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"Chance animates the smallest parts of the universe: the scintillation of the stars is its power, a wildflower its incantation."
—Georges Bataille, Le Petit

"Even on my way to the gambling hall, as soon as I hear, two rooms away, the clink of the scattered money I almost go into convulsions." —Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Gambler

Video gambling addicts, academic researchers, and industry professionals alike describe the trancelike state into which problem gamblers suspend themselves with remarkable consistency: they unanimously call it the machine “zone,” a kind of inner experience during which the rhythmic flow of human-machine collusion borders on mysticism. Time is abolished in the act of contemporary video gambling —simulated slot reels roll, virtual poker decks deal, and all worldly concerns are lost—leaving only the aura of total zone immersion in its wake. Sometimes characterized as the crack cocaine of gambling, the intensity of the machine zone is a symptom of casino ergonomics: emotionally manipulative fragrance-saturation, mesmerizing lights, subtly controlling walkways and, as captured here, meticulously engineered sonic environments all play a role in evoking the timeless void of the zone.

Although I was not yet aware of the extent to which casinos tailor their environments for maximum comfort (and, correspondingly, profit), I did know as I crossed the threshold of my first casino floor last year that I would be back for more. Hit by a cornucopia of slot machine tones, triggering aleatorically and coalescing into shimmering masses, I was struck by the need to return and record the sounds that so entranced me. It wouldn't prove to be easy—casino security is intense—and due to the clandestine nature of the operation, my recording techniques were by no means sophisticated. Equipped with nothing but an Olympus LS-11 recorder's internal microphone stashed in a sweaty coat pocket, I allowed the lure of the zone to guide me through a series of ambling recording sessions, the best of which are included here.

I learned a lot about casino sonics in the process: game designers, for example, once tuned all their machines to the key of C major in order to optimize harmonic cohesion (strict adherence to the key is no more but C still dominates the game floor); one team of designers, the story goes, even spent a month perfecting a single 'ding' sound on one machine. In the interest of preserving the true ambient sounds of the casino these recordings are untreated, but lost in the sea of chance I did exert some affirmative control by means of meandering intent and my actual playing of the machines. And by participating in the games myself I got a taste of the financially debilitating consequences that accompany the enchantment of video gambling. The cassette in your hands represents my endeavor to bring you the zone experience without the harsh comedown of its unfortunate reality.

—Adrian Rew

An explosive collision of garage punk and weirdo art rock from Sacramento's most exciting export since Mayyors. Clean Living Under Difficult Circumstances is a strange, haunting thrill ride driven by angular guitars, an unhinged drum attack and the dynamic, sometimes violent vocal delivery of Whittney K. Featuring long time members of the Sacramento punk scene, Drug Apts have released two E.P.s on Tyler Pope's (LCD Soundsystem, !!!) Berlin based label, Interference Pattern Records, the first produced by Death Grips' Zach Hill and Andy Morin, the second by Dub Genius and Slits producer Denis Bovell. "The band name is a reference to drug apartments, those Mid-Century Modern complexes scattered throughout Sacramento, with rows of palm trees out front and mock English names like Dorchester Court or the Royal Arms. Common features include: concrete stairs, prison-style walkways with dudes looking in your window every five minutes, moms beating their kids next door and cop car lights reflecting off the pool. An ex used to say, “I hate living in these fucking drug apartments,” and friends would say, “It’s three blocks that way, past the drug apartments.” We all spent time staying up and crashing in them, or we tried to sleep through the noise emanating from their windows. I hear they’re better these days, but who knows? So the name is rooted in places and times."

A welcome vinyl issue for Matthew Halsall's 2012 masterpiece, Fletcher Moss Park, specially re-mastered for this limited edition release.

Released to critical acclaim and arguably Halsall's most complete recording Fletcher Moss Park is inspired by one of Manchester's most beautiful places. A rambling, multi-tiered park of walkways and dreamy gardens that offers the contemplative Halsall a place of peace and respite from the city, a meditative space to think and write in. The stillness and beauty of the surroundings have steeped into his beautiful compositions for this album. Elegant and sincere, Halsall's compositions draw on his love of spiritual jazz, modern dance music and favour an earthy honestly and direct communication over tricksy arrangements and it is this deceptively simple openness that gives his music such a unique flavor.

Featuring saxophonist Nat Birchall, harpist Rachael Gladwin, pianist Adam Fairhall & Taz Modi, bassist Gavin Barras and drummers Gaz Hughes & Luke Flowers plus a string quartet.

“Easy rider, come and take me higher”. When the world seemingly crumbles around, music can provide an escape few other mediums can. For their debut self-titled LP, Velour effortlessly levitate you above the madness below, each track taking a new turn, cruising over hazy flecked skylines, bustling walkways and bleary eyed bedlam. A trajectory that takes in all of jazz’s vibrancies, blending elements of neo soul, broken beat and hip hop coupled with a much-needed sense of hope across nine deep, soul-searching tracks released via WOLF Music Recordings.

A style and sound taking influence from genres and moods, environments and experiences, Essen-based Velour stretch their legs for this, their first full length album. From the off, they nestle you under their wing with the rustling sax washes of opener ‘CLP’ before diving into an epic slo-mo burner, swooping down into the chaos as singer, Eva Czaya, wistfully narrates the scenes beneath.

Unafraid to shift pace within songs, the likes of ‘Pose’, sauntering from soulful summer groove into woozy late night affair, and ‘Tom's Garage’, that progresses from roadside recounting to grungy basement blowout, finished with a sample of jazz-tinged dusty beats, show that accomplished and adept heads rest on the shoulders of these relative newcomers.

WOLF Music mainstay Mr Fries continues to head up production for Velour, his trademark touch capturing the intimacy of Velour’s sound presenting it in a way that’s considered yet raw - nothing feeling rushed, nor cluttered. A separation and space that gives each element the room it deserves to breathe, with short interludes and skits providing the perfect bridge between tracks, guiding you through smokey jazz bars and twilight whisperings.

Moving through the album, Czaya at points wanders in a serene spoken dialogue, at others letting her voice loose, but always with an ethereal demeanour that comes off with natural ease. One of many highlights, ‘Anthony Davis’ shows off this celestial prowess whilst perfectly embodying Velour’s dream-like escapism. A pent up release of creativity, as moody bass tones mix with deft keys, rolling snares sit behind swirling saxophones.

The journey ends with ‘Luminate’, a transcendent closer laced with space-echoed vocals that reverberate around over-driven Rhodes and feverish drums. Cymbals crash, as modulated synths rise, building and building before easing you off into the night and on your way to a parallel universe.

As a body of work, ‘Velour’ is a shining example of the freedom, energy and enthusiasm of the new school of jazz that’s been captivating minds the world over. An instant on repeat staple - let go, feel the flow, it’s what we need in a time like this.

For Shelley's on Zenn-La, Oliver Coates designs a complex of bending truths and reverse walkways to vernal states. Open ears can peer down hidden aux channel corridors, while melodic patterns present two-way mirrors to rooms of other retinal colors. An endless euphoria is just beneath the dance floorboards of Shelley's, and an inquisitiveness unencumbered by the institution of knowledge surrounding its frame and inhabitants.