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Black Vinyl LP. The world has changed, we shouldn't try and pretend otherwise. While we were shut away in isolation our routines shifted, social patterns evolved, and our hopes and dreams were twisted into cobwebs we're still trying to wipe from our fingers. Ziúr tentatively approached this on her last album Antifate, an ambitious and complex hybrid pop fever dream that looked back to a Medieval escapist fantasy as the scent of revolution seemed to hum in the air. But when restrictions were eased, she found herself staring down a discombobulated society that had trapped itself in a spiral of microwaved nostalgia and detached, narcotic repetition. Eyeroll then is Ziúr's musical panacea, a tincture to wake us from our creative slumber and prompt external connection and reflection. It's a polyphonous hex that demands human interaction, and Ziúr's hand-picked alliance of collaborators - Elvin Brandhi, Abdullah Miniawy, Iceboy Violet, Juliana Huxtable, Ledef, and James Ginzburg - each provide distinct voices that together herald a bewildering sonic epoch. Ziúr's palette had to evolve to match the scope of the project, but it was pure necessity that informed the album's defining tone. Recording mostly at night, Ziúr was conscious of the noise she was making so developed a unique way to record organic percussion. Using a set of rototoms - low profile tunable drums - she scratched, scraped and gently tapped the skins to build up the undulating and unstable rhythmic backdrop for each track. It's the first sound we hear on the opener 'Eyeroll', rattling like lost marbles against Elvin Brandhi's primal croaks and screams. And when Brandhi's twisted articulations form words, Ziúr matches the energy with chaotic thuds and serrated blasts of saturated electronics. "I roll the shittiest cigarette," she squeals like she's about to start a mosh pit at Paris's GRM Studios. Without pause, Abdullah Miniawy takes over on 'Malikan', building on the promise of material with Simo Cell, Carl Gari and HVAD with corrosive trumpet blasts and charged, politically incendiary Arabic vocals. Inspired by pre-Islamic poetry and the Qu'ranic chanters he heard growing up in Saudi Arabia and Egypt, he spins labyrinthine stories that cross between the worlds, breaking down physical and spiritual borders simultaneously. Miniawy's scope is expanded even further on his second collaboration, 'If The City Burns I Will Not Run'. "If it rains and the city drowns," he utters over gaseous electronics, "I will not run away, but I will be anxious for the heart of one close to me." After a supple vocal turn from Manchester's Iceboy Violet on 'Move On' and a surreal interlude from poet- DJ-artist-theorist Juliana Huxtable on '99 Favor Taste', Brandhi returns with two more hyperactive collaborations: ,'Nontrivial Differential' and 'Cut Cut Quote'. On the former she slices into Ziúr's skeletal jazz eruptions, screaming and crooning interchangeably, fluxing between the rap battle and the cabaret. The latter is completely different meanwhile, with Brandhi settling into her role as front-woman and groaning dizzying improvised passages that sound like grunge crossed with psychedelic no-wave. Brandhi's spiky musical history has prepared her well for this collaboration; she's a prolific producer and has been using her voice spontaneously since debuting with father-daughter improv duo Yeah You in the mid 2020s. She's found an ideal foil in Ziúr, a producer who matches her restless energy and willingness to bend formality, and leaves an indelible mark on Eyeroll. But the album's most tender moments are from Ziúr herself, who winds the album down on 'Hasty Revisionism', growling over collapsible beats and cascading strings, and comes to an unexpected conclusion with country coda 'Lacrymaturity'. Its feverish amalgamation of country music and euphoric, experimental electronics might seem incongruous at first, but in context with the rest of the album is the only possible conclusion. With Eyeroll Ziúr is making a firm statement about togetherness, humanity, and the renewal of hope when all seems lost. By bringing together such a wide but philosophically harmonic team of collaborators, she's conducted a body of work that speaks to the creative fringe in no uncertain terms. Now's the time to throw away what you think you know, and build bridges you didn't think you need. Now's the time for action. She may have spent her entire career avoiding the solipsistic trappings of "queer art", but by assembling a communal statement that questions so many normative assumptions about music, politics, and beyond, Ziúr has chanced upon her queerest album yet. Cringe? Eyeroll.

The debut album from Addy Weitzman, ‘Light Months Will Fly Over Us’ explores new-wave, romantic pop and art rock with elegance and ambition, drawing from Weitzman’s scattered network of collaborators, as well as a “frighteningly vast” personal archive of compositions. Sequenced by Seth Troxler and released on his Slacker 85 label, it represents a pivot in musical direction for the imprint, and a showcase for the songwriting craft Weitzman honed as a member of cult electro duo Footprintz, and Montreal synth-pop projects The Beat Escape and Dawn to Dawn.

The title Light Months Will Fly Over Us is derived from a line in a poem by the Russian writer Anna Ahkmatova. Weitzman was immediately struck by its “hopefulness, its mystery… it gives the feeling of being suspended, hanging in a dream-like state”. This interpretation has been translated to the album, rich in memorable songwriting that nonetheless invites the listener to lean in further. Delicately mixed by engineer Pierre Guerineau, known for his work alongside Marie Davidson, each of the eight tracks gently interrogates life’s greater mysteries; fear, love and salvation, each defining and revealing the human soul.

Opener ‘End of The Line’ invites us into an immediately lush space of lounge lizard existentialism, soft brass and piano helping Weitzman introduce “where the journey begins and the fantasy dies”. Across orchestral arrangements arranged by Adam Wilcox, whose sensitive, ambitious compositions are weaved throughout the album, ‘Beyond The Speed of Life’ brings to mind the laments of Scott Walker. Navigating vulnerability via grandeur, Weitzman’s earnest vocals flourish in wide-eyed call-and-response with the object of a transcendent love affair.

Alongside collaborator, Richard Lamb, the next chapter of the LP plunges into contrasting machine-driven moods; the wry, bubbling ‘Entertainment Is All I Wanted (And I Found It)’ is imbued with the playfulness and experimentation of 80s electronic pioneers such as Fad Gadget, while the tougher, icier ‘Stranger To Your Kind’ shifts in a more instrumental direction, recalling Weitzman’s dancefloor experience, as well as contemporaries such as Matthew Dear.

