegt Schönheit in den subtilen Wiederholungen des Openers ,Erg" und in den leuchtenden Progressionen von ,White Dwarf". Zhangs Saxophon wird zu einer Wünschelrute für das Unbekannte, während Elektrizität durch die Adern des Albums fließt und sein Atem alles an etwas wortlos Menschlichem verankert. Die digitale Bearbeitung dieser Kirchenaufnahmen verdeckt nicht das menschliche Element von ,Dras". Sie verwandelt das Rohmaterial in etwas, das zwischen äußerem Raum und innerer Landschaft navigiert. Als der Schlusssong ,Mazil" kommt, lässt Alex Zhang Hungtai sein Saxophon seine volle Resonanz entfalten. Tiefe, kehlige Klänge öffnen sich wie Abgründe unter melodischen Konstellationen, die in dichter Schwerkraft schweben. Hier herrscht Endgültigkeit, auch wenn sich etwas in diesen Passagen schwerelos anfühlt. Diese Musik ist durchdrungen von innerem Dialog, einem wortlosen Zauber, der über dem psychischen Abgrund tanzt. Tonale Sequenzen zerfallen in betäubende Klänge, eine scharfe, elegante Kante, die schneidet, ohne Blut zu vergießen. Dieses einsame Werk der Erforschung wird zu etwas Gemeinschaftlichem. ,Dras" ist eine Karte, um den Raum zwischen dem, wo wir sind, und dem, wo wir hingehen könnten, zu durchqueren.

Bristol's Tara Clerkin Trio return to World of Echo and the EP format for a five song collection of quixotic, emotional redolence. But do not mistake their absence for inertia. If their musical output has been a little sparse during those in-between years, limited to a few solo ventures and an astonishing ten minute long piece as a trio, their time has otherwise been richly spent: continuous writing and recording, extensive live performances across Europe and Japan, a cultivation of local and more far-flung artistic connections (musical and otherwise), and a monthly NTS show that, through the voice of others, speaks most obviously to their own unorthodox interests. It's the conflux of that winding activity that leads indirectly to On The Turning Ground, 26 minutes of probing, thoughtful composition that draws from no one specific source. Their inspirations might be centreless, but the trio still possess a very obvious anchor in the form of their hometown. Bristol stands as a city of multitudes, heterogenous and vibrant in such a way as to allow it to renew and remake time and again. Tara Clerkin Trio drink from that same well, duly reflecting a rich musical heritage built on fwd-facing electronic subcultures and experimental urges.

As such, On The Turning Ground finds them subject to their own subtle internal evolution, the pervasive sense that you've caught them mid-bloom, on their way to becoming but never anything but themselves. The two instrumental pieces that bookend the EP stand as a perfect case in point, displaying an increasing mastery of compositional space. Pensive and restrained, 'Brigstow' and 'Once Around' both emanate an interstitial quality that's not so much after- as in-between-hours, miniature dub-folk symphonies held together by the kind of tacit understanding that remains the preserve of only the closest of family units. If those two tracks are shaped by a sense of shifting temporality, then the three vocal-led pieces that comprise the record's core feel like a gentle ossifying of aesthetic into something approaching their own unique form of avant-pop. 'Pop' is, of course, a broadly subjective concept, but there's no avoiding the overt sparkling melodicism of songs like 'Marble Walls' and 'The Turning Ground', undeniable re-directions of that late 90s impulse to bend pop sensibilities into off-centre terrain, to render the familiar new again. This is what Tara Clerkin Trio do, gently pulling the ground from under your feet, turning you to face something you'd not quite seen before. To view the world as they do: sideways, sometimes, all of the time.

The compositions of Colleen, aka multi-instrumentalist CeIücile Schott, are as richly varied as they are precise. Each of Colleen"s albums are shaped by her predetermined distinct instrumentation and parameters, including works composed entirely of music boxes, pocket synthesizers, and antiquated stringed instruments. The connective essence of Schott"s music is in her ability to create pieces within this transcendent specificity that are both expansive and imbued with profound emotions. Libres antes del final is an album that reaches for the hope and desire to be truly freed from unnecessary suffering and harmful thoughts before reaching the end of one"s life cycle. Schott composed and performed Libres on the Moog Matriarch, centering the record on a pulse-driven, bubbling energy with constant momentum. She then reamped the music in one of her favorite spaces in Barcelona, Casa Montjuic, accentuating the album"s sense of movement. The reamping process adds a literal physicality to the album, as carefully chosen and placed microphones (including the famous Neumann KU100 binaural head) capture both the venue"s PA sound itself and the venue"s acoustics. Colleen"s music translates snapshots of Schott"s life into singular pieces, often instrumentally transmuting a dense web of sensations into wondrous sonic terrain. Schott"s deft manipulation of the Moog Matriarch makes each subtle adjustment feel monumental.

The compositions of Colleen, aka multi-instrumentalist CeIücile Schott, are as richly varied as they are precise. Each of Colleen"s albums are shaped by her predetermined distinct instrumentation and parameters, including works composed entirely of music boxes, pocket synthesizers, and antiquated stringed instruments. The connective essence of Schott"s music is in her ability to create pieces within this transcendent specificity that are both expansive and imbued with profound emotions. Libres antes del final is an album that reaches for the hope and desire to be truly freed from unnecessary suffering and harmful thoughts before reaching the end of one"s life cycle. Schott composed and performed Libres on the Moog Matriarch, centering the record on a pulse-driven, bubbling energy with constant momentum. She then reamped the music in one of her favorite spaces in Barcelona, Casa Montjuic, accentuating the album"s sense of movement. The reamping process adds a literal physicality to the album, as carefully chosen and placed microphones (including the famous Neumann KU100 binaural head) capture both the venue"s PA sound itself and the venue"s acoustics. Colleen"s music translates snapshots of Schott"s life into singular pieces, often instrumentally transmuting a dense web of sensations into wondrous sonic terrain. Schott"s deft manipulation of the Moog Matriarch makes each subtle adjustment feel monumental.

