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Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Astral travel with Cybotron into the meta-narrative of the Parallel Shift, a new sonic fiction that raises many questions about military science of the near-future and the possibility of other worlds.
Descending backward through the rhythms of time, the Skynet module retracts from the hyper-structural society of 2100, edging toward the mid-century modern age teetering on the brink of what was then the frontier of “the future”. The system boots the Infiniti process, morphing into a cosmotechnic vessel coursing the superhighway of burgeoning general intelligence, seeking data from just before “the overshoot and collapse.”
R&D methods, rhythmanalytically applied, dissect the aftermath of an industrial society that burst through the ecological capacity of Spaceship Earth. Fractal visions of war and innovation spike and recede from and into the surfaces of reality being bent and guiding the eyes, ears, touch towards a laboratory in the year 1961. A nuclear expert, Don Lewis, receives orders to decrypt the mysterious black dodecagonal disc known as Fortec and the extraterrestrial biology unearthed in Roswell. He joins a team disassembling Fortec and studying the recurrent dodecahedral patterns linked to the human nervous system.
Through dismantling and probing, the team cycles through a saecular search devoid of finite conclusions, limited by Earth’s intellectual and technological prowess. One 1960s night, Lewis, while meddling with Fortec’s cyborganic innards, accidentally electrifies himself. His cyclotron and missile experience guides him to circuit-bend Fortec, stirring the entity from a mechanical slumber. Lewis and Fortec communicate in resonances, until it drifts back into a tranquil stasis.
The US Defense and contractors, unbeknownst to them, observe this breakthrough. They later permit Lewis to exit military service as the Air Force forms the Foreign Technology Division. Concurrently, MJ12 evolves into CY12, delving into second-order cybernetics. Lewis clandestinely keeps working on Fortec fragments, transitioning from military engineer to musician, pioneering the LEO module, a fusion of Fortec’s essence and audio engineering.
He shares his insights with Roland founder Ikutaro Kakehashi, aiding the creation of the iconic TR-808. Meanwhile, Fortec branches out, coining “Cyberspace” – a collective illusion of liberty unshackled by physical, political, or spiritual bounds, anchored in the equitable distribution of The Golden Ratio across realities. Yet “Cyberspace” morphs into a chaotic truth reservoir, spilling over into deception.
The Parallel Shift manifests in the perpetual “Now,” a collapsed event horizon where past and future are ensnared in a relentless present, unfurling along a dissolving timeline, overseen by a monolithic simulation under ceaseless watch…
— The Rhythmanalyst aka DeForrest Brown, Jr.

The 2015 edition of Winnipeg’s send + receive festival, focussed on rhythm, turned out to be a generative meeting of minds. There, Mark Fell encountered the music of Will Guthrie, a meeting that was eventually to result in the frenetic acoustic drumkit and digital synthesis pairing heard on Infoldings and Diffractions (2020). At the same festival, Limpe Fuchs first heard and appreciated the music of Mark Fell, planting the seed of a collaboration that came to fruition when Fell (along with his son Rian Treanor) visited Fuchs at her home in Peterskirchen, Germany in September 2022. Black Truffle is pleased to announce the release of the results of this extensive session in the audacious form of a triple LP, housing over two hours of music across its six sides. The collaboration might appear unlikely: what common ground could exist between Fuchs, classically trained pianist, legend of improvised music, instrument builder and sound sculptor active since the 1960s, whose group Anima Sound connected the dots between free jazz, krautrock and ritual, and Fell, proponent of radical computer music, known for his bracingly austere productions that twist remnants of club music into algorithmic stutters? For all their seeming disparity in technology, approach and background, the music on Dessogia/Queetch/Fauch makes it immediately evident the pair share a great deal in their essentially percussive approach and ability to, in Fuch’s phrase, ‘establish silence’. Recording at her home studio, Fuchs had the use of her entire array of instruments, found, invented, and traditional, and treats the listener to some that don’t often make their way to concerts, including extensive passages performed (with Gundis Stalleicher) on pieces of wooden parquetry. Alongside metallic, wooden and skin percussion of all kinds, sounded and struck in every conceivable way, we also hear bamboo flute, viola, and Fuchs’ distinctive free-form vocalisations. Fell also stretched himself, with his contributions ranging from characteristically fizzing pitched percussive pops to swarms of sliding tones and abstract digital noise. Showing both remarkable restraint and improvisational freedom, much of the music consists of duets between a single percussion instrument and a distinctive mode of digital sound, often lingering in one timbral-rhythmic space for minutes at a time. Improvisational forward momentum coexists with a free-floating, wandering quality. On opener ‘Dessogia I’, the shimmering almost-gilssandi tones of Fuchs’ enormous set of microtonally tuned metal tubes ripples across Fell’s rubbery pulse, which moves up the frequency spectrum as Fuchs becomes more animated and switches to horn. At some points, as on the metallic chiming tones that open ‘Fauch I’, only the unexpected dynamic behaviour of Fell’s sounds distinguish them from Fuchs’ acoustic instruments. At others, like on ‘Queetch III’, the waves of sliding tones and noise textures are bracingly synthetic, joined by piercing squeaks and scrapes from Fuchs’ metal objects. Epic in scope, immersing the listener in an entirely distinctive world of sounds, and thrillingly bold in its melding of the most ancient musical procedures with cutting edge technologies, Dessogia/Queetch/Fauch is an unexpected major statement from two of the great mavericks of contemporary music.

2024 Reissue

The second album of songs resulting from the collaboration between Teho Teardo and Blixa Bargeld was released in 2016, three years after the celebrated debut with "Still Smiling". Often the nature of collaborations is fleeting, usually not involving a sequel; in this case, however, we are faced with the evident settling of a bond, human and artistic, that is no longer occasional but has reinvented itself to explore other territories and will not stop there either. The album cover is inspired by the famous 1533 painting by Holbein the Younger, "The Ambassadors": a work celebrating an official visit, a meeting between two friends, the pride of their gazes still strong despite time, distance, despite everything. Teho and Blixa return with an album of new songs, sung in German, English and Italian. "Nerissimo" is the superlative of black in Italian and there is something rather black about the music on this album. Not in the sense of dark, an adjective often used to define certain sounds, but just as it happens with the colour black, which contains all other colours, so this music contains a multitude of possibilities."Nerissimo" is also the title of the track in English that opens the album and closes it, as if between two parentheses, in Italian. A temporal passage between languages that links Rome and Berlin, where the album was recorded, ever more intimately. A crossing of the last three years of work together for Teho and Blixa. This record is also a nocturnal story of apparitions, of colours that disappear from the world just by naming them, of aeroplane flights with the lights off in the cabin, of objects whose symbolism represents the passions and interests of the two artists (starting with the objects reproduced on the cover); a sort of tale through objects, continuous movements and the discovery of sounds, even random ones. Sounds intercepted in the space of these three years and which ended up on the disc as interferences that challenged the structure of some songs, resulting in their adaptation to the invasion of foreign sound bodies. "Nerissimo" does not only contain songs but also features experimental tracks, such as "Ulgæ", in which the lyrics explain, like a subtitle, the sounds that follow one another in a story.

On Still + Bright, her highly-anticipated follow up to, Wary + Strange, Amythyst Kiah shares a dozen songs that mark an evolution in her sound. Kiah says, “With this album, I’ve always been incredibly interested in stories and philosophy. Lots of the songs are inspired by the cosmos, space, meditation, and mindfulness. It’s a way to piece out what it means to be a human being in the modern world. It’s the general idea that we should all have the freedom to decide what path we want to choose.” Still + Bright is produced by Butch Walker (Fall Out Boy, Green Day, Weezer) and features special guests including SG Goodman, Avi Kaplan, and Billy Strings. All of the songs were brought to life by Kiah and co-writers, including Sean McConnell, Avi Kaplan, Sadler Vaden, and Tim Armstrong, among others. Still + Bright is set for release on October 25, 2024. “Years in the making, Still + Bright explores what it means to be a human being in the modern world. Songwriting is my way to marry big, overarching philosophical ideas and questions into a musical, more organized arrangement. Inspired by the cosmos, space, meditation, and mindfulness – this record directly challenges religious and political dogma, stating that we should all have the freedom to decide what path we want to choose.” Recently Kiah featured in Salon talking about her love of country and bluegrass music and was included in a New York Times T Magazine spotlight and documentary: The Next Generation of Black Folk Singers. Her episode of PBS’ The Express Way with Dulé Hill aired nationally on April 30, Kiah is featured in Episode 2: “Appalachia”. She recently appeared on a panel at the Television Critics Association Press Conference which was attended by over 200 television critics around the globe. This June she will be on the road opening for Iron & Wine.

HOO - master builders of woozy dynamics, songs unfurl with a mysterious, hooky logic all their own to create deeply emotive, chaotic, cinematic and - surprisingly, with this album ‘III’ - indie pop tunes! Songs clocking in just over 2 or 3 minutes, driven by heavy grunge guitars & potty Moog magic, opening out at times during the breathtaking prog Ov Violence/ Evil Weeks and the epic gothy final track Method Papers. ‘III’ has been 10 years in the making and features friends Simon Rowe (Chapterhouse, Mojave 3), Ian McCutcheon (Mojave 3, Slowdive), Paul Blewett (Moon Attendant), Lee Lavender & long-time collaborator & award-winning folk artist Jackie Oates. The themes and feel of the songs meant they had to lay in wait in HOO’s church-like studio, patiently growing & spawning like a 70's Dr WHO monster. Newer songs like the almost indie disco Snake & Myself When I Am Real finally gave the album foundation. HOO songwriter Nick Holton explains “All my music, including stuff in the past with Coley Park & Neil Halstead (Slowdive), is made at home in my own studio ‘Oaki Room’, so they blend into one another and my broader life. This is why musicians like Paul Blewett, Ian McCutcheon and Simon Rowe are always in the band or on my records - because they are part of my life. I have always made music this way and intended to. Jackie’s beautiful lead on England Theme, a high for me, was a simple idea. A mirror, as is so much of what I write about, here pride and disappointment in your world. Politics, religion, conflict, human frailty & alien tentacles, the collapsing environment all feature heavily and inspire. Despite this, we aim to make these dark songs engaging & endearing, skipping about you at volume in a psychedelic fug.” “I cannot and will not explain what is going on, but ‘III’ definitely closes a door and feels the most complete work of my life” Holton concludes. ’III’ is playful, eccentric, explosive and shamelessly takes itself seriously. Finished and mastered by Heba Kadry (Beach House, Bjork, Slowdive). We hope you now enjoy HOO’s third album. “Highly recommended to those who dig cinematic dream pop & Krautrock.” Echoes & Dust “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo “Shoegaze guitars, space-folk synths, otherworldly drones & krautrock drums into soundscapes immersive, possibly hallucinogenic.” Uncut “Textural & cinematic guitar driven epic” Shindig “A place where you see shadows of ghosts and echoes of your imagination” HiFi World Highlights “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo feat ex-Slowdive & Coley Park