Album centerpiece and striking first single ‘Running & Returning’ is the first of a suite of three tracks in collaboration with Weitzman’s The Beat Escape and Dawn to Dawn bandmate, Patrick Boivin. Blending lush saxophones and angular guitars with a wistful melodic touch and lyrics, its irresistible art-rock rhythm provides the foundation for one of Weitzman’s most involving vocal performances.

It’s followed by an anthem for existential absurdity: ‘Ice Cream Candle’ provides a driving acceptance that “the more and more you learn, the less you understand”; Weitzman submits to this uncertainty with equal grace on ‘No Man’s Land’, as baroque invocations of “words swept through the fields” and meeting “where the water lilies grow” give way to a blistering guitar solo, humbly riding hypnotic percussion.

For the compassionate finale of Light Months Will Fly Over Us, Weitzman narrates the experience of ‘Gabrielle’, a woman slipping between rooms between shuttered blinds in the towering city, “where cigarettes and roses fill the air.”

As lyrically delicate as it is musically ambitious, Light Months Will Fly Over Us is a sublime debut album, enriched with care, love and much-needed enchantment.

Washed Up Color Vinyl is Clear w/ White Splatter! A white ship sailing in a sea of blackness, Codeine's swan song arrived in 1994 amid grunge's ascension to alt radio's godhead status. John Engle's guitar alternates between crystalline and sludge, and Stephen Immerwhar's distorted bass floats on top of punishing drums from newcomer Doug Scharin (Rex, June of 44), resulting in nine perfect meditations on the loneliness and uncertainty of early adulthood. "Codeine's unyielding numbness creates its own kind of warmth _ the feeling of cold water running for so long that it suddenly feels hot." _ Spin

For 15 years, female-fronted quintet LEONOV have been honing their captivating brand of celestial doom metal. Named after Aleksej Leonov, the first human to take a walk in space, the Norwegians combine the melancholic slow burn of King Woman with the ethereal heaviness of Subrosa and an incredible voice that undeniably reminds of Julie Christmas. Shape of Ash showcases the refined sound of a band that has been around for quite a while_ a band whose career has been a similar slow burn as their music, yet a band that has managed to stay together and create music throughout all these years, despite the odds of families and the real world. Like staring into a purgatory bonfire, listening to `Shape of Ash' is a powerfully entrancing experience. Dealing with themes of helplessness, uncertainty, conflict and resolution, these four songs touch upon the many adversities of life. On Shape of Ash, LEONOV create moments of primordial heaviness on which Tåran's unique voice floats atop, blends in effortlessly in some moments and takes reserved distance in others. With the 4 songs that make up this stunning EP, the band sets the bar incredibly high for their upcoming full length album. We can't wait for it! FOR FANS OF GGGOLDDD, King Woman, Marriages, Subrosa, Cult of Luna, Julie Christmas, Chelsea Wolfe, True Widow, Spurv

With solid training as a classical musician, Sophie Agnel took a close interest in modern jazz before committing in the early 90s to the shifting, deliciously uncertain ground of free improvisation, thanks to her fascination for the powers of expression displayed by a few great keyboard-heretics such as Keith Tippett, Fred Van Hove or Christine Wodrascka. She began reworking the prepared piano techniques imagined by John Cage and transformed her instrument into a sort of extended piano.

Coming from a Punk music background Joke Lanz started in the mid 80s to play Experimental- and Noise music. Best known for his internationally acclaimed project Sudden Infant, Lanz is presenting his work since 30 years all over the world. Born in Switzerland and currently operating out of Berlin, he is one of the most prolific and profound artists working in the border zones where performance and body art meet Improvisation and Noise.

Agnel and Lanz have performed stunning live shows as a duo, now their debut album is coming out on Klanggalerie. Turntables and piano, a unique combination that is a lot of fun!

Civilistjävel! x Mayssa Jallad’s ‘Marjaa: The Battle of the Hotels (Versions)’ is a radical response to Mayssa Jallad’s 2023 original LP, a lyrical account of epochal events in Beirut at the dawn of Lebanon's civil war. ‘…(Versions)’ sees Civilistjävel! (aka Swedish producer Tomas Bodén) apply a stripped, dub methodology to Mayssa's rich stems, refracting the Arabic source through the hazy prism of Northern European electronica. Retaining ‘Marjaa…’s deep spatial framing and vaporous, shifting nature, traces are lifted and set down in a new landscape: a ghost of a ghost. Informed by Tomas' singular strand of ambient, minimalist, dub techno, ‘… (Versions)’ recalls the reductive, shimmering pulse of pioneering Berlin-based practitioners Basic Channel/Chain Reaction, but with the parameters stretched into the ether. Where versions typically focus on a rhythm, here the anchor is the tone and texture of Mayssa’s voice, around which a new world has been constructed. Disembodied and liminal, it conjures an eerie panorama that feels like a postscript to the original, further emphasizing the geopolitical events that have had such devastating effect in Mayssa’s homeland of Lebanon since that record’s release. ‘Marjaa…’ (tr. ‘reference’) combined Mayssa Jallad’s two main vocations: music and urban research/architectural history. The album was co-written with Fadi Tabbal and based on Mayssa's Historic Preservation master's thesis (‘Beirut’s Civil War Hotel District: Preserving the World’s First High-Rise Urban Battlefield’). The thesis examined a 5-month conflict that took place within Beirut's skyscraper-laden luxury hotel district of Minet El Husn near the start of the Lebanese Civil War. Addressing a post-war generation who have never been taught this difficult history, ‘Marjaa…’ was an attempt to process trauma, and “a call to protest for the renewal, rather than the recycling of the political class that once destroyed the country and holds us, to this day, hostage of its violence.” Often perceived as a mysterious, shadowy presence, Civilistjävel! has come increasingly to the fore in recent years through a consistently dazzling stream of records, released both anonymously and via Fergus Jones’ FELT imprint, often appearing with scant information and tracks for the most part untitled. Having featured tracks from ‘Marjaa…’ on mixes, and included the album in his picks of 2023, in early 2024 Tomas asked Mayssa to provide vocals for a track on his album ‘Brödföda’. Mayssa remembers, “Tomas asked me to choose one of the tracks he was working on. I was in Boston at the time, so I took a walk and chose a track. I wrote the lyrics at the public park, wondering if I was the only one around that was losing sleep over the genocide in Palestine and the war in South Lebanon. I went back to the apartment and recorded the vocals on my phone, while listening to the track on headphones. Tomas reworked it with the voice and sent it back. I liked it immediately.” Despite the geographical distance from Beirut to Uppsala, Sweden, where Tomas resides, Mayssa’s contribution sounds very much at home in Civilistjävel!’s atmospheric, contemplative sound-world. Tomas’ request was reciprocated by Mayssa soon after, resulting in the spectral, glassy ambience of ‘Etel, Kharita (Version)’. This was followed by an invitation to work on more tracks, which Tomas immediately embraced, intensively jamming out versions live to two-track tape in downtime between travelling. If not entirely dissimilar to his regular working practice, the immediacy of it was unusual. Much was improvised live with just a keyboard (not tethered to a grid), and a restricted set-up that largely forbade later edits - only the rhythm tracks are programmed. A sharp conceptual thinker and composer, Tomas takes creative liberties with Mayssa’s songs in a way that is deeply felt and sympathetically aligned, whilst unashamedly outside of the original context of the record. The voice is leaned into as an instrument, without the clear, specific details of language, and this axis provides an uncertain, amorphous footing - structure is often suggested or hinted at, before disappearing or collapsing into fog, and folding back into the message within the song. A somewhat unprecedented source for an album of versions, even those familiar with ‘Marjaa: The Battle of the Hotels’ may at points struggle to hear the songs these versions are rebuilt from, despite the vocal narratives remaining virtually intact. The light has shifted; eroded buildings are foregrounded; fragments of memories appear in chiaroscuro. Signs and signifiers have been replaced. Shorn of the original's warm guitar, ‘Baynana (Version)’ feels like an ominous visitation, the sun no longer visible. ‘Holiday Inn (March 21 to 29) (Version)’ is a molten, clattering invocation. The beat-less tracks nod towards the cold, otherworldly sound-scaping of late '90s isolationism. More propulsive and embodied, ‘Holiday Inn (January to March) (Version)’ and ‘Kharita (Dub)’ are strobing, iridescent techno - lithe, shifting and mutating with almost implausible finesse. A stunning addition to Civilistjävel!’s growing catalogue, ‘…(Versions)’ is a luminous counterpoint to ‘Marjaa…’, and a welcome reminder of how incredible that record remains.