Für Chantal Michelle ist das Komponieren von Musik wie eine Art Choreografie. In surrealen Klangwelten verbinden sich verschiedene Töne miteinander - sie bewegen sich zusammen und entfernen sich dann wieder voneinander - in einem Prozess, der sich ständig im Hörfeld wiederholt. Diese sich ständig verändernde Konstellation zeigt, wie zerbrechlich und veränderlich Wahrnehmung sein kann, ein Thema, das in Michelles Arbeit immer wieder auftaucht. Michelle, die schon früh eine Tanzausbildung absolvierte, bringt eine ausgeprägte räumliche Sensibilität in ihre Arbeit ein: ein intuitives Verständnis dafür, wie Formen koexistieren und sich durch drei Dimensionen bewegen, sowie eine Wertschätzung für die Schönheit, die sich in ungewöhnlichen Gegenüberstellungen von Materialien und Ideen findet. Seit sie 2021 ihre Solokarriere gestartet hat, hat sie internationale Anerkennung für ihre geduldigen, akribischen Aufnahmen bekommen, die oft zusammen mit Installationen, Mehrkanalkompositionen und Klangskulpturen entstehen. Innerhalb dieser subtil verwirrenden Klangarchitekturen können neue Beziehungen entstehen, neue Grenzen gezogen werden, und die Zuhörer werden zu einer Erfahrung von Zeit eingeladen, die sich der Linearität widersetzt. All Things Might Spill, Michelles erstes Album für Shelter Press, ist eine Auseinandersetzung mit anhaltender Spannung und der mysteriösen Erfahrung der Zeitdehnung in den Momenten kurz vor einem Bruch oder Zusammenbruch. Die Musik bewegt sich in einem Raum der Instabilität, und obwohl sie durchgehende Töne und definierte melodische Phrasen verwendet, herrscht eine Atmosphäre der Unentschlossenheit - wie ein Moment der Unruhe, der auf unbestimmte Zeit in der Schwebe bleibt. Ein Großteil des Albums wurde in den Wintermonaten 2024 in Berlin aufgenommen, wobei viele frühe Morgenstunden in einem Raum subtiler Unruhe verbracht wurden. Man sagt, dass Licht in die Dunkelheit eindringt, und diese Übergangszeit, die von Erwartungen geprägt ist, ist in der Musik zu hören. In ,Presence of Border" winden und verflechten sich nebulöse Stimmen, während sie über mehrdeutigen Harmonien schweben, die sich in unendliche Ferne zu erstrecken scheinen. Die beiden kurzen Stücke ,Magnetic Field I" und ,Magnetic Field II" enthalten bearbeitete Aufnahmen einer Tromba Marina, gespielt von der argentinischen Klangkünstlerin Alma Laprida. Die Gegenüberstellung von kratzigen Tönen und hauchzarten Obertönen erzeugt tamburaähnliche Drones, die den Zuhörer in einen schwer fassbaren Mittelpunkt ziehen. Später auf dem Album gibt es in ,Drying of Frozen Soils" modale Klarinettenlinien von Severin Black, die anfangs in dem nebligen, synthetischen Hintergrund fast nicht zu hören sind, bevor sie sich zu einem gespenstischen Kontrapunkt entwickeln. Eine ähnliche Struktur aus Unklarheit und Klarheit prägt den Titeltrack, in dem wortlose Gesänge eine laute Feldaufnahme durchdringen, die auf einer Fähre aufgenommen wurde, die den East River von Brooklyn nach Manhattan überquert. Das ist Musik mit einem weitläufigen Terrain und einer dichten Atmosphäre. Veränderungen sind langsam, aber dramatisch, jede Verschiebung ist sorgfältig geplant, um Gefühle des Staunens und der Vorfreude zu wecken und gleichzeitig eine erhabene Sensibilität dafür zu bewahren, wie einzelne Klänge mit der Bewegung ihrer Umgebung in Beziehung stehen. Michelle verzichtet meisterhaft auf Narrative und komponiert in drei Dimensionen. Wir bleiben mit der Mehrdeutigkeit des Wortes ,might" zurück - der anhaltenden Möglichkeit des energetischen Ansturms des Bruchs, des Ausbrechens, mal am Horizont, mal unmittelbar bevorstehend, irgendwie beides gleichzeitig.

Delphine Dora, the prolific French composer and multi-instrumentalist, graces Marionette with a suite of keyboard instrumentals that evoke futurism and the transcendental. Based in France and actively releasing music since the 00’s, Delphine’s remarkable solo and collaborative projects loosely connect the dots scattered across modern classical, folk, ambient, and poetic writing - always seeking new ambitions in terms of her sound.

Leaving behind the chaos of city life for the quiet solitude of a small village in the French countryside, Delphine finds herself fully immersed in the present moment and committed to her multi-disciplinary creative practices, savoring the experiences of deep listening in nature and her environment. Drawing from an academic background in Outsider Art and Art Brut, Dora yearns to express intimate inner dialogues, revealing the beauty of vulnerability through transportive musical passages to the mystical and sublime.

L’inéluctable pulsation du temps was composed in 2018, at a time when Delphine’s life was becoming increasingly busy, marked by relentless touring and concerts unfolding in rapid succession across different places. Written in parallel with L’Inattingible, her most ambitious album, it stands as its instrumental counterpart. The recordings reflect a period of exploration and assimilation of the Nord Electro, an instrument that opened up vast sonic possibilities, particularly for the development of rich polyphonies inspired by repetitive music. The track titles draw inspiration from an essay by Hartmut Rosa on the notions of acceleration and alienation - a reflection that resonates strongly with the pre-covid era right before the quarantine. The album reveals Delphine’s most colorful and rhythmic side, an aural mille-feuille, in total contrast with her previous melancholic vocal works.

On L’inéluctable pulsation du temps, Dora sustains atmospheric drone miniatures that form the foundation for flowing, cyclical arpeggios, spiraling into a liminal dream space where the repetitive phrasing of melodies rewards introspective listening. The compositions move through (dis)enchanted landscapes, taking unexpected turns into more haunted terrain, their contours further blurred by Dora’s intuitive articulation and sense of refinement. By mirroring both the acceleration of time and the experience of alienation, Delphine conjures up timeless sonic meditations, rendering the inevitable pulsation of time as something at once mesmerizing and unsettling.

Gathering his most iconic early recordings, this collection captures the pure essence of the man who laid the foundations of Bossa Nova. From the tender intimacy of "Corcovado" and "Chega de Saudade" to the gentle swing of "Desafinado" and "Bim Bom", widely considered the very first Bossa Nova song, every track radiates Gilberto's unmatched grace and rhythmic subtlety. Pressed on high- quality vinyl, Luz de Corcovado invites you to rediscover the soft pulse and poetic warmth that changed Brazilian music forever.

Just when you thought Kevin Richard Martin's music couldn’t go any slower, lower or deeper, Sub Zero emerges. A slow-motion excavation of drug-tech, dub, dreamy noise and frozen ambience, the album gradually mutates into hypnotic pulsations and melodic melancholia. It is arguably Martin’s most striking release to date under his given name.