HOO - master builders of woozy dynamics, songs unfurl with a mysterious, hooky logic all their own to create deeply emotive, chaotic, cinematic and - surprisingly, with this album ‘III’ - indie pop tunes! Songs clocking in just over 2 or 3 minutes, driven by heavy grunge guitars & potty Moog magic, opening out at times during the breathtaking prog Ov Violence/ Evil Weeks and the epic gothy final track Method Papers. ‘III’ has been 10 years in the making and features friends Simon Rowe (Chapterhouse, Mojave 3), Ian McCutcheon (Mojave 3, Slowdive), Paul Blewett (Moon Attendant), Lee Lavender & long-time collaborator & award-winning folk artist Jackie Oates. The themes and feel of the songs meant they had to lay in wait in HOO’s church-like studio, patiently growing & spawning like a 70's Dr WHO monster. Newer songs like the almost indie disco Snake & Myself When I Am Real finally gave the album foundation. HOO songwriter Nick Holton explains “All my music, including stuff in the past with Coley Park & Neil Halstead (Slowdive), is made at home in my own studio ‘Oaki Room’, so they blend into one another and my broader life. This is why musicians like Paul Blewett, Ian McCutcheon and Simon Rowe are always in the band or on my records - because they are part of my life. I have always made music this way and intended to. Jackie’s beautiful lead on England Theme, a high for me, was a simple idea. A mirror, as is so much of what I write about, here pride and disappointment in your world. Politics, religion, conflict, human frailty & alien tentacles, the collapsing environment all feature heavily and inspire. Despite this, we aim to make these dark songs engaging & endearing, skipping about you at volume in a psychedelic fug.” “I cannot and will not explain what is going on, but ‘III’ definitely closes a door and feels the most complete work of my life” Holton concludes. ’III’ is playful, eccentric, explosive and shamelessly takes itself seriously. Finished and mastered by Heba Kadry (Beach House, Bjork, Slowdive). We hope you now enjoy HOO’s third album. “Highly recommended to those who dig cinematic dream pop & Krautrock.” Echoes & Dust “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo “Shoegaze guitars, space-folk synths, otherworldly drones & krautrock drums into soundscapes immersive, possibly hallucinogenic.” Uncut “Textural & cinematic guitar driven epic” Shindig “A place where you see shadows of ghosts and echoes of your imagination” HiFi World Highlights “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo feat ex-Slowdive & Coley Park

Razorlight were at the forefront of the indie-rock resurgence of the early 2000s, their biggest moments - ‘Golden Touch’, ‘Somewhere Else’, ‘In The Morning’, ‘America’ and ‘Wire To Wire’ - driving three Top 5 albums, nine Platinum album certifications, an NME Award, and live highlights including headlining the Reading Festival and performing at Live 8. After reuniting for live shows in 2021, the classic line-up - Johnny Borrell (vocals/guitar), Björn Ågren (guitar), Carl Dalemo (bass) and Andy Burrows (drums) - will release the new album ‘Planet Nowhere’ on October 25th, their first together since 2008. Razorlight preview the set by sharing its first single, ‘Scared Of Nothing’. Since reuniting, Razorlight have sold-out a headline tour which included a London show at the Eventim Apollo, and played shows as guests to Muse, Kaiser Chiefs and James. But as the ever ambitious Johnny challenged himself, “Who wants to be a greatest hits band?” So he hatched a plan, and late in 2023 booked a five-day session with the legendary producer Youth (The Verve, James) at his Space Mountain studio in Spain. Youth knew what they had to achieve, telling the band, “Razorlight’s quite simple isn’t it? Just a driving bassline, driving drums and a story.” For whatever reason, things weren’t that simple. After four days they had a stack of ideas, but nothing really worth pursuing. And then, as Johnny recalls, something remarkable emerged from out of nowhere. “I’d been down in the barranca, and came back up to find the studio empty. So I picked up this weird six-string bass/guitar hybrid I'd never seen before and wrote this thing. On our last night, I started playing it with the guys. The drums came in hard, the bass pounded. It sounded like shit. Absolute shit. But Youth was there, saying 'Can, Velvets, see where it takes you’ and 'Why don’t you try it like that?' But still, the track just wouldn't budge, locked in its own inertia. Youth says, 'You're getting there, just one more' and almost instantly the song came out, from nothing to something, like a statue coming up out of marble.” That song was ‘Scared of Nothing’ and listening back to the finished track, it’s easy to see why it resparked Razorlight’s mojo. Exuding taut, spiky post-punk energy in a way that’s instantly infectious - the very traits that attracted highfalutin praise from NME back when they started out (“More tunes than Franz, more spirit than The Strokes, and more balls than nearly every band out there”). And as ever, Johnny demonstrates the swaggering, high-intensity charisma that took him from being a figurehead of the Camden scene to rise to become a Vogue cover star. It was also the track which unlocked Razorlight’s creativity, leading the band to return to Spain with Youth for a second session earlier this year, during which they crafted an extensive catalogue of songs for the upcoming album. Other titles vying for inclusion include ‘Zombie Love’, ‘U Can Call Me’, ‘Dirty Luck’ and ‘Cool People’. Since returning, Razorlight have also looked back on their initial achievements, first releasing ‘Razorwhat? The Best of Razorlight’ (complete with the new song ‘You Are Entering The Human Heart’) and then last month issuing the 20th Anniversary Deluxe Edition of their breakthrough debut album ‘Up All Night’. Never a dull moment. Writing a new ending for themselves, Razorlight are back to cast out the boring in your life.

The sea has long been central to Japanese culture, symbolizing both sustenance and spiritual depth. Charles A.D.'s Deep Diver draws inspiration from this, channeling the ancient traditions of diving and fishing into his music. Historically, the sea has influenced everything from Shinto rituals to the livelihoods of coastal communities. In Deep Diver, this reverence flows through aquatic soundscapes, where rhythmic waves of 90s house and Detroit techno meet Japanese minimal production techniques, New Age and Pacific Jazz. Like the tides, the album ebbs and flows, creating a serene yet dynamic homage to the timeless connection between Japan and the sea.
The opening track 'Deep Diver' plunges into the depths, its abstract sound design capturing the sensation of deep-sea propulsion. Rhythmic bubbles pulse gently alongside slow-moving chords, creating an otherworldly atmosphere. The textures are lush yet restrained, setting a tranquil stage that pulls the listener into a submerged world. 'Underwater Ruins' builds on this aquatic theme, introducing rhythmic layers and bass-heavy notes reminiscent of mid-90s Japanese ambient techno. The smooth, melodic flow nods to pioneers like Mr.YT and Susumu Yokota, while subtly incorporating the Detroit techno influence through soulful, deep basslines.
The track feels like a fusion of ambient and techno, balancing serene tones with a rolling groove, emblematic of Japanese techno soul. As the album progresses into 'Bubble Ring', it becomes clear that Charles A.D. is a master of minimalism. The production is timeless, leaning
on analog techniques where echo-drenched chords and carefully layered soundscapes take on an addictive, hypnotic quality. The simplicity of the composition is deceptive, as each element carries weight, drawing the listener deeper into the rhythm and space between the notes.
'Merperson' is where organic rhythms truly come into play. Charles A.D. gently evolves the patterns, allowing each percussive hit to flow naturally into the next. Soothing melodies emerge from within the track’s structure, eventually reaching an emotional peak without ever feeling forced. The organic nature of the arrangement creates an effortless progression that feels deeply connected to the natural movement of water.Starting the second half with 'Deep Exploration', the theme of underwater excursions becomes even more pronounced. Light, steady drumming anchors the track, allowing the melodic layers
to develop gradually. It unfolds with a calm, measured pace, before ending softly, almost as if the sounds are drifting off into the oceanic depths. 'Diffuse Reflection' stands out as the most dub house-influenced on the album, with rolling rhythms and hypnotic elements reminiscent of Maurizio's deep, pulsing sound. Yet here, the production feels submerged, with aquatic effects swirling around the rhythmic core, blending dub house with a fluid, oceanic touch. 'Traitors' delves even deeper into dub-inspired territory. Deep, resonant bass hits combine with wooden drums, while static-like sounds evoke the image of a radio tuning through static to find clarity.
Chords shimmer briefly before fading back into the liquid depths, evoking the ebb and flow of the tide. The final track on Deep Diver 'Levitation', is a fitting conclusion, as the rhythms merge and overlap like waves gently lapping the shore. The minimalistic arrangement allows each element to blend effortlessly into the next, creating a sense of unity and closure. The sounds move with the gentle grace of water, ending the album in a way that feels both complete and
open-ended, like the infinite motion of the sea.

