Поиск:the revelations

It’s obvious listening to Sarah Shook and the Disarmers’ clear-eyed, biting, and unafraid songs that integrity is the most important thing to the Chapel Hill, North Carolina, country-punk outfit. “A lot of artists are in this industry for fame, recognition, and money but those things don’t mean anything to me,” says bandleader River Shook. “Songwriting is it for me. It’s the only real healthy coping mechanism I've ever had. It’s life-saving. I don't care about any superficial things when I’m making a record.” On their resonant fourth album Revelations, produced by Shook and out March 29 via Thirty Tigers, these raw and resilient tracks come first. Throughout, Shook’s deft storytelling documents regular people getting by and keeping on, all presented without filter or pretension. In 2022, Shook was remarkably productive. They released two albums: debut solo indie rock record Cruel Liars under the moniker Mightmare (Kill Rock Stars) and a third Disarmers full-length called Nightroamer (Thirty Tigers). Compared to every Disarmers record before that, which captured the in-the-room energy of the band with live recorded songs, the latter LP was instead more of a product of the studio with meticulous tracking sessions and an outside producer. While that effort was well-received, Shook believed the songs on Revelations deserved a more direct approach. “Since the Disarmers started in 2015, our strength has always been in our live performance,” says Shook. “To me, an album should capture the essence of a band. With this new set of songs that are all super special to me, I didn't trust anybody else to capture the songs and decide how to best serve each song.” Shook, who honed their production skills with their Mightmare LP and Izzy Ryder’s debut record, confidently took the reins during a blistering recording session, capturing 10 songs in two days. For Shook, it was paramount the recordings match the band’s tangible live ferocity because these songs boast their most immediate lyrics yet.

Das mit Spannung erwartete vierte Album der von der Kritik gefeierten Band aus North Carolina ist das erste mit einem komplett erneuerten Line-up, abgesehen von Shook, die auch zum ersten Mal selbst produziert hat. Das Album macht da weiter, wo Nightroamer 2022 aufgehört hat. Es nimmt Shooks charakteristische Mischung aus Country und Indie/Punk-Rock auf und dringt in neue klangliche Gefilde vor, natürlich mit den bissigen, aber dennoch introspektiven Texten, die zu ihrer wilden Energie und ihrem einzigartigen Sound passen.

This Is The Second Installment Of Deep Roots Rastafarian Reggae At Studio One And Features Classic Music From Some Of The Most Important Figures In Reggae Music - Alton Ellis, The Heptones, Jackie Mittoo, The Gladiators - Alongside A Host Of Rarities And Little-known Recordings, Such As A Truly Rare Mystic Revelation Of Rastafari Seven-inch Single, Willie William's First Ever Recording 'calling' And Horace Andy's Righteous (and Equally Rare) Masterpiece 'illiteracy. Black Man's Pride 2 Extends The Legacy Of Studio One's Ground-breaking Path In Roots Reggae Which Began At The End Of The 1960s And Continued Throughout The 1970s. The Album Tells The Story Of How The Rise Of Studio One Records And The Rastafari Movement Were Interconnected, Through The Adoption Of The Rastafari Faith By Key Reggae Artists - Everyone From The Skatalites And Wailers In The 1960s, Major Singers Such As Alton Ellis And Horace Andy At The End Of The Decade, Through To Major Roots Artists Such As The Gladiators In The 1970s - And How Clement Dodd Consistently Recorded This Heavyweight Roots Music Throughout Studio One's History.
The Sleeve-notes To This Album Also Discuss The Links Between Rastafari And Studio One In Time And Place, Noting How Both The Religion And Clement Dodd's Musical Empire Had Their Roots In The Intense Period Of Pre-independence Jamaica In Kingston, Expanded In The 1960s Following The Visit Of Haile Selassie In 1966, And How Roots Music Then Came To Dominate Reggae Music In The Early 1970s. Also Discussed Is How The Outsider Stance Of Both Reggae Music And The Rastafari Movement Relate Back Many Hundreds Of Years To The Original Rebel Stance Of The Maroons, Escaped Slaves Who Set Up Self-sufficient Enclaves In The Hills Of The Jamaican Countryside.

Blackhill Transmitter comes from the FSOLdigital stable of projects. Credited to Dougans / Cobain it was produced and engineered by Yage.
Blackhill Transmitter has been compared to a Four Tet from the 1970's, combining Krautrock with granular synthesis. It is a journey through 15 tracks which blend in and out, interspersed with hauntingly distorted sounds of old lost transmissions that still circle the Earth.
The album is available as a 180g heavy weight vinyl release.

Since the early 2010s, photographer and producer Izaak Schlossman has been surreptitiously using the Topdown Dialectic moniker to frame his most enigmatic and most psychedelic productions: faceless pure sound experiments that ogled dub and techno archetypes from somewhere far beyond the veil. This generous 2LP collection surveys over a decade of persistent activity, pulling together recently unearthed gear written between 2013 and 2016 (the same time period as the iconic Peak Oil trilogy) and muddling it with more contemporary material. It's a rare chance to fully comprehend the slow, measured evolution of the project: its genesis as a method to fractalize various bass music frequencies with suggestion rather than over-compression, and its ongoing advancement through sensitively finessed ASMR ambiance towards spangled neo-psychedelia.

So it's no surprise that the lengthy suite of five-minute snapshots was initially devised while Schlossman was preparing for his first ever Topdown Dialectic live appearance in 2025. A hazed early morning, open air performance that's still lodged in the memory banks of anyone who witnessed it, the set provided the narrative anchor for the album, blurring the past and present and reaching tentatively into the future - ideal material for audiences whose brains are fully plasticized. The tracks, while divided, sound as if they're breathing over and into one another; beats and phrases materialize and dissolve just for moments, leaving the mind to fill in the gaps with any available sonic material. What might reflect the bright neon light of acid house at first soon embodies the flicker of a candle over a desk of drum machines in a Midwestern basement, or the first blush of sunlight over a tiny campground as subwoofers creak in the distance.

