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The new batch from the bottomless edit archives of Danny Krivit is an uptempo, guitar-heavy excursion into two cuts of danceable rock from opposite sides of a decade.

“Marbles” originally came out late in 1970, the result of a collaboration between the fiery British guitarist John McLaughlin and drummer Buddy Miles. Miles was hot off his time with Jimi Hendrix, and producer Alan Douglas, who’d been instrumental in putting together the Band of Gypsys group, attempted another crossover combination with a brand new, blazing guitar god. Also on the date was Larry Young, an organ player best known for his expansive jazzy albums on Blue Note, and several veterans of Buddy Miles’ funk-rock combos. The resulting mixture produced in “Marbles” a powerful, driving rhythm anchoring an addictive riff that steamrolls through the cut in a fashion not unlike the motorik sound of Velvet Underground or Can. Mr. K’s edit leans heavily on the drums, naturally, with a long, tailor-made intro and a mesmerizing focus on the main riff, extending things well past the seven-minute mark.

Ten years later, the world of music was in an entirely different place but a good guitar riff coupled with a driving beat was still powerful currency on the dancefloor. This time, the group was Scottish new wave-punk group APB, whose single “Shoot You Down” had garnered unexpected peak time play in cutting edge NYC hotspots Danceteria, the Peppermint Lounge, the Ritz and the Mudd Club. “Shoot You Down” combines the urgency of the Clash with the free for all vibe that characterized the downtown scene (and throws in a chant borrowed from P-Funk for good measure). Mr. K has created a long instrumental opening that leads into the vocals, giving the tightly-wound 7-inch single a proper extended 12-inch treatment it deserved but never had before.

The sound is crisply remastered for club play, and stretched over the breadth of a 12-inch single. Both of these tracks are appearing on the long-format player for the first time.

Platform 23 is delighted to present music from Colin Potter with It Was, a collection of tracks chosen from his 1989 cassettes Recent History Volumes 1 & 2.

After a burst of activity, mainly on his ICR label, from 1980 - 82, the tapes were the first released music in seven years and highlighted the intervening period.

While much of his earlier recordings have now been reissued by Dark Entries, Deep Distance and Sacred Summits, It Was covers the period where Potter recordings were limited while working as an engineer at his IC Studio, and pre-date his work with Nurse With Wound.

The ambience and guitar of The French Polisher leads to Diary Of A Nobody, an embodiment of Potter, sequencers and guitar against submerged, metallic percussion rising. Dense, claustrophobia follows in Solidarity At Wujeck Colliery towards the guitar refrains of Persistence.

Side two starts with Green Fields, where plucked guitars are surrounded and consumed by arpeggios. Propulsion without percussion, the layers of arps shift and redefine before the scatter of Saw with reversed synths and guitar acting as counterbalance. Nine Months, a possible centerpiece, has an autumnal atmosphere; crashing cymbals and ambulant guitar, leading to the closing Ships That Pass In The Night, a hazy drift of slowly sequenced synths & primitive voice samples.

Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.

in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.

Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.

Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”

Xylitol, aka producer and DJ Catherine Backhouse, shifts up the refinement and musical breadth for her second album Blumenfantasie, the follow-up to her Planet Mu debut Anemones.
With Blumenfantasie, Xylitol wanted “to make space and for the music to float and propel at once”, finding routes through the pointillistic figures, cascading synths and the meditative stillness of kosmische musik and bolder breakbeat programming. She reaches this delicate balance through careful subtraction, hoping “to convey a sense of intimacy and sadness but without sentimentality” which she manages with a feel and sound that's raw and intuitive.

Blumenfantasie rolls through detailed jungle workouts that flutter and bleep, through beatless ambience, taking a rare dip below 160 bpm for the elegiac Mirjana, the album’s most explicit nod to Krautrock with a drum break chopped up from Amon Duul II’s anthemic ‘Archangel’s Thunderbird’, through to Halo, a bare bones grime rhythm that calls to mind the missing link between industrial pioneers Nurse With Wound and Wiley's Eskibeat.

Catherine cast her net to draw in experimental audiovisual duo Sculpture and Reading based post-rock band The Leaf Library as collaborators, pulling the former’s whirling eddies of musique concrète into a slice of sublime aquatic jungle, and the latter’s radiophonic folksong into a dark and disorientating breakbeat workout equally indebted to Source Direct as to Broadcast.
Blumenfantasie moves with a confident, self-effacing fluidity which has been informed by DJ Bunnyhausen’s more regular DJ gigs. She speculates ‘if this album feels more cohesive than its predecessor it's likely because I've been DJing a lot more, with Worthing Techno Militia, with central and eastern european electronica collective Slav to the Rhythm, as well as being part of Italo Disco crew Flex. Moving between these zones seemed to open up hidden pathways between the disparate musical trajectories they represent.'
While Anemones contrasted the rough and the delicate, its successor is an album built for the head, hips and heart, with painterly sounds and a sense of intimacy that encourages deep listening while keeping its eyes on the strobelight and its feet on the dancefloor.