Originally released digitally on Bandcamp only in the depths of winter 2022, amid the final year of the COVID-19 pandemic and Russia’s initial invasion of Ukraine, this desolate epic went on to become KRM's best-selling digital album on the platform. With persistent demand for a vinyl pressing and a full DSP release from fans, Martin thought the time was right for Sub Zero to finally surface in its full glory: remastered and paired with fresh new artwork.


Unnervingly, the album is as beautiful as it is solemn, as glacial as it is relentless, and as subtle as it is terrifying. A trip into a sonic abyss, with a tour of a philosophical void, it’s to my ears, KRM’s most seductive work yet, and also his most emotionally resonant. Martin expertly balances tear-jerking motifs with heavier than hell rhythmic weight. With its melodic fog, eternal drones and eerie atmospherics, the peripheral throb of distant kick drums, the heartbeat punctuation of cavernous subs and the snowstorm blizzard of fuzz absolutely envelopes the mind, whilst crushing the soul.


In terms of lineage, Sub Zero might recall a more paranoid Porter Ricks, a dystopian GAS, or a brutally dubbed-out Pan Sonic. Most fitting, however, is its kinship with the deepest dub terrain Martin previously explored on In Blue, The Bug’s acclaimed 2020 collaboration with Dis Fig for Hyperdub, where he obsessively probed subaqueous pulses and low-end modulations.


Sub Zero is possibly the most minimal, desolate, and deviant dub record yet released on Martin’s PRESSURE label. It marks the point at which dub disappears into its own effects trails. Dub music capturing frozen moments in time. Dub as an addictive painkiller, that sounds both sacred and ocean deep.

French artist Trypheme debuts on Impatience with “Odd Balade”, a darkly-hued collection of songs drawn from human delicacy and dreamworld mythology.

“Odd Balade” is Trypheme’s most ambitious and boldest record to date - both lyrically and musically. The album’s thirteen tracks resist rigid genre boundaries and flutter from medieval folk realms, sprawling synths, gothic 80s wave, leftfield pop, haunted vocals, mutant electronica to reverbed guitars - all reflected through her own shadowy prism. Especially album closer “A Walk In The Vercors” evokes a soothing serenity that echoes the sonic balm of Julee Cruise.

Trypheme’s musical repertoire trends heavily electronic and somewhat abstracted, but on “Odd Balade”, the artist slips into the role of the modern troubadour with a shift to a more poetically and personal songwriting that is infused with symbolism and dreamlike fantasies. The connective tissue of the album is the audacity to love and the vulnerability that ensues. As intimate and introspective as the lyrics are, the themes remain universal and human to the core: the fear of losing a loved one, the melancholia of leaving places and t“the fear of losing a loved one, the melancholia of leaving places and the cycles of life. The record was largely composed in Chars, stirred by the French village’s eerie atmosphere and frequent trips to the seaside in Brittany, where Trypheme resides. Drawing inspiration from the rugged terrain of the seaside landscapes, the writings of Allen Ginsberg and Mark Fisher and the hyperrealist art of Scott Prior, Trypheme uses her songs to depict life with broad strokes of rhythm.

On “Odd Balade” Trypheme consolidates herself as a gifted, nimble songwriter, masterly producer and subtly powerful vocalist. The record combines her skill for crafting lush, alien sound worlds and efficient, alluring arrangements with stealthily devastating songs. Belin’s voice becomes a key ingredient, appearing on eleven of Odd Balade’s thirteen tracks, by turns heavily manipulated, sampled and replayed as a form of percussion, or basically bare.

“Odd Balade” is the manifestation of Trypheme’s roving artistic practice, a ceremonial-grade sacrament cast in a rich nocturnal glow. Pairing the mundane with the mythic, the album stays true to its core: odd and strangely familiar.

RIYL - Riding off into the sunset to an unknown destination, hauntology, present, tales told by the fireside, hot summer rain, adventures, to feel a warm presence when you are walking in the forest or in the mountain, coastal landscapes, sailor’s stories, slow motion, vitesse, heavy blossoms, colors, the warmth of the sun, the tenderness of the moon, getting lost in unfamiliar streets, city’s lights, motorway rest area by night, magic numbers, rendez-vous, picnic, serendipity, poetry, the smell of old records and old books.

Tiphaine Belin has been releasing music as Trypheme since 2016. Odd Balade was written and produced by Belin, and mixed by Belin and Abel Roux. It was mastered by Amir Shoat. Cover art photography is by Ariane Kiks, with art direction by Ariane Kiks in collaboration with Mathilde Chaize.

Nach dem 2023 erschienenen „Are You Lost Here?“ betritt der junge belgische Singer-Songwriter mit diesem Album neues Terrain – ein Werk, das gleichermaßen weitläufig wie zutiefst persönlich klingt. „Salt Moon City“ verwebt die bekenntnishafte Songwriting- Intensität von Künstlern wie Sufjan Stevens und Paolo Nutini mit der majestätischen Klangfülle von Coldplay – und deutet zugleich subtil auf die harmonische Raffinesse von Bach und Debussy hin.

Dieses Album wirkt wie eine Verfilmung in Breitbildformat. Nach zwei Jahren gemeinsamen Spielens mit seiner Band hat sich Moon´s Sound geöffnet: Streicher und Bläser durchziehen die
Arrangements, verwandeln stille Selbstbeobachtung in etwas Strahlendes und Gemeinschaftliches.

Im Mittelpunkt steht Moon´s Stimme – leise, rau und ungeschützt – und sein Gespür für Songs, die Zerbrechlichkeit und Selbstbewusstsein gleichermaßen in sich tragen. Auf „Salt Moon City“ zeigt sich Moon als Produzent, Arrangeur und Multiinstrumentalist, der seinen Sound vollständig im Griff hat. Er spielt Schlagzeug, Bass, Gitarre und alle Klavierparts selbst und erschafft eine Atmosphäre, die zeitlos und lebendig zugleich wirkt – eine Stadt aus Salz und Erinnerung, irgendwo zwischen Traum und Tageslicht leuchtend.