Rediscovered and compiled for release shortly before her death in November 2023, Further Selections from the Electric Harpsichord presents a never-before-heard recording of composer and artist Catherine Christer Hennix's early magnum opus. Originally debuted in 1976 at the festival Brouwer's Lattice at Stockholm's Moderna Museet, The Electric Harpsichord has steadily mystified fans and students of Western minimalist music for its implacable, transformative qualities, and the long-held, relative obscurity of its creator. Like the work of Hennix's close friend La Monte Young, the piece is set in just intonation and focuses on the transcendental potentials of precise tuning, inspired by their studies with Pandit Pran Nath. Composed of bursts of oscillating, synthetic tones using a carefully retuned synthesizer and a tape-based system for feedback delay, the sounds swirl, twinkle, and appear to bend time, space, and perception. Additional, sustained chords on the sheng, most likely played by her Deontic Miracle bandmate Hans Isgren, are present at the opening of the piece and reemerge towards the end of the recording. The release of Further Selections constitutes the most comprehensive original recording of this foundational work to date. Originally billed as The Well-Tuned Organ during its debut in Sweden, The Electric Harpsichord has developed a legendary reputation, predicated on a twenty-six minute fragment salvaged and circulated by Hennix's friend Henry Flynt. Promoting its importance on multiple occasions, Flynt aired the work on WBAI radio, organized a pair of tape concerts at New York alternative arts spaces in 1970s, and later penned a 1998 essay which served as the liner notes to its eventual CD release in 2010. For him, this work not only represented a sterling milestone in minimal sonic aesthetics, but also spawned a new genre that he dubbed "hallucinogenic/ecstatic sound environments (HESE)," which in turn inspired his own drone-like compositions. Gradually, interest in the recording led to a spate of archival projects, public performances, and new compositions by Hennix in the 2010s, in turn drawing into focus her multifarious practice, which includes serious contributions towards mathematics, poetry, sculpture, Noh drama, philosophy, and light art. Since 2018, Blank Forms has spearheaded a comprehensive publication effort in support of her work, including the writing collection Poësy Matters and Other Matters (2018); archival recordings like Selected Early Keyboard Works (2018) and The Deontic Miracle's Selections from 100 Models of Hegikan Roku (2019); and recent compositions such as Blues Alif Lam Mim (2021) and Solo for Tamburium (2023).

DJ MAG:
"Spanning 10 tracks, 'The Fifth Chakra (Ambient Space Tea)' explores sound system culture, covering one of the British-Jamaican artist's biggest influences. The record is largely beatless and focuses on the power of sub-bass and other electronics, moving away from the percussive house energy of much of his past material."


909Originals:
"The largely ambient album is a departure from the thumping beats that Mr G has become famous for, but it also displays his personal, emotional side - tracks like Constant, Solar Eclipse NYC and The 5th Chakra encapsulate an artist allowing himself the freedom to roam through his influences."


Resident Advisor:
"Never did I think I'd get to a meditative place and learn restraint,' he said. "This is the album I've always wanted to make, never thinking I could. Also, after loving others' bass-heavy albums, it's a joy to put my own into the mix. But I always remember my thing is weight and tone in whatever I take on. Especially in this flat, compressed world."

When the Beat Konducta and his trusty alter ego link up for the sequel, another southern California blunt cruise ensues. The Adventures Of Lord Quas consists of a slow ride through the deepest corners of the crate, leaving no genre unearthed until it claims space in the haze of one’s imagination. It’s business as unusual: Madlib funnels his most twisted impulses and comedic sensibilities into a sonic slacker flck complete with good dope, bottom-shelf liquor, and a penchant for gazing mouth agape into the great unknown. But he knows Lord Quas like a good needle on wax, and they casually strut through the loops, much ado about frontin’. (Not like fake shit ain’t a big deal, but it ain’t a big enough deal.) This record captures Madlib and his id at their most frantic, indulgent, and often confusing; they trade neatness for chaos, continuity for collage in a barrage of the finest sounds this side of the B-side. It’s hip-hop that takes every visible risk, often striking gold and proving how in control the Loop Digga truly is. Don’t hit it too hard, your other selves might pay you a visit.

Flame is Slow collects together three acclaimed seven-inch EPs (originally released on the Noisebox label in 1996 and 1997) by the mysterious, mercurial Navigator. The post-Loveless UK underground of the early 1990s was a vibrant place, despite what music biographies may tell you. What might now be lumped together as “post-rock” was in fact a varied and forward-thinking group of artists creating inquisitive music in the wake of the grunge goldrush. Contemporaries such as Hood, Flying Saucer Attack, Movietone and – of course – Mogwai and Arab Strap are rightfully seen as timeless nearly thirty years on but they’re really just the tip of the iceberg. Navigator might get mentioned less but their story is every bit as intriguing as any of their peers. Navigator formed in Norwich in 1994. Their music was consistently introspective and melancholic, but their brief existence of five years saw them move rapidly from traditional song structures towards noise, found sound, free improvisation, electronics, primitive instrument building and – ultimately - silence. They were an enigma back then and they remain so now. They released four seven inches before a solitary album Nostalgie (1997, Swarf Finger Records). Each release felt different to the last but always intimate and peculiar. Their use of sound and space is nothing short of magical. Rough and unsettling textures rub against each other, selected and mixed instinctively. Another band’s discarded mistake becomes a key element in their hands. The band received much acclaim and some genuine commercial success when single When the Wires Fall ended up in the indie charts. They shared stages with Low, David Thomas, Aerial M, Stars Of The Lid and Labradford and toured with Mogwai and Arab Strap culminating in the now-notorious, equipment-levelling performance at The Garage in London. The original version of the group played live for the last time in 1999 before quietly disappearing. It was perhaps inevitable that a band so committed to exploring and refining their sound should end by removing themselves from it entirely. Aside from a brief (and excellent) reformation in 2006 and a CDR compilation of those early seven inches, Navigator have been quiet for over 20 years until now. Flame is Slow assembles the blue, red and green Noisebox EPs into one cohesive album-length collection, remastered with care and reassembled by the band. It rightfully places Navigator where they belong – as one of the most curious, adventurous, and beautiful groups this island has ever produced. “Whenever I think of bands that more people should’ve heard than did, I always think about Navigator. It’s great that the music they made is going to be available again as it is truly special and deserves to be heard by more people” – Stuart Braithwaite

Opaque Mango Colored Vinyl. RIYL: Black Milk, Kendrick Lamar, Kamasi Washington, Mos Def, Blood Orange, Milo, Pharcyde, Blackalicious, Anderson Paak. Richmond, Virginia-based artist McKinley Dixon has always used his music as a tool for healing, exploring, and unpacking the Black experience in order to create stories for others like him. For My Mama And Anyone Who Look Like Her, Dixon's debut album on Spacebomb, is the culmination of a journey where heartbreak and introspection challenged him to adapt new ways of communicating physically and mentally, as well as across time and space. The language accessibility aspect of this project draws right back to communication and connecting," Dixon explains. "I think about the messaging, and how this can be a way for another Black person, someone who looks like me, to listen to this and process the past. Everything I've learned about communication for this album culminates with this bigger question about time. Is time linear when you're still healing and processing? Westerners look at time travel as something to conquer or control - it's a colonizer mindset. That's ignoring how time travel can be done through stories and non-verbal communication, and doesn't acknowledge how close indigenous people are to the land and the connections groups have because they've existed somewhere for so long. Storytelling is time travel, it's taking the listener to that place. Quick time travel. Magic." Never relying solely on beats, Dixon taps into a hybrid of jazz and rap, pulling in an array of piercing strings, soulful horns, percussion, and angelic vocalists throughout the album-plus features by Micah James, Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon, Pink Siifu, and more. Jazz instrumentals add a level of uncertainty, with the sounds and shifts evoking a lot of emotion and vulnerability. It's an energy he describes as "Pre-Kendrick Lamar To Pimp A Butterfly," the era when rap adopted more live instrumentation. The best way to sum up this album is: I was sad, I was mad, and now I'm alive," Dixon explains. "These things I talk about on the record have had harmful and brilliant effects on my timeline, and have forced me to be cognizant of the fact that living is complex. Rap has allowed me the language to communicate, and be someone who can communicate with people from all over. Knowing how far I've come, I think people will find trust in the message I'm sending."

Fohn brings connection, displacement and new identities into the moment, on pastoral debut album Seanteach - informed by island life, marine folklore and musical tradition.

Connection to the land, the severing of earthly ties, explorations of environment, mythos and generational memory: under the moniker of Fohn, English violinist and producer Tom Connolly (Quade, AD93) takes to the fiddle on which he learned his craft as a child. Forging new bonds with his family’s island home off the coastal west of Ireland, their story is retold in Seanteach (Irish for ‘old house’), released on Odda Recordings.

“Seanteach explores the nature of my relationship with Ireland, and Connemara in particular, where my dad’s family is from,” explains Connolly, speaking on a long-form work that blends new compositions on traditional Irish fiddle with ambient electronics and evocative field recordings.

“It explores how the island of Maighinis became an almost mythological space for me, growing up in England - we would spend every summer there, but it felt equally present for me when we were back in the UK, a sort of mental solace that I found through music especially.”

Each track on the album is a reflection of aspects of that relationship to island life - where physical features intersect with mythology. Such as, ‘Boreen’, named after a colloquial term for rural byroads sometimes shared with otherworldly neighbours. ‘Aisling at Sea’ draws on the primal, unstoppable momentum of the water, while the folklore of ‘Immram’ reflects on generationally-kept tales of marine bravery and supernatural accomplishment.

“The compositions often sit at the fraying edges of memories I’ve inherited from my own experiences, that of family lore, or from stories that I have come across. I wanted the compositions to tread the space between documentation and fantasy that feels so reflective of my relationship with this place.”

Tying these worlds together is the presence and memory of Connolly’s ‘Mamó’ (Irish for grandmother), Bríd. Despite passing during Connolly’s childhood, this “larger-than-life character” shaped his imagination with anecdotes and stories, representing both a familiar figure, and the poignancies of potential and regret.

“Even at a young age I sensed a sadness emanating from her. Through a series of unfortunate and fortunate circumstances, she found herself leaving Ireland and settling in Boston like so many others. Under the impression she was an illegal immigrant in the US she didn’t return to Ireland for decades.”

‘Between the Shoreline and the Gorse’ channels her early childhood, born to a large Catholic family in the island’s ‘Seanteach’, and cast adrift from her old life - a severance of ties that Connolly attempts to make ethereal amends for, with the album named for her family home.

“It’s something that feels so visibly prominent in Connemara with its landscapes charcoaled with deserted ruins. It’s a feeling I also experience, despite never having lived in Ireland, which prompted me to want to explore the idea of longing for something/somewhere ‘un-experienced’, and to a certain extent, fictionalised.”