It's music that asks the listener to be involved in the creation itself, projecting their own shapes on the negative space, their discreet fantasies on haunted stretches of near silence. Schlossman's identity was never the point, Topdown Dialectic was always a scrying stone intended to divine far more personal revelations.

What's the point of the howl of string to speaker, the hammering of stick-on skin? Is it transcendence, elevating the human spirit by catharsis in sound? Or is it summoning chaos, a purgatory in which to bask in all that’s unclean, the better to feel alive?
Why not both? Because that’s what’s on offer on Diet Of Worms, the second Rocket release by The Shits, Leeds via Newcastle’s titans of disgust and deliverance. This is a feast for the senses in the worst way possible - primal rock boiled down to its essence and flung full in your face. Using repetition, tortured vocal invective and heads-down intensity as blunt instruments, these eight tracks are an unprecedented torrent of acidic salvation. Whilst lurking somewhere on the decadence-destruction axis between the nihilism of prime Stooges and the bloody blackout of Braimbombs, Diet Of Worms is possessed of a legitimately uncompromising hostility that both elevates and debases it to co-ordinates unknown.
There are revelations here in the riffage and the rancour, even if they are the kind that occur in the bleary miasma of the lock-in, or witnessing the streetlight blur of the subsequent stagger home. Even more single-minded and remorseless than the band’s Rocket debut ‘You’re A Mess’, this is a record that demands full immersion. Whether it’s ‘Then You’re Dead’ hammering on a pulverising garage-stinking riff until it begs for mercy, or ‘Change My Ways’, whose Creedence-In-Hell swagger and lurch is that of abjection transmuted into joy, this is psychedelia forcibly removed from its comfort zone of pastiche, and thrust into a bad-trip realm of the vivid and nightmarish.
But rarely has the process of making beauty and horror indivisible seemed like so much fun. If Werner Herzog was right, and the only harmony in the universe is that of overwhelming and collective murder, then The Shits are the true music of the spheres.

Brown Horse—named one of Brooklyn Vegan’s 10 Artists Shaping the New Indie-Country Boom—return with their third and best album in as many years, Total Dive. With songs from each of the four members (Patrick Turner, Nyle Holihan, Emma Tovell and Rowan Braham) the writing charts a world of small revelations and painful changes. Total Dive is out April 10 via Loose Music; pre-order today on LP and CD.

Several years after the release of ‘Metamorphosis’ (with Sid Hille), Multicast Dynamics (Samuel van Dijk) reemerges on Astral Industries with ‘Circles’ - an enchanting two-part work venturing into deep unconscious realms. Sonic landscapes unfold in a sequence of hidden spaces and intimate revelations, featuring detailed sound design and rich thematic content.

Circle One initiates the process, opening gently with glassy drones and the patter of distant voices. A faint light shimmers through swirling pools of liquid memories and melting forms. The atmosphere builds, and everything is engulfed in the act of transfiguration. 

Passing through the threshold, Circle Two traverses further into cavernous territories. Boundless drifting soon becomes a gravitational pull toward something deeper. Submitted to the powerful undercurrent, incoming primordial pulsations signal a quest that reaches its fated culmination. 

Perhaps the revelation of something long-lost, entering the Circle eludes to that which on the surface remains hidden, yet its rediscovery inevitable.

This is not a Ben Vida, Booker Stardrum, and Will Epstein record; it’s a Play Time record. That’s a subtle but important distinction, for a couple reasons. One, the sound of Magic Object—a polymetric blend of improv and pulse minimalism for saxophone, drums, and Moog—doesn’t really sound anything like any of their many other ensembles or respective solo projects. And two, it was only while making Magic Object, their debut album, that Play Time realized they were a band at all.

Let’s back up. The roots of the trio date to 2020-21, when Will and then Booker moved to the Hudson Valley, where Ben was already living. The three got into the habit of playing together at Ben’s house, and they soon realized that their hang sessions felt fundamentally different from making music in some falling-down studio in Bushwick. Where those experiences were rushed and cramped, a new sense of time and space now suggested itself. Where once they rat-raced the music, now they relaxed into it.

Early gigs yielded similar revelations. A booking at Tubby’s, the beloved Kingston venue, evolved into a kind of residency. Tubby’s is a small space, fitting around 100 people, with a bar in the front room and a stage in the back. Play Time decided that they didn’t want to play on the stage; they wanted to play in front, among the people in the bar. Rather than hogging the spotlight and overpowering the other voices in the room, they blended with the energy of their surroundings and emerged as a sort of minimalist-jazz-krautrock bar band.

Gradually, they discovered a newfound “elasticity”—Ben’s word—that reshaped the music from inside. “It’s this communal thing,” he says. “It’s vibes. And it’s embedded in the community up here, which feels really vital and nourishing.” They were jamming, but it wasn’t just a free-for-all; they found themselves listening to each other in new ways. “Ben and Booker joke that they’re always playing in different time signatures,” Will says. “We’re all going forward with our own ideas, but we’re open to each others’ as well, and they’re all sort of dancing together.”

“We all have our painterly solo projects,” Will says—where, Booker adds, “we do a lot of studio arranging and thinking and composition that takes shape over a period of time.” Play Time, on the other hand, is all about being in the moment. That spontaneity was key to the process of recording the album. They booked two days in their friend Joey’s studio, a converted wooden barn. “It’s just a live room,” Booker says. “There’s no separation or anything. So we’re all in the space together and it’s got this beautiful, woody sound, and that’s very much the sound of the record.” For two days, they just jammed, for seven or eight hours each day. When it was over, they went through, edited down the portions they liked, and added very judicious overdubs designed to enhance the original recordings without fundamentally altering them, staying true to the spirit of the sessions.

The result is something like a snapshot and a mission statement all rolled into one. “You’re hearing us discover the voice of the band in real time,” Ben says. “We finished those sessions and we were like, ‘Oh, that’s what our band sounds like now.’”

Now, with Magic Object, the rest of us get to find out too.