Meeting vulnerability with persistence, Lucerne-based musician Remo Helfenstein presents Spite, his first solo album on Präsens Editionen. Whereas his 2022 debut EP, Comforting Katharina, traced raw, devotional impulses, Spite expands the terrain—balancing psychedelic drift with sudden moments of clarity, wounded grandeur with flashes of pop transcendence.

The record thrives on contradiction: oscillating between the no wave austerity of Suicide and the meditative (and dadaist) expanses of Bitchin Bajas and Bonnie “Prince” Billy’s collaborative work, while opening into passages of gospel-infused spaciousness. At times intimate and porous, at times expansive and ecstatic, Helfenstein shapes a sound world that fuses analog and digital processes—both deeply personal and insistently collective. This duality comes to life most strikingly in recordings with fellow musicians Klara Germanier (background vocals and guitar), Raphael Loher (k

With “chapters left unread” , 22-year-old Berlin artist Dust of Apollon presents his debut album: an electrifying yet deeply emotional work that moves between electronic and rock elements. Across 14 tracks, the album revolves around themes such as identity, inner conflict, love, depression, and healing. Throughout, there is a recurring sense of looking back on the unread chapters of one’s own life: moments that once felt impossible to understand, and wounds that only years later found their words. The focus track, “end of the road, ” stands as one of the album’s most intense moments. It tells the story of two lovers who draw closer to each other in the night, only to drift apart again when daylight breaks. A raw and honest conflict between hope and letting go, between closeness and the fear of reopening a wound that may never fully heal Thus, “chapters left unread” becomes not only a musical debut, but an intimate self-portrait: a look back at what once was, and an attempt to make peace with one’s past...chapters left unread that are now finally being read!

Repress on purple vinyl. Limited to 250 copies. "Our upcoming album, titled "Helichrysum," delves deep into the human experience, exploring the wounds we carry and the transformative power that lies within us. It serves as a culmination of the countless creative and personal choices we have made, leading us to a place of greater harmony within ourselves, with each other, and with our collective intentions. Musically speaking, the new album is a testament to our commitment to delivering a sonic experience that is unapologetically raw, adventurous, heavy, groovy and psychedelic. The choice to name the album after the Helichrysum plant, holds a significance as the plant symbolizes endurance, healing, immortality, and the power to overcome adversity, which mirror many of the themes throughout the record."

For here lies one of the most influential bands in the realm of gothic metal, a group with doom and death metal roots that has flourished for over three decades, boasting thirteen albums that have garnered devoted acclaim. This injustice is now being set right by The Circle Music , beginning with the vinyl release of the classic album "Burning: A Wish", which emerged twenty-four years ago. "Burning: A Wish", released in the twilight of the year 2001, stands as a dark reliquary of dreams lost to the velvet fog of melancholy. To revisit it now, two dozen years later, is to unseal a time capsule of gothic ache, doom- laced longing, and the tormented tenderness that only Lacrimas Profundere could conjure at their creative height. It was a candle-lit corridor between worlds. A slow fall into velvet shadows. A scream muffled by rain.

By the time "Burning: A Wish" was released, Lacrimas Profundere had already begun to evolve from their early death- doom origins, shaping their identity with the sophistication of seasoned mourners. The death growls had receded, replaced by the haunted, baritone croon of Christopher Schmid, whose voice is an echo from a chapel ruined by time. Yet, while the growls faded, the emotional gravitas remained intact, transmuted into melody, into baroque gloom, into something more sorrowfully refined. Produced with lush, theatrical clarity, the album never drowns in its own atmosphere, it breathes with it, moves with it. The soundscape is dominated by somber guitar textures, languid tempos, and subtle orchestral touches. From the very first notes, it is clear that this is music for ruined lovers and moon-drenched graveyards.

This is the hallmark of Lacrimas Profundere 's style: an emotional minimalism that does not explain or elaborate, but merely opens wounds and lets them breathe. That this album has remained, until now, absent from the warm embrace of vinyl is both tragic and oddly poetic. For what format better suits a record such as this than the one that cracks and hisses like an old seance? Vinyl is tactile, intimate. It requires attention, reverence. To place Burning: A Wish on a turntable is to light a candle in the dark.

