Cerca:this becomes us

“Artifact” by Novo Line makes a departure from his Atari ST fueled FM synth journeys, here reimagining the soundtrack of our collective memory. Born from a live performance at a listening festival in Berlin by the Camp Cosmic crew, this LP transforms universally recognized pop anthems, beckoning listeners into a kaleidoscopic realm of sound, where familiar melodies fracture and our brains attempt to reconstitute them.

Using era-consistent equipment – turntable, 12″ maxi singles, classic samplers, and iconic drum machines – Novo Line deconstructs and reassembles songs etched into our cultural DNA. From the soaring emotions of “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” to the disco beat of “Heart of Glass,” these are melodies that have scored countless lives, now reborn in startling new forms.

Recorded live to tape, ‘Artifact’ doesn’t just play; it unfolds like an auditory hallucination. It taps into the deep emotional reservoirs these songs have built over decades, twisting familiar refrains into new shapes. One festival goer recollected that it uncovered “the dark inner universe of Kenny G, suddenly splayed out into a whole new cosmos.”

As the needle traces its path, ‘Artifact’ peels back layers of shared musical experience. It’s an aural alchemy that transmutes the known into the profoundly strange, yet achingly familiar. Listeners may find themselves adrift in a sea of frequencies, where every warped note triggers a cascade of personal and collective memories.

Rooted in the “copyriot” tradition of 1980s punk and industrial scenes, “Artifact” challenges notions of authorship while celebrating the universal language of pop. It doesn’t merely suggest a trip – it becomes a journey through the very fabric of our shared musical consciousness.

Mastered by Rude66, cut by Helmet Erler, and pressed at Objects Manufacturing.

Unequal cycles in search of synchronous experiences: On his new album »Pounding«, Frank Bretschneider tells of distance, convergence and congruence in a continuous, ever-changing flow of events. What is often regarded as an unquestionable dogma in club music (for which Bretschneider has provided significant impetus since the 1990s) – the groove – appears precarious, unstable, and in motion. Pulse and accent are volatile encounters and have to be found again and again for short, delightful moments. Music becomes a constant process of negotiation.

In search of new sound spaces, Bretschneider has recently worked a lot with modular synthesizers, both solo (for example on »abtasten_halten«, 2020) and in collaborations, including the project Beispiel together with Jan Jelinek. »Pounding« was created using similar means – conceived in 2020 for the Pochen Biennale in Chemnitz, subsequently developed further and recorded in March and April 2023 on a sample-based modular system. And in fact, Bretschneider is once again exemplarily scanning his own sound material, such as dub effects that listen to themselves disintegrate; but also the human voice, or more precisely: the stuttering of fragments of speech, far in the distance but omnipresent, like a mysterious narration. Aesthetically, the eleven pieces form part of a series of works with a focus on percussion. Bretschneider has already perfected this approach with albums like »Rhythm« (2007) and has been shifting the perspective ever since, for ever new results.

Shifting is the basic principle of »Pounding«. Bretschneider combines elements that are in different aggregate states, changing their relationship to each other and thus ensuring the complex overall movement. He lets one to two-bar loops run against each other and through small manipulations, develops a network of rhythms that creates a hypnotic state in the counterplay of repetition and mutation, between clearly recognizable meter and disorientation. There are comparable approaches in aleatoric music. Bretschneider combines them with sounds and patterns that are reminiscent of step sequencer logic and at the same time go far beyond it. The result is relational techno. Never obvious, always restless and exciting.

Pedro Vian and Merzbow release their first joint work, an unbounded expression of creativity and experimentation. Over the album's forty-minute duration, listeners can experience a blend of field recordings made by Pedro Vian at the DIA Bacon Foundation in NYC, specifically inside Richard Serra's sculptures. These recordings are interwoven with the ambient percussion and melodies characteristic of Vian's work, alongside the piercing and sharp computer frequencies produced by Merzbow, one of the most acclaimed artists in the global noise scene.

"Inside Richard Serra Sculptures" is both a complex and spontaneous piece, an abstract journey into the unconscious that may be difficult to grasp for closed minds. This work stands as a masterpiece of contemporary expressionism, merging ambient sound and noise in a way that challenges and redefines the boundaries of sound art.

The collaboration between Vian and Merzbow is notable not only for its innovation but also for its ability to transport listeners to a space where sound becomes an immersive and visceral experience. The use of Richard Serra's sculptures as a source of inspiration and sonic material adds a unique dimension to the project, emphasizing the interaction between physical space and musical creation. Photo by Alba Ricard

Sleep Now Forever is the second and final album released by Sorrow, the post-Strawberry Switchblade group fronted by singer Rose McDowall. Originally released in 1999 and long since deleted it is a cornucopia of pastoral, elegiac folk music, swirling atmospherics, hymnal compositions and above it all the alternating towering and fragile vocal performances of McDowall. Recorded in the late 90s with fellow band member and co-songwriter Robert Lee, Sleep Now Forever is the definitive statement by the now defunct group and Rose McDowall’s most complete long-form work to date.
Released through the group’s own Piski Disk Records, Sleep Now Forever was distributed by World Serpent which struggled through the early 2000s with financial woes, eventually folding due to bankruptcy in 2004. Due to the company’s troubles, Sleep Now Forever was never distributed widely and was a victim of the company’s failure. Released on CD only, original copies are now rare and only traded on second hand channels. Remastered by Mikey Young for a limited vinyl release, Sleep Now Forever will be released on April 20th on double vinyl format, with one side an exclusive etching by Glasgow artist Holly Allan.
Despite its rarity, Sleep Now Forever enjoys a firm cult following. The album’s textures are expansive, lush, deliciously detailed and celestial. Recorded in home study Velvet Hole by Rose McDowall and then-husband Robert Lee, the album enlists an array of players from the underground Neo-folk / industrial scene: Nigel McKernaghan (Uilleann pipes, Whistles), Susan Franknel (Bassoon), John Contreras (Cello) and Lawrence Frankel (Oboe, Cor Anglais). The eleven songs here revolve around McDowall’s instantly recognisable voice. Brought up singing in the Catholic Church, McDowall’s vocals are impeccable and angelic, particularly on tracks like Turn Off The Light where her experiences with religion are canted over soaring oboe and guitar backing. By far the most evolved and realised version of Sorrow’s vision, it feels somewhat criminal that music this beautiful could be lost to time until now.
McDowall’s lyrics throughout Sleep Now Forever deal frankly with mental health, depression, altered states, death and redemption. Wave upon wave of harmony drench each song, McDowal’s vocal multi-tracked and imperious. Opener Soldier benefits from Robert Lee’s use of the studio as instrument, summoning forth a lilting group performance of sparkling guitar and percussion that recalls the Velvet Underground. Mikey Love’s master treats the compositions to brand new frequency dynamics and space. Harmonium and string drones form the counter to McDowall’s vocal on Love Dies, a slow, lurching lament that feels transcendent. On Haunting, the arrangement is orchestral and aching, bleeding into Fear Becomes You, with chord and harmony structure that recalls the baroque sixties pop of West Coast Pop Experimental Art Band or the 60s psychedelic folk movement. A towering, beautiful statement, this elegy for times lost and moonlit-illumination is finally resurfacing from the darkness.

Pellegrino & Zodyaco, with their new single 'Malìa', continue the aesthetic and sonic journey of the project led by the Neapolitan producer, with a mixture of Neapolitan disco-funk and fusion steeped in Latin flavour that already explored the innermost corners of the soul with 'Quimere'. This new work captures the frenzy and vibrant character of Naples, with its rarefied atmospheres and infectious groove that evoke the beating heart of the city and take us on a journey through the wonder of life in search of the Mediterranean essence.

The 'Malìa' is enchanting, it’s that mysterious force that hides deep inside, transforming itself into a vortex of emotions through the fusion of involving rhythms and reflections on inner battles, on the importance of finding the 'light' to overcome conflicts and difficulties that hinder the ability to choose, a dreamlike mirage that opens a window on human vulnerability, a hymn to authenticity, to self-acceptance.

The celebration of dance in the Caribbean Escapade version is also an exhortation to escape from everyday life; it takes us into a sonic imagery that plays with the Neapolitan musical tradition and the freshness of Caribbean and Latin sounds. This summer single becomes an ode to the vital energy of dance music: there is no more time for hesitation, one must let oneself be carried away by the enthralling embrace of 'Malìa', like a call to awareness and the search for authenticity in life. Malìa becomes the guiding thread, the mystery that urges us to go beyond the confines of everyday life, to explore and celebrate the complexity of existence.