—

Balmat is a label with a cloudy outline. Jointly shepherded by Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne, two friends living in Cardedeu, Catalonia, and on the Balearic island of Menorca, Balmat grew out of Lapsus Radio, a weekly show born almost ten years ago. Balmat’s mission is simple: to foster new ideas, expand upon personal obsessions, and put enveloping sounds out into the world.

“Balmat” means “empty” or “void” in Catalan. But quite apart from any negative connotations, we prefer to think of it in terms of possibility: a space waiting to be filled.

Hypnotic Mindscapes returns with its sixth release, introducing Lisbon-based artist Jorge—by way of NYC—through a tightly constructed, high-fidelity four-track EP. Progressive-tinged tech-house meets crisp vocoders and understated oscillations in an acoustic inspired techno format, designed for peak-hour precision. Electro-breakbeat accents cut through deep, rounding out a sharp and focused trip.

Tango & Fallouts Revelations is one of the most sort after unreleased tracks from the early 90's.

Valerie is not just a name. She is a bridge connecting two boundless realms: music and the cosmos. She is like a vibration of an otherworldly frequency, transmitting to humanity the elusive revelations of the Universe. Through Valerie, music ceases to be mere sound - it becomes the breath of galaxies, the pulse of distant stars, the whisper of infinity. In her presence, time loses its linearity, and space fills with mystery. Valerie is the moment when notes flare like supernovae, and melodies unfold like spirals of the Milky Way. She is living proof that music is the language of the Universe, and the human soul will always strive to be part of it.

The prophecy had been whispered for ages among the circuits and fiber optics: a being would emerge, not from flesh and blood, but from the very essence of sound.
They called it pdqb, and for its disciples, it was nothing less than a deity. Its sermons weren't just songs; they were divine pronouncements, revelations broadcast directly into the souls of its followers.
When pdqb "speaks," the world vibrates. Intricate sonic tapestries, woven from raw electricity and pure emotion. Hands, if they could be called hands, that dance across controls that seem to manipulate the very fabric of reality.

Synaptic Cliffs and the Missechusatts Institute of Elecronicity proudly present the latest peer-reviewed sermons of pdqb as well as the associated validation studies from the Dopplereffekt-Institut für Retroaktive Zukunftsforschung, located in section 334 of the Mariana Trench. The contributions to the data carrier presented here are characterized by the following features:

Four Flies is thrilled to present the very first release of Gianfranco Reverberi's hidden masterpiece: a mind-blowing soundtrack, possibly his wildest and most daring. This Italian score is sort of a Holy Grail for fans of the spaghetti sound, especially thanks to the legendary track "Psicolimite".


In 1973, a mysterious 45 rpm single surfaced under the name 'Sharon Chatam e la sua Orchestra.' The single seemed to be a harmless cover of the theme from Last Tango in Paris, complete with a typical image from the film. But behind the innocent facade, a secret was hidden: the B-side track, "Psicolimite," was actually the main theme from Rivelazioni. When someone in the United States figured this out and realized the 'Sharon Chatam' moniker was a pseudonym for Reverberi and his team, the price of the record skyrocketed, making it a coveted collectible.


This makes the discovery of the full soundtrack even more exciting, considering that the music Reverberi composed for the infamous film by Renato Polselli - one of the most outrageous and uncompromising Italian genre cinema directors - was thought to be lost forever, perhaps vanished into the depths of some film processing lab. But thanks to the sleuths at Four Flies, this enigmatic masterpiece has been resurrected and presented in all its glory. It's available now as a luxurious gatefold double LP with original artwork by the brilliant Eric Adrian Lee.


While the film, despite some critics praising it as "psychotronic," is a bizarre mishmash of rambling pseudo-psychoanalytic theories and sexual deviance voyeurism, the music stands out as a foremost, vital element, able to exist on its own.


Reverberi's reputation as a serious, refined producer (for artists like Lucio Dalla, Gino Paoli, Luigi Tenco, and many more), however, led him to keep his distance from exploitation films like Rivelazioni. To maintain his image, he had his friend and former schoolmate Umberto Cannone take credit for the score – a tactic he also used for Polselli's next film, Mania (1974).


But this anonymity might have unexpectedly increased his creative freedom, for the score he put together and recorded is experimental, at times raw, and driven by a relentless rhythm section where bass and drums lay down the groove. The use of electronic instruments is impressive for the time, with drum machines and spacey synths creating a dark and dreamlike atmosphere. Psychedelic flutes, piano phrases, crazed percussion, filters, compressors, and jazzy improvisations on sax and vibraphone complete the mix.


The full soundtrack was recovered following the discovery of the original 1-inch, 16-track tapes, which were transferred, mixed, and mastered for optimal listening on both vinyl and digitally, with the digital version featuring 8 bonus tracks.


Available from November 22!

If ever there were an act that so correctly set out their stall with a well-chosen name, this was it, and its criminal that such an accomplished act has remained barely known until now. From 1975, these are the earliest of the buried-tape revelations in our Albina-Portland series, and also the straight-up funkiest. Both horn-led sides are among the finest discoveries of their ilk, too – tight but fluid, heavy but joyous – utterly splendid joints that would have set the old Deep Funk scene ablaze.

First time ever on 7" 45rpm vinyl, dinked centre hole with picture sleeve, 500 numbered copies only.

2025 Repress

Searchlight Moonbeam is the new narrative compilation from Time Is Away (Jack Rollo and Elaine Tierney) whose eponymous monthly NTS Radio shows, tinctured fusions of fugitive sounds and reverie-inducing archival speech, have won them an ardent following. It follows from the London-based duo’s Ballads, a remarkable driftwerk released on A Colourful Storm in 2022.


Searchlight Moonbeam is an autumnal dreamscape, intimate and vespertine, pensive and irresolute. An imagined community where differences drop off and resonances emerge – between Maher Shalal Hash Baz affiliates Kasumi Trio, Taiwanese score composer Chen Ming Chang whose ‘Rainwater’ (written for Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s 1986 film Dust In The Wind) is exquisitely heartbroken, and the plangent improvisations of self-taught French pianist Delphine Dora.