Introducing "Still Quiet", the latest sonic exploration from The Soundbyte, the innovative project of guitarist and composer Trond Engum from the legendary The 3rd and The Mortal. The album Still Quiet transcends musical boundaries, seamlessly blending Norwegian folk traditions with electroacoustic textures and metal influences, creating a sound that defies conventional categorization. Central to the experience are Trond Engum's distinctive guitar style and Rune Hoemsnes' (The 3rd and The Mortal, Manes) signature drumming. They are joined by a carefully chosen ensemble of renowned musicians whose contributions complement the captivating vocal performances of Kirsti Huke and Andreas Elvenes. The album weaves together unsettling rhythms, innovative guitar work, haunting soundscapes, and strong melodic lines-each track forming part of a greater whole. The music captures the fragile tension between stability and uncertainty, shifting effortlessly from quiet melancholy to uncompromising rawness and intensity. Still Quiet invites listeners into a moving and immersive sonic experience, challenging musical norms and rewarding those who revisit it again and again. With this album, The Soundbyte deliver their most compelling and ambitious work yet.

This is what you get when an emcee/producer is fed on a diet of abstract hip-hop, Southeast Asian samples, and Taoist folklore. Together with the Clementi Sound Appreciation Club (a five-piece band of up-and-coming musicians schooled in jazz from the local scene in Singapore), Mary Sue melts samples with live instrumentation on 'Porcelain Shield, Paper Sword.' At the core of the album is the tale of a time-traveling oracle, struggling to find meaning in the modern world-where ancient wisdom feels fragile, and truth is ever-shifting. A reinterpretation of idioms shapes its journey, where spiritual pursuits feel performative, and where the weight of the past clashes with an uncertain future. The music mirrors this tension: phrases of Gamelan music dissolve into smoky brass, spectral melodies unravel over off-kilter drums, and time bends through layered textures. 'Porcelain Shield, Paper Sword' is both a reckoning and a dream, where echoes of the past find new life in the chaos of now. A porcelain shield shatters on impact; a paper sword folds before it cuts. It's about the constant, fragile push-and-pull between aesthetics and money, tradition and progress, meaning and spectacle. "Like the oracle, we're all stuck in a world where spiritual longing gets tangled up with consumerism, where authenticity is blurred by performance, and where finding real meaning feels shakier than ever," rapper and producer Mary Sue explains. "'Porcelain Shield, Paper Sword' lives in that field of tension. The album drifts between beauty and collapse, truth and illusion, and past and present, without ever landing on solid ground."

"Evil is very real and having its way, and love is also real and hasn't lost yet." That's how Activity's Travis Johnson described their third album, A Thousand Years In Another Way. A friend had asked why these songs seemed to capture the strange, heavy feeling of being alive right now better than anything else_and that was his answer. The album doesn't try to explain this time we're living in; it simply feels like it. It's a mix of violence, alienation, and tenderness_reflecting the surreal, dreamlike (or nightmarish) rhythm of daily life. Across ten songs, Activity blends experimental rock, electronics, and found sounds with a sense of paranoia, flickers of hope, and a warped reality. Working with producer Jeff Berner (of Psychic TV), the band manipulated sounds and played with room acoustics to create a feeling that's disorienting_like the air is thick and the walls are listening. Coming out of a period of uncertainty, the Brooklyn-based quartet_Travis Johnson, Jess Rees, Bri DiGioia, and Steven Levine_pieced the album together from fragments: clipped samples, looping guitar lines, ghostly melodies. Rees, DiGioia, and Johnson share vocal and writing duties, shaping a record that feels both deeply personal and strangely alien. There's a constant sense that things could shift or fall apart at any second_nothing stays one thing for long. A Thousand Years In Another Way might not offer answers, but it captures the feeling of right now better than most. And maybe, it sounds a bit like your world too.