"Pablo's Eye is the science of studio pressure, when engineer becomes artist. Appropriating left and right as well as front and back, Pablo's Eye uses the mixing desk to examine and exhaust the possibilities of moments. Pablo's Eye is a record of that examination and exhaustion, but it is also a record of its own inner space. By means of depth placement, psychoacoustics and spatial fug, Pablo's Eye is experienced in the deeper reaches of the body, bypassing the conscious part of the mind entirely.

Pablo's Eye is the turning of recorded music inside out to show its seams. It interrogates a song, stripping down the body of the song to reveal its bones. Pablo's Eye is in the interstices of music, it plugs the gaps, fills the holes. Pablo's Eye seeks out the concealed mechanisms, it is a song's hidden agenda.

For this compilation, it was decided to present the softer air-beatings of Pablo's Eye. More than anything, Pablo's Eye is a temporary atmosphere, like a taste or a dream..."

Mahalia is set to release her brand-new, sophomore album titled ‘IRL’ on July 14th with the pre-order set to go live on May 11th.The album will feature the singles ‘Terms and Conditions’, ‘Cheat’ and ‘In My Bag’ with album features including Stormzy, JoJo, Joyce Wrice and Kojey Radical.

Aptly titled IRL, Mahalia is particularly incessant on doubling down on vulnerability, internal reflection, and a desire to feel, in the realms of love specifically as demonstrated on her last project. “I feel like there’s even more personality on IRL. I want people to see me how I see myself.” Emboldened by her inflections, insights and young adulthood, Mahalia is not only breaking the mould on IRL, but determined to live life cognizantly. “This is a real reflection of the journeys I've had, what actually happened and a celebration of everyone who got me there. There are names and family members I mention because it all helped in shaping who I am,” Mahalia rationalises. With an innocent, yet assured gleam appearing on her face, “I’m so proud of this project, and so proud of how much I challenged myself to just let those stories out.”

Christened in many Grammy, BRIT, Soul Train and MTV Push nominations over the years, as well as two MOBO-wins for Best Female Act, and Best R&B/Soul Act, Mahalia still proves that beyond the accolades, an overarching dedication to persistence is what’s driven her to look inward, grow and ultimately challenge herself with each and every release to date. Standing as one of British R&B’s most successful contemporary faces, Mahalia continues to grow and establish herself in both her tact as an artist, but in building more robust ruminations sonically. As she evolves, her success becomes even more bonafide, both on home turf, but abroad too (she’s cracked the US Adult R&B Charts three times to date).

With her legion of 3.3M monthly Spotify listeners, the penultimate Saturday slot on the West Holts stage at this year’s Glastonbury festival and an opener performance for Adele at Hyde Park last summer, as well as a stellar prime-time Commonwealth Games closing ceremony set, there’s more territory to break. “I’m almost glad Love and Compromise didn’t go completely sky high, it’s given me room to keep developing, keep growing and go higher than I’ve ever been before. I’m so ready to bridge the gap now, I feel like I’m absolutely playing the long-game.”

Angelo Sindaco is the producer’name behind the self-titled project, Sindaco, active since the mid-80s in the experimental and industrial electronic music’ circuit up to the most innovative house music now lands

on Simona Faraone’s label, New Interplanetary Melodies with his latest work, Spiritual Safari (NIM010).

For this release, Sindaco took the help of some of his longtime collaborators and friends such as DJ and producer Andrea Salomoni, here with his aka Abyssy, Brazilian Kraut-classic singer Marcela Dias and musician Nico Pasquini aka Stromboli.

Spiritual Safari was born from a particular sci-fi vision of Africa as the last border of post-post-modernism, in which, Sindaco’s artsy approach combined with Abyssy’s more exquisitely Detroit feel blend to perfection giving birth to tracks with a more ecstatic flavor such as Absenthium (1) and Gommaflex feat. Stromboli (3) or more sinuous and deep like Bem bem bem (2), graced by the sweet voice of Marcela Dias or Monolite (4) feat. Abyssy that transports us to a Techno dimension of rare elegance.

With Atlantic Road (5) the mood becomes more rarefied despite of the pushing rhythm, while in Son (6 feat. Abyssy) field recordings and synths turns more airy and shimmering bringing to mind some typical early 90s house productions. In Amazonas (7 feat. Marcela Dias) sounds comes from idm matrix while The Cave (8 feat Abyssy), the track that closes this beautiful record, you are enveloped by a soft tropical cloud thanks to its wrapping bass line and foggy synths that will conquer the most demanding users as by now a tradition for all the records curated by New Interplanetary Melodies.

Spiritual Safari was written and recorded between Bologna and Rio de Janeiro during 2022.

White Vinyl

Greyscale's most personal release and perhaps the most important for label owner grad_u aka Aleksandr Martinkevič. Earlier this year, Alex was diagnosed with cancer. Certainly a horrible thing to hear and there has definitely been some low moments in certain stages of the journey. At just 36 years old, many of us are shocked that such a young person can develop cancer. After some research he found out that younger and younger people are randomly getting cancer studies show. An alarming trend to learn about. However, there has also been a lot of other learning and different new levels of appreciation for the simple things in life as a new higher level of inspiration in making music has manifested. And this new release encapsulates that. Alex has also felt a duty to make things better for others. Focusing on what can be improved as he wants to highlight research, treatment and the overall communication of this disease to more people in the electronic music scene. Part of the proceeds from this new album will be donated to the National Cancer Institute in his homeland of Lithuania.
Alex wants everyone to know that catching these signs early and getting regular checkups are your best chance at beating cancer. Thankfully Alex did this also and his treatments have gone well. Alex plans still stay steadfast with his label and his life. Simplifying things with the love from his family and friends, focusing on his hobbies
along with making sure he makes his health his #1 personal priority.
The name for this full length release is titled 'T2NO'. grad_u's most introspective work yet features 8 emotional tracks overall. The honesty expressed in this album is blunt and to the point. These tracks take you on an audio journey thru grad_u as he expresses his feelings thru the entire process in each stage.
Beginning with two wonderful ambient tracks named 'Genetic Mutation' & 'Carcinogen'. In the opener, Chords rain over you as a beautiful ambient melody peeks out underneath it followed by a more stark and hazy field of interference. From the gentle opener to the more tension filled follower, the personal journey of grad_u is
developing before your ears. The b-side of 'Neoplasm' is a bit more somber but also has a ray of light in it.
Introspective as it can get, this is a true journey through an uncertain future. 'MRI scan' needs no explanation....
The second half of the album begins the understanding of what grad_u was going thru. 'Malignant Transformation' gives off that feeling of the human body working thru the science. Fight or flight becomes the theme for this track. 'Adenocarcinoma' almost gives off the sound of cells rebuilding themselves. Sci-fi meets real life in this epic battle. 'Resection' continues this scientific sounding reflection on the body healing with sounds of movement and time. As if the body is working itself out. Lastly and triumphantly comes the closing
track 'Waking up to a New Life'....
The emotional journey of this album isn't for the faint of heart. It leaves nothing to the imagination. It works thru all the emotions that can come with such and life changing event like having cancer. We want to thank grad_u for sharing his story with us. This story can happen to anyone...
"I would like to take this opportunity to express my great gratitude to doctors A. Dulskas, G. Jurevičienė, V. Sidorov and all staff in Abdominal Surgery and Oncology Department at NCI. Thank you for your expert care and for saving my life.
Also, big big thank you my family and closest friends for all their love and support during this difficult period of time and always being there for me."
Special thanks to Lithuanian Council for Culture, associations AGATA and LATGA for support of this special project.
Part of proceeds from the album will be donated to National Cancer Institute, Lithuania

For her new and most radical album »Electroacoustic Works for Halldorophone«, Martina Bertoni used the electronic instrument at EMS Stockholm to create four pieces that are massive in scale and incredibly intimate, sonically restrained and emotionally overwhelming—almost ambient and always demanding your full attention.

Martina Bertoni returns to Karlrecords with »Electroacoustic Works for Halldorophone,« her most radical album yet. The foundation for the four electroacoustic pieces was laid during a residency at Stockholm’s legendary Elektronmusikstudion (EMS) that the Berlin-based cellist and composer used to explore the curious instrument, originally designed by Halldór Úlfarsson in 2008, as an algorithmic system in order to examine tunings and the mathematical relationships between Aiming to analyse and understand their interaction beyond the composer’s control, Bertoni sought to engage more deeply with the concepts of time, tuning, and, most importantly, control. Accordingly, her four »Electroacoustic Works for Halldorophone« seem both massive in scale and incredibly intimate, sonically restrained and emotionally overwhelming— almost ambient and always demanding your full attention.