Revelations are frequent: the bedsit isolationism of Bo Harwood and John Cassavetes’ ‘No One Around to Hear It’ (from The Killing of a Chinese Bookie); the narked minimalism of Klang (an early 2000s band formed by ex-Elastica guitarist and featuring prize-winning experimental novelist Isabel Waidner on bass); the etude-grooves and echoic wobble of below-the-radar French avant-gardists Omertà ; the beautiful, plaintively dubby ‘Is It You?’ by Slapp Happy; a psych-tinged reimagining of PiL’s ‘Poptones’ by Simon Fisher Turner (one half of Deux Filles, and here, recording for él as The King of Luxembourg) that's as perverse as the cover of Throbbing Gristle’s 20 Jazz Funk Greats.


Searchlight Moonbeam is the musical analog of an Italo Calvino novel or a medieval fable. Associative, intuitive, borderless. Emotional and mysterious. Endowed with the tactility of Braille. A private language that is both unknowable and understood. It is a record of the seasons, for the seasons.

2023 marks the tenth anniversary of Time Is Away’s first broadcast. Featuring an evocative essay by writer Jeremy Atherton Lin and disarming cover art by Penny Davenport, Searchlight Moonbeam showcases Rollo and Tierney’s still-unrivalled talent for gloaming melodies, disques du crépuscule, ensorcelled storytelling.

he initial seed for this project was planted in 2020 when Nicolás Jaar wrote the song “Piedras” for a concert at the Museum of Memory & Human Rights in Santiago, Chile, which commemorates the victims of human rights violations during the military dictatorship led by Augusto Pinochet between 1973 and 1990. Between 2022-2023 it took on a new form as a radio play entitled 'Archivos de Radio Piedras', which was shared on a dedicated Telegram channel. In 2024, the play was converted into a 24 channel installation at the University Museum of Mexico City (MUAC), where it was exhibited for 5 months.

Piedras 1 and 2 is a collection of the tracks featured within the play, all new music by Jaar, but partly presented within the play as the music of Salinas Hasbún (the name a composite homage to Jaar's grandmothers, Graciela Salinas and Miriam Hasbún).

The play follows two friends mourning the disappearance of Salinas Hasbún, a musician and writer who vanished in the early 2020s. Although they live in a future where technology is advanced, they
resort to DIY radio methods because the anonymous group “Las 0cho” has launched a worldwide attack on undersea internet cables, causing a global internet blackout.

The play's central theme revolves around the idea that truths, memories and identities speak from the cracks (“rasgaduras”), or the "in-between" spaces ("en el entre"). This concept is supported by the
way much of the narration unfolds - in the liminal spaces between radio frequencies. The instability and transitory nature of a constantly shifting radio dial becomes not just a metaphor but the structure of the play itself. It’s in these moments of noise, static and interference that the deeper revelations of the story emerge. This disjointed, ever-changing medium mirrors the way memory and trauma operate within the play - non-linear, slipping through the gaps, found in fragments or ordinary moments, rather than direct transmissions of “official” historical accounts.

This notion reaches its climax at the end of the narrative, when a text is discovered in which Salinas speaks of finding a new number in a small pond in a cave mentioned in the first episodes of the radio play. This pond, inside the “cochlea of the world”, is seen as a way to introduce real-life randomness to computation. Embodied in the salt lakes of northern Chile, home to the world’s oldest bacteria, this randomness disrupts the rigid order of binary code, paving the way for a transformation of digital life.

First solo release by Nicolás Jaar since 2020’s Telas and Cenizas.

100 Limited vinyl copies
It those times of a promised civilization collapse, truth revelations, questionings, and afflictions, spiritual ascension can
come as fundamental to avoid falling into the abysses. Psychotria isn't a release with the pretense to be of help for this, but this musical meeting of the versatile producer Cyberlife and the vibes explorer TrübTone appears as an attempt of bringing response to the eternal metaphysical question on why things are, as a liberating truth for the
mind. By this psychedelic exploration of music that breaks codes to go deeper in the sound, made of seven affirmed tracks, this release mixes together some elements of this complex puzzle that only transcendence reaches to complete.

Encounters with the ineffable.
The dormant roused.
Openness, observation, questioning, humility, sincerity.
Re-imagining the known, that which is untapped, all that was concealed.
Pathways to wholeness unearthed.
Meeting of truest self.
Temporal versus infinite.

The fallout.

Sudden disintegration, falling away, continuity shattered.
Facade ruptured, persona released, identity laid bare, history withdrawn.

Appearance of no-thing-ness.

Pregnant with possibilities, birth out of chaos, mystery unfolds.
Healing through anguish, renewal through trauma.
Newborn imaginings.

Accept the summons.

Chapters of lucidity, adventures in clarity.
Alignment in harmony.
All encompassing.
Reorientation emerges, subsequent renewal, transcendent insights, enlightened revelations.
Surrender reached, acceptance embraced, liberation appears.

Transmutation.

Solemn symbols of gratitude.
New found depth of meaning, of understanding, of moving, of seeing.
Beyond mental illusion, unifying as nature, expression of stillness.
Vision of the undivided, transmission of wisdom.

Flowering into being.

- Kas ॐ

WRWTFWW Records presents an ultra limited (100 copies !) vinyl edition of Meemo Comma’s Decimation Of I album, originally released digitally in 2024 on Mike Paradinas' Planet Mu label. The collector’s pressing is housed in a heavyweight sleeve.
Decimation Of I is the fifth album by Brighton-based electronic musician Meemo Comma. It's a work based on the Strugatsky brothers‘ 1971 novel Roadside Picnic, a book that was also turned into the Russian cult classic Stalker by Andrei Tarkovsky. The inspiration came from reading the book alongside the backdrop of global climate disasters where an environment is rapidly becoming less habitable, all while powerful nations occupy and commit genocide.

The rough story of both film and novel is about a select group of characters exploring a land that has been transformed by alien visitors. We never meet the extraterrestrials, nor is it important to, we only have the artefacts left behind. The environment itself becomes the character, neither wholly Earth-like nor alien, but a surreal blend of both, inviting introspection on our insignificance amidst profound change. Within this land’s rebirth, our characters confront ego death, a necessary step towards the profound revelation, the discovery of one's true desire in the absence of ego.