“Evil is very real and having its way, and love is also real and hasn’t lost yet.”
That’s how Activity’s Travis Johnson described their third album, A Thousand Years In Another Way. A friend had asked why these songs seemed to capture the strange, heavy feeling of being alive right now better than anything else—and that was his answer. The album doesn’t try to explain this time we’re living in; it simply feels like it. It’s a mix of violence, alienation, and tenderness—reflecting the surreal, dreamlike (or nightmarish) rhythm of daily life.
Across ten songs, Activity blends experimental rock, electronics, and found sounds with a sense of paranoia, flickers of hope, and a warped reality. Working with producer Jeff Berner (of Psychic TV), the band manipulated sounds and played with room acoustics to create a feeling that’s disorienting—like the air is thick and the walls are listening.
Coming out of a period of uncertainty, the Brooklyn-based quartet—Travis Johnson, Jess Rees, Bri DiGioia, and Steven Levine—pieced the album together from fragments: clipped samples, looping guitar lines, ghostly melodies. Rees, DiGioia, and Johnson share vocal and writing duties, shaping a record that feels both deeply personal and strangely alien. There’s a constant sense that things could shift or fall apart at any second—nothing stays one thing for long.
A Thousand Years In Another Way might not offer answers, but it captures the feeling of right now better than most. And maybe, it sounds a bit like your world too.

Every one of us has a family of origin—the one we’re born into—and a family we’re raised in, which, for some, like myself, may not be the same. Then there’s our chosen family—friends and community—the people we gather around us, love, and trust. We also have a musical family, and when you put all of those together, they form the world family. Right now, the world is in a time of upheaval, change, and uncertainty, leading to anxiety and fear for so many. This album is about channeling those emotions—what I experience every day—and translating them into songs that others can connect with. The first single, “Break Up With Everything,” is an example of that—taking these feelings and putting them into music that resonates and brings people together. Welcome to the Family is a record about finding connection in the midst of uncertainty, leaning into the love that surrounds us, and remembering that, no matter where we come from, we are all part of something bigger.

2025 repress

Wilson Tanner come to shore with a new album of floating melodies, lightly salted. Throwing electroacoustic conventions overboard, Andrew Wilson (Andras) and John Tanner (Eleventeen Eston) recorded this new work aboard a 1950s riverboat with a resourceful array of weatherproof electronic instruments and a long extension lead. These eight compositions pull in a by-catch of maritime folklore; of Siren and Selkie, Seagull and engine oil slick. A change of course from their debut album 69 (Growing Bin Records, 2016), the ambient temperature drops as II casts out to sea in uncertain weather and returns to the safe harbours of Port Phillip Bay.

The seafarers head out to My Gull's poised optimism. The birds watch but do they listen? By the arrival of Loch and Key, the shoreline has dissolved completely, the boat floating in serene infinity as the rest of the world spins. Conditions soon take a treacherous turn on Killcord Pts I-III - a 12 minute odyssey that battens down the hatches as these sailors eye merciless waves and blinding ocean spray, jointly channelling Berlin-school electronics and sea legs. In the aftermath, the waterlogged bleeps of Idle survey the damage as our parched crew sound the distress signal and ultimately descend into delirium.

Known for navigating individual courses as solo musicians, Wilson and Tanner's collective storytelling is saturated in detail, buoying between tension and harmony. II modestly stands as some of both artists' most accomplished material.

This authorised vinyl reissue of the ultimate Finnish death metal cult LP comes with the original cover art and all the lyrics. In the late days of the early life of death metal in the early nineties, the death metal "community" had strayed from an appreciation of the majestic possibilities of sound, and were making a mundane product instead. They wanted the most "brutal" sound so the largest crowd could hear it, consider themselves "extreme," and go back to work with a hangover. This made the music escape its tiny audience, but killed off exploration as well. In addition, it was defensive and under-confident, feeling its chops lagged behind the rock, blues and jazz genres. Stagnation struck even as the genre accelerated. Enter the dark horse, Demilich. These inventive Finns reintroduced amazement at the possibilities of music. Where most people look at a forest and see wood for sale, a death metal fan after Demilich sees an intricate organism in itself, with the smallest details corresponding to the broadest concepts. The labyrinthine riffs of Demilich corresponded to a worldview that saw the connection between details as a design, and a design as conferring a purpose to life, cycling between birth and death as it spelled out the cryptic intricacies of ancient mysteries. Demilich was like finding a submerged city, or discovering a new path through the mountains, or even confronting a glowering enemy on the open plain. It brought risk, uncertainty, ambiguity and a sense of sublime beauty back to death metal, pulling it away from the slump in which it treated itself as a hammer and every listener as a nail.

This authorised vinyl reissue of the ultimate Finnish death metal cult LP comes with the original cover art and all the lyrics. In the late days of the early life of death metal in the early nineties, the death metal "community" had strayed from an appreciation of the majestic possibilities of sound, and were making a mundane product instead. They wanted the most "brutal" sound so the largest crowd could hear it, consider themselves "extreme," and go back to work with a hangover. This made the music escape its tiny audience, but killed off exploration as well. In addition, it was defensive and under-confident, feeling its chops lagged behind the rock, blues and jazz genres. Stagnation struck even as the genre accelerated. Enter the dark horse, Demilich. These inventive Finns reintroduced amazement at the possibilities of music. Where most people look at a forest and see wood for sale, a death metal fan after Demilich sees an intricate organism in itself, with the smallest details corresponding to the broadest concepts. The labyrinthine riffs of Demilich corresponded to a worldview that saw the connection between details as a design, and a design as conferring a purpose to life, cycling between birth and death as it spelled out the cryptic intricacies of ancient mysteries. Demilich was like finding a submerged city, or discovering a new path through the mountains, or even confronting a glowering enemy on the open plain. It brought risk, uncertainty, ambiguity and a sense of sublime beauty back to death metal, pulling it away from the slump in which it treated itself as a hammer and every listener as a nail.