While the halldorophone—famously used by Hildur Guðnadóttir for her »Joker« score—roughly resembles a cello and can be played like one, it is an electronic instrument. The vibration of its strings is being picked up, amplified, and then routed through a speaker. This creates a feedback loop that becomes increasingly complex depending on how much gain is added to individual strings. Úlfarsson gave Bertoni a carte blanche for how to handle the instrument, but she stresses that she relied on »minimal interventions—some string strumming and plucking« that set the interactions of different sounds and frequencies into motion. »I decided to not approach it like a cellist would,« she explains. »Instead I used it as a kind of generative organ by turning it into a feedback machine, with tuned feedback triggering more feedback depending on the tuning, which was based on tetraphonic scales that I could apply on the four main strings as well as the sympathetic group of strings.«

Bertoni recorded the material in the EMS studio, later composing and arranging the four complex pieces in her home in Berlin, after which they were mixed and mastered by Ciaran O’Shea. While this can be considered a compositional abstraction process, traces of her concrete work as a performer are firmly ingrained in the music. »The halldorophone doesn’t have a line output, just a double set of speakers, which is why I recorded all sounds with two microphones in the EMS studio,« she explains. »That’s why there’s plenty of breathing sounds here and there—label owner Thomas Herbst and I jokingly refer to the album as my ›chamber music record‹.« And indeed, there is a striking sense of intimacy to these four pieces throughout which individual sounds, harmonic frequencies, and even subtle rhythmic figures seem to move both on their own accord but also according to a underlying vision that steers their interplay.

Indeed, »Electroacoustic Works for Halldorophone« is an album built on and marked by contrasts. The soothing polylogue of single sounds in the higher register on opener »Omen in G« is counterpointed by massive bass drones, while the second piece, »Nominal in D,« plays a cunning game of repetition and difference by combining thick textures with all kinds of rhythmic elements. »Fades in C«—the longest of the four pieces, clocking in at 17 minutes—unlocks the emotional potentials of the sonic qualities of the halldorophone, sounding at once serene and anthemic, and »Organon in D« closes the album by underscoring how Bertoni’s unconventional approach allows her to seamlessly transform simple, quiet tones into complex, towering walls of sound.

In 1979, the Soviet label Melodiya released a record that immediately stood apart from most Soviet jazz of its time and perhaps for that very reason never became widely known. Oriental Suite by Oleg Gotskosik Quintet is a rare example of jazz, Eastern musical tradition, and compositional thinking coming together not as an exotic stylization but as a fully formed artistic statement.

This is not “Oriental colour” used as decoration, nor folklore treated as an ornament. Oriental Suite grows from within another musical tradition, with its monody, modal logic, slow unfolding of form, and focus on inner states rather than outward effect. The music is calm and concentrated. It does not try to impress, but gradually draws the listener into its own space.
Oleg Gotskozik was born in Tashkent in 1951, a city where Eastern music was part of everyday life rather than something distant or exotic. That may explain why his engagement with traditional material sounds so natural. He does not quote or stylize; he thinks in the same musical categories. By temperament, he was closer to a composer than to a jazz musician in the conventional sense. For him, jazz was not a style but a way of working with form and improvisation.There is no standard “theme and solos” logic in Oriental Suite. Improvisation is woven into the fabric of the music itself and unfolds in the same way as in oral traditions, gradually, with rising tension and a clear sense of arrival. Individual sections refer to traditional Uzbek genres such as lullabies, lyrical songs, and funeral laments, but these are not genre sketches. They are states of being. The music unfolds slowly, avoiding familiar harmonic drama and relying instead on modal scales and subtle internal movement.

A special role is played by trumpeter Yuri Parfyonov. His approach, with delayed vibrato, micro-glissandi, and melismatic phrasing, sounded unexpected at the end of the 1970s and still feels remarkably fresh today. This is not expressive jazz virtuosity but a focused, almost meditative voice, where improvisation becomes a form of inner speech.
It is also important to note that the original recording was not without technical flaws. Like many Soviet jazz releases of the time, Oriental Suite was captured under far from ideal conditions, and the master contained audible imperfections that were never part of the music itself. For this edition, the restoration was approached with great care and respect, working through the recording moment by moment to remove unwanted artifacts while preserving the character and atmosphere of the original. The aim was simple: to make sure nothing stands in the way of fully experiencing the music.

In the early 1980s, Oleg Gotskozik left the Soviet Union, and after that his name virtually disappeared from Soviet music journalism and literature. There were no official bans or public statements. He was simply no longer mentioned. Oriental Suite continued to exist on its own, without an author and without context. The record never entered the canon, received no continuation, and was never officially reissued. It seemed to fall out of time.
The original vinyl pressing was released in a run of around 32,000 copies, but most of them remained within the republic and never reached wide circulation. Today, original copies are hard to find and have long become objects of interest for collectors. There have been no official reissues, only attempts that never went beyond test pressings.
Today, Oriental Suite sounds surprisingly contemporary. It is music that can be described as deep ethno-jazz and even, in a certain sense, spiritual jazz. There is no exoticism here, no decorative borrowing, only a complete immersion in another musical way of thinking. It does not require explanations and does not need to be justified by its time.
This is not a forgotten curiosity revived for collectors’ sake. It is music that simply waited for the moment when it could be heard without ideological filters or genre expectations. Now it is returning quietly, without noise or hype, but with the clear sense that this is not an artifact of an era, but a living and genuinely rare artistic statement.

For well over a decade, MONOLORD have caused mass riff hypnosis with longform epics steeped in repetition, volume, and heaviness. One of heavy music’s most consistent and beloved bands, MONOLORD are gearing up for their next chapter with a new album titled Neverending. In looking for a new take on the genre, MONOLORD approached the legendary producer Sylvia Massy, known for her work with Tool, System of a Down, and Johnny Cash, among many more. The payoff from this new process is undeniable. Neverending feels like the culmination of 13 years of heavy, molten music, with a keen eye towards creating a sharper album. “The recording of this album is an example of the spirit of MONOLORD’s camaraderie,” says bassist Mika Häkki. “We’ve looked back and seen for the first time how much we have done as a band collectively, and realized what an intense 13 years it has been.” "The lyrics on this album are more personal than before because I went through some major life changes in the last couple of years,” guitarist/vocalist Thomas Jäger says. “I usually write about religion and how people are superstitious, but this record is more about relationships between people. But it’s not all about me. Sometimes I’m writing from another person’s perspective.” Neverending’s lead single “You Bastard” offers listeners a sharp contrast: A propulsive groove offset by lyrics about suicide. There’s two sides to suicide,” Jäger points out. “There’s the person who commits suicide and the people who gets left behind...The choruses represent the person left behind, and that person is calling the other a bastard—but it’s not pointing fingers or saying, ‘You suck.’ It’s more like, ‘You left me here with all the bullshit.’ It’s an understanding that life is not easy." Though it might not be immediately obvious, album opener “Iodine” was inspired by 70's rock epics like Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird,” The Eagles’ “Hotel California,” and Led Zeppelin’s “No Quarter." Elsewhere, album closer “It’s Neverending” is the first MONOLORD song that Jäger doesn’t sing on. Instead, the death-metal style vocals are performed by former Entombed bassist Jörgen Sandström, (also of Grave, Domedagen and Firespawn.) 13 years on, MONOLORD’s path takes a new turn, and Neverending becomes the band’s most befitting album title. “It's been a wild ride and still is,” says drummer Esben Willems. “I've spent a quarter of my life in this band. Looking back, I'm incredibly proud of what we've accomplished along the way, and in many ways, this album feels like the essence of everything we've done so far. My mindset is the same it's always been, to be the absolute best the three of us can be.”

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.

Maybe it was inevitable that Vilhelm Bromander and Fredrik Rasten would find each other. A symbiotic musical alliance of suggestive combinatory magic that stretches back to the interstitial two day space that separates their dates of birth and manifests here as the movement between ‘perfect’ or ‘just’ intonation and the ragged, psychoactive energy of the slippages from and towards that togetherness that render otherwise simple patterns or generally understood repetitions as wildly other and alive.

Astral Twins shares ‘twin’ works by each composer. The patiently unfolding real time retuning of Fredrik Rasten’s guitars on the a-side’s Sojourns and Vilhelm Bromander’s quickened steps and spry looping melodies on the flip’s Partially Dancing.

Both artists have history of going deep into the aesthetic and acoustic impact of intonation (how you think about what is ‘in tune’). Where their first LP (...for some reason that escapes us, 2019, Differ Records) shared a gorgeous set of sustained tone colour fields, this time they lean more explicitly into the folk music traditions of Scandinavia and further afield, whilst echoing the zoned minimalist atmosphere of Arthur Russell’s classic Instrumentals.