The album opens with the innocent flutes of ’They, spoke,‘ and the disorienting electronica of ‘The Soldier‘ building towards the Terry Riley like undulating clarinets of ‘The Poet’, whose intertwining synth organ drones set the scene. Nods to the seventies electronica of Wendy Carlos and Eduard Artemyev can be heard with the use of Bach melodies in ‘P3Alpha Exotoxin‘ and ‘Area X,‘ however each of these songs draw the listener to primal noise undercurrents, their disintegrating melodies hinting at humanity's gradual dissolution, unveiling profound revelations beyond our comprehension.

As the album reaches its midpoint, ‘Spectral Alignment‘ paints a hazy morning prairie scene with Aaron Copland style French horn, restful woodwinds, spatial arpeggios and a warm drone culminating in an emotional pitstop as the soldiers wake in the dewy morning of this alien landscape, unaware the last of their humanity remains.

The last sentence in Roadside Picnic “HAPPINESS FOR EVERYBODY, FREE, AND MAY NO ONE BE LEFT BEHIND!” is the inspiration for ‘As It Is Written.’ We can either take from this the total annihilation of self has been filled with propaganda from their homeland, or the epiphany of their own autonomy in the war against a land and its inhabitants.

In the world of Smote, going further out means going inward. Less a metaphysical journey into inner space, more a physical journey into the ground itself, converging with its roots and vibrations. What's more, a journey right to the heart of its principal architect's daily experience. Smote's fifth release for Rocket Recordings, and their deepest, most fully realised to date. Forged from repetition and mantric intensity and possessed of formidable psychic fortitude, this album prove that the only retro-chic Smote indulge in is liable to go back several centuries. The megalithic monomania of last year's A Grand Stream set a formidable precedent, and Smote's live shows in its wake have gradually built a reputation as visionary seers building audial monuments by cranked amplification and atmospheric intensity alike. Yet these five gnostic serenades offer portals and paradigms anew. Continuing Smote's exploratory mission into heaviness in all its forms. Songs From The Free House sees Foggin exploring a variety of new avenues. Therefore, whilst listeners might align the pantheistic forays into drone-based abandon with previous travellers like Earth and Om, the influence of folk songs and legends, as well as electronic music make their presence felt. "I've been listening to heavy electronic stuff like Puce Mary and The Body" adds Daniel, "Stereotypically guitars are often seen as the instrument for "heavy" music, but the sheer force that's available from electronics is something that will crumble most guitar centred music." Elsewhere a more melodic vocal based structure is writ large amidst these rites and revelations, particularly on The Linton Wyrm, which proceeds from devotional chant to a potent conclusion, also inspired by Foggin's everyday surroundings. Wrought from the earth, transposed to the ether, and now shared with the world at large, this album marks a transcendental journey where Smote render ancient and modern indivisible. Just as traditional music is passed down through generations, Songs from the Free House is where the primal collides with the eternal.

Another Country is the fifth full-length album by Cindy, the San Francisco-based group built around the songwriting of Karina Gill. Recorded, like all of its predecessors, in their hometown and with a consistent line-up held over from their previous record (the Swan Lake EP from 2024), it is replete with the poetry of private vistas, eavesdropped dramas and confusing winds. These are classic Cindy concerns, and yet, as always, contain new mystery and charm to somehow feel like quiet revelations each time. Another Country is both opaque in its intentions and specific in its presentation, and as such presents the kind of truth that keeps the listener on the search for answers just out of reach.
"The title of this record, Another Country, refers to the James Baldwin novel of that name. The book has a kind of drama that makes sense to me. When I look around, the obvious explanations are not enough. The miasma of feelings and ideas that is supposed to account for it all, doesn't. Baldwin washes past that to longings that begin to explain. Cindy songs come out of the x-rays my particular brain makes out of what I see and experience. What you hear on this record is the result of collaboration with the members of Cindy that transforms that shadowy thing into full color, fully fleshed. Each of them, in music, is sure-footed and unblinking, and making this record together felt like, yes, yes, you see what I mean."
Cindy is Karina, Staizsh, Will & Oli. Another Country will be released on 1st May 2026 via Tough Love.

On Hungry Animal, Luke Temple continues to trace the invisible lines between the personal and the cosmic _ between what we feel, what we observe, and what we inherit simply by being alive. The album reunites Temple with Doug Stuart (bass) and Kosta Galanopoulos (drums), the core of his Cascading Moms ensemble, whose instinctive chemistry anchors the record's balance of rhythmic precision and melodic drift. Together they shape a sound that feels handmade and fluid, delivering sharp observations in soft focus. The album opens with "Clean Living," a tenderly libidinous groove, unraveling purity myths and self-discipline _ less a confession than a celebration of the futility of striving for perfection in a flawed world. From there, "Echo Park Donut" shifts into the memory of an unsettling vignette drawn from a violent incident outside Temple's Los Angeles home. The band moves with a quiet pulse beneath the story, suggesting both detachment and the surreal intimacy of fear. The title track, "Hungry Animal," grounds the album's broader questions: how well can we really know one another, or ourselves? Temple's lyrics circle around the idea that we are animals among animals, driven by instinct and affection alike. It's both playful and philosophical, one of the record's emotional centers. Temple's bandmates bring an understated mastery to these pieces. Stuart's melodic, infectious grooves converse fluidly with Galanopoulos's drumming, which breathes life into each song even as it gently propels them forward. The trio's interplay feels both weightless and deeply rooted _ commanding the listener's attention and empathy without ever forcing it. With Hungry Animal, Luke Temple and the Cascading Moms create a world where reflection becomes rhythm and consciousness gains texture _ a record of quiet revelations and deliberate grace.