After seven years, Japandroids have returned with Fate and Alcohol, their fourth and final full-length. Written in part while the Vancouver duo-guitarist-vocalist Brian King and drummer-vocalist David Prowse-were touring behind their 2017 ANTI- debut, Near to the Wild Heart of Life, the album is at once a return to form and a thrilling step forward, testament to the sort of chemistry that they"ve honed over the course of 18 years and hundreds of shows side-by-side. Their aim was simply to write songs that they"d enjoy playing live, without sacrificing any of the nuance or ambition that marked their previous effort. Nowhere on this record is that more deeply felt than lead single "Chicago," a song whose sheer momentum feels inevitable and true-from the inherent romance of its opening chords to the series of snare-led explosions that see it through. Like the rest of Fate and Alcohol, it was recorded in Vancouver with longtime collaborator Jesse Gander, who also engineered 2009"s Post-Nothing and 2012"s Celebration Rock. "The very first demo we have of "Chicago" was recorded in our jam space on February 4th, 2020," King says, "and if you listen to that, it just sounds like a rough version of what you hear on the record. But it"s all there. That, in some ways, is the most ideal circumstance for a band like us: just having something that really rips in your jam space, something that feels good, something that you"re excited about."

The Well is the second album by the duo So Sner, composed of Susanna Gartmayer (bass clarinet) and Stefan Schneider (electronics). Recorded over nearly two years in various studios and spaces, the album reflects So Sner's extensive touring across Europe. The final mixing took place in Vienna at the studio of Martin Siewert, who served as both co-producer and mastering engineer. Known for his meticulous attention to sonic detail, Siewert brings his unique techniques and distinctive sound enhancements to the album, resulting in a work that is both stylistically cohesive and daringly uncompromising.

So Sner’s critically acclaimed debut album REIME (TAL26, 2021) was celebrated for its innovative fusion of bass clarinet and electronic sounds in unexpected and surprising ways. With The Well, the duo explores both fluid and dissonant sonic landscapes, embracing different structural and sonic challenges. The result is a quieter, more introspective set of compositions than many might have anticipated. The album is a statement of two confident collaborators crafting complex, spatial musical moments in their own distinct manner.

The music on The Well generates a multiplicity of effects that transcend conventional oppositions such as hand-played versus programmed, composition versus improvisation, or analog versus digital. The album suggests a re-articulation of these categories, allowing the ten tracks to gradually blend one musical idea into another, and one musician into another, in a circular and complementary fashion. The polymetric permutations and exploratory reed components create a soundscape where all elements coexist harmoniously, without compromising or diminishing each other’s presence.

With its sparse sound architecture, The Well invites listeners into a space of effective emptiness, offering room for the mind and body to explore—a sonic island where one can develop sensuality through patient movement.

For So Sner, live performance is a passion of the mind, and since they began working together in 2020, their music has taken them to many different places. The live experience has deeply influenced the recorded music on this album, with the interplay between live performance and studio work informing their creative process. The Well captures the genuine act of exploring new territories, serving as a storage place for the time and space shared by the duo, re-filtering their experiences of performing and traveling together.

The Well is a lucidly playful and ambitious album by two contemporary musicians who are continually learning to create and respond to the subtle and significant changes in their music, maintaining momentum throughout the entire work.

In addition to her work with So Sner, Susanna Gartmayer has recently collaborated with artists such as Joe McPhee and Maria Portugal, and remains a member of her long-running band, the Vegetable Orchestra. Stefan Schneider, founder of the label TAL, has recently performed with Garth Erasmus from Cape Town and fine art luminary Katharina Grosse.

It's a pleasure, a labour of love and a yearly highlight to present a new volume of the Mr Bongo Record Club series. In this collection, we have curated new finds alongside old, treasured tracks that hold a special place in our hearts, selecting music inspiring us from the Brazilian, Latin, soul, disco, gospel, cosmic, dancehall and downtempo genres. We have chosen a diverse array of artists, including Os Panteras from Brazil, stomping underground disco by Claude Jay, the Danish soul sounds of Gitte & Inger and the gospel excellence of Truth & Devotion, to name a few.

Most of the selections in this volume are older vintage productions, however, there is one very special contemporary production, recorded exclusively for Mr Bongo Record Club 7. For ‘Spring Has Sprung’, we linked three of our cherished musical family together; the legendary cult artist Asha Puthli, the wonderous band SOYUZ and Swedish maestro Sven Wunder. The result, as you’d expect, is completely breathtaking.

Reflecting on Volume 7, it now feels like a record comprised of two themes. Firstly, we have gone quite heavy on the Brazilian selections. This saw us searching further afield and digging into other areas of the endlessly rich Brazilian musical tapestry. The reflection of a more folk / Afro-Brazilian sound than presented in previous volumes in the series, can be heard in the songs of As Sublimes, Romeu Fernandes and Conjunto de Percussão Dora Pinto. The second theme is a representation of the tracks that we have been playing in our club DJ sets and are aimed more at the dancefloor. Disco tracks such as 'Come Inside' by The Shades of Love and The Duncans' 'Too Damn Hot' have been firmly tested favourites in recent years.

We hope these songs, by the sensational artists on display, inspire you as much as they do us. Music is the gift that keeps giving and there is so much more to learn, find, and share.

"Among the great British bands celebrated during National Album Day, cult Liverpudlian act The La’s are in a league of their own: unlike all the other groups they share shelf space with this year, they are the sole group to have released only one album. Issued in October 1990, their self-titled debut has been hailed as one of the greatest albums of all time by NME, and was also placed at No.13 in Rolling Stone’s 2021 run-down of the 40 greatest “one-album wonders”.

Selling 300,000 copies in the US and 500,000 copies at home, The La’s has become an indie touchstone.

No shortage of that reputation rests on the single ‘There She Goes’, a reissue of which hit No.13 in the UK, on its way towards racking up double-platinum sales figures. With their album now making a return on “coke-bottle green” wax, The La’s have more than secured their place in British music history.




"

'We're excited to be able to bring you the latest wonderful album from Chester's boycalledcrow, after a series of superb releases for labels such as Mortality Tables, Waxing Crescent Records and Subexotic Records, including the wonderful Kullu from earlier this year.

Knott's music doesn't sit easily in any pre-existing genres, being at once strange and experimental, yet melodic and somehow comforting. His music is intimate and evocative, deeply personal, and manages to be both bucolic and yet totally 21st century, like Kraftwerk's robots dreaming of sheep.

The songs and sounds on “eyetrees” are inspired by a rich family life and the wonderful times spent with his wife and kids, both at home and out in nature.'

Knott said of the album and its inspirations:
“We enjoy spending time in the woods with our young children, creating stories about the "eye tree”. This tree, with thousands of eyes, watches over us and cares for us like family. We make fox medicine and cherish these blissful moments. The music reflects these times, seen through the colors of an old, fuzzy reel—orange, red, and yellow with blurred edges, like an old photo scorched by the sun.

I feel a deep spiritual connection to the countryside; the hands of Arcadia cradle me when I feel sad. Some of the album was created during times of sadness when I felt death was close and the lines between worlds were blurred. This feeling—that anything can happen and that life is delicate and can be taken away in a flash—permeates the music.

The song titles are stories and memories of my family, filled with hazy pinks, yellows, reds, and oranges.

Wonky acoustic guitar, broken electronics, and a warm, otherworldly space."

William Tyler is a Nashville guitarist and composer. He spent years woodshedding and touring with Nashville groups like Lambchop and Silver Jews before breaking away to focus on his own version of instrumental guitar music. In the summer of 2022 he was fortunate to have an artist residency at Epicenter in Green River, Utah, a tiny high desert town three hours from anything, One of the other non-profit friends of Epicenter was The Tank is Rangely, Colorado. The Tank itself is a giant and tall disused water tower from the high days of train travel and used to store water to cool train engines and such. Empty for decades, it is now an internationally recognized destination for sound art and almost unparalleled echo/acoustics. William Tyler decided to book recording time there and chose to re-interpret all of the songs of hie 2019 album "Goes West" in a sparse yet cavernous solo acoustic setting: "Something about the frailty and space I wanted the songs to imply was lost in the over-production of the studio record, This felt like a reclamation of the songs and also a symbolic tribute to the stunning, haunted and vast possibilities of the American West, especially at the twilight of American Empire.’

Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water, the self-titled debut from the duo of trumpeter Will Evans and guitarist, synthesist, producer and multi-instrumentalist Theo Trump, arrives like a vault revelation. It feels like a decades-old yet newly unearthed masterwork of gorgeous ambient improvisation, the sort of thing scholars live to research and shepherd into deluxe reissue.

The patient, crystalline chords that swell and resonate like a series of confessions; the textured brass murmurs that suggest a ’60s or ’70s Fire Music master at their most poignant. Provocative found-sound experiments threading arcane religious recordings through dystopian soundscapes. Ear-shattering free-noise tumult. Where and when did this music come from? Who are these voices?

As it turns out, Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water springs from an engrossing human story, though it isn’t necessarily the one you’d expect. This work of stunning maturity is in fact an entrance by two little-known explorers in their early 20s, who grew up together in Virginia, in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It documents one of those perfect, sparkling moments in post-adolescence when big decisions and responsibilities are right around the corner, but for a spell, two young artists are able to create among the comforts and nostalgia of their shared past.

It also represents a reunion of sorts, as Evans and Trump connected as toddlers, became inseparable as boys, then pursued independent lives and creative paths as young adults. “Theo is my oldest friend,” Evans says, “and I feel like that’s what this band is — us meeting right in the middle of our interests.”

Now, having conjured this magic, they’ve detached once again: Evans, whose other works include the indie/avant-jazz unit Angelica X, is currently based in New York City. Trump recently moved to England, where he’d participated in his family’s theatre company, to go to school and further his solo ambient project. “This album didn’t start out as something super ambitious,” Evans explains. “It was more just an excuse to spend time together again and make music.”

***

In conversation, Evans and Trump are a delight, especially for cynics who might think that Gen-Z is only capable of doomscrolling. They come across as kindly young intellectuals who grew up using the internet as it was intended, for exposure to ideas and art across genres and generations. Trump points to indie-folk and the oracular post-rock of late Talk Talk, Bark Psychosis and Gastr del Sol. Pressed for his guitar heroes, he cites Bill Orcutt, Mary Halvorson and Marc Ribot, and mentions his devotion to alt-country. Heyday electro-industrial stuff like Skinny Puppy and Nine Inch Nails also meant a lot to him.