Malena Zavala is an Argentinian-born, London-based artist, producer, and filmmaker, known for crafting ethereal, genre-blending music that navigates the space between her Latin heritage and her British upbringing. With the forthcoming album If This Life Could Start Again set for release on 30 January 2026 on Paraná Records, Zavala presents her most intimate, cohesive, and accomplished work to date, marking a significant evolution in her artistic journey.
With her new album, Malena creates an atmospheric dream pop world, weaving singer-songwriter intimacy with synth pop, Argentine folk, indiepop, rock and experimental music, threaded together by her blissful vocals and dreamy guitar work. Gorgeously warm and vivid, If This Life Could Start Again charts the journey from pain to acceptance, mapping out the non-linear nature of healing through a sonic landscape. Each song embodies a distinct emotion within that journey, from grief and chaos to feeling lost, seeking refuge, finding confidence, and finally acceptance and letting go. Drawing on her Argentinian roots, Malena uses the Andes mountains as both a visual and thematic anchor – the difficult climb towards higher ground becomes a metaphor for healing, whilst being lost at rock bottom reflects the darkest moments of the journey. 
Completely composed and performed by Malena herself, the album was recorded in Girona’s L’Empordà countryside in Spain with producer Luke Smith. As a professional producer and audio engineer, this was Malena’s first time relinquishing production control – an intimate creative shift that allowed their shared vision to shape the album’s rich, enveloping sound. 
However, Zavala’s career to date has been a testament to self-sufficient artistry. Her critically acclaimed debut, Aliso (2018), was written, recorded, and produced alone in her parents’ garage, which honed her dreamy bedroom pop sound. The album, praised by The Guardian for its “gently warped and beguilingly melancholy guitar pop,” ****, immediately catapulted her from DIY beginnings to prestigious stages, supporting acts like Lord Huron at London’s Roundhouse and Men I Trust at Village Underground and subsequently continuing on their UK/EU tours. Later with standout performances at Latitude, Green Man, and All Points East. Her consistent radio support from key influencers including BBC Radio 6 Music, BBC Radio 1's Huw Stephens, and Steve Lamacq has solidified her presence on the airwaves.
Her second album, La Yarará (2020), saw Zavala delve deeper into her roots, exploring Latin traditions like Cumbia and Bolero. This exploration of identity continues powerfully on the new album, but with a newfound lyrical depth and sonic confidence. The new album, If This Life Could Start Again, is a raw and transformative eight-track journey that maps the emotional landscape of healing. Written after a period of personal upheaval, the album traverses themes of grief, hereditary trauma, and self-discovery. The record’s narrative is structured like a mountain ascent. A challenging climb through varied emotional terrain, posing the central question: “Will you join the journey?” Sonically, this journey mirrors the non-linear path to acceptance, evolving from acoustic folk and synth-pop to funk-infused rhythms and rock anthems.
As a formidable live performer, Zavala has built a robust touring profile across the UK and Europe. She will embark on an extensive tour in February and March 2026 to support the album, with dates spanning major cities from London and Glasgow to Berlin, Paris, and Barcelona.
With If This Life Could Start Again, Malena Zavala fully realizes her artistic vision as a self-taught producer to an autonomous artist commanding her career through Paraná Records whilst reflecting the vast landscapes of her heritage and affirming her place as a compelling and evolving voice in contemporary music.

From the Guts of Essaira claims space in body and time. It follows the path announced with the single ‘Dramla / Xirxe’, expanding its tensions and guiding them towards a more layered, conscious expressive form. It is an album to be listened to without respite, allowing the sonic material to dilate.

The tracks move across a punkstrial terrain rich in synths held in constant tension; sharp guitars and industrial rhythms alternate drive with suspension. The vocals, multiple and layered, do not seek centrality but co‑presence: they enter, disappear, pursue one another, dig deep and steer the listening through zones of friction and release.

The album is released during a period of widespread instability and reflects that mood. The ten pieces construct a compact journey, with darkness and urgency alternating with more rarefied, introspective moments. Nothing is accidental: every segment is functional, every tension is permitted to resonate until the end. From the Guts of Essaira is a physical, visceral record; it works by accumulation and subtraction, strengthened by the fracture between control and abandonment. It breathes, listens, spreads.

Subconscio left the smallest town in Gargano to begin a new life in uncharted Bologna.
Leaving mother earth, he still retains a strong sense of that distant world, expressed through the senses of his inner child. The Subconscio
project finds its expression in music, where it blends Neo Soul, Hip Hop, and Electronica into a sound deeply influenced by individual experiences. Soft vibrations and relaxed lyrics are the means through which he expresses his devotion to creative freedom, moving with the urgency of someone who has finally found his voice. The word dáimōn originates from Ancient Greek and means divine messenger, a guiding
spirit that hovers in a middle ground, called metaxu, the same place where the soul resides, and acts as a link between God and humanity.*
"Daimon" is Subconscio's debut album, produced by Luzee. It's the intimate vision of a person suspended in his imagination, questioning
the identity of his own memory and how the places that led him to his NOW are actually his future. The present doesn't exist in the narrative.
It exists only in the connection between childhood memories and the adult perspective.
Giulio is his son and also his parent: the Subconscious; the "daimon" is the musical journey that connects these two ways of observing the
same memory. Nostalgic turmoil meets the desire to recognize oneself and fuel the obsession with music, because only this—albeit the least
apparent art—is the only one that can be the voice and bearer of the dimensions of consciousness.
Featuring on the album: Madbuddy and Claver Gold

Im Gegensatz zu den früheren Alben der Lost Boys, die innerhalb eines bestimmten Zeitraums produziert wurden, entstand „Pale Bloom“ langsam und versuchte, einen Schöpfungsmythos in seinem Bernstein einzufrieren – eine Ursprungsgeschichte, die uralt und komplex ist, voller Geheimnisse und Metaphern, die weder einer Klärung noch eines Endes bedarf. Jede Veröffentlichung der Lost Boys wagt sich in neues musikalisches und lyrisches Terrain vor. Von allen greift „Pale Bloom“ am weitesten zurück in die Kindheit und findet unbewusst die Rhythmen und Erzählstile, die in den Zwängen einer religiösen Erziehung verwurzelt sind. Beim Durchforsten der vergessenen Akkorde, Refrains und Melodien aus alten Kinderreimen und Volksliedern entdeckten sie den Wunsch, diese überlieferten Klänge in Richtung persönlicherer Wahrheiten zu verändern. Dieser Impuls ist auf dem gesamten Album präsent und in Krugers ebenso klangvoller wie euphorischer Stimme zu hören, wenn sie die verschiedenen lyrischen Formen um ihre eigene Sehnsucht, Trauer und Begierde herumlegt und sie darauf vorbereitet, in der üppigen und großzügigen Subversion der erinnerten Rhythmen der Band zu landen. Im Gegensatz zu ihrem Auftritt auf „Heaving“ und „A Human Home“ sind die Streicher hier weniger affektiert und haben einen eher düsteren und ernsten Charakter angenommen. Sie streben nach einer komplexen Art von Himmel, der durch das Gewicht und die Bodenständigkeit der Grooves ermöglicht wird, die sowohl stoisch als auch ausdrucksstark sind. Die Gitarren bewegen sich frei zwischen weitläufigen, voluminösen Räumen und sind ebenso knirschend wie sanft. Kruger nahm das Album mit ihren Bandkollegen und ihrem engen Mitarbeiter André Leo über einen Zeitraum von sechs Monaten in verschiedenen Studios in Berlin auf. Das Album wurde von Simon Ratcliffe gemischt.