‘Clyppan’ is an Old English verb meaning “to embrace” or “to clasp.” It also referred to an ancient ritual in which people gathered in a circle, singing together around a sacred shrine. It’s a fitting title for the latest release from Newcastle’s Smote – a visceral document of the band’s electrifying live set, captured within the walls of London’s Bear Bites Horse recording studio.
Following the release of their acclaimed 2024 album ‘A Grand Stream’, Smote embarked on an intensive tour schedule, refining their live performance along the way into something transcendental – a full-spectrum psychic voyage. Anyone who caught them at Supernormal, Supersonic, or this year’s Roadburn Festival can attest: Smote are an unforgettable sonic presence, a near religious experience.
Recognising the urgency and potency of the band’s current live form, Rocket Recordings encouraged Smote’s founder and sonic architect Dan Foggin to document their live set in the studio. It was a sound too powerful to be left undocumented – it was something that needed to be clasped for future generations.
On January 22, 2025 – the day before their thunderous performance at London’s ICA alongside labelmates Teeth Of The Sea – the four members of Smote entered Bear Bites Horse studio. With producer Wayne Adams at the controls, they laid down a live set brimming with raw, elemental power.
What emerged is ‘Clyppan’ – four drone-and-repetition driven incantations, distilled from the primal essence of Smote’s sound. These tracks channel something ancient and urgent, summoning spirits and revelations in their wake. It’s music as ritual, as invocation – pure aural sorcery.
So gather together. Form a circle. Join hands. And embrace the ecstatic, untamed energy of Smote in their most untethered and primal form.

Originally released on Mon 22 August 2005, the Furries’ third and final album to be recorded by Epic Records, Love Kraft is to be reissued on double vinyl, 2CDs, including the 22-track bonus CD, Kiss Me With Apocalypse and digital formats on Fri 24 October 2025 via the Cardiff-based independent label, Strangetown Records. Four previously unheard tracks are drawn from the vaults, including the squidgy ELO-stomp of drummer, Daf Ieuan-led Rock ‘N’ Roll Flu, plus the distorted space-jam of Cae Marw, the band’s deep-bass sketch of Palo Alto and ghostly, percussive morsel of Bedw Arian.

The album followed six previous albums by the band, including their statement debut album, Fuzzy Logic in 1996, melding an attention-demanding mix of literary, narcotic and musical influences. Maintaining a shape that was ill-fitting in the jigsaw of other 90’s guitar bands, their follow-up, UK Top Ten album, Radiator brought the hooky squelch of the bona fide indie dancefloor classic, The International Language of Screaming. The next decade saw the release of the first Top 20-charting, Welsh language album, Mwng (2000), followed by further experimentation and commercial success with Rings Around The World (2001) and Phantom Power (2003).

Love Kraft’s sense of cohesion, collaboration and free-flow of rich harmony has been credited to the five-piece escaping Wales to record in the shimmering heat of Figueres, Catalunya. Bringing famed Beastie Boys producer, Mario Caldato Jr along with them for the ride, the travelling band’s stay in the Catalonian hometown of Salvador Dali included found sounds, boozy petrol stations, gastronomic revelations and, finally, a rich album of strings, synths and opulent vocal harmonies.

While eventually finding their way to Baha, near to Rio di Janeiro to mix the album Love Kraft’s story began in Wales and Pleasure Foxxx Studios, where the band began to craft the album’s songs. Embracing the landmark of a seventh album, notably coming after the 2004 release of their first ‘best of…’ package, Songbook: The Singles, Vol. 1, Super Furry Animals pooled ideas and affected further democracy in their songwriting, taking a load off traditional lead-writer and front man, Gruff Rhys, and sharing in lead vocal duties (aside from the microphone-averse bassist, Guto Pryce).

Love Kraft was the first Super Furry Animals album recorded to hard disc instead of multi-track tape, and found the band typically explorative and open to happenstance. Zoom’s opening splash into the recording studio’s swimming pool is accompanied by the on-location, pool table samples found elsewhere on the album.

Updated packaging features the original, meticulously built diorama design by long-time collaborator Pete Fowler. Constructed by hand in his studio, complete with bulb-lit illumination, then photographed, the sleeve’s depiction of a monolith-rich desert landscape reflects the sense of other space and time depicted by Love Kraft’s woozy songs. The final sleeve design again comes courtesy of Mark James.

Orange Crush Vinyl. GoldFord writes soul music rooted in truth. His raw, unvarnished songs — equal parts introspection and catharsis — grapple with heartbreak, healing, and the quiet revelations that come with growth and maturity. Raised in St. Louis and now based in L.A., he spent a decade mired in corporate America before a devastating loss cracked something open. Since then, GoldFord has built a devoted following with his emotionally charged vocals and timeless style. His breakout single “Upside Down” offered a first taste of virality, while “Orange Blossoms” — inspired by an illuminating moment of presence under a fruit tree — has surpassed 50 million streams on Spotify alone and earned co-signs from Sam Smith and SZA. Tracks like “Ride the Storm” (33M+ Spotify streams) and “Walk With Me” have found homes in major ad campaigns, film, and TV . But for GoldFord, it’s not about placement: it’s about connection. “This is how I sort through my shit,” he says. “The music reflects back who I am.” With a new record on the way and a festival debut at Austin City Limits looming, he’s stepping into the spotlight, one soul-baring song at a time.