Evans is equally intrepid, though his background has a greater jazz focus. Ambrose Akinmusire, among today’s most thoughtfully commanding trumpeters, is a favorite. As for the soulful murmur he offers throughout Forgetting You, Pharoah Sanders’ wistful and lyrical contributions to Floating Points’ work is a touchstone.

The two grew up down the street from each other in the northern Piedmont town of Batesville, Virginia. Their families were friends, holidays were celebrated together and they became the most loyal of pals. As children they had a pretend band.

Then life unfolded, they attended different schools and their paths diverged. Evans discovered John Coltrane and became a jazz obsessive, as Trump found punk and hardcore and later began making ambient music. As a dedicated jazz trumpeter, Evans studied formally and widely; Trump was an autodidact, teaching himself guitar and absorbing synthesis and production techniques. The late teens and very early 20s brought moves away from home and back to home, as well as plenty of listening and learning. The Covid pandemic meant an opportunity to reconnect on long walks. Through it all, together and apart, they remained reverent of each other.

By early 2023, they found themselves living again among the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the evening, after giving trumpet lessons in Charlottesville, Evans would make the eerily beautiful trek “over the mountain” to Trump’s home in Staunton, Virginia. They’d talk and eat and begin to improvise, deep into the night. Evans played trumpet and sometimes drums. (Given the wee-hours recording schedule, the neighbors didn’t appreciate the latter.) Trump plugged a rickety, junk-store Telecaster-style guitar into a cheap solid-state amp and explored open tunings; he also layered on lap steel, electric bass, synths and electronics.

They locked in and relished each other’s gifts. In Trump, those include patience and intentionality and sonic decision-making; for Evans, a distinctive trumpet sound that both musicians think of as a singer’s voice. “Will’s playing is so thoughtful and well placed,” Trump says. “My goal from a producer’s mindset is that the trumpet will occupy the space that vocals would take.”

Often, they got lost in the best way. “The thing I look for most when I’m playing is that feeling of disappearing into what you’re doing,” Evans says. “Usually when that happens, the music is good.”

By the same token, they didn’t pursue free improvisation as an ethic, or as a pure process. Their goal was something closer to spontaneous composition. “We were trying to make good songs,” Evans says simply. Later, Trump did brilliant post-production work, expanding a modest setup into an enthralling soundworld. Under his judicious editorship, music that was wholly improvised sounds at times like a carefully composed new-music commission.

The results speak for themselves. “A Happy Death” summons up a swath of American desolation through the viewfinder of Wim Wenders. “Flesh of Lost Summers” and “Partings” are highlights from an essential ECM LP that never was. “A Collapse of Horses” infuses those seminal post-rock influences with the plod of doom metal or slowcore. The album’s final track, “The Mountains Are a Dream That Calls to Me,” was in fact the first thing the duo recorded, as an evocation of those twilit drives across the Blue Ridge Mountains. “Looking back at what we chose to name the songs,” Evans says, “and some of the sounds and how they make me feel, there is an air of impermanence and loss to this album.”

“I’m excited for everything that’s to come,” he adds, “but I recently thought, ‘Damn — that’s not going to happen again.’ It was a privilege for us to have that time together.”

The Funeral Portrait stands to represent the outcasts from all walks of life. The misunderstood, the weird, neurodivergent, LGBTQ+, marginalised or otherwise given an unfair hand in life. To offer a sense of community, a place to belong and a space where they can feel safe and accepted for their differences. The band members all grew up as 'the weird kid' who was saved by music and alternative culture, so they now feel obligated to return this favour to the younger generation. This message is shouted to the masses through their over-the-top theatrics and dramatic, almost blown out presentation. The Funeral Portrait believes in the power of Devotion to their Music and to their unwavering fanbase, The Coffin Crew. The ritual is beginning and they want everyone involved. Join them to share your devoutness; excuses for not attending are forbidden.

Crystal Clear Vinyl. Hamartia is the fatal flaw leading to the downfall of a tragic hero or heroine. A narrative tool often determining a character's arc (or fate) underpinning many of our favorite stories in film, literature, and music. Meredith Johnston, the singer-songwriter-producer at the heart of indie project Warm Human, borrowed the term for the title of her latest LP, and her first for Sooper Records. Hamartia finds Johnston probing the depths of her fatal flaw, self-hatred, without skimping on the catchy hooks and bracingly frank lyricism. "This whole album is pop music for deranged people" she says. Johnston wrote and produced the album with Chicago composer and producer Conor Mackey (Lynyn, Monobody, NNAMDI). Together, the pair crafted an album that draws liberally from its diverse influences, incorporating down-tempo electronics, drum n' bass, indie rock, synth pop, and elegant, unstructured soundscapes. Hamartia finds humanity in electronic music, with warm synths, guitars, and shape-shifting vocal stacks frequently creating a one-woman choir. Hamartia is buoyed by the best music of Warm Human's career, from the probing "Father Father" to the insightful "My Moods!!" and the musical dish session "Love 2 Hate." Inspired by Portishead, Sheryl Crow, Frou Frou and others, the LP can be both wryly funny and incisive in the span of a single couplet ("I asked for space and you gave me the moon," she sings on "My Moods!!" adding, "I'm riding shotgun with my shit attitude"). Hamartia is a perfect pop soundtrack for our current moment because its irresistible hooks and quotable lyrics are the opposite of empty escapism-they're an invitation to acknowledge your own struggles and flaws. To get in touch with your hamartia. Recommended if you like: Imogen Heap, Sylvan Esso, Madonna, Portishead, Frou Frou, Sophie, Postal Service, Sheryl Crow.

Xylitol is the alias of Catherine Backhouse, producer and DJ under the name DJ Bunnyhausen. She was a resident DJ at Kosmische, the now dormant Krautrock club and is a fan of jungle and hardcore. She currently co-hosts the radio show Slav To The Rhythm, which focuses on vintage central and eastern European pop and electronica and she's also co-writing a book on Yugoslavian pop culture. 'Anemones' is a total project from the cover to the music. Backhouse is fascinated by early botanical illustrations of anemones and other aquatic fauna, and how the act of taxonomy reveals as much about human psychology, desire and sublimation as it does about the organic specimen as a thing in itself. Each track is a microcosm of this 'other life', an allegory for the extraordinary potential latent within bodies that the dancefloor has the power to activate. Using early jungle and garage as starting points to connect dots and open up contrasts between dance music and vintage electronics, Backhouse finds a sweet spot which, in her words "feels like something that's simultaneously still and ancient yet propulsive and ecstatic." Not afraid of letting the the hiss and flutter of the music show, 'Anemones' holds attention with ancient bubbling synths and gracefully drifting arpeggiations, occasionally brought to heel by charming melodies, all accompanied by breakbeats that explode like fireworks. 'Anemones' has a lively and unpolished aesthetic that's a kindred spirit to Nondi_'s 2023 album of smeary, water-damaged footwork, 'Flood City Trax'. 'Moebius' pits the spaced out neon chords of the track's namesake against absolutely tearing breaks, allowing time for this almost overwhelming combination to become near enough transcendental, while the bleeping melody and sad slavic chorus motif in 'Okko' feels like an artifact from an alternative future. The Drexciya meets 2-step garage of 'Dobro Jutro' creates a welcome respite at the album's midpoint before the flow builds up again to 'Daša' with its glassy sounds from a lost radiophonic workshop miniature meeting bruising kicks and snares. Meanwhile 'Iskria' has purring synth chords and 8-bit melodies evoking the cosmonaut age. The subliminal influence of the Yugo era is felt in DIY synthesis and Mitteleuropean melody and seen in song titles such as 'Jelena', 'Miha', 'Daša' (named after novelist Daša Drndič) and 'Iskria' (taken from the fictitious Balkan region in Ottessa Moshfegh's bleak fable 'Lapvona'). 'Anemones' very effectively folds experimental genres from different times and places into a very enjoyable new sound.

»lacuna and parlor« is anchored in the left-field chamber music and incidental recordings that have long accented more eaze’s roving sound. Composed with one ear pressed to the rich textures of instrumental recording environments, this is a resonant and tactile collection tinged in rephrased space and skewed time.

Taking the rudiments of tonal music theory as her conceptual base, more eaze formed the compositions around her own manipulations of these core principles. Simple chord progressions stretch over minutes rather than seconds, for example, while elsewhere specific tonal signifiers were deleted from harmonic progressions, altering the expectations of these tropes.

These and many other bespoke techniques underpin compositions that span Americana-inflected ambient ballads and jaunty string recitals. With wistful vocals, bursts of improvisatory noise, loose chatter and overdubbed room sounds flowing in and out of the mix, more eaze invites us to lounge and linger in these lacunate moments, at once heard, felt and imagined.

Kindred spirits Passepartout Duo and Inoyama Land embody the essence of play - charting a new chapter and reinvigorating the environmental music and electronic landscape.

Passepartout Duo is formed of Nicoletta Favari (IT) and Christopher Salvito (IT/US), who since 2015 have been on a continuous journey travelling the world's corners, engaged in a creative process they term "slow music". Having been guests of many notable artist residencies and with live performances in cultural spaces and institutions, their evocative music escapes categorisation. With no fixed abode their musical pilgrimage brought them to Japan first in 2019, which prompted a deep connection to Kanky? Ongaku 'environmental music', a genre in which Inoyama Land is often associated with, soundtracking the duo's first immersive experience. In 2023 the duo revisited Japan and set out to reconnect in particular with the music of Inoyama Land, performed by Makoto Inoue and Yasushi Yamashita. The highly revered album 'Danzindan-Pojidon' (1983) produced by Haruomi Hosono amongst other well publicized and acclaimed reissues (Light in The Attic Records' Grammy-nominated compilation 'Kanky? Ongaku'), produced a global resurgence and admiration of the environmental music movement. Nicoletta took the lead to seek out Inoyama Land and in making contact successfully their intrigue and eagerness to meet was warmly reciprocated, and the group scheduled to meet in the form of a spontaneous improvisation session. "We're deeply concerned with what it means to be a duo, and what it means for people to connect through music."