Recorded up close and in real time at Fylkingen’s soon-to-be-abandoned temporary location in Stockholm’s southern suburb of Bredäng, Astral Twins sings with the possibility that one plus one can equal more than two.

Fredrik Rasten:
 Sojourns explores the live retuning of guitar and double bass in a sequence of just intonation harmonies. A guitar ostinato runs throughout the piece where the retuning becomes an integral part of the composition. The slow pace reveals every detail in the transition from one harmonic arpeggio to another — how interfering waves emerge and disappear as the tonal interactions settle in electric clarity. The double bass shadows the guitar's process and comments with occasional pizzicato tones and register jumps, at times providing a low foundation for the sound and sometimes soaring together with the guitar. This is music that is deeply listening; experimental and at the same time humbly inviting many kinds of being with sound.

Vilhelm Bromander: 
As the title suggests, this song has a partially dancing character. The title also has a double meaning with reference to the partials and harmonics that dance together. The basic idea was to write music in just intonation that instead of being drone-based is reminiscent of a lightly dancing folk music, where the joyous feeling of just being in the music — “musicking" — is allowed to lead the way.

The double bass plays repeated overtone double stops in an open harmonic progression with subtle modulations that is inspired in equal parts by Steve Lacy's persistent repetition of phrases as east-asian khaen music. The guitars and mandolin have a freer role, with plucked retuned strings that enhance the bass's modulations and provide forward movement. The music invites to both melodic and spectral listening, suddenly halting so that other focal points can reveal themselves. For example, a chord sequence suddenly transitions to a more spectral part where Fredrik is playing a bowed guitar with a chain, several plucking guitars, voices, and pitch pipes. I wanted to make something ‘orchestral’ with just two people and no overdubs: a dance of overtones and open resonant strings, where we seamlessly take turns standing in the foreground.

Somewhere close to Manchester’s ever changing city centre, as the sun fades and peeks through the newest glass facade, you’ll find Shaking Hand. One part in shadow, the other basking in prisms of light as they sketch out their own sonic landscapes in the dusty redbrick mill they call home. One that is just about clinging on from the encroaching developments that surround them.

Against this back-drop where buildings are constantly torn down & built back again, the three piece craft away. Pulling from early post-rock, and 90s US alternative rock, crafting their own brand of Northwest-emo. Assembling something new, yet nostalgic. Looking ahead towards the transforming horizon. Shaking Hand’s music is built on tension and release – quiets that stretch, louds that overwhelm. Repetition that feels both hypnotic and destabilising.

The band’s musical DNA runs through experimental guitar outfits like Women, Slint, Sonic Youth, Pavement, and Ulrika Spacek, balanced with the melodic sensibility of Big Thief and the dynamic intimacy of Yo La Tengo. Their compositions push against structure: sudden jolts of tempo, polyrhythms that almost fall apart, and riffs that unravel into something fragile or ecstatic. Yet, as Ellis notes, there’s an underlying warmth too: “Like walking through an empty city late at night but catching flickers of life in the buildings you pass.”

Early ideas like ‘Night Owl’ and ‘Sundance’ grew out of George’s lockdown “bedroom years,” where new tunings (open E, drop D, and stranger Pavement-inspired set-ups) opened up uncharted textures. Later, in grim rehearsal rooms, the murky epic ‘Cable Ties’ and the hypnotic ‘Mantras’ absorbed the gloom and grit of the band’s surroundings.

The album was recorded with producer David Pye (Wild Beasts, Teenage Fanclub) at Nave Studios in Leeds, housed in a converted church. “The live room was huge and perfect for capturing our sound,” says George. Determined to bottle their onstage energy, the band tracked the foundations live, layering vocals and guitars later. Soviet-era microphones, odd mic placements, and even phone-recorded demos fed into the mix. “You’ve got to watch out for David though,” Freddie laughs. “He made me play four tambourines in one hand, really hurt, man.”

Lyrically, the record drifts between abstraction and lived moments. George’s words often spill out instinctively, words falling into place before their meaning becomes clear. “A lot of the lyrics look like they’re buried in abstraction,” he says, “but when I look back I can see what they were about — whether that’s an emotional response at the time or just an observation of what was happening around me”. There’s contrast at the heart of it all – optimism vs. doubt, the lightness of youth vs. the monotony of work, a city in constant redevelopment vs. the people drifting through it.

The album artwork is taken from unused plans for the 1970s redevelopment of Los Angeles by architect Ray Kappe, entitled ‘People Movers’. Hypothetical buildings for real people, it feels a complement to the band’s own constructions. One thing’s for sure, Shaking Hand’s debut is built to last.

New album by french rapper Sheldon, including featurings with Chilly Gonzales, Jazzy Bazz, Tuerie, Asfar Shamsi...



Monsters are never where we expect them to be. They take shape in silences, in vague fears, in the baggage we carry without always understanding it. Sometimes, we also encounter them along the course of a life. On this new album, Sheldon chooses to dance with them, to tame them with wit, grace, and a sense of peace.



Following a powerful return with Grünt 75, an iconic format to which the 75e Session collective brought particularly ambitious visual staging, Sheldon unveils a fourth album that unfolds across fourteen tracks like a chiaroscuro landscape, revealing the full depth of his emotional and musical range. Through intimate narratives, the record explores identity (Être une fille), family and fatherhood (La Fenêtre and Les Monstres, the title track), as well as friendship (Eh le reuf). These are themes that run through all of us, approached here with writing that is vivid, demanding, and deeply sensitive.

Driven by a strong narrative arc, the album features songs like Être une fille, which challenges and questions us. On it, Sheldon reflects on his relationship to gender, his doubts and discomfort with the codes of masculinity, and the idea that he has sometimes imagined himself elsewhere. Tracks like La Fenêtre and Avec ça illuminate the album like moments of communion, sincere, warm, and unifying, carried by a childlike lightness that makes tomorrow disappear.

True to his open minded and ever curious artistic approach, Sheldon draws from a wide range of musical genres while keeping rap as the album’s guiding thread, giving each song its own singular identity and contributing to the balance of the whole. To shape the project, Sheldon surrounded himself with a new generation of musicians and beatmakers whose influences span rap, indie rock, pop, and experimental music. Among them are Johnny Ola, who has notably composed for Zamdane, Jazzy Bazz, and Edge, Rodolphe Babignan, Carbonne’s flamenco guitarist, and Jeune Oji, an artist signed to Friends of Friends Music. Together, they bring melodic and acoustic richness, as well as a collective generosity that deepens the album’s intimacy.

This new album also opens the door to new collaborations.

On L’école primaire, Chilly Gonzales joins Sheldon for an unconventional piano and vocals piece, driven by cinematic, deeply intimate storytelling. Using his primary school as a point of reference, Sheldon retraces his path from childhood to adulthood, somewhere between nostalgia and serenity.

On Cowgirl, Tuerie joins Sheldon for a soft, melodic ballad with an 80s tint, capturing the weightlessness of a sunlit summer.

On Sidequest, Sheldon reunites with Asfar Shamsi, who had already appeared on his Grünt. Over a delicate cloud trap production, the two artists open up about everyday pain, finding in introspection a way to put things into perspective.

Finally, Vol de nuit brings Jazzy Bazz and Sheldon together for an intimate exchange over an ethereal, mysterious production, as both artists look back on their journeys with calm and clarity.

Conceived alongside Sheldon’s closest circle, the project celebrates family, friendship, and love as its founding pillars. Sheldon chooses to step away from the images, allowing his story to be embodied instead through the faces and gestures of those around him. This approach runs through all of the project’s visuals. Rejecting the excess of spectacular image making, he chose instead to hand a camera to his loved ones so they could offer their own vision of a song from the album. By opening a small window onto his intimacy, and that of the people closest to him, Sheldon finds a way to say a great deal with very little, turning deeply personal trajectories into something universal.

Like the music videos, the album cover is rooted in a deliberately simple approach, where the fantasy of childhood disrupts reality. Designed by Tenzin, the graphic designer behind Sheldon’s recent projects, Ptite Sœur, and also work for Jul, it is based on an archival photograph taken during a traditional carnival in Tenzin’s native village. With no staging involved, the image captures children in costume mid parade, caught in a spontaneous burst of movement, embodying the free innocence of childhood.



Les Monstres marks a new chapter in Sheldon’s journey. Like a rainbow after the storm, this fourth album reveals new colours in the artist’s discography, as he delivers a record that is both demanding and accessible, intimate and open, one in which music becomes a love letter to friendship and to love itself. Set for release on April 24, 2026, the album will be followed by a tour culminating at La Cigale in Paris on December 3, 2026.