Can a self-portrait be a collage? Can empathy be autobiographical? What's the point of living if we're not trying to understand all the horror and humor that surrounds everything? These are a few of the questions lurking under the bleachers of Wednesday's new album Bleeds, an intoxicating collection of narrative-heavy Southern rock that_like many of the most arresting passages from the North Carolina band's highlight reel so far_thoughtfully explores the vivid link between curiosity and confession. Bleeds is not only the best Wednesday record_it's also the most Wednesday record, a patchwork-style triumph of literary allusions and outlaw grit, of place-based poetry and hair-raising noise. Karly Hartzman_founder, frontwoman, and primary lyricist_credits Wednesday's tightened grasp on their own identity to time spent collaborating on previous albums, plus a tour schedule that's been both rewarding and relentless. "Bleeds is the spiritual successor to Rat Saw God, and I think the quintessential `Wednesday Creek Rock' album," Hartzman said, articulating satisfaction with the ways her band has sharpened its trademark sound, how they've refined the formula that makes them one of the most interesting rock bands of their generation. "This is what Wednesday songs are supposed to sound like," she said. "We've devoted a lot of our lives to figuring this out_and I feel like we did." Just like Rat Saw God, one of the defining rock & roll records of the 2020s so far, Bleeds came together at Drop of Sun in Asheville and was produced by Alex Farrar, who's been recording the band since Twin Plagues. Hartzman again brought demos to the studio, where she and her bandmates _X andy Chelmis (lap steel, pedal steel), Alan Miller (drums), Ethan Baechtold (bass, piano), and Jake "M.J." Lenderman (guitar) _ worked as a team to bulk-up the compositions with the exact right amounts of country truth-telling, indie-pop hooks, and noisy sludge. More than ever, the precise proportions were steered by the lyricism_not only its tone or subject matter, but also the actual sound of the words, as well as Hartzman's masterfully subjective approach to detail selection. Every image or scene is filtered through Hartzman's agile, writerly brain. The particulars deemed essential all contain revelations about Hartzman's specific obsessions and vulnerabilities, about the fragmented way she processes the world. Maybe sometimes the best way to locate truth or pain or dignity within your own life story, Bleeds suggests, is by crawling into someone else's.

Can a self-portrait be a collage? Can empathy be autobiographical? What's the point of living if we're not trying to understand all the horror and humor that surrounds everything? These are a few of the questions lurking under the bleachers of Wednesday's new album Bleeds, an intoxicating collection of narrative-heavy Southern rock that_like many of the most arresting passages from the North Carolina band's highlight reel so far_thoughtfully explores the vivid link between curiosity and confession. Bleeds is not only the best Wednesday record_it's also the most Wednesday record, a patchwork-style triumph of literary allusions and outlaw grit, of place-based poetry and hair-raising noise. Karly Hartzman_founder, frontwoman, and primary lyricist_credits Wednesday's tightened grasp on their own identity to time spent collaborating on previous albums, plus a tour schedule that's been both rewarding and relentless. "Bleeds is the spiritual successor to Rat Saw God, and I think the quintessential `Wednesday Creek Rock' album," Hartzman said, articulating satisfaction with the ways her band has sharpened its trademark sound, how they've refined the formula that makes them one of the most interesting rock bands of their generation. "This is what Wednesday songs are supposed to sound like," she said. "We've devoted a lot of our lives to figuring this out_and I feel like we did." Just like Rat Saw God, one of the defining rock & roll records of the 2020s so far, Bleeds came together at Drop of Sun in Asheville and was produced by Alex Farrar, who's been recording the band since Twin Plagues. Hartzman again brought demos to the studio, where she and her bandmates _X andy Chelmis (lap steel, pedal steel), Alan Miller (drums), Ethan Baechtold (bass, piano), and Jake "M.J." Lenderman (guitar) _ worked as a team to bulk-up the compositions with the exact right amounts of country truth-telling, indie-pop hooks, and noisy sludge. More than ever, the precise proportions were steered by the lyricism_not only its tone or subject matter, but also the actual sound of the words, as well as Hartzman's masterfully subjective approach to detail selection. Every image or scene is filtered through Hartzman's agile, writerly brain. The particulars deemed essential all contain revelations about Hartzman's specific obsessions and vulnerabilities, about the fragmented way she processes the world. Maybe sometimes the best way to locate truth or pain or dignity within your own life story, Bleeds suggests, is by crawling into someone else's.

After a two-year hiatus from recording, the OC based band reconvened in 2023, returning to where it all started: drummer Lucas Ovalle"s garage. It was in this familiar environment that Ovalle, guitarist lead singer Josiah, guitarist Corbin Jacques,and bassist Seth Thomson learned how to be friends again and shared all the anxieties and revelations they"d endured on hiatus through crafting songs. The 13 songs that make up Big Smile are the band"s emotional champions that track the tumultuous period between the start of their break and the peace they found on their way back to each other. In the studio with fellow California legends Rob Schnapf (The Vines, Beck) and Matt Schuessler (Kurt Vile, Cat Power), GREER grew up again, taking more ownership over their sound and learning to speak producer-ese. Big Smile is the sound of a band exorcising their demons, learning to trust themselves, and asserting themselves with newfound earnestness and maturity. It"s the sound of a band that"s fallen in love with rocking out again. It"s the sound of friends rediscovering each other and the magic that they can create together when they embrace each other"s vulnerable side. With Big Smile, GREER has arrived as a serious, and seriously fun, alt rock band with diversity of sound and unity of vision.

Domenique Dumont’s fourth album, Deux Paradis, arrives like the three that came before it – with an air of mystery and wonder. This is dance music for inner worlds – rituals, revelations and reveries.
Deux Paradis is a ten-track song cycle that leads the listener through the rhythm of a day, the bloom and fade of a relationship, or even the stages of a life.

It begins with a song about waking up – the candy-striped dub of “Enchantia” – and traces the sun’s arc with the pixelated reggae of “La Vie Va” and the sensuous rush of “Amants Ennemis”. As night falls, the songs take on a twilight quality in the
shimmering pop of “The Order of Invisible Things” and the seductive pulse of “Visages Visages” (a subtle nod to the Desireless classic). There’s also the baroque swoon of “Deux Paradis” and the soft exotica of “Visiteur de la Nuit”. Bolder and richer than before, it’s vintage Domenique Dumont – timeless and romantic, yet laced with an unplaceable sense of longing, like in an Éric Rohmer film. After the instrumental film score People On Sunday (Leaf, 2020) – composed solo by Arturs Liepins – singer Anete Stuce returns to Domenique Dumont, bringing her inimitable joie de vivre. Deux Paradis completes a trilogy of releases alongside Comme Ça (2015) and Miniatures De Auto Rhythm (2018) on the Antinote label.

Deux Paradis was composed, arranged and between 2022 and the end of 2024 in studios in Riga and Paris, and on the Estonian island of Hiiumaa.