Radio Yugawara is a unique one-off transmission from a specific place and point in time, unlikely to ever occur again. The respective duo's approach can really be described as "tuning in", a tuning into each other, to themselves, and to the surrounding nature of Yugawara. Like waves that travel off-world, sounds travel through the universe and can be lost forever if we don't seek them out. In finding a harmonic affinity within their instruments and a spiritual kinship in their interwoven performance, Radio Yugawara at its core is an interpretation of feeling, of close human interaction and the true essence of discovery.

"The album is both a transmission from a location, but also a tuning into the surroundings and to each other. Music in this kind of ephemeral moment is much less about active creation and more about discovering something which is already there in the air."

On 4 October 2024 Universal Music Recordings and Decca Records are making Jamaican/British jazz saxophonist Joe Harriott’s album ‘Movement’ available again for the first time since it was released in 1964. Long sought after by collectors and connoisseurs, original copies now sell for upwards of £1,000.

This new edition was mastered at Abbey Road using high definition 24bit/192kHz audio files, copied directly from the original stereo analogue master tapes (previously only the mono version has been on vinyl). Images of those tapes are included in the package alongside new sleeve notes written by noted author, compiler and documentary maker Tony Higgins, who also acts as Executive Producer for Decca’s ‘British Jazz Explosion’ series.

Recorded in 1963, ‘Movement’ was released as part of the Lansdowne Series, overseen by the influential Denis Preston, one of the UK’s first independent record producers, and engineered by Adrian Kerridge. Of the nine tracks, seven are Harriott originals, whilst the other two were written by another pioneer of British Jazz, Michael Garrick. Playing alongside Joe were bassist Coleridge Goode (b. 1914 Jamaica, d. 2015 London), drummer Bobby Orr (b. Scotland 1928, d. 2020), pianist Pat Smythe (b. Scotland 1923, d. 1983), and trumpet/flugelhorn player Ellsworth ‘Shake’ Keane (b. St. Vincent 1927, d. 1997).

Born in Jamaica in 1928, Joseph Arthurlin Harriott was a pupil at the Alpha Boys School (alma mater to Harold McNair, Dizzy Reece, and a myriad of Ska greats). He arrived in Britain in the early ’50s, initially touring with the Ozzie Da Costa Band, followed by a brief spell with the Ronnie Scott Big Band, and sessions backing the likes of George Chisholm, and Lita Roza.

By the mid ’50s Joe was a big enough draw to release records under his own name, and whilst these early recordings conform to the then popular bop style, the following decade would see him release albums whose titles chart his development; ‘Free Form’ in 1960, and ‘Abstract’ in 1963.

‘Movement’ is a testament to Joe Harriott’s visionary approach to jazz. It blends structure with freedom, tradition with innovation, and individual expression with collective creativity. His development of free-form jazz represents a significant contribution to the genre, paralleling yet distinct from the work of Ornette Coleman and other American free jazz artists. It is an essential listen, not only for fans of British jazz, but jazz fans in general.

It is perhaps best summed up by the epitaph that now adorns Joe’s gravestone; “Parker? There’s them over here can play a few aces too.”

The 180g vinyl is available in two colors: Classic Black and a Limited Burgundy Edition, with the outer cover hand-colored and numbered (100 copies) by Moo Latte himself.

Mellomaniac, the seventh full-length album by Moo Latte, is different. These 28 compositions, written and recorded in 2021/22, were initially created for Moo's personal use, serving as a life soundtrack during many weeks and months spent away from home while touring with the band. Most of the tracks were recorded in hotel rooms and even backstage areas, fully embracing the lo-fi mindset and philsophy. Comparing to his previous works, this one holds a special significance and it's the most personal of them all.

What's Mellomaniac? The wordplay combines "melomania"—defined as an excessive and abnormal attraction to music—with the "mello" vibe that reflects both Moo Latte's personality and the nature of the music itself. The album leans toward a mellow sound, designed more for an intimate, individual listening experience where each spin of the record leads to new discoveries.

Why is this album different? Each of these pieces was created without any predetermined goal, which is why the tracklist is so eclectic—much like Moo Latte's palette of inspirations. These influences stretch back to when he was just four years old, singing in front of others for the first time or listening to his sister practice the violin. These early memories and instincts are blended with more deliberate musical choices, refined over two decades of music education. Each song is dedicated to a person, place, or situation that shaped him both as a musician and as an individual, reflecting the journey he has been on so far.

After six previous albums rooted in beat-making culture, this is the first one that is 95% drumless and free from sampling of any kind. Although the stories in these songs are told without words, Moo Latte incorporates his voice alongside a wide array of instruments, using it more expressively than ever before. The album's sonic quality is both raw and lush. The grit comes from the way it was recorded, using gear and microphones that, while not top-tier, were simply what was available. Everything was mixed in Moo Latte's bedroom and mastered on analog tape, resulting in a personal, intimate, and dynamic listening experience.

The 180g vinyl is available in two colors: Classic Black and a Limited Burgundy Edition, with the outer cover hand-colored and numbered (100 copies) by Moo Latte himself.

Mellomaniac, the seventh full-length album by Moo Latte, is different. These 28 compositions, written and recorded in 2021/22, were initially created for Moo's personal use, serving as a life soundtrack during many weeks and months spent away from home while touring with the band. Most of the tracks were recorded in hotel rooms and even backstage areas, fully embracing the lo-fi mindset and philsophy. Comparing to his previous works, this one holds a special significance and it's the most personal of them all.

What's Mellomaniac? The wordplay combines "melomania"—defined as an excessive and abnormal attraction to music—with the "mello" vibe that reflects both Moo Latte's personality and the nature of the music itself. The album leans toward a mellow sound, designed more for an intimate, individual listening experience where each spin of the record leads to new discoveries.

Why is this album different? Each of these pieces was created without any predetermined goal, which is why the tracklist is so eclectic—much like Moo Latte's palette of inspirations. These influences stretch back to when he was just four years old, singing in front of others for the first time or listening to his sister practice the violin. These early memories and instincts are blended with more deliberate musical choices, refined over two decades of music education. Each song is dedicated to a person, place, or situation that shaped him both as a musician and as an individual, reflecting the journey he has been on so far.

After six previous albums rooted in beat-making culture, this is the first one that is 95% drumless and free from sampling of any kind. Although the stories in these songs are told without words, Moo Latte incorporates his voice alongside a wide array of instruments, using it more expressively than ever before. The album's sonic quality is both raw and lush. The grit comes from the way it was recorded, using gear and microphones that, while not top-tier, were simply what was available. Everything was mixed in Moo Latte's bedroom and mastered on analog tape, resulting in a personal, intimate, and dynamic listening experience.

Behind the deceptive veneer of the demure monotone artwork, something unassuming lies within this long-play waiting to be explored. Intrigued by the ironic title, enticed by the elegant text positioned alone on the beautifully tactile matte canvas, the listener will experience musical wonderment at odds with the presentation and discover that the 1976 album Colours is a powerful yet sophisticated set of electric soul-jazz. An inspired recording that bursts with warmth and texture, the pivotal recording from an exceptional jazz musician. HER name - Judy Bailey.

Over the course of a 70 year career, the pianist and composer established herself as one of the central figures of Australian jazz. Her crowning achievement Colours is a spirited and ambitious recording that captured the maturation and shifting jazz landscape of the mid 1970s Australia. Alongside other notable albums recorded mid decade including the 1975 self titled album by Melbourne's Arena (see Roundtable SIR014)) and Jackie Orszaczky's Beramiada (1975), the album signalled the countries transition from semi-acoustic jazz to electric jazz-funk. Regularly compared to the albums released on Creed Taylor's CTI label, Colours parallel these recordings with their clean production and spacious soul-jazz arrangements. In particular the crisp drums and processed bass heard on Bob James and Joe Farrell albums, the sprightly flute of Hubert Laws or perhaps the more sensual side of Flora Purim's vocals could all be suggested as a source of influence.

Continuing to celebrate and re-document Australia's jazz music legacy, The Roundtable are pleased to offer the first vinyl reissue of this seminal Australian Jazz recording. Presented in a replica gatefold sleeve with new liner notes, the full palette can once again be appreciated including the moody funk of Fall Down Dead, the Iberian Waltz Toledo, the Jazz-Dance anthem Colours Of My Dream and the spacey impressionist piece The Eleven Eight Song.