They Call Us The Lucky Ones is a road-worn portrait of modern Americana — songs about movement, memory, love, and survival, exploring the space between freedom and consequence where highways replace homes and connection becomes the true measure of success. The album tells stories of outsiders and drifters, chosen family and lost friends, broken systems and restless ambition — and the ghosts we carry no matter how far we run. Yet for all its hard-earned perspective, the record carries an undeniable sense of hope: a clarity that comes from a life lived in motion, the humor found along the way, and the simple joy of playing music with people you trust. It’s a record that knows how to have a good time without losing its soul. This collection of ten songs finds Ryan Bingham at his best — where life isn’t always about perfection or redemption, but about connection. Because no matter how far you go, how fast you run, or how loud the music gets, all that matters is the people and stories you carry with you along the way.

They Call Us The Lucky Ones is a road-worn portrait of modern Americana — songs about movement, memory, love, and survival, exploring the space between freedom and consequence where highways replace homes and connection becomes the true measure of success. The album tells stories of outsiders and drifters, chosen family and lost friends, broken systems and restless ambition — and the ghosts we carry no matter how far we run. Yet for all its hard-earned perspective, the record carries an undeniable sense of hope: a clarity that comes from a life lived in motion, the humor found along the way, and the simple joy of playing music with people you trust. It’s a record that knows how to have a good time without losing its soul. This collection of ten songs finds Ryan Bingham at his best — where life isn’t always about perfection or redemption, but about connection. Because no matter how far you go, how fast you run, or how loud the music gets, all that matters is the people and stories you carry with you along the way.

Schwarzes Vinyl! Doppel-LP im Klappcover. Ursprünglich 2017 rausgebracht und jetzt zum ersten Mal in Europa über Sub Pop erhältlich! Pure Comedy, das dritte Album von Father John Misty, ist eine komplexe, oft sarkastische und ebenso oft berührende Reflexion über die verwirrende Torheit der modernen Menschheit. Father John Misty ist das Projekt von Singer-Songwriter Josh Tillman. Wir könnten viel über Pure Comedy sagen, zum Beispiel, dass es ein mutiges, wichtiges Album in der Tradition amerikanischer Songwriting-Größen wie Harry Nilsson, Randy Newman und Leonard Cohen ist, aber wir denken, es ist am besten, wenn sein Schöpfer es selbst beschreibt. Los geht's, Mr. Tillman: Pure Comedy ist die Geschichte einer Spezies, die mit einem unvollständig entwickelten Gehirn geboren wurde. Die einzige Überlebenschance dieser Spezies, die sich auf einem grausamen, unberechenbaren Felsen wiederfindet, umgeben von anderen Spezies, die in dieser ganzen Sache viel geschickter zu sein scheinen (und für die sie eine Delikatesse sind), besteht darin, sich auf andere, etwas ältere, halb ausgebildete Gehirne zu verlassen. Diese Abhängigkeit bekommt im Laufe der Geschichte verschiedene Namen, wie ,Liebe", ,Kultur", ,Familie" usw. Mit der Zeit und da sich ihre Gehirne als bemerkenswert gut darin erweisen, Bedeutung zu erfinden, wo keine ist, wird die Spezies zum Lieferanten immer bizarrerer und raffinierterer Ironien. Diese Ironien sollen helfen, mit der abscheulichen Verletzlichkeit der Spezies fertig zu werden und zu versuchen, ihre Fantasie mit der Monotonie ihrer Existenz in Einklang zu bringen. So in etwa. Pure Comedy wurde 2016 in den legendären United Studios (Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, Beck) in Hollywood, Kalifornien, aufgenommen. Produziert wurde es von Father John Misty und Jonathan Wilson, die Tonarbeit übernahm Mistys langjähriger Tontechniker Trevor Spencer und die Orchesterarrangements stammen vom bekannten Komponisten und Kontrabassisten Gavin Bryars (bekannt für seine umfangreichen Soloarbeiten und seine Zusammenarbeit mit Brian Eno, Tom Waits und Derek Bailey). Black Vinyl. Originally released in 2017 & now available for the first time in Europe via Sub Pop! Pure Comedy, Father John Misty's third album, is a complex, often-sardonic, and, equally often, touching meditation on the confounding folly of modern humanity. Father John Misty is the brainchild of singer-songwriter Josh Tillman. While we could say a lot about Pure Comedy including that it is a bold, important album in the tradition of American songwriting greats like Harry Nilsson, Randy Newman, and Leonard Cohen we think it's best to let its creator describe it himself. Take it away, Mr. Tillman: Pure Comedy is the story of a species born with a half-formed brain. The species' only hope for survival, nding itself on a cruel, unpredictable rock surrounded by other species who seem far more adept at this whole thing (and to whom they are delicious), is the reliance on other, slightly older, half-formed brains. This reliance takes on a few different names as their story unfolds, like "love," "culture," "family," etc. Over time, and as their brains prove to be remarkably good at inventing meaning where there is none, the species becomes the purveyor of increasingly bizarre and sophisticated ironies. These ironies are designed to help cope with the species' loathsome vulnerability and to try and reconcile how disproportionate their imagination is to the monotony of their existence. Something like that. Pure Comedy was recorded in 2016 at the legendary United Studios (Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, Beck) in Hollywood, CA. It was produced by Father John Misty and Jonathan Wilson, with engineering by Misty's longtime sound-person Trevor Spencer and orchestral arrangements by renowned composer/double-bassist Gavin Bryars (known for extensive solo work, and work with Brian Eno, Tom Waits, Derek Bailey).

Laurel Halo returns with an album of original soundtrack music, composed for the film Midnight Zone by visual artist Julian Charrière. Following the path of a drifting Fresnel lighthouse lens as it descends through the Clarion-Clipperton Fracture Zone — a remote abyssal plain in the Pacific Ocean, rich in rare metals and increasingly targeted for deep-sea mining — the film traces a descent into one of Earth’s last untouched ecosystems.


Charrière’s film reveals the deep not as void, but as a luminous biome teeming with fragile life: bioluminescent creatures, swirling schools of fish, and elusive predators. The suspended lens becomes an abyssal campfire, attracting species caught in the tides of uncertainty, their futures hanging in the balance.


Echoing this tension, Halo’s compositions evoke a sensory freefall, where gravity falters and light and sound flicker in uncertain rhythms. Midnight Zone is a sonic drift through the space between what we seek to extract, fail to understand, and must protect.


Halo’s score evokes the life that exists beyond our physical airbound capacity. The material features long, subtle passages of electro-acoustic ambient, drone and sound design, slowly flowing and unfolding with rich detail. The music, composed largely on a Montage 8 synthesizer and Yamaha TransAcoustic piano at the Yamaha studios in New York City, possesses an uncanny quality: that of synthetic waveforms being amplified and sung through the stringboard of the physical body of the TransAcoustic piano. Combined with stacks of violin and viol da gamba, the music on Midnight Zone possesses trace elements of a human hand in an otherwise sunken landscape. Patient, submerged, and alive. The album will be the third on Halo’s imprint, Awe.


The film is central to Charrière’s current solo exhibition Midnight Zone. The exhibition engages with underwater ecologies, exploring the complexity of water as an elemental medium affected by anthropogenic degradation. Reflecting upon its flow and materiality, profundity and politics, its mundane and sacral dimensions, the solo show acts as a kaleidoscope, inviting us to dive deep.

Oceanine, Jolanda Moletta’s third album and her first for Beacon Sound, is a powerful and ethereal statement of artistic community. Expanding on her previous work, each track represents a collaboration with a different female vocalist, with the foundational elements being generated entirely by her own voice. By turns haunting, enchanting, and inspiring, you won’t want to come up for air once you’ve been pulled under. Representing a
musical practice that is distinctly feminist, this is an album with a longer view in mind, to an age when the altars were to goddesses and women were centered as powerful beings representing the earth’s cycles of regeneration and renewal. Oceanine then, in all its beauty, can be viewed as an album of survival. It is deeply transportive, accessing something that lies within all of us. As the late, great Lithuanian folklorist and archaeologist Marija Gimbutas noted, “We must refocus our collective memory. The necessity for this has never been greater as we discover that the path of 'progress' is extinguishing the very conditions for life on earth.”

Jolanda Moletta is a multimedia artist and one-woman electronic choir. She creates wordless compositions through extended vocal techniques, integrating wearable-controlled live processing, alongside symbolic visuals. Moletta considers her performances to be a collective ritual and creates her Sonic & Visual Spells following the cycles of nature and the moon. Jolanda's 2022 critically acclaimed album Nine Spells was released on the Ambientologist label, followed by Night Caves on Whitelabrecs in 2025. Moletta’s artistic practice is a radical and spiritual journey through sound art, ritual, and the symbolic archaeology of the feminine.