Very limited numbers, orders will need to be confirmed.

For his new album, Irreparable Parables, Andrew Wasylyk felt a strong desire to write a set of songs featuring an element hitherto rare in his work: the human voice. Equally strong was the conviction that he did not want to sing them himself.

The Scottish multi-instrumentalist and composer set about assembling a group of guest singers, sending out the songs to wherever they were in the world. The vocals were recorded remotely and then, like migrating birds, winged their way back to Scotland. The result is an album of great beauty which, perhaps preeminently in Wasylyk’s work, expresses the vulnerability and resilience of the human spirit.

Six singers appear on the record, represented by six songbirds illustrated on the sleeve by Clay Pipe Music’s Frances Castle. The cuckoo is a nod to Belle and Sebastian’s 2004 single ‘I’m A Cuckoo’, that band’s Stuart Murdoch being the first voice you hear on the new album. When the vocal for ‘Private Symphony #2’ arrived, says Wasylyk, “it was everything that I was looking for and more. But this is Stuart Murdoch. Of course he’s going to make something incredibly beautiful and thoughtful.”

The song lyrics were, for the most part, written by the singers. The music is Wasylyk’s creation. He navigates a sound world that lies somewhere beyond the borders of classical and jazz, ambient and abstract. It is difficult to describe, but easy to understand, which is to say to feel. That is the way Wasylyk’s work is experienced: as a feeling. It takes you back to childhood, perhaps, to feelings of comfort and safety, or to memories of walks at sunrise and sunset, or to the way a shadow falls on a particular field in a particular place at a particular time in your life. This is consoling music. That is why, though pretty, it is not merely pretty. These are songs to shore up the soul.

Wasylyk writes in a room, in his native Dundee, full of “half broken” instruments. He picks these up, plays a little, seeking an idea, a feeling, a door that lies ajar. The musical palette of Irreparable Parables includes brass and woodwind, a six-piece string section, guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, tape loops, synthesisers and percussion. The strings were arranged by the cellist Pete Harvey, a long-term collaborator.

Among the other guest vocalists are Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, Saya Ueno from Japan’s Tenniscoats and Peter Brewis from Field Music. Wasylyk himself takes the lead vocal on the title track, though a throat infection and touch of pitch-shifting have altered his singing in a way that even he, having fallen out of love with his own voice, finds acceptable.

The heart of the record can, arguably, be found in two tracks, ‘Love Is A Life That Lasts Forever’ and ‘Spectators In The Absence of God’, sung respectively by Molly Linen and Kathryn Joseph. The former, bright with trumpets, was inspired by the writing of Derek Jarman. “I was feeling deeply upset about the world and wanted to try and write some- thing that was obviously hopeful,” Wasylyk says.

‘Spectators …’ offers an emotional counterpoint. It is an “apocalyptic hymn” that seems to grapple with watching human suffering from afar, too distant to be at physical risk, but experiencing the psychological wounding, and feelings of helplessness, even complicity, that come with constant awareness of other people’s pain. “Kathryn’s a pal, I love her dearly, and she’s a brilliant artist who really feels what she writes,” Wasylyk says. “The cracked tenderness of her voice is spellbinding.”

The album closes with an instrumental piece, ‘Soul Enters The Ocean Sun Climbs Out Of The Sea’, all piano and strings, that offers a sense of resolution and ascension. A good moment, too, for Wasylyk to reflect upon the artistic companionship that he enjoyed while making this record – the songbirds that answered his call: “These humans are incredible at what they do. I’m deeply grateful and feel so lucky. It blows my mind.”

Much more than just another punk band, Ideal Victim is a wildfire fueled by fury, grit, and defiance. Formed in Porto in 2022, this young outfit proposes a seemingly improbable formula that proves to be both unique and cohesive: over the raw, unyielding energy of 1980’s British hardcore, they layer the hypnotic vibes of surf rock and the nervous tension of rockabilly—crafting a taut and irresistible balance between atmosphere and aggression.​
At the forefront stands the fierce and outspoken roar of vocalist Mariana, supported by the driving cadence of drums and bass, and by a guitar that writhes as it drowns in distortion.​

Ideal Victim belong to a lineage of bands that never asked for permission to exist: from Discharge to Bikini Kill, from The Cramps to Dead Kennedys, their influences are undeniable. Yet, Ideal Victim refuse to echo them in exercises of nostalgia. Their music is urgent, combative, and strikingly current—a visceral response to the shackles of patriarchy and the open wounds of a world in accelerated collapse.​