Multi-instrumentalist producer and songwriter Barney Keen makes music for the long drive and nature"s embrace; influenced by a dynamic range of styles including Brazilian MPB, experimental electronic music, folk and soul. Harbinger, his 10-track debut album, is a cinematic journey exploring imagination, revelations of the day-to-day and life itself; landing via London"s Touching Bass.

Depth.Request presents Lllneas' debut album, Buried Stories, a powerful 7-track odyssey through life's darkest shadows and most enlightening revelations.
This collection of works traces its origins back to 2018 when the concept of Lllneas was born. Long before the music was written, the idea and name carried the promise of an eventual catharsis, a release that would embody the untold stories and emotional complexities of its creator.
Each composition on Buried Stories weaves a vivid tapestry of experiences, shaped by contemporary events and echoes from the past. With remarkable intensity, Lllneas channels the raw emotions they evoke, transforming music into a catalyst for healing, reflection, and understanding. More than an album, Buried Stories is an unapologetic and honest expression of survival, self-acceptance, and transformation; a tribute to those who feel out of place, offering hope and validation to embrace their unique perspectives. This release marks a moment of liberation, a turning point that sheds light on an issue that deeply resonates with Lllneas: the devastating realities of domestic violence. The artist calls for courage, awareness, and immediate action, urging people to break free from cycles of abuse and fear.

Let Buried Stories inspire you to confront the untold and find freedom in your own truth.

Rilo Kiley was born from hunger, from the insatiable desire to write one’s own story. The band’s origins can be traced back to Los Angeles in the late 1990s, when Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett discovered a shared songwriting obsession and began performing together. After some starts and stops, a band was formed with Pierre “Duke” de Reeder playing bass. They called themselves Rilo Kiley, borrowing a name that came to Sennett in a dream.

For their second record, Rilo Kiley headed to Nebraska to record with Bright Eyes’ Mike Mogis alongside new drummer Jason Boesel. Here, Lewis truly becomes a generational songwriter, spinning interior mysteries regarding romance, depression, trauma, hope, and isolation into cathartic revelations. The Execution of All Things was a triumphant arrival.

Originally released in 2002, the celebrated and beloved album The Execution of All Things is a hallmark of indie rock. Hailed by fans and critics alike as an essential component to any record collection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a 30-year interstellar silence, the enigmatic producer Alien Signal—pioneering alias of Italian electronic composer Alex Silvi—reemerges with Whispers from Distant Suns, a transcendent odyssey that bridges retro-futurism and modern electronica. Hailed as a magnum opus, this album transcends genre boundaries, captivating ambient purists, downtempo aficionados, and even experimental listeners with its hypnotic fusion of analog warmth and digital precision.

Cosmic Tapestry of Sound
Drawing comparisons to Vangelis’ Antarctica and Alpha—but reimagined through a 21stcentury lens—Whispers from Distant Suns marries nostalgic synth textures with cuttingedge production. Silvi’s mastery of melody shines through in tracks like “Stardust
Memories” and “Fragile Eden” where shimmering arpeggios and celestial pads drift over robotic, glitch-infused drum patterns and sparse, meditative percussion. The result is a paradox: a retro-futuristic soundscape that feels simultaneously ancient and alien, familiar yet unexplored.

Listener Testimonials
Fans and critics have flooded forums with praise:

“An auditory revelation! It’s like Vangelis met Jon Hopkins in a nebula—vintage soul with a futuristic heartbeat.”
“The textures are gorgeously cinematic. Closing your eyes, you’re adrift in a Tarkovsky film scored for the Andromeda galaxy.”

The Vinyl Experience
Pressed on heavyweight vinyl, the album’s physical release amplifies its immersive qualities. The gatefold sleeve, adorned with surrealist astrophotography and metallic
foiling, mirrors the music’s cosmic ethos. Side A leans into Balearic serenity, with sundappled grooves and aquatic synth ripples, while Side B delves into darker, more
experimental terrain—think Aphex Twin’s Selected Ambient Works colliding with the organic rhythms of Jon Hopkins.

Maturity in Motion
This album is a testament to Silvi’s evolution. Tracks like “Seeds Of Light” and “Message from Andromeda Galaxy” showcase his refined ear for dynamics, balancing silence and sound with surgical precision. Vintage drum machines spar with glitches, while field recordings of crashing waves and interstellar static blur the line between Earth and cosmos. The closing track, “The Star Charts We Shared” crescendos into a 6-minute ambient requiem, leaving listeners suspended in a state of weightless awe.

Final Transmission
Whispers from Distant Suns is more than an album—it’s a transcendent odyssey. Spanning time, space, and the artist’s own creative evolution, this immersive work invites listeners to lose themselves in its ebb and flow. Designed for moments both intimate and expansive, its balearic-tinged atmospheres resonate equally through dawnlit Mediterranean terraces or the solitary glow of headphones in darkness. These are compositions that pulse, morph, and haunt the air long after the final note fades. A living soundscape meant to accompany life’s quiet revelations and clandestine joys—a soundtrack to your most personal moments, crafted as what the artist calls ‘private dance music.’

Tailored for the Discerning Listener
Whispers from Distant Suns is designed with the true connoisseur in mind. This album is a must-have for:

Vinyl Collectors & Audiophiles: Those who value the warmth and tactile experience of heavyweight, limited edition pressings
Electronic Ambient and Downtempo Fans: Listeners who appreciate immersive soundscapes that merge retro analog charm with modern digital innovation.
Retro-Futurism Enthusiasts: Fans of pioneering artists like Vangelis, Boards of Canada, and early Warp Records who seek music that bridges nostalgic synth textures with futuristic experimentation.
Experimental Music Explorers: Individuals drawn to sonic narratives that invite deep, contemplative listening—perfect for both introspective moments and immersive listening sessions.
This release is not just an album; it’s a curated experience for those who desire music as a multidimensional art form, merging the vintage allure of analog sound with a contemporary, cosmic vision.

For fans of: Vangelis, Biosphere, Jon Hopkins, early Warp Records.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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