Man was meant to replace God as the universal measure. The events of the 20th and 21st centuries, however, have brutalized the creature once known as Man beyond recognition. There is no going back. We are left with an erased image, a misnomer-a sacred animal wasting away in a profane world. Man is both insufficient and irreplaceable. Man Under Erasure is a musical exploration of this new, uncertain universe, where the last remnants of humanist hopes and dreams have been reduced to embers-barely legible carvings etched into eroding earth. Our trust in ourselves has been misplaced. Everything we ever knew will be erased. Feversea is a post-metal band from Oslo, Norway drawing on influences from black metal, sludge metal and shoegaze. Their music lies in the intersection of fast black'n'roll ferocity, heavy and fierce metal riffage and ritualistic and ethereal soundscapes. Musically, their debut album Man Under Erasure draws from various forms of metal while incorporating influences from neofolk and post-punk. The album is melancholic, despairing, and cathartic. Haunting and melodic while maintaining a strong sense of structure with recognizable riffs-an element often lacking in atmosphere-driven music. Fluctuating between song and scream, the voice is both from beyond and from below. Lyrically, it is deeply personal but delivered through impersonal images, parables, and riddles-like a spiritualist or Orphic medium carrying messages from beyond. A muffled scream buried under several inches of ice. The album begins in sardonic despair and ends with uneasy, desperate acceptance.

"I loved Julia Sabra’s Natural History Museum—it was released at the end of the year and is quietly devastating. Her lyricism and sensitivity in timbre and harmony is akin for me to the great Linda Perhacs. The songs are intimate and infinite feeling at the same time—I love the raw and soft poetic settings of love and death." Julia Holter (Best album 2024- Fader)

“This album is a collection of songs written between 2020 and 2024 in Beirut. I wanted to capture them the way they were written by keeping the rawness and fragility intact, like the late-night voice memos I send to my bandmates as soon as I have a first draft of a song. Fadi and I decided to record them live on tape, with no overdubs, barely any effect - with all the imperfections. Most of the tracks were done in one take only. Some were recorded in the studio, and some in the church I grew up going to every summer in Dhour Shweir.

This is a collection of songs that slipped through the cracks, and some of the most personal ones I ever wrote. Songs about the port explosion, its aftermath, picking up the pieces and trying to move on, coming to terms with the past, regret and nostalgia for a childhood that lives only in memory, the uncertain future, learning to love, getting married, watching a genocide unfold on my phone screen, having it fill my every waking moment, imagining a better send off for all the dead, processing the violence and terror, and finding solace in community.
These songs would’ve probably stayed in my “songs in limbo” folder on my laptop had it not been for Pascal and Fadi, who pushed me to release them. And for this I’m eternally grateful.”









[h] 8.Dis, quand reviendras-tu? [Barbara cover]

Silver Vinyl. Metalhorse is Billy Nomates' third studio release, following 2023's critically acclaimed, CACTI, and her self-titled 2020 debut. A concept album revolving around the image of a dilapidated funfair, representing the tumultuousness of life - risk and pleasure, danger and exhilaration. The 11 new songs here explore blues, folk and pianodriven arrangements that take Billy Nomates' stark punk sound in a more pastoral direction. Metalhorse is the first Billy Nomates album to be made in a studio and with a full band, the line-up inc. bass player Mandy Clarke (KT Tunstall, The Go! Team) and drummer Liam Chapman (Rozi Plain, BMX Bandits) plus a special feature from The Stranglers frontman Hugh Cornwell on "Dark Horse Friend". Metalhorse is a balancing of extremes. Reckoning with loss, material insecurity, and trying to stay true to yourself against an increasingly unpredictable backdrop of global chaos, the scales could easily have tipped towards darkness, but the more Maries has had to weather, the more precious those smaller moments of happiness have become. Metalhorse begs the listener to find their own funfair; there will always be things that feel perilous. At the same time, you have to marvel at the lights while they're still on. Dancing with those feelings of uncertainty and joy, Metalhorse is awash with both pain and perseverance.

Silver Vinyl. Metalhorse is Billy Nomates' third studio release, following 2023's critically acclaimed, CACTI, and her self-titled 2020 debut. A concept album revolving around the image of a dilapidated funfair, representing the tumultuousness of life - risk and pleasure, danger and exhilaration. The 11 new songs here explore blues, folk and pianodriven arrangements that take Billy Nomates' stark punk sound in a more pastoral direction. Metalhorse is the first Billy Nomates album to be made in a studio and with a full band, the line-up inc. bass player Mandy Clarke (KT Tunstall, The Go! Team) and drummer Liam Chapman (Rozi Plain, BMX Bandits) plus a special feature from The Stranglers frontman Hugh Cornwell on "Dark Horse Friend". Metalhorse is a balancing of extremes. Reckoning with loss, material insecurity, and trying to stay true to yourself against an increasingly unpredictable backdrop of global chaos, the scales could easily have tipped towards darkness, but the more Maries has had to weather, the more precious those smaller moments of happiness have become. Metalhorse begs the listener to find their own funfair; there will always be things that feel perilous. At the same time, you have to marvel at the lights while they're still on. Dancing with those feelings of uncertainty and joy, Metalhorse is awash with both pain and perseverance.

2023, past and future merge into one. Stripped of temporal markers, today's artists unabashedly draw from the past while boldly gazing into the future. Amid revivals and

innovations, trends and undercurrents, the game is intricate, the nuances abundant. Orphia's music is no exception. Behind the synthesizers, the Genevan weaves a musical tapestry on a tightrope. Cold wave, synth-pop, post-punk, eurodance, Indochine, Depeche Mode, Boards of Canada, Eurythmics... it all blends in a grand synthetic ritual where the festivities happily don't stop at the first light of dawn. Charging forward, swiftly, strongly, into an uncertain future, no questions asked but with a quick glance in the rearview mirror, just to be sure.

"L'Aventure des Gens Modernes" resides in this retro-futuristic melancholy, between nostalgia and a thirst for tomorrow. Without ever falling into foolish nostalgia or soulless revival, the EP reflects an absolute urgency. Urgency to produce, first and foremost, as studio work has become a true raison d'être for Orphia. Urgency to also shout out a certain rage against a world devoid of hope, and this on stage where the artist performs alone, synths in hand and sharp beats for the dancefloor. In an era where the past enables facing the future, the 5 tracks of "L'Aventure des Gens Modernes" breathe a breath of fresh air into a scene in ruins. Cyberpunk or punk in general, Orphia wants to go fast and take everything in its path.

Trash Mountain, Lily Seabird’s new LP out April 04, 2025, via Lame-O Records, is her most searching and immediate effort to date. Over nine delicate but sturdy tracks of intimate folk rock, she pares her songwriting down to its most resonant essen- tials.