Oceanine is inspired by sirens, water nymphs, and the timeless call of the sea. At its core lies Jolanda’s deep, lifelong connection to the Mediterranean Sea and to the ancient and modern myths and folklore that have emerged from its waters. Growing up by the Mar Ligure, Jolanda was surrounded by stories carried by salt, wind, and waves: legends of sirens, echoes of ancient voices, and the sea as both origin and oracle. This intimate relationship with the Mediterranean is not merely a backdrop, but a living source that shapes Oceanine’s emotional, symbolic, and sonic world.

Each track features a different female vocalist, creating a rich tapestry of voices, styles, and perspectives. This artistic choice not only broadens the album’s sonic palette, but also deepens its narrative core: celebrating the power, beauty, and mystique of feminine energy through myth, history, and sound.

The entire album is built exclusively from the human voice, processed and layered, yet always remaining voice, and nothing else. For each piece, Jolanda invited every vocalist involved to contribute a raw stem: a short, unedited melodic fragment of just a few seconds, inspired by the album’s themes. These intimate vocal seeds became the foundation of each track: the guest artists’ voices appear as brief, melodic stems, while the entire surrounding “orchestral” fabric is created solely from Jolanda’s own layered and processed voice. In this way, Jolanda’s voice becomes the Ocean itself, embracing, absorbing, and carrying the sirens’ calls within a vast, immersive soundscape. Every song is a unique expression of the feminine experience, revealing its depth, complexity, and emotional range, echoing the call of the sea and the many faces of the siren archetype.

The figure of the siren has transformed across centuries. In myths of Ancient Greece and Rome, sirens were hybrid beings, part woman, part bird, whose irresistible songs lured sailors to their doom. During the Middle Ages, the image shifted toward the half-woman, half-fish figure, often associated with temptation and danger. Historically, the voice of women has often been feared. Sirens were considered harbingers of misfortune not simply because they seduced or destroyed, but because they were powerful liminal beings.

In Ancient Greek, sirens functioned as psychopomps: figures who existed between worlds and guided souls, especially between life and death. Their songs were believed to carry forbidden knowledge, including prophetic insight and the ability to reveal truths about fate and the future. The danger of the sirens lay in what they revealed: knowledge that humans were not meant, or ready, to hear.

Oceanine confronts this legacy head-on. The voices heard throughout the album are not merely beautiful: they are dark and luminous, wild and enchanting, magical, soothing, dreamy, and at times fractured or distorted. They whisper, lament, beckon, and enchant. Like sirens, they skim the surface of the water and sink into its depths, hovering on the edge between tenderness and danger, vulnerability and power. They rise toward the sky, dissolve into mist, and return as echoes charged with raw, elemental emotion: voices that seduce, warn, mourn, and remember. They refuse to be reduced to decoration.

Alongside the album’s release in May, Oceanine will also unfold as a visual and performative work through a short art film. The film includes a live session recorded inside a sea cave facing the Mar Ligure, the very coastline where Jolanda spent her childhood, dreaming of sirens and listening to the sea as if it were speaking directly to her. This site-specific performance reconnects the music to its place of origin, allowing the voice to resonate within stone, water, and air, and transforming the cave into both a sanctuary and a threshold between myth and reality.

What if the sirens’ songs were considered dangerous because they carried another truth, an ancient truth long forgotten?

Oceanine embraces the idea that we are still deeply woven into myth. Though we may see ourselves as rational and modern beings, our world is saturated with ancient symbols and archetypes, often distorted, simplified, or stripped of their original meaning. And if those symbols are allowed to shift, if the mirror once held by the siren becomes an invitation to look beyond appearances and into what has been obscured, then we may finally uncover a deeper truth and reclaim the voice that was always ours.

Oceanine is not just an album. It is a reclamation, a spell, and a call from the depths.

For the first time, this landmark album of ritualistic dark folk and shamanic soundscapes is pressed into Double LP, and the result is a breathtaking artifact that transcends the boundary between music and mysticism. Presented in a deluxe edition LP with a lavish 30x30 insert, brought to life by Rune Serpent Europa, this release is a kind of talisman. The packaging itself feels like a gateway: ornate, otherworldly, and perfectly attuned to the spirit of Havamal , where Nordic tradition, animistic ritual, and primal sound converge in a timeless invocation. Spinning Havamal on vinyl unleashes the full incantatory power of NYTT LAND 's music. The analog warmth deepens the resonance of the throat-sung mantras and the droning instrumentation, pulling the listener into a world that is equal parts ancient ritual, frozen landscape, and whispered prophecy.

Every track becomes a rune carved in sound, vibrating with hidden meaning, echoing the eternal cycles of life, death, and rebirth. There is a romance in this edition that goes beyond mere presentation. The act of lowering the needle becomes an invocation, a summoning of ancestral voices and forgotten gods. The record itself feels alive, as though the spirits of the sagas reside within its grooves. Each listen is a ritual, each flip of the vinyl a turning of the cosmic wheel. With Havamal now available on LP, collectors and devotees of dark folk finally hold in their hands a relic worthy of the album's mythic aura. This is music to be inhabited, to be carried into dreams and into shadows, to be used as a key that unlocks the hidden chambers of the soul. A triumph of art, craft, and spirit, this vinyl edition is destined to become a coveted treasure.

Concert at Prades-le-Lez marks the origins of the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra. In 1974, François Tusques and his companions (Michel Marre, Jo Maka, Adolf Winkler and Guem), in the spirit of Don Cherry or Chris McGregor, playfully dismantle all borders and all styles of creative music.

On this second volume, the Intercommunal builds unprecedented soundscapes around a song of revolt, a dance tune, or a burst of dissonance. The journey is unforgettable, no question about it. On repeat listening, it even becomes… lunar!

“The music that we make is primarily meant to be listened to live,” warned a leaflet from the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra. This is precisely why the (restored!) reissue of the two volumes of Concert at Prades-le-Lez, recorded on January 25 and 26, 1974 by François Tusques and his comrades, is such an important event.

In 1971, after recording a series of albums that would leave a lasting mark on French jazz (Free Jazz, of course, with Michel Portal, François Jeanneau, Bernard Vitet, Beb Guérin and Charles Saudrais, but also Le Nouveau Jazz with Barney Wilen, or the solo Piano Dazibao), François Tusques founded the Intercommunal—a grouping whose very name called for the fraternization of the various communities making up the country: Our music will help, we hope, to resolve the contradictions that exist between workers be longing to different communities, by breaking down various forms of national chauvinism, and more particularly the chauvinism of certain French people toward the cultures of Third World countries… Long live the friendship between the peoples of the whole world!

Among the great records made by the Intercommunal Free Dance Music Orchestra, the two volumes of Concert at Prades-le-Lez come first, before L’Inter Communal, Vol. 4, Le Musichien, and Après la marée noire (four titles already reissued by Souffle Continu). François Tusques and his companions (Michel Marre and Jo Maka on saxophones, Adolf Winkler on trombone, and Guem on percussion) performed on January 25 and 26, 1974 at the Moulin de Prades-le-Lez, a few kilometers from Montpellier. It was thus in the southern region of Occitanie that the first echoes of this musical vision of a borderless brotherhood were recorded.

“We’re not among the Colonels,” the Intercommunal reassures us right away, performing a stride piano tune carried by African winds that the audience cannot resist for long. The energy is already striking and it never lets up throughout these two recordings, from start to finish: jazz, blues, traditional music, minimalism, even funk… The musicians of the Intercommunal have heard a lot of great music and now delight in reinventing it by mixing it all together.

“We want the song form to take its place as a weapon in the struggle against capitalist exploitation and all those who oppress us morally and materially,” declared an Intercommunal leaflet, quoting Jean-Baptiste Clément, author of the lyrics to “Le Temps des cerises.” The struggle was therefore serious—but it did not prevent François Tusques and his group from waging it in a festive spirit: each piece on Concert at Prades-le- Lez sends out a call for love and fraternity. Fifty years later, the message remains as relevant as ever—and once again, it is François Tusques who makes it heard.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes.

The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process.

Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever.

The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before.


‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms.

The latest in Field Records' run of essential vinyl pressings revisits Stephen Hitchell's 2009 masterpiece under his Variant alias, The Setting Sun. As part of Echospace and also celebrated for his productions as Intrusion and Soultek, Hitchell is considered a leading light in dub techno, with the versatility in his sound to range from rhythmic, physical pulses to purely tonal, abyssal drone. His work as Variant, which debuted with The Setting Sun, capitalises on this scope to deliver a compelling ambient-with-teeth set richly deserving of a proper vinyl pressing.