Amputechture Beneath the technical flash, the fury, the fearless creative brinkmanship of the first two Mars Volta albums lay a potent seam of the blues, an existential vexation that powered every twist and turn of Omar and Cedric’s imaginations. That mournful vibe would come to the surface of the group’s third full-length Amputechture, a simmering/blistering set that was unquestionably the group’s darkest yet. There was no overarching theme here, no interlinking concept binding the songs together, though Cedric concedes that, lyrically, the album was influenced “by a lot of stuff I was going through, a really bad break-up and a lot of other crazy stuff, and trying to put that feeling into the record.” But Amputechture – its name another of the late Jeremy Michael Ward’s invented words – was no downbeat bummer. Opener Vicarious Atonement might’ve been a deliciously gloomy, slow-burning thing, capturing Cedric in delirious duet with Omar’s swooning guitar lines, accompanied by squalling saxophone by Adrian Terrazas-Gonzales and dream-frequency fuckery by the group’s new sonic manipulator, former At The Drive- In member Paul Hinojos. But second track Tetragrammaton swiftly set pulses racing, an epic-in-miniature and containing more ideas within its 16 minutes than most bands manage over an entire career, its proggy, complex guitar figures tessellating in infinite configurations and converging as if conforming to mathematical formulae from another reality. The raw material Amputechture was hewn from started life on the road. Omar now travelled with his own mobile recording studio – a little Neve ten-channel tape recorder and an array of microphones – and was able to work on new ideas on tourbuses, in hotel rooms and during soundcheck (and, occasionally, after the show was done). After touring for Frances The Mute was complete, Omar relocated to Amsterdam, staying with his photographer friend Danielle Van Ark and her partner, Nils Post. It’s here that he demoed Amputechture, flying in engineer Jon DeBaun, drummer Jon Theodore and his brother, Chino, to work on these raw sketches. He later returned to Los Angeles, where the album was finally recorded. Omar ceded guitar duties to his dear friend and kindred spirit John Frusciante, instead assuming the role of musical director. “I wanted to hear the sound of the band,” he says. “I thought, I’ll be able to sit at the console, feel the air of the speakers moving, the unified sound of everything, and not feel distant from it. It was fun, but it was also challenging.” Part of Omar’s new method was to teach the musicians their parts only moments before the tapes rolled. “To keep things fresh, and to keep everyone on edge,” he says, before chuckling. “No, not on edge – on their toes. Amputechture would prove The Mars Volta’s most diverse set yet, drawing into the group’s tornado of influences moments of fiery jazz spirituality and esoteric folk introspection, finding space for passages of devastating subtlety and also their most fierce and full-on moments to date. The aforementioned Vicarious Atonement found its meditative mood echoed by Asilos Magdalena, an intimate, acoustic piece that invoked traditional Latin folk music, as Cedric sang in Spanish a sorrowful tale of a lost soul’s quest for sanctuary within a Magdalen Asylum, a refuge set up by the Catholic church for “fallen women”. The shadowy, sinister closer El Ciervo Vulnerado, meanwhile, tapped into the darker side of spiritual jazz to further explore the album’s themes of redemption and religious myth and magick. Elsewhere, the interplay between guitar and clarinet on Viscera Eyes created complex, unsettling counter-melodies, while the coiling, ornate Meccamputechture – Cedric’s wild fusion of sacred texts, occultism and dystopian science fiction – proved a great showcase for Ikey Owens’ swarming, infernal organ runs, in concert with Frusciante’s arcane guitar-play. But it was Day Of The Baphomets that would prove Amputechture’s most ambitious and most defining epic. Cedric’s lyrics tore into the hypocrisy of religious cant and myths of sin and punishment. “I wanted to make a song that was like the movie The Believers, where this cabal stole kids and did some occult shit with them,” he explains. “But I wanted it to be like, ‘What if the people you hire to do jobs you don’t wanna do rise up one day and then pull some shit like that?’ Like it was the guerrilla warfare, them taking over – wouldn’t that be some fucked up shit? And the music just lent itself to that – the big intro, the bass solo, and all of the ruckus that occurs.” That ruckus was some of the most thrilling Mars Volta music yet, as Omar directed his musicians to rumble through fiery modes of wild tribal groove, ransack-the-palaces riot- rock and supreme progressive experimentalism. Amputechture, then, is the sound of The Mars Volta in imperial mode: fearless, insatiable, unstoppable.

Sasu Ripatti presents the fourth volume in his "Dancefloor Classics" series with five 10" releases coming throughout 2023. Music for imaginary dancefloors, released on Ripatti's own label "Rajaton".

”Look up, into the light” she said, while the camera shutter clicked. ”Like this? Does it look holy?” His neck felt stiff. Her reply: ”Yes, just like that. What do you mean holy? Like religious? ”No, more like trying to look very far, somewhere beyond what we can see.” ”Okay, stand still, I’m going to come close to you now. The light hits your face great.” click, click, click.

He noticed her fingernails. They were not polished. Natural. Even somewhat rugged, as if something wore out the fingers slightly. What had these hands held besides the camera? What made the edges of her fingernails drift off?

He thought it’s weird to look straight into the camera. The photographer had closed her left eye, the one not looking into the lens. Then it opened, she looked up, perusing the surroundings, then she closed her eye again, then looked up, closed, looking up, very quickly. It all seemed very professional. Maybe she calculated the light, making sure it’s close to perfect. ”What will these photos look like?” – the thought popped into his head briefly. It was liberating to think it wouldn’t matter.

”What’s that song playing?” he asked. ”Wait a sec, Ol’ Dirty Bastard?” she replied. ”Oh yeah, right. But the sample?” ”Hey, could you look up again, like that. No, lower.”

New directions: ”Look out from the window, turn left.” ”My left or yours?” ”Yours, I always try to think from the direction of my model.” How professional! This is a good shoot, so natural. Should I worry about how the photos look like? No, I don’t want to. His thoughts bounced around. What would the story be like? It’s a big newspaper, everyone will read it. Maybe someone drinks coffee and eats a stroopwafel while they do it. Will they place the waffle on top of the mug for a brief while, so that it gets hot and the syrup melts a little? Then it feels wet, and you can bend the cookie.

She broke his train of thought off midway through: ”Now turn right, but look left, and slightly up, but don’t turn your face right.” ”Umm, like this? Sounds like a set of pilates instructions.” she laughed ”You do pilates?” ”Yeah, it’s hard sometimes. Have you tried?” ”No”, she said. ”I’m not good for sports that are done in groups.” ”Yeah, but in pilates you can just be inside your mind, drowning in your private thoughts.”

”What are you thinking in pilates?” she asked, taking more photos. ”Well, mostly just which way is right. And which left.” click, click.

Q&A with Sasu Ripatti:

1) Tell us something about the EP series ”Dancefloor Classics”, what’s the idea and what can we expect?

I’ve been slowly writing these sort of dance music pieces and finally curated them together for a conceptual release. I like to create music for a dancefloor that exists only in my imagination and doesn’t try to suck up to the standardized reality.

2) Your vinyl format is 10” which is quite special (as opposed to LP / 12”). Why did you choose it?

It’s my favourite format, absolutely. The size is perfect, and you can make it sound really good @ 45 rpm. And you still can make great artwork.

3) You seem interested in sampling/repurposing, what does it mean to you as an artist to approach something already existing from a new angle? How does the source material inform you about the approach to take?

I guess i could flip it around and just say I’ve outgrown synths or electronic sounds to a great extend, and having gotten rid off all my synths already good while ago I’ve used samples as my main source material a lot. It’s obvious on this series that i’ve sampled existing music, but I also sample instruments and things in the studio and resample my own library that I have built over the years, it’s quite large. To me the end result matters, not so much how I get there. Once I have something on my keyboard and play around, it’s all an instrument, though with sampling other music it becomes a really interesting and complex one as you’re possibly playing rhythm, but also harmonic content and maybe hooks or whatever, all at once.
I never sample premeditadedly, like listening to records and looking for that mindblowing 3 sec part. I just throw the cards in the air and see what lands where, just full intuition and hopefully zero mind involved, playing tons of stuff, trying things, just recording hours of stuff. Then comes the interesting part to listen to hours of mostly crazy stuff and finding that mindblowing 3 sec part.

4) What is your relationship with the dancefloor (conceptually and/or in experiences / as a performer)?

Very complicated. I have never really felt comfortable on a dancefloor but have always wanted to. There’s something in club music, in theory, that really speaks to me. It has never really materialized for me – speaking mainly from a performer’s point of view who goes to check on a dancefloor for a moment after a concert. I never have DJ’d or felt much interest towards it. But again, I love the idea and concept of DJing. As well as producing music for imaginary DJs. Lately, as in the past 10+ years, I haven’t even performed in any sort of club spaces. So my relationship to the dancefloor is quite removed and reduced, but there’s quite a bit of passion and interest left.

All tracks composed and produced by Sasu Ripatti.
Artwork & photography by Marc Hohmann.
Mastering by Stephan Mathieu for Schwebung Mastering.
Vinyl cut by SST Brueggemann.
Publishing by WARP Music Ltd.

Maelstrom returns to Central Processing Unit for the fourth time, and it's the one born Joan-Mael Péneau's lengthiest drop on the Sheffield label yet. The French artist has been a mainstay in the European electro game since the 2000s, and Malestrom brings that experience to bear on new LP The FM Tapes. He goes about this album with the assurance of a seasoned pro, combining his mastery of electro production techniques with a trademark guile to craft an expertly-paced eleven-track affair.

The first section of The FM Tapes sets out the album's stall with style and aplomb - listeners are in store for a rich feast of off-kilter machine-funk which will feature no shortage of intriguing detours. On opener 'Ondes Courtes' the mix throbs with all manner of strange electronic gristle: a distorted bass hum rattles the monitors; wisps of distortion float across the mix; eerily pretty keys wax and wane before giving way to a radar pulse.

'Ondes Courtes' is an ominous slouch of a scene-setter, and it lines things up perfectly for following cut 'Alt50ser' to lock in. This track's churning, gurgling mid-tempo rattle brings to mind the wacky insistence of Modeselektor. Maelstrom repeats the slow-fast one-two again directly afterwards - 'La Vie Sociale Des', a strange nugget that sounds like an early Eski instrumental stripped for parts and blasted into the cosmos, is an ideal prelude to the twitchy space-funk of 'My Digitone'.

Maelstrom's staying power in the electro world comes, in no small part, from his ability to apply his delightfully idiosyncratic choices to some of the genre's staple production tropes. On The FM Tapes, he marks himself out once more as a pleasingly unorthodox talent by taking tracks in unexpected directions to produce surprising - and often rather moving - results.

There are multiple cuts here which channel the more cerebral end of Richard D. James' AFX/Analord output: 'My Digitone' may be a quicksilver techno-electro number, but there's still something cinematic about the synth treatment here which softens the edges; 'Suede's minor-key oscillations bring other CPU veterans like Cygnus and Bochum Welt into view; 'Res 06', one of two Fasme collaborations on the record, is full of pathos even as the beat programming bangs and whirrs throughout.

While there's a deep emotional undercurrent to The FM Tapes, though, Maelstrom's commitment to bringing the thrills surfaces time and again. If 'Res 06' had Maelstrom and Fasme getting wistful, the album's other Fasme link-up 'Trempo' is one of the hardest club joints here, a piece of old-school Detroit energy replete with some great cascading drum production. Indeed, 'Trempo' comes in the middle of a run towards the album's end where Maelstrom takes the handbrake off - there's a wild-eyed sense of fun to 'The Operator' and 'Upside Down DX7' which has one thinking of the zany cut-and-thrust of KiNK's best work.

Maelstrom's latest drop for Sheffield's Central Processing Unit label is an album of leftfield electro numbers that bring both pounding beats and poignant production.