There’s not a second wasted as she sings
of loss, growing up, and finding your center when things get overwhelming. It’s an album of unwel- come exits and uncertain futures, but there’s resil- iency and hope at its core. Recorded with producer Kevin Copeland (Hannah Frances, Lightning Bug, Allegra Krieger), it’s a testament to finding joy and connection in life’s chaos and confusion.

Spacey Jane are an Australian indie rock band formed in Fremantle in 2016. Following a year-long hiatus from live performances, Spacey Jane announced in January 2025 that their third studio album, If That Makes Sense, would be released in May. It was announced alongside the release of lead single "All the Noise". If That Makes Sense explores the difficulty and uncertainty that arises when articulating any feeling across the full spectrum of human emotion. Having total knowledge that nobody is able to truly comprehend the complexities that life has presented to you, but still trying to get the words out anyway. If That Makes Sense is an emotional flip book through time, a set of flashbacks and vignettes, an attempt to rearrange the disorder into something ordered. Where you are today is the result of all these fragments and experiences. -Caleb Harper

- 2025 repress -

DESCRIPTION
Looming above Hastings on the South Coast of the UK, carved into East Hill, three black shapes are visible from a distance. Mysterious and ominous, they assume the aspect of the entrance to a church or a portal to dimensions unknown. Closer inspection however reveals them to be no more than mere follies carved and painted into the rock, as hoaxster John Coussens sought to convince visitors that an elaborate subterranean kingdom lurked within. Centuries later, this coastal town remains a place that serves as a magnet to the wyrd and the mischievous. And it’s here that the meeting of minds took place that led to 'Folly' - the second release for Rocket’s Black Hole series - an imprint focused on the unorthodox, otherworldly and esoteric. The journey that led to ‘Folly’ began in the dingy cellar of a wine bar in the town. Black Arches formed around a regular local experimental night in such environs aptly named Weird Shit, initially as a freeform musical outlet for author and musician Gareth E. Rees’ later incorporating Matt Frost from his garage rock troupe The Dirty Contacts, and frequent collaborator James Weaver, to form a vehicle for wild experimentation and psychic abandon. Given he was also a regular attendee, it was no surprise when Sexton Ming, arch maverick outsider artist and uncompromising iconoclast of over four decades standing, entered the picture. Soon after a perplexing but serendipitous chain of events took place, with demons conjured up via improvised sessions, poetic licence taken, dystopias chronicled, audio files gone awry, vocals overdubbed and laptops lost, Somehow amidst the sturm-und-drang ‘Folly’ was summoned in all its murky glory. As we embark on the second quarter of an uncertain century, just maybe this psychic travelogue is a dark prism to make sense of the chaos we confront. Whichever, it remains a spectacle as compelling as that by which Black Arches were named

We are excited to announce the release of the highly anticipated 7-inch single from the rising singer-songwriter Mei Watanabe, created in collaboration with Shinichi Osawa (MONDO GROSSO). This special release marks the debut of the track on vinyl, and it includes the previously unreleased Shinichi Osawa DJ edit on the B-side, making it a must-have for collectors and music lovers alike.

This new single, which reflects Mei Watanabe's exploration of questions about the uncertain world we live in today, was created through over six months of sessions between Watanabe and Osawa. Inspired by Osawa's artistry and music, the track features lyrics penned by Watanabe herself, showcasing her unique vision and voice.

Since its digital release last October, the song has been featured as a Power Play on FM NORTH WAVE and CROSS FM, among many others, and has been receiving significant airplay, generating excitement and buzz across the airwaves.

How does one approach the morning after a party for the end of the world? This is a question which Mamuthones had to ask themselves, in the wake of their last album for Rocket, 2018's Fear On The Corner. Nonetheless, from the aftermath of this uncertain period has risen the still more flourishing realm of From Word To Flesh - a colourful and multi-faceted creation very much befitting the outsider spirit of Rocket's new Black Hole imprint. “I believe that with this album a circle has been closed” reflects Mamuthones mainman Alessio Gastaldello. “We returned to the atmosphere of the first Mamuthones albums with the skills acquired throughout the journey, with new sounds and with new creative processes. I would say that what remains constant – and at the core of our music – is the obsessive rhythms and the search for a sonic rituality: this is for certain our trademark”. This is clear right from the curtain raiser 'Burn From Inside', which beams the emotive approach of the band through the shamanic prism of Coil's Ape Of Naples. From there, hypnotic repetition marries to abstract abrasion and mournful laments with equal finesse, as redolent of the spiritual zest of Popol Vuh and Ash Ra Tempel as the gnostic folk of Six Organs Of Admittance. Elsewhere, 'A Symmetry Of Faith' summons a union of post-punk and psychically charged folk aligned with the recent work of Bristol's Beak. The Sardinian ritual of the Mamuthones – in which sinister masked figures weighed down with cattle bells conduct a ceremonial procession to ward off evil forces - has gone on for some two thousand years, and it may be that these ghoulish avatars are engaged in a celebration of the endless cycles of death and rebirth, fortifying spirits for a new epoch. Amidst the chaos and tumult of the 2020s, the band of this name has undergone just such a change themselves, and ‘From Word To Flesh’ is the fruit of their struggle. As Alessio says “With this album I think the Mamuthones have never been so unmediated, so naked: all masks gone”

Posthumous record releases are always charged with emotion but when the release comes from a 17 year-old artist that was just getting started it is heartbreaking Anxious is a mesmerizing selection of songs that explore the highs, lows and uncertainty of teenage life through the eyes of Nell and is the follow-up to Where The Viaduct Looms, her debut collaboration with The Flaming Lips that explored the works of Nick Cave.

Guided by the talented Jack and Lily Wolter of Penelope Isles, who helped shape Nell's songs, some of which had been in the works since she was twelve years old, the result is an album brimming with emotion, playful melodies and a depth that hints at what Nell's future may have held. Nell's record includes three songs which were written in partnership with Canadian folk band Shred Kelly with whom she spent winter evenings writing in her hometown of Fernie, British Columbia, huddled round the fre in 2022. Jack and Lily Wolter subsequently completed these songs and the rest of the works in Brighton in 2023.