The Setting Sun first emerged on Echospace as a download-only release. Hitchell was at pains to map out the tools that went into the sound on the album — field recordings of storms in Berlin, Germany and train rides in Narita, Japan, outboard synths and samplers. Crucially, he declared no computers were used, and it shows. When The Setting Sun was recorded, in-the-box production was largely dominating electronic music and the technology had yet to replicate the warmth and character of analogue equipment. Hitchell's looming chords come baked with harmonic overtones, surface noise becomes another essential layer and fragments of distortion add to the narrative of these glacial, monumental pieces.

Hitchell threads his dub techno tendencies in subtle ways, from the kick pattering underneath 'As Time Stood Still' to the quintessential metallic delay ripples that define 'A Silent Storm'. 'Someplace Else' has a defined, albeit delicate, rhythm section guiding its lighter shades of pads and chords. However, drums are never a dominant aspect of the music, simply another layer in an intentionally coagulated whole. At times, flickering tones hint at space where percussion once stood, since muted to leave the wet signal setting a new course for the sound, somewhere far beyond drum duties. The hushed ceremony of tracks like 'Adrift' are the perfect scenario in which to absorb these microfibres of detail, where the genius of Hitchell can truly be savoured.

In line with the limitations of record pressing and Hitchell's proclivity for long-form tracks, 'The Setting Sun' is reserved for the digital edition of this reissue. It's a logical move, as the sound palette widens to encompass tangible, organic instrumentation evolving over the best part of half an hour. The presence of piano keys feels stark in the Variant sound world, but Hitchell ably folds these coded elements into his process bathed in the same curious luminosity that lingers around all his work. Evolving at a painstaking pace, the plaintive humanity in the cascading keys and plucked guitar strings renders one of the most personal expressions in Hitchell's considerable canon — a unique piece that holds its own space comfortably, while also adding to the overall weight of The Setting Sun as a profound benchmark in a stellar discography.

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

Developer returns to his personal vinyl imprint Developer Archive with the label’s 17th release, continuing a focused exploration of raw, hypnotic techno built for physical spaces. Known globally as the driving force behind Modularz, Developer uses the Archive series as a more direct and uncompromising outlet—stripped back, functional, and deeply immersive.

This latest release locks into groove-based cuts powered by tension and restraint, where repetition becomes ritual and subtle shifts create sustained drama. The rhythms are dense and forward-moving, designed to work equally well in the pressure of a warehouse or the precision of a darkened club.

With Developer Archive 17, Developer reinforces his commitment to vinyl as a medium and to techno as a tool for controlled intensity—music that doesn’t chase trends, but instead sharpens its purpose with each release.

With two deeply cherished compilations already in the bag, Luke Una steps up for the third volume in his É Soul Cultura series on Mr Bongo. A love letter to the dancefloor and its power to unite people from all corners of society amid growing division and extremist politics. Genre-spanning in nature, the 15 tracks travel between cosmic soul, boogie, proto-house, slo-mo technoid grooves, drum machine afro, astral bass-bugging futurism, jazz funk, dance, and disco. Each having the ability to move the body as much as the heart.
 
From his formative years in Sheffield to co-founding Manchester’s much-fabled Electric Chair with Justin Crawford, through to helming the iconic LGBTQ institutions of Homoelectric / Homobloc, Luke has spent 40 years immersed in dance music. His latest outlet, É Soul Cultura, has grown from a label to a globe-spanning events series with Luke holding residencies and embarking on tours across the world from Japan and Australia to America and Europe. 
 
“For me, the dancefloor was never about a one-dimensional, thudding, 130 BPM beat only. It's a much more dynamic, broader vision than that. I cut my teeth in an era where a 100 BPM record had as much impact, excitement, and energy as a 134 BPM dancefloor jazz funk or techno record”, Luke mentions. É Soul Cultura Volume 3 is the perfect embodiment of that notion: “It’s about four decades in the trenches playing dance music, the late-night afters, the shebeens, the basements, warehouse parties, the eight-hour journeys in East London, through to festival sets at Houghton and We Out Here. It’s music unconstrained by genre or tempo and more about making your body move”. 

But this isn’t simply a collection of disparate dance tracks; they carry meaning and soul. “It’s less about escapism, more about reconnection. My experience of post-covid has been the coming together of all the clans in various clubs and gatherings. A reaction to a very toxic world out there, where the aggro rhythms of division have sought to divide us, and people don't meet as often. The coming back together face-to-face in clubs has encouraged a real love in the air, there's a real togetherness and collective spirit”.
 
Opening up the compilation is a track that channels that very message, the transcendental, soul-rousing Harris & Orr ‘Spread Love’. Joining the dots from there, to the low-slung deep house closer of Fatdog ‘Remember’, you’ll find electronic drum machine Nigerian funk, sitting side by side with dancefloor Cape Verdean brilliance, a post-punk cover of Fela Kuti, rubbing shoulders with cosmic electro, and an Una-championed, 8-minute, kickless DJ Harvey remix. There’s jazz funk in various guises moving from boogie synth to astral travelling, slo-mo acidic raw techno, and a ‘79 soul stepper, alongside swirling percussive Italo disco and tribal-charged house. All infused with an innate ability to bring people together.
 
As society becomes increasingly fractured, É Soul Cultura Volume 3’s message is more than movement. It’s about dance music’s power to unify people from all walks of life and break down the barriers that divide us.

With two deeply cherished compilations already in the bag, Luke Una steps up for the third volume in his É Soul Cultura series on Mr Bongo. A love letter to the dancefloor and its power to unite people from all corners of society amid growing division and extremist politics. Genre-spanning in nature, the 15 tracks travel between cosmic soul, boogie, proto-house, slo-mo technoid grooves, drum machine afro, astral bass-bugging futurism, jazz funk, dance, and disco. Each having the ability to move the body as much as the heart.
 
From his formative years in Sheffield to co-founding Manchester’s much-fabled Electric Chair with Justin Crawford, through to helming the iconic LGBTQ institutions of Homoelectric / Homobloc, Luke has spent 40 years immersed in dance music. His latest outlet, É Soul Cultura, has grown from a label to a globe-spanning events series with Luke holding residencies and embarking on tours across the world from Japan and Australia to America and Europe. 
 
“For me, the dancefloor was never about a one-dimensional, thudding, 130 BPM beat only. It's a much more dynamic, broader vision than that. I cut my teeth in an era where a 100 BPM record had as much impact, excitement, and energy as a 134 BPM dancefloor jazz funk or techno record”, Luke mentions. É Soul Cultura Volume 3 is the perfect embodiment of that notion: “It’s about four decades in the trenches playing dance music, the late-night afters, the shebeens, the basements, warehouse parties, the eight-hour journeys in East London, through to festival sets at Houghton and We Out Here. It’s music unconstrained by genre or tempo and more about making your body move”. 

But this isn’t simply a collection of disparate dance tracks; they carry meaning and soul. “It’s less about escapism, more about reconnection. My experience of post-covid has been the coming together of all the clans in various clubs and gatherings. A reaction to a very toxic world out there, where the aggro rhythms of division have sought to divide us, and people don't meet as often. The coming back together face-to-face in clubs has encouraged a real love in the air, there's a real togetherness and collective spirit”.
 
Opening up the compilation is a track that channels that very message, the transcendental, soul-rousing Harris & Orr ‘Spread Love’. Joining the dots from there, to the low-slung deep house closer of Fatdog ‘Remember’, you’ll find electronic drum machine Nigerian funk, sitting side by side with dancefloor Cape Verdean brilliance, a post-punk cover of Fela Kuti, rubbing shoulders with cosmic electro, and an Una-championed, 8-minute, kickless DJ Harvey remix. There’s jazz funk in various guises moving from boogie synth to astral travelling, slo-mo acidic raw techno, and a ‘79 soul stepper, alongside swirling percussive Italo disco and tribal-charged house. All infused with an innate ability to bring people together.
 
As society becomes increasingly fractured, É Soul Cultura Volume 3’s message is more than movement. It’s about dance music’s power to unify people from all walks of life and break down the barriers that divide us.

This EP marks a natural convergence for Primal Instinct. Built around pure dancefloor intent, it presents a focused spectrum of moods, unified by intent. Each track is unmistakably Temudo, and unmistakably Primal Instinct: physical, driven, and designed to move bodies first and foremost.
The release is the result of close collaboration between Temudo and the label. A shared framework took shape, allowing Temudo to adapt to the vision without altering his sound, forming a joint effort where two aesthetics align.
Visually, an image rooted in memories of Carnival in Temudo's hometown becomes the perfect symbol: chaotic, social, and in constant motion, reflecting the absurdity of life and the human condition.