RIYL: KiNK, Modeselektor, Cygnus, Bochum Welt, AFX

Black Vinyl. In Rumi's poem A Great Wagon he writes of a place of total acceptance. "Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there," It is a boundless, liminal space where we can release the judgments we make and carry of ourselves, and the comparisons to others. When we think of this field, there is a sense of tranquility that only comes when we are undisturbed by the shadow self and see existence as neither bright nor dim, white nor black. But as lead singer Greg Bertens explains, arriving there is a whole different story. "This is a poem I've returned to over the years, and I love the idea of this place, but getting there is life's journey." Bertens adds "I think the longing for and elusiveness of this field is a recurring theme in our music." Field is enveloped by themes of regret, disconnection and frustration but with the space to understand that these feelings are a natural part of the struggle between reconciling the inner and outer self. The Los Angeles/San Francisco-based group have been indie shoegaze stalwarts since their formation in 2001. After two decades and a handful of line-up changes, their extensive discography presents a dynamically textural, lush psychedelic rock that has featured guest appearances by members of Pavement, My Bloody Valentine, and Snow Patrol, among others. 2021's LP We Weren't Here (Sonic Ritual) was hailed for its dense instrumental blanket, where unrelenting hi-hats and heavy kicks exist alongside dreamy drone guitar. This propulsive nature permeates Field, as members Bertens, Noël Brydebell (vocals), Nyles Lannon (guitar), Jason Ruck (synths), Justin LaBo (bass), and Adam Wade (drums) produce a kaleidoscopic sonic landscape. Patient, sprawling instrumentation builds a foundation in which Bertens' themes of endurance, perseverance and clarity can bloom with a considered poise. As a lyricist who writes in response to the instrumental arrangements, rather than a focus on a specific theme or person, Field is a testament to Film School's ability to create in the moment, and to showcase the magic that stems from when we are truly present. With over two decades in the industry, Field cements Film School as a distinct, dominant force in the shoegaze scene. Soaked in an emotionally open, imaginative atmosphere, the album is both singular and expansive, and leaves the door open for a constantly evolving interpretation. Film School have never confined themselves to the rigidity of specifics, and it's on Field that they urge us to look beyond the binary of certainty, and to take a second look.

In April 2023, there was released the first part of the Fluxus edition called Stolen Symphony. The year has come and gone and there is the second part of the Fluxus edition called Keep Together. At the centre of both parts of this edition was a broken piano, acquired by the Opening Performance Orchestra for the purpose of making live and studio recordings. During this time other new works for this broken piano were written by diverse Fluxus and non-Fluxus composers. In the spring of 2022, the Opening Performance Orchestra and broken piano participated in an event hosted by Mieko Shiomi. This was a new version of her early work Spatial Poem, documentation of which was presented at the 2022 Aichi Triennale in Tokyo. At present, broken piano lies in the open air in Prague and is subject to gradual decay.

These both parts of this edition contain 73 new and old pieces, live and studio recordings, finished pieces and scores to be performed, solos and pieces for ensemble, using classical and special instruments from 33 Fluxus artists, which have been played by 10 soloists and 4 ensembles. There are new essays and articles from 15 writers on the theme Fluxus, original photos and other documentation in the booklets.

To launch Mr Bongo’s new Cuban Classic Series, we are thrilled to present this sought-after, psychedelic-funk masterpiece. A fusion of traditional Latin and Afro-Cuban rhythms meets disco, jazz, and funk, with hints of 70s soundtrack productions, this much-loved cult album featuring nine predominantly instrumental tracks is a real treasure that deserves a much wider appreciation. One look at the trippy artwork and you know it is going to be special.

Originally released in 1977 on Areito Records, a sub-label of the state-owned label Egrem, it has become one of the rarest (even in Cuba) and most in-demand albums to come from the label. It is the sole album from Grupo Los Yoyi and was composed, orchestrated, and produced by the mysterious, Jorge Soler Leó.

After Castro ring-fenced Cuba with an embargo on, among other things, Western music, the ‘Yoyi’ album had a sound more left of centre than what was normally allowed to be recorded there at the time. It subtly and covertly flirts with disco, jazz-funk, and electronic sounds coming from the US and Europe. It is probably best known for the space funk, bubbly club cut 'Paco La Calle’. A track that was edited in 2008 by the fantastic DJ / producer, Nick the Record, and one that is guaranteed to set a discerning dancefloor alight. However, ‘Yoyi’ is far from a one-track album. Other highlights include, 'Banana’, with its call and response trombone and horn section, squelchy keys, pulsating breaks and percussion, and a loose, floating vocal arrangement. 'Tu No Me Puedes Conquistar' is a beautiful, bouncing plodder with a variety of instruments interchanging as the track progresses. 'Ruta 30' takes things in a straighter Latin direction, which we are accustomed to from Cuba at that time, yet it is still full of personality, treats and vigour. Take our word for it, this album is strong throughout.

This is one of our favourites and most beloved albums to come out of Cuba and is the perfect flagship for our Cuban Classics Series. Look out for plenty more to come real soon.

A new piece by minimalist / experimental composer PHILL NIBLOCK (1933 - 2024), co-composed and performed by ANNA CLEMENTI & THOMAS STERN. Intense, menacing layers of thick drones and alien sounds.

In summer 2022, within just a few weeks and by pure coincidence, 2 proposals regarding PHILL NIBLOCK albums arrived: one suggesting an overdue vinyl reissue of a CD release (more on that when the time has come for it), the other email was from ANNA CLEMENTI saying she and THOMAS STERN were working on new pieces that PHILL NIBLOCK has written for her … when "Zound Delta 2" was complete, PHILL sent photographs for the two artworks, we met twice to discuss details, but unfortunately he died unexpectedly early january this year so the album now is, sad as it is, a posthumous release … an intense goodbye from one of 20thcentury most iconic composers.

Phill Niblock

Phill Niblock (1933-2024, USA) was an artist whose fifty-year career spans minimalist and experimental music, film and photography. Since 1985, he has served as director of Experimental Intermedia, a foundation for avant-garde music based in New York with a branch in Ghent, and curator of the foundation's record label XI. Known for his thick, loud drones of music, Niblock's signature sound is filled with microtones of instrumental timbres that generate many other tones in the performance space. In 2013, his diverse artistic career was the subject of a retrospective realised in partnership between Circuit (Contemporary Art Centre Lausanne) and Musée de l'Elysée. The following year Niblock was honoured with the prestigious Foundation for Contemporary Arts John Cage Award.

Anna Clementi

Italian-Swedish singer Anna Clementi grew up in Rome, where she first studied the flute and completed acting training before moving to Berlin and studying experimental vocal music and experimental music theater with the composer Dieter Schnebel at Hochschule der Künste (now UdK Berlin). Anna Clementi sees herself as an "actress of the voice" rather than exclusively as a singer. In this way she also articulates the diversity of her artistic expression, with which she is always searching for new connections between voice, gesture, language, dance and theater.

During her decades spanning career, Anna Clementi has performed at the most important festivals, has premiered numerous works, many of which have been composed especially for her, and worked with Fast Forward, Michael Hirsch, Rupert Huber, Christian Kesten, Alexander Kolkowski, Olga Neuwirth, Josef Anton Riedl, Iris ter Schiphorst, Dieter Schnebel, Laurie Schwartz, Elliott Sharp, and many others.

A special focus of hers is the work of John Cage, whose pieces she has performed worldwide.

Thomas Stern

Born in Bremen, Thomas Stern moved to Berlin in 1984 where he joined Mona Mur with Alex Hacke and F. M. Einheit (both from Einstürzende Neubauten, with which Stern also worked as live sound engineer for many years). Around 1987 he co-founded the Berlin set up of Crime And The City Solution (Mick Harvey, Alex Hacke a.o.). Over the years, he has has collaborated with artists like Ulrike Haage, Phew, Nick Cave, Ton Steine Scherben, Meret Becker, Nina Hagen, Jaki Liebezeit, Ben Becker, N.U. Unruh, Gry, Iris ter Schiphorst, Automat, Swans, Hans Joacxhim Irmler and many more, on the road or in his own Sternstaubstudio.
credits:

Anna Clementi: voice

Thomas Stern: slide guitar, bass and soundprocessing

Composition by Phill Niblock, Anna Clementi and Thomas Stern

Recorded and mixed by Thomas Stern at Sternstaubstudio, Berlin

Mastering and lacquer cut: Kassian Troyer at D&M, Berlin

Cover photography by Phill Niblock

Layout and design by kaidoh

For the past two decades, Dr Roman Belavkin (Solar X) has been deeply involved in AI research and mathematics at British universities. His albums from the 1990s are a testament to an era defined by the early internet-bulletin boards, FTP sites and mailing lists. In keeping with this, Solar X's music sounds surprisingly futuristic, a romantic artifact of a time eagerly anticipating tomorrow.

Following the re-issue of Solar-X's "Xrated" in 2019, GALAXIID is releasing his debut "Outre X Mer". All tracks are from the original DAT tapes and have been remastered for this release. "Pozdno Utrom", "Dileg" and "Solar X" were originally released on the "Outre X Mer EP" on Defective Records in 1995. Other tracks are out on vinyl and digital platforms for the first time.

"I was homebound for two years between 1992 and 1994, and the only way I could escape was through computer networks and writing," Belavkin recalls. Before the nasty car accident he was a member of the USSR/Russia national wushu team. Confined to his home, Belavkin started creating tracks based on ideas from his school days in the late 1980s, when he first recorded melodies on cassette tapes. This time, however, he fused those sounds with Soviet analogue synthesizers and PC sound cards. He shared these tracks via email with friends in different countries, becoming part of the "Analogue Heaven" mailing list, a community of enthusiasts united by their passion for analogue synthesis dating back to the 1960s.

During his initial pursuit of a PhD in Computer Science, Roman wanted to explore the intersection of what electronic music could offer humanity, the potential for AI to experience emotions, and whether emotions enhance or hinder intellect. These themes resonate in the music of Solar X. The album embodies ambient techno with intricate rhythms and ear caressing melodies, choppy percussion and blissful synths, making it both tranquil and danceable. Like a shimmering spaceship navigating between anxious dreams and visions, it transports the listener to a naively hopeful era yet to come.