Nell's frst and only studio recording session at Bella Union's studio in Brighton at the tender age of 15 was an intense mix of long days with Jack and Lily expertly teasing out what was really going on in Smith's mind with the help of Doritos, Fizzy sweets, Coca Cola and inspiration gained by sneaking her into venues to see local bands play.

A lot of Nell's creative drive was rooted in raw teenage emotions; apprehension; love; travel; gratefulness; ambition; and grief. These moods are visited throughout the tracks on the album with an instrumental approach that brings joy into even the darkest of songs.

The album’s title, New World, Lonely Ride, gestures toward its meditative orientation. The duo offers a series of reflections on the zeitgeist of our present moment, the spirit of our age: the isolation and loneliness that continues to echo in the wake of the pandemic; the fractures that mar our political discourse; the uncertainty that has stamped itself on the future of democracy. The vast geography of America and the absence of a common ground, a shared political vision, have contributed to the affective landscape of contemporary American life—of what it feels like to live in the United States today.

Using instrumental voices and textures drawn from the traditional American forms of folk, country, bluegrass and blues, and informed with a modern sense of ambience and space, the sound is both contemporary and deeply rooted. With New World, Lonely Ride, Grigoni and Pan American join countless American artists who have drawn upon this landscape—physical and affective— giving it a voice and shape, listening to its character. And in starting there, with listening, offer a response for the future.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

During the pandemic, The Ophelias transformed uncertainty into Spring Grove, their fourth album and most dynamic offering yet. Named after a Cincinnati cemetery, the album blends nostalgia with fresh perspective, reflecting on themes of relationships, identity, and power dynamics. Singer-songwriter Spencer Peppet draws from her OCD diagnosis during the pandemic and the clarity that comes with growing older, resulting in lyrics that explore the cracks and complexities of human connection.

Produced by Julien Baker, who adds lush textures and harmonies, Spring Grove marks a turning point in the band’s evolution. Recorded at Young Avenue Sound in Memphis, the album centers on the core quartet—Peppet, violinist Andrea Gutmann Fuentes, bassist Jo Shaffer, and drummer Mic Adams—with arrangements that balance cinematic intensity and delicacy. Gutmann Fuentes’s violin provides striking countermelodies, while Shaffer’s bass lines, inspired by doom metal, explore melodic depth. Adams’s drumming reflects his first project after transitioning, offering nuanced rhythms that blend power and tenderness.

With one queer and two trans members, the band has moved beyond the reductive label of an “all-girl” group, delving deeply into themes of womanhood and identity. Tracks like “Salome” and “Parade” examine power dynamics and friendship, while nature imagery in songs like “Cumulonimbus” and “Vulture Tree” mirrors lived experience. Across 13 tracks, the album’s cinematic and introspective journey scavenges the past for meaning, ultimately embracing transformation. On the closing track, “Shapes,” Peppet reaches serene acceptance, singing, “I see what’s coming after... a reflection in the water. I am rippling forever.”

Spring Grove captures the band’s evolution, offering a transcendent meditation on self-awareness, identity, and growth, leaving listeners with a sense of profound discovery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Measure Divide makes his full debut EP for Mutual Rytm X with his latest release, 'Everything Is Porridge'.

Karachi-born artist Measure Divide now resides in Toronto, where his FORMAT parties have revived the techno scene over the last decade. In that time, he has eschewed techno by numbers with innovative sounds on Clergy and Mutual Rytm while appearing at iconic clubs like Berghain, K41 and Tresor. Outside of the underground, he has years of experience in sound design and scoring for animations and films, and that is what he channels here into a uniquely playful sound with a vibrant and playful departure from his usual serious tones for his first full EP on SHDW's Mutual Rytm X.

A record for adventurous DJs and listeners craving bold, mischievous and innovative sounds, the EP's title, inspired by an inside joke about calling anything edible "porridge", reflects the chaotic and unpredictable state of the world - a mushy mix of uncertainty. This same unpredictability shines through the tracks, which combine techno, breaks, modular experimentation and plenty more.

The superbly original title cut begins with a restless mix of unusual percussive sounds and fizzing synths over thudding drums. It's tense and twisted and sounds like nothing else. 'Wormy Wonderland' is another brilliantly outthere cut with freaky noises and scuzzy textures over body-popping techno drums, and 'Eeeeeermmmm' then slows down with a menacing synth buzz and caustic broken beats. Digital bonus tracks 'Shrew Cascade' and 'Clumsy Clatter' further challenge techno norms with watery sound effects, twisted synth lines and inventive rhythmical patterns.

LP in printed inner sleeve. The Joy of Coincidences is the debut album from the intriguing Barcelona-born and raised musician and singer-songwriter of British and German descent. The songs are stories and related feelings that reflect upon mankind observed through our eyes in different circumstances. This reflection is told through intimate music coming from folk-inspired pop.



The Joy of Coincidences is the debut album from the intriguing Barcelona-born and raised musician and singer-songwriter of British and German descent. Within the midst of movement, noise and chaos of the city, Bianca Steck searched for calmness and silence in order to write these twelve songs. Whether in a bar, on a tram, under a tree in a park, on a bench or on the balcony of her little apartment in Brussels overlooking the square, there must always be room for curiosity regarding the world we live in. Hence, this album was born through her compelling need for a conscious observation of our society and surroundings.



The songs are stories and related feelings that reflect upon mankind observed through our eyes in different circumstances and the consequent understanding of ourselves along this process. This reflection is told through intimate music coming from folk-inspired pop. Rooted in classical tradition, Bianca Steck chooses instruments such as harp, cello, double bass, upright piano, and flugelhorn and blends these warm sounds with synths, omnichord, drums, electric bass... in a very delicate way in order to create a dreamy landscape of sound. This carefully chosen music together with lyrics that tell real down to earth stories seen through the eyes of her imaginary world are the realm of this work.



BiancaSteck sees coincidences as small and playful interruptions of our everyday concerns, of life. We live in extremely uncertain times where many worries reign over our minds and there needs to be some kind of lightheartedness to move forward, to survive. Within all this complex spiral of thoughts, in the Joy of Coincidences the essential seed of simplicity prevails over the existential crisis.



The album is produced together with Catalan pianist and composer Nil Ciuró and features guest appearance Hania Rani with whom Bianca Steck toured as a support act across London, Paris, Berlin, Utrecht, Antwerp and other European cities and venues.