Propelled by the impact of their demo Diary of a Pig and a considerable amount of stage experience, Ideal Victim now presents Rage Letters, a debut album that reflects the band's evolution through a set of six brief tracks—where nothing is left unsaid, nor unshouted.​
With Rage Letters, Ideal Victim extend us an invitation to insubordination—and it's one we can't help but accept.

i am so thrilled to share the film for my concert cornucopia with you . this has been a long journey with hundreds of people helping out . i am so beyond enormously grateful to every single one of them .

i feel the modern concert film is a matriarchially friendly construct , welcomed in the current climate . where female musicians can share their worlds uncorrupted . in cornucopia , i was joined by musical director and multi instrumentalist bergur þórisson , percussionist manu delago , flute septet Viibra , harpist katie buckley and the hamrahlid choir .

i spent last decade working with 360-degree sound and visual software in virtual reality and animation, creating Biophilia and later Vulnicura as a VR album . i was deeply inspired by the idea of a fully-immersive experience spreading Utopia and Fossora into fully surround speakers . my intention was to bring what we had created for 21st-century VR into a 19th-century theatre - taking it from the headset to the stage .

this vision was realised with 27 moving curtains that captured projections on different textures and LED screens , creating a digitally animated show : a "modern lanterna magica" for live music . i also wanted to feature bespoke instruments: a magnetic harp , an aluphone , a circular flute , and a reverb chamber , specially built with an audio architect to enhance the most intimate version of a performance—in a personal chapel .

throughout this tale, there is a subplot woven in : a second story of an avatar—a modern marionette who alchemically mutates , from puppet to puppet , from the injury of a heart wound to a fully healed state . i hope you enjoy it . warmness , björk

Here’s an expanded edition of one of Nurse With Wound’s most intense, unique opuses, so unique that for long-time fans it was a strange, chaotic loundge bizzarie when it first came out. For the first time, all four audio sides are complete (originally, there were only three sides). And to crown it all, a magnificent new cover by the great and talented Babs Santini, who is none other than Steven Stapleton behind his pseudonym of plastic artist, still in the luxurious tradition of the “silver collection” at Rotorelief Records.

Nurse with Wound’s album Huffin’ Rag Blues is unique in NWW’s discography. Stapleton teams up with composer, producer and multi-instrumentalist Andrew Liles, his co-creator of musical terrorism, to tackle the exotica and lounge genres, crushed into a cacophonous mess. Long-time NWW friends Colin Potter and Matt Waldron are also on board. Blues, jazz, crime films, bachelor pads and soap opera music are processed and discarded, then chopped up and recycled in a mix that contains a ton of space, but also overflows with dynamic tension, hilarious asides, sexually suggestive poetry and a certain rock & roll abandon.

This is a very surprising opus for long-time fans, is like a soundtrack that could illustrate a David Lynch film It’s brilliant, maddening, hilarious and sinister enough to earn a place in any collection with a little quirkiness and eccentricity. Huffin’ Rag Blues incorporates more familiar musical elements – including instruments (played live, even), rhythm and vocals – than almost any other Nurse With Wound album to date. The album’s main concern is, as always, to create environments for lucid dreaming rather than to create music as such.

Logical Absurd is very proud to present the 20th Anniversary of the album "She And Me Fall Together In Free Death" by Nurse With Wound. "She and Me Fall Together in Free Death" is probably the most approachable, largely "musical" album that NWW has released since Rock N' Roll Station. It's also one of his strangest concepts, a marriage of trance inducing Krautrock grooves with a traditional jazz standard and some jarringly atonal musique concrete. Side A is the 20- minute title track: a slow-motion jam reminiscent of of one of Can's sidelong tracks on Tago Mago or the more avant-garde grooves of Tony Conrad and Faust's Outside the Dream Syndicate.

The propulsive Jaki Liebezeit drumbeat is the foundation for a long jam session with what sounds like a dijderidoo and layers of guitar feedback. It's a massive, heavy sound, the kind that Julian Cope would devote a whole chapter to in his "Kratrocksampler". Side B is one long piece with three distinct movements. Beginning with those familiar, World Serpent-trademark windchimes, the listener is quickly ushered into Staple- ton's singing debut (!) in a rendition of the oft-covered traditional jazz ballad "Black is the Color of My True Love's Hair" This was a favorite of the recently deceased Nina Simone, and also of the avant-jazz screamer Patty