Pioen is the second album by Elisabeth Klinck & Nils Vermeulen, released on blickwinkel. It was recorded in a small chapel of a monastery in the city center of Ghent. A chapel by nature is a place of contemplation and meditation, which automatically had influence on the music. Movements slow down, attention is sharpened and the overwhelming silence of the space becomes part of the music. Sound and silence are meticulously woven into each other. Even when the music grows at times dense and heavy, there is an ever-present sense of closeness and intimacy. This is reinforced by the use of the voice, which naturally appears throughout the album, not as a separate layer but as an extension of the instruments.

The pieces – this time more curated than on their previous album Pair, Paire – arose from hours-long improvisations where sound became space and space became sound. Bringing together violin, double bass and voice, Pioen unfolds as a serene and honest journey, inviting the listener into a state of contemplation.

Elisabeth Klinck is a contemporary violinist, composer and performer based in Brussels, known or her timeless, deep-listening sound worlds. Her album Picture a Frame (2023) and Chronotopia - selected by The Quietus as one of the best albums of 2025 - were released on the Swiss label Hallow Ground. A big part of her work revolves around tactility, fragility, and a very physical approaches to sound.

Nils Vermeulen is a Belgian double bass player active in all varieties of adventurous music. He has played with Paul Lytton, Martin Küchen, Seppe Gebruers, William Parker, John Dikeman, Luis Vicente, among others. He works across many scenes, from free improv to jazz to contemporary classical music, and in many distinct constellations, such as his own groups Kabas and Jukwaa, a Norwegian free jazz trio with Tollef Østvang and Heidi Kvelvane, a string duo with Elisabeth Klinck, and as the double bassplayer of Nemo ensemble. In 2023, he released his debut solo album on Aspen Edities.

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.

A chance meeting in Mexico City set Points of Inaccessibility into motion. When Ibero-American composer Rafael Anton Irisarri crossed paths with Dutch media artist Jaco Schilp at MUTEK in 2024, a conversation about how technology shapes perception revealed an unexpected common ground. Schilp invited Irisarri to a spring 2025 residency at Uncloud, the Utrecht-based collective he co-founded, where Irisarri's sound began to take form amid an environment shaped by Schilp’s visual research.

The Uncloud studio was located inside the former Pieter Baan Centre, a forensic psychiatric prison where suspects of violent crimes were once confined. Its long history of silence and containment shaped the atmosphere in which the project developed. Within this setting, Irisarri coaxed long bowed-guitar tones through a network of pedals and looping systems. The raw gestures thickened into a vaporous and architectural field of sound. Schilp processed the material through a custom point-cloud software patch that produced images in continuous flux. The visuals flickered, dissolved and reformed like memories that resist coherence, functioning as a digital Rorschach that reflected the observer’s own perception.

Amid these spectral echoes, the project evolved into an examination of how the past persists within present signals. Memory endures as residue and interference, continually shaping perception even when its source has faded.

Schilp’s visual process required a continuous stream of sound in real time. Irisarri improvised throughout the residency, generating material that allowed the visuals to develop in parallel. Once back in his New York studio, he began shaping the recordings by carving pathways through the improvisations and mapping selected passages into MIDI. This process allowed him to build outward from the bowed-guitar material with minimal overdubs, adding Prophet 5 textures, Moog bass and strings that expanded the harmonic field while keeping the original performances at the center. To refine the structure, Abul Mogard provided editorial input, working with Irisarri’s stems to guide transitions and strengthen the overall pacing. The material, originally created under conditions of immediacy and constraint, evolved into a fully realized work through careful revision, patience and sustained reworking.

The title engages the geographic concept of the Poles of Inaccessibility, locations defined solely by their distance from all surrounding points. Irisarri adapts this idea to the conditions of digital life, where new forms of inaccessibility arise through the informational enclosures that structure perception. What appears to be a fully connected network often produces a deeper kind of separation, one shaped by the filtering logic of the systems that mediate experience. In this sense, the digital sphere mirrors its geographic counterpart. We inhabit spaces saturated with signals, yet the possibility of genuine contact becomes increasingly remote.

At its core, Points of Inaccessibility considers what can be understood as the new rituals of capitalist realism. Irisarri uses the term digital shamanism to describe the forms of simulated connection that organize contemporary life. These systems promise comfort through algorithms, influencers and AI interlocutors, yet they often reproduce the same conditions that generate loneliness in the first place. What appears as connection becomes the echo of connection, a sequence of gestures that imitate solidarity while withholding it. Like the geographic poles, these rituals are defined by distance. They pull us into environments where everything is illuminated, yet meaningful proximity becomes increasingly rare. In this sense, the work approaches a hauntology of the present, a reflection on futures that have stalled and intimacies that have been thinned by the algorithmic infrastructures that surround us.

This thematic tension unfolds across the album’s four movements. Faded Ghosts of Clouds introduces the work with textures that rise and dissipate in slow cycles, creating an atmosphere that resists clear definition. Breaking the Unison occupies a pivotal position in the sequence and focuses on the moment when the individual and the system fall out of alignment. Its shifting patterns trace the scattering of signals that once suggested connection, revealing the instability at the heart of contemporary perception. Signals from a Distant Afterglow forms the center of the album and features vocals by Karen Vogt, whose presence enters the sound field like a fragile transmission shaped by distance and delay. The closing piece, Memory Strands, follows motifs that appear, recede and briefly intersect before returning to quiet. Across these movements, the album outlines a landscape in which emergence and disappearance continually inform one another.

Listening to Points of Inaccessibility is an encounter with a sound field that is constantly in flux. Elements surface briefly, shift position and recede, creating a sense of motion that resists stable interpretation. The music moves between closeness and vastness, carrying traces of memory while withholding a clear point of resolution.

The album’s visual identity completes the project’s conceptual arc. In Mexico City, where Irisarri and Schilp first met, Daniel Castrejón transformed stills from Schilp’s point-cloud visuals into the cover image. The final artwork captures a single suspended frame of the digital material, a moment extracted from a field that is normally in constant motion. Its surface recalls the texture and abstraction found in the work of Catalan artist Antoni Tàpies, where material presence and erasure coexist within the same plane.

What emerges is a work that examines the tension between technological systems and human presence. Points of Inaccessibility asks whether connection is still possible within environments shaped by mediation and delay, or whether we have become isolated points within the very networks that promise proximity. What possibilities for relation persist within environments organized by algorithms and interruption? And how are we meant to understand presence when so much of it is constructed at a distance?

Points of Inaccessibility will be released on BioVinyl on February 6, 2026, with audiovisual performances planned throughout 2026.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu
Artwork by Jaco Schilp
Design and layout by Daniel Castrejón
Artist photo by Iulia Alexandra Magheru.

For over a decade, Hyunhye Seo a core member of Xiu Xiu, in her solo work navigates the precarious edges where composition dissolves into pure gesture. Through ecstatic piano improvisations, restless percussive attacks and an expansive use of acoustic space, she constructs layered sonic environments that move across the boundaries of noise, avant-garde jazz, ambient and contemporary classical music. Her performances reveal an unfiltered process of listening and creation - a practice in which thinking becomes the enemy, and surrender the only viable strategy.

Continuation captures one such surrender. Recorded live at MAO - Museo d'Arte Orientale in Turin during the exhibition Rabbit Inhabits the Moon – The Art of Nam June Paik in the Mirror of Time, this cascading piano improvisation unfolds as a dialogue between performer, space and the particular acoustics of a museum built to house contemplative objects. Jamie Stewart processes the sound in real time; Giuseppe Ielasi shapes the final mix. What emerges is a work of charged immediacy - restless gestures giving way to passages of unexpected tenderness, noise and silence trading places in continuous exchange. The title is precise: this is music that refuses conclusion, that exists in a state of perpetual becoming. On Side B, Continuous Extension offers an unprecedented response. Phew - the pioneering figure of Japanese avant-garde music since the late 1970s - was invited by curators Chiara Lee and Freddie Murphy to reinterpret Seo's performance. Working with synthesizer and subtle processing, Phew distills the resonances of Continuation into a new electronic landscape - waves of abstraction that echo like reflections in sound, tracing the harmonic tensions of Seo's playing into territories she herself did not visit.

The accompanying booklet includes an essay by Bruno Lo Turco exploring the deep connections between improvisation and Buddhist thought, and a written reflection by Seo on her own practice of surrender and listening.

Continuation is released on Ubi Kū, the record label of the Unione Buddhista Italiana. The cover reproduces Avalokitesvara "Water and Moon" from the Museo d'Arte Orientale "E. Chiossone" in Genoa - the bodhisattva of compassion gazing at the reflection of the moon in water. Like that reflection, this music exists fully in the present, complete and unrepeatable.