All demos were recorded in her apartment in Brussels with very simple means and were later on recorded in a studio in the mountains of Catalunya.

This new 45 RPM single is the lastest from Pyramid Blue, a group known for their Ethio-jazz fusion.

This time, the Spanish band has teamed up with Habiba Chaouf, an Arab singer rooted in Spain's flamenco scene, who lends her beautiful vocals to the A-side. The song blends Arab melodies with deep afro-funk rhythms. Habiba's soulful vocals elevate the track, which reflects on the emotional journey of longing, uncertainty, and the search for change. "Amal" (meaning "Hope" in Arabic) reminds us of the power of hope as both a guiding light and a source of inner strength, even in the face of doubt and longing.

On the B-side, La Esperanza (Hope), Pyramid Blue delivers a hypnotic, instrumental journey, featuring a bold horn section and a guitar riff that evokes the feeling of crossing a vast desert—an atmospheric, cinematic soundscape that could easily score a film.

This new record from Black Swan evokes a desolate post-collapse world that is detailed with haunting choirs, mangled tapes and distant industrial sounds. The album unfolds like a requiem by pulling beauty from the ruins of a collapsed society. With an hour-long narrative, it shifts between rippling hums and plaintive quivers of old cassettes, slowly revealing a heart that beats beneath the crimson haze. Tracks like 'Overture' and 'Back to Dust' offer cinematic grandeur and mournful exploration, while 'Pseudotruth' and 'New Gods' introduce eerie uncertainty. In the end, the album serves as a haunting meditation on loss, memory and the fragility of civilisation.

Tobacco City is a Chicago-based band that blends cosmic country with a mix of psychedelic rock and honky-tonk soul. Their sound captures the essence of small-town nostalgia while embracing modern-day themes, exploring heartache, longing, and the bittersweet nature of life. With their uplifting energy and authentic songwriting, Tobacco City continues to carve out a unique space in the countrytinged Americana scene. On Horses, the highly anticipated follow-up to their critically acclaimed debut, Tobacco City, USA, the band takes listeners on a nostalgic journey through the haze of youth, where time feels suspended and plans are nonexistent. The album’s lyrics conjure vivid images of small-town life—smoking schwag behind the grocery store, drinking cream from a gas station with your first love—capturing that carefree, uncertain time when the future felt distant. The music channels the spirit of ’70s country with influences from legends like Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris, bringing a timeless, uplifting energy to each track. At the same time, the lyrics intersect with modern-day themes, blending the beauty and innocence of youth with the harsh realities of life. Horses feels like a contemporary take on classic country, merging a nostalgic past with the complex world of today, all while remaining undeniably authentic and heartfelt. This follow-up to Tobacco City, USA—which received high praise from NPR and Rolling Stone— cements the band’s place at the forefront of a new wave of countrytinged Americana. “...Like the Chicago band’s namesake, a slow smoke hangs in the air, heavy with heartbreak and feather-blue eyeshadow, but puts a brave face on. Lexi Goddard sings with a far-away look over a pedal-steel cry, a melody that sways to country songs on jukeboxes of yore...” —NPR “Chicago’s Tobacco City do more with less... spacious grooves as pedal steel wafts through like a gentle breeze. Vocalist Lexi Goddard and Chris Coleslaw sounds simultaneously wistful and playful throughout...” —Rolling Stone

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

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

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

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

"The beauty of The Devil Makes Three is the way they take an old-time musical genre and, by putting their own imprint on it, turn it into something that lives and breathes anew, passing the torch to a new generation, just as stateside rock fans learned about the likes of pioneers Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis and Buddy Holly from the first wave of British Invasion bands. With their latest album, Spirits, the band continues this tradition by incorporating their signature punk, folk and bluegrass sound along with country and singer-songwriter leanings. “That’s what we set out to do. We wanted to use these musical forms to talk about current issues,” explains Pete Bernhard. “Folk music should be about what’s happening now, just as it was when Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan did it.” The song titles alone describe the band’s return to a stripped-down, drum-less sound and songs that reflect the ongoing struggle to survive amid the uncertainties of the current volatile climate: “Dark Gets the Best of You,” “Divide and Conquer,” “Ghost are Weak,” “Hard Times,” “I Love Doing Drugs,” “Poison Well” and “The Devil Wins.” The tracks were recorded at Dreamland, part of a converted church compound outside Woodstock in upstate New York which offered some haunted moments of its own, with plenty of spooky thunderstorms and lightning. “There’s definitely a theme of ghosts and death running through this album,” acknowledged Bernhard, who lost his mother, brother and closest childhood friend while making the record. “It also has a good amount of political material, a reflection on how divided people are these days, just trying to find common ground. Not being able to perform our music live led to some deep reflections.”"

Cornelia Murr’s newest album, Run To The Center, began with a question: What do I want? The answer is everything, and it’s never felt more urgent.

On her first LP in six years, Run To The Center, on 22TWENTY, the London-born singer-songwriter delivers her most expansive, confident work yet. Across 10 hypnotic pop songs, Murr crafts a portrait of a woman in her thirties, standing triumphantly in uncertainty and asking life’s essential questions: How do you fit everything you want into a life? How can you want so much and still manage to live?

Run To The Center, which Murr will tour internationally, is her first release since the 2022 EP Corridor and her first LP since her 2018 debut Lake Tear of the Clouds, produced by Jim James of My Morning Jacket. Murr had long wanted to make another LP, but economic and global forces kept getting in the way. Finally, in the spring of 2023, Murr started working with producer Luke Temple (Adrienne Lenker, Hand Habits), adding to her roster of impressive collaborators. Temple, an old friend, helped Murr realize a sweeping album of her most tender, spectral pop yet.

The songs on Run To The Center reflect Murr’s need to explore desire and time. Some are new, born from spontaneous collaboration, while others had lingered in her mind for years. The album’s production, with muscular drums and buoyant synths, is more expansive than her previous work, swirling with a sparse futurism as Murr embraces life’s uncertainties.

Murr wrote much of the album while hunkering down in Red Cloud, Nebraska, restoring an old house. In this unexpected place, she found her center. The result is an album that explores big questions with beauty and humor, as Murr stands fully in her power.