Originally released in 2005, this standout EP returns as part of the much-anticipated reissue campaign from cult New York imprint Drugsex — a label that quickly became a treasured name among heads who lived and breathed the underground. Born from the creative partnership between UK producers Rob Pearson and Simon Copleston, Drugsex carved out its own raw, hypnotic corner of the international tech house movement.

For the second instalment in the reissue series, label head Rob Pearson teams up with Daniel Poli under their Distant Strangers moniker — a project that, even back then, was whispered about among selectors for its deep, rolling grooves and stripped-back intensity. Both artists had already made their mark with releases on some of the most respected labels of the era — from Rekids and Swag Records to Evasive Records, Rescue Recordings, and beyond.

The pair’s first collaboration, the Lost Souls EP, became a highly limited, in-demand underground gem, pressed in small quantities and played by those in the know. This follow-up, crafted at Online Studios in Croydon, took their sound to the next level — two original tracks built for dancefloors that like things hypnotic, physical and uncompromising.

On the A-side, Virtual Morality is a slick and driving slice of tech house pressure. Crisp percussion, rolling low-end and a subtle but addictive hook make it a peak-time weapon that never goes out of style. Flip it over for Take Us In Deeper — a track that lives up to its name with a shadowy groove, atmospheric layers and a perfectly balanced push and pull that draws dancers further into the late-night haze.

Adding even more weight to the release, Adam Collins — known for his work with Omni AM and Euphoria Records — steps in with a remix of Virtual Morality on B2. His version injects an unmistakable acid edge, elevating the original into a tripped-out, floor-focused burner that fits as comfortably in a basement sweatbox as it does on a sunrise terrace.

Nearly two decades later, these tracks still carry the same raw power and effortless groove that made them cult favourites in the first place. This reissue isn’t just a nod to the past — it’s a reminder of why this sound endures.

2026 Repress

The tenth edition of the Early Morning label stands as both a milestone and a statement of intent. In just a single year, its founder has reshaped theunderground dance music landscape with a catalog that redefined thepossibilities of the genre. This latest release features two new pieces thattogether form a tightly woven conceptual work spanning nearly seventeenminutes.



Guy Jhas built his reputation on reinvention. Each release feels less like acontinuation of his past and more like a step into uncharted terrain. On theopening track, Worlds Apart, he fuses an emotive core with intricate sounddesign and spatial experimentation, leading listeners into liminal states whereconsciousness and subconsciousness blur. Despite its cerebral qualities, thepiece never loses its pulse, the steady momentum thatkeeps it firmly anchoredto the dancefloor.



True tothe label's name, this is music designed for dawn, for moments of release aftera long night, for embraces on crowded floors, for the intangible bonds thatform through shared experience. The second track, Surreal, pushes further intoabstraction. While echoes of early trance, a genre that shaped Guy J during hisformative years, are evident, the piece reframes those influences through aprogressive, hypnotic, and technologically refined lens. It is this ability toblend memory with innovation that distinguishes Guy J from his peers, offeringlisteners not just music but a reimagined space in which sound itself becomesan act of discovery.


Tracklist

Emerging through waves of reverberation and haze, ‘Deep Star’ unfolds as a submerged odyssey through Coma World’s distinct terrain of leftfield dub and psychedelia. The duo of Maxwell Hallett (Betamax) and Pete Bennie craft a sound that moves between meditative underwater drift and sharp, rhythmic pressure.

Each piece develops like a current, where bass resonance and percussive detail create an undertow of motion that guides the record’s flow. Beneath the murk, subtle shifts in tone and momentum reveal the album’s depth: flickers of tension and release that mirror the shifting light below the surface.

‘Deep Star’ captures Coma World at a point of lucid refinement, translating improvisation into form without losing its raw edge. Immersive and alive with motion, it’s a record that invites listening as descent—sound as gravity, pulling you deeper the longer you stay.

In einer mutigen, hypnotischen Hommage an Detroits ursprüngliche Avantgarde-Rock-Wurzeln verwandeln Schlagzeuger Larry Mullins (alias Toby Dammit) und der legendäre Bassist Mike Watt das eindringliche Mantra ,We Will Fall" von The Stooges in ein fast 40-minütiges Ritual aus Wiederholungen, Zurückhaltung und roher Atmosphäre. Mullins und Watt greifen den unheimlichen Puls und den narkotischen Drone des Original-Tracks von 1969 auf und treiben dessen tranceartigen Kern in unbekanntes Terrain. Mullins, bekannt für seine Arbeit mit Iggy Pop, Swans und Nick Cave, baut mit seiner Shruti-Box, Moog-Elektronik, Tabla und Gongs eine minimalistische Landschaft auf. Watts charakteristisches Low-End-Dröhnen verwandelt sich von einem subtilen Herzschlag zu einer Ganzkörperhalluzination. Das Ergebnis ist keine Coverversion, sondern eine erweiterte Beschwörung. Teils Séance, teils Trauergesang, teils freie Erkundung von Stimmung und Geist. Es ist ein langsames Brennen klanglicher Hingabe, das den Geist der Stooges ehrt und gleichzeitig die Tür zu etwas völlig Neuem öffnet: ein tiefes Eintauchen in das Heilige und Fremde. Dieses meditative und bedrohliche Stück ist auf zwei Seiten der LP aufgeteilt, die exklusiv für den Record Store Day Black Friday 2025 erhältlich ist. Die Hälfte der Pressung erscheint auf goldenem Vinyl, die andere Hälfte auf schwarzem, die Auswahl erfolgt nach dem Zufallsprinzip.

Iptamenos Discos kündigt Houdini an, die neue EP der Labelgründer Local Suicide. Die Platte enthält drei ihrer dunkelsten und kraftvollsten Originaltracks bis heute, ergänzt durch markante Neubearbeitungen des französischen Electroclash-Pioniers David Carretta und der aufstrebenden griechischen EBM-Kraft Alpha Sect. Die Houdini EP entstand im Berliner Studio von Local Suicide während zahlloser nächtlicher Sessions mit Skelesys in derselben kreativen Phase, die auch ihren gemeinsamen Hit Moustache, die Surface Of The Sun EP und Faster Faster auf Curses’ Next Wave Acid Punx-Compilation hervorbrachte. Das Ergebnis ist ihr bisher düsterstes Material, das ihren Technodisco-Sound in noch härteres Terrain führt - mit hypnotischen Basslines, industriellen Texturen und analogen Vintage-Synths. Damit zählt es zu den mutigsten Releases im Katalog von Iptamenos Discos. Die EP eröffnet mit Obsessions, einem Track zwischen Darkwave und Techno, aufgebaut auf einer brutalen Bassline, analogen Synths und eindringlichen, mantraartigen Vocals. Die wiederholte Zeile „Obsessions, they come and go“ spiegelt den unerbittlichen Sog des Stücks wider und unterstreicht seine klaustrophobische, sich ständig wiederholende Energie. Submission, eine Zusammenarbeit mit Langzeitkollaborateur Skelesys, steht dem in nichts nach: ein düsterer Low-End-Sound, verzerrte, stark bearbeitete Vocals und der Sprechgesang „Resistance, no submission“ durchziehen den Track wie eine Trotz-Erklärung, die Spannung in Kraft verwandelt. Der Titeltrack Houdini ist etwas zugänglicher, behält aber die gleiche schattige Atmosphäre. Unheimliche Orgelmelodien und der Text „The great Houdini, the big escape“ beschwören Transformation und Befreiung herauf, zollen dem legendären Illusionisten Tribut und verleihen der Nummer eine theatralische Note. Der französische Kult-DJ und Produzent David Carretta interpretiert Obsessions neu mit seiner unverkennbaren retro-futuristischen Handschrift. Seit den 1990ern bekannt für die Fusion von industrieller Präzision mit Italo-inspirierten Synths, hellt er den Track mit glitzernden Disco-Melodien und einer erhebenden Stimmung auf – eine Version, die sich bewusst vom dunklen Original absetzt und sofort für die Tanzfläche taugt. Der in Straßburg ansässige Alpha Sect, das Projekt des griechischen Künstlers George McCall, führt Submission in kompromisslose Dimensionen. Verwurzelt in Electro und Body Music mit Punk-Einflüssen, beginnt sein Remix als wuchtiger EBM-Stomper und entwickelt sich zu einem clubtauglichen Track, der Intensität mit Katharsis in Balance bringt.

Cindy Lee, the performance and songwriting vehicle of Canadian artist Patrick Flegel (who fronted influential indie group Women earlier), previously stunned listeners with Act Of Tenderness, a heart-wrenching statement informed by the noirish core of celebrity, and has continued to enchant with every album, including the startling What's Tonight To Eternity released earlier this year.

Model Express originally appeared as a self-released edition of 100 gold cassettes. The arch, filmic drama of Cindy Lee's songwriting – realized with keyboards, guitars, aching voice and collaged, lo-fi production – traverses a wide range of emotional and sonic terrain. The red velvet psych-pop of "What Can I Do" gives way to the fluid "Diamond Ring" like radio bursts from space. Model Express finds Flegel at both their most experimental and immediately melodic, and this first-time vinyl release recognizes the collected tracks as a pillar in the Cindy Lee catalogue.

Cindy Lee (who uses the gender neutral pronoun they) is a drag persona drawing on suburban closet queens and mid-century divas. In keeping with Flegel's interest in the faultlines of identity, gender expression, performance and media, Model Express delivers an intense and diverse set of unforgettable songs.

One Instrument welcomes Morning Seance, composer and sound artist, originally from Italy and based in Vienna. On this debut LP, Morning Seance traces a drifting narrative composed of unstable harmonies, fluid structures, and ghostlike forms. The album unfolds like a dream told in fragments, oscillating between fluctuating pulses and decaying transmissions, from nocturnal stillness to acoustic mirages. The first half of the record moves through zones of suspended tension and evanescent contours, where tracks like “Be faster than your own depression” and “The tenderness of our own autobiography” sketch fragile architectures of affect. The second half enters a more spectral terrain — “Breakfast in a night club,” “A visit to the Brion-Vega tomb” — not places, but agglomerates of sonic sensation, detached from any personal frame.

With each piece, the music dissolves and reconstitutes itself, resisting finality or form, and doing so with an indestructible joy that hums beneath the wreckage. This is degenerate ambient music: anti-geometric and subject to emotional weather — not a refuge, but a slow collapse of structure and purity, where atmosphere gives way to excess and disobedience.

The album is crafted entirely from a single source: the Roland Alpha Juno-1. Despite this constraint, it achieves a vast sound spectrum, transforming one synthesizer’s voice into a layered landscape of textures and moods.

The electronic music of Morning Seance is built on constant variation and intricate, looping patterns with no clear beginning or end. This variation is not simply applied to an audio element, but enacted as a compositional logic — avoiding mechanical combinations and obvious rhythms. The result is a mutable mass of audio matter and tonal debris, guiding the listener through richly divergent environments.

Four years on from their landmark Grassroots, visionary half-time heavyweights The Untouchables return with their third album, Lost Knowledge. The duo of Kate McGill and Ajit 'Nitrox' Steyns have carved out a space in modern D&B all their own, building on a legacy that reaches back to the late 00s to keep pushing into unexplored terrain with an assured and deadly line in rhythmic intrigue and atmospheric immersion.

Lost Knowledge launches into action instantly with the high-pressure drum science and dubby splashes of 'Drunken Bells', capturing the loopy techno propulsion and rolling intensity that drives so much of the output on Samurai Music. Where The Untouchables excel is in finding variety and nuance in their relatively forbidding, pared down sound. The heads-down groove of 'Mafia Town' owes as much to dembow and dancehall as D&B, while 'Lost Knowledge' spirals out into psychoactive flurries of synth strafes and organic percussion slathered in tight-locked delay trails. There's no light relief from strident hooks or riffs, just a pure, unshakeable commitment to the power of the beat and deeply designed layers of sound shaping out the space around.

'Busy Bones' makes space for carefully deployed hints of pad tone while the snares snap out of the mix with a sharp set of teeth. 'Four Eared Demon' baits the gabber crowd with its rapid-fire 4/4 hats atop seasick creaks across the midrange, keeping subtlety and patience in the lower frequencies to maintain the signature elegance readily associated with The Untouchables. 'Phase Correlation' teases an artfully unhinged ripple of synth that stands out amongst the murky murmurs filling out the middle distance, but it's still exercised with brutal precision.

Nothing happens by accident or feels out of place - McGill and Steyns are in total control, and they demonstrate incredible range and inventive approaches within their focused style. The accent of the grooves shifts, and individual sounds carry all kinds of artefacts, yet everything gets folded into the exacting Untouchables sound with a liberal dubwise sensibility. Brimming with inspiration and immaculately produced, on Lost Knowledge their one-of-a-kind sound is stronger than ever.

The perfect accompaniment to that deep fall feeling, Frank Maston's beloved 2025 single finally gets its long overdue vinyl release! As our friends New Commute articulated beautifully, "Foreign Affairs" drifts through London fog and Paris shimmer, its avant-lounge glow wrapping each melody in a wistful ache. On B-side "Liaison," ghostly strings and a solitary piano paint a deserted twilight shoreline, Pacôme Henry's distinct 16mm cinematography hovering nearby." We've pressed just 500 of these gorgeous records so, be quick, Maston always flies.

Originally written for a film Maston was scoring in 2024, he decided to keep it aside for himself. And, well, us all. The song has a vibe Maston has previously flirted with; he wanted to dive in...all the way: "The arrangement is huge, definitely the biggest I've written, and it merited live musicians playing together. Also another experiment, to do it with all live musicians playing my arrangements. I wanted to make something that you'd want to put on when you bring a date back to your place. It's on the edge of sappy but that's sort of the point. I decided to give myself an unlimited budget - just spend whatever was necessary to get the right musicians and record it the best way possible."

It's this dedication to sonic perfection which Maston is rightly lauded for. We couldn't not put this on a cute wee 7" when we heard it.

The A side, "Foreign Affairs", is a brilliant, Bacharach-esque romp with a bit of that unapologetically romantic Morricone angle. Says Frank: "I was trying to synthesize that sort of jazzy/sexy/classy/romantic mature sound, where the edginess is in these surprising chord changes and subtle arrangement cues."

A wonderful complement, the flipside "Liaison", evokes Martin Denny, but Eden's Island was in Frank's head, too. He wanted to take a deep dive into that exotica sound - a genre he'd referenced a bit but never fully committed to - so the piece is lavished with those big sighing strings and a pretty lush arrangement. Happily, it all sounds super rich. Also, "Umiliani is always a reference for this sort of thing (Il Corpo etc.), That almost mechanical arrangement of things moving together and a simple melody over it (something I nicked from Ennio)".

The two songs were recorded in Paris and London in the summer of 2024. Aside from the rhythm section and piano, there's vibraphone, a full string section, trombones and alto and concert flutes. "Liaison" boasts strings, vibraphone, a female choir and tenor sax. Maston played piano and acoustic guitar but that's it (as opposed to playing basically everything on Tulips). His friend Oscar Sholto Robertson played drums and percussion whilst Maston mainstay Elie Ghersinu (formerly of L'Eclair) played bass.

The theme for a lot of Maston's titles is that they have two meanings. So "Foreign Affairs" is both a reference to him living abroad and the idea of constant cultural diplomacy and then there's this sexy/cheeky interpretation of foreign affairs in a literal way - "an affair abroad, ooh la la!". The artwork for this 7" single has Roman campaign flags, referencing the foreign affairs in sort of a sassy way. There's a violence implied. But then if you look from a bit of a distance it looks like a bouquet of flowers. So Frank thought it went with the spirit of the title. Also, he's used a lot of roman motifs now so he kept that theme going, even with the terracotta cover.

This is a vitally important project for our Frank. He explains why, here: "For whatever reason, these songs really resonated with me. I feel like they are either the end of a stylistic era for me or the beginning of a new one. They're sonically the culmination of what I'd been working towards and trying to get better at since I started. If I heard this when I was making Tulips I would have said "YES! *This* is what I want to be doing!". So that's the essence of it. It's a statement and the intended reaction is "This is really good, but why now?". Like the edge to it is the context of someone making this sort of thing in 2025, which I think is a huge strength. The real heads will get it. My music always has like a 2-3 year latency until people really catch onto it, and these ones will have a nice payoff I think."

We couldn't put it better ourselves. So we haven't.

Recorded in Switzerland and mastered in Madrid, on Deságua Mello blends classical harp training with experimental techniques, creating a rich sonic journey that pushes the boundaries of the instrument. Brazilian harpist and composer Marina Mello presents Deságua, her solo debut released by the Peruvian label Buh Records. Based in Zurich, Mello has developed a unique and expressive approach to the harp, combining her classical training with a deep exploration of the instrument's sonic possibilities. Deságua is the result of this process: an intimate and expansive work that traverses sonic landscapes rich in contrast and texture. In the artist's own words, this album is a synthesis of material developed through her musical practice. The title refers to the Portuguese word that describes the moment a river flows into the sea. This concept guides the album's sonic narrative, in which each piece functions as a tributary flowing into an immersive and unexpected listening experience. From bittersweet whale-like sounds to destructive, unsettling, and shattering noise provocations, she explores, senses, and transcends the musical boundaries of her instrument. The album presents a wide range of sounds and styles, yet maintains a strong internal coherence through its technical and conceptual exploration of the harp. Mello performs on both lever and pedal harps, employing a range of non-traditional techniques: preparing the instrument with objects, using guitar effects pedals, detuning the strings, and using close mic recording to capture the subtlest sounds and the shifts that lie between them. The result is a collection of pieces that move between the melodic and the dissonant. Deságua does not shy away from repetition, noise, or raw textures. Instead, it embraces them fully, situating the album at the crossroads of contemporary music, improvisation, and electronic experimentation.

A decade after its release, A Fragile Geography returns transformed. This limited edition cassette accompanies the AFG10 anniversary reissue, offering an inspired re-envisioning of Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark compositions. Reworks presents distinctive readings of these pieces, with each artist leaving their personal mark on the material. The titles remain unchanged, with the sole exception of “Hiatus,” reborn here as “Ausencia.” Together, these reimaginings extend the emotional cartography of the album into new terrains.

KMRU reframes “Displacement” with expansive, glimmering layers that open into meditative ambient landscapes. Nairobi born and Berlin based, he is known for morphing field recordings into vivid aural experiences, often capturing the texture of footsteps, foliage, and distant city life and weaving them into contemplative soundscapes. In this version he introduces subtle new sounds, including stringlike synths that trace and heighten the piece’s emotional arc. The result invites close listening, offering enveloping tones where the organic and the synthetic gently collide and flow.

Penelope Trappes renders “Reprisal” as a voice-led invocation of the delicate and the intimate. Her wistful vocals bloom with fragile sorrow, rising over shimmering strands of strings to create a sound world at once sacred and shadowed. She is adept at channeling inherited grief into music that is transcendent and otherworldly. The interplay of her voice, the strings, and her use of space and depth draws those qualities into Irisarri’s orbit, imbuing “Reprisal” with the same spiritual weight and clarity that define her most powerful work.

Kevin Richard Martin (a.k.a. The Bug) transforms “Empire Systems” into a cavernous “Iced Mix,” driven by polyrhythmic double bass motifs and sculpted from subterranean pressure and negative space. Known for pushing sound to its physical limits, Martin brings the stark intensity of his dub and noise infused practice into Irisarri’s architecture. The track seethes with harmonic distortion and erupts in white noise rhythms, its brooding low end depth and icy reverberant textures amplifying the tension. Vulnerability and force are set in stark relief, as silences feel as heavy as the bursts of sound themselves. The result is a stark study in atmosphere, restraint and impact, reframed through Martin’s singular lens of sonic mass and low end intensity.

On Side B, Mabe Fratti opens with a cinematic, dreamlike, Lynchian reimagining of “Hiatus” in her native Spanish (“Ausencia”). She threads cello and voice so wondrously that her rendering feels at once hauntingly beautiful and disquieting. Emotionally charged melodies shift in unexpected directions, while her soft, intimate vocals hover above Irisarri’s brooding synth textures. Fratti’s gift for blending experimental and avant pop sensibilities with visceral, emotionally powerful expression shines resplendently here. She gives voice to Irisarri’s reflections on the passage of time and his growing desire to reconnect with his familial roots.

Abul Mogard stretches “Persistence” into a vast drone elegy. A master of patient sound sculpting, Mogard layers evolving waves of analog synths into a dense shroud that radiates its own internal light. Gradual surges of tone and subtle harmonic shifts emphasize the piece’s endurance and inevitability. Irisarri’s original composition, in Mogard's hands, becomes a rumination on time’s unrelenting flow. Melancholy and transcendence coexist in equal measure in this engulfing, cathartic rework.

William Basinski and Gary Thomas Wright close the cycle with a spectral version of “Secretly Wishing for Rain.” Basinski’s field recordings of Reseda rainfall and birdsong, which open and close the rework, add a personal touch and evoke the imagined sound of a grainy film reel flickering to life. The piece suspends Irisarri’s yearning for the Pacific Northwest, lodging it hazily between memory, place and an unreachable dream. It feels like a fading recollection, half forgotten and half felt. A final gesture that dissolves the album into vapor, leaving the listener adrift in its lingering afterglow.

Mastered with great care by Stephan Mathieu and featuring a remixed version of the original artwork by Daniel Castrejón, this edition refracts the language of the original through new prisms. Less a return than a passage, across time, across interpretation, into uncharted emotional realms.

A hill repeating its own name.

Ben Beinn — mountain mountain — an imagined summit, recursive and unstable.

Poole’s new album Ben Beinn follows 2024’s In a River Shadow, and deepens his exploration of environment, voice, and abstraction. If the previous record moved with flowing water and submerged hymns, Ben Beinn climbs into elemental instability: passing storms, coded skies, and sodden ground.

Across ten tracks, Poole entangles the Celtic New Age sound world — traditional instrumentation (flute, low whistle, bagpipe, piano, strings) — with synthesis, environmental recordings, and abstracted voice. The sound palette is tactile — marked by microtonal harmony, swelling dissonance, and a breathy naïvety. Voices in Gaelic, Norwegian, and English surface and dissolve, stretched beyond recognition — more weather than word.

The album’s title refers to a tautological hill — Ben Beinn, or “mountain mountain” — a recursive site where motifs surface, fracture, and re-emerge. On 365 Days of Rain, rainfall data becomes a rhythmic lattice that slips from metrical order. 1000 opens the record in cinematic emergence: mountain icicles and frozen streams swell into strings and breathy melodic weight. Pulling from the connective folktales of hill and mountain trolls — “Dance for a thousand years,” Poole writes, “for jeg har sovet tidlig så lenge.”

Recorded in Scotland between 2024–2025, Ben Beinn draws from environmental recordings of frozen hill passes, storm drains, and peat bogs using contact mics and hydrophones. Rather than simply reflecting place, these recordings press against it — layering the sonic materiality of landscape with synthesis and song. An inflection point between fabrication — folk music as performed identity, a carrier of story — and its obfuscation through digital networks, where tradition is refracted into plural forms.

Musical reference points include the emotionally saturated textures of Inoyama Land, the folk-electronic hybrids of Eli Storbekken, the hyperrealist collage practices of Noah Creshevsky, and the disquieting sonic simulations of James Ferraro. While Ferraro captures the uncanny surfaces of networked life, Ben Beinn turns inward — toward a located listening, shaped by weather, memory, and terrain.

The second in a triptych that began with In a River Shadow, Ben Beinn continues Poole’s excavation of environmental and folk material through contemporary methods. If the first record submerged itself in flowing water and submerged hymns, this one is shaped by the slow pressures of land and sky — a music of erosion, recurrence, and elemental presence.

Steve Hauschildt returns after 6 years with a new album titled Aeropsia. After a transcontinental relocation from the US to Tbilisi, Georgia, the electronic composer emerges from a personal and global transformation to explore themes of perceptual distortion, disconnection, and renewal.

Aeropsia (which roughly translates as “seeing the air”) refers to a visual phenomenon in which objects appear to float or shimmer, often due to changes in pressure, perception, atmospheric shifts or neurological disturbance. This becomes a metaphor for the liminality that informs the record: blurry visions, dreamlike displacements, and the fragile membrane separating what is seen from what is felt.

In the years since his last solo release, Hauschildt’s world has been marked by relocation and a growing sense of global turbulence. These experiences became the raw material for a work that navigates institutional haze and uncertainty itself. The result is music that employs decay as method, structure as entropy, and mutation as expression.

While Aeropsia remains subjective in its vision, Hauschildt invited two previous collaborators to expand the album’s gravitational pull. Cellist Lia Kohl, who previously performed on Nonlin, returns and brings a tactile warmth to select tracks, while guitarist Michael Vallera threads spectral harmonics into the mix. The album’s electronic foundation and its tactile elements meet in a state of luminous suspension to navigate the shifting in physical and psychological terrain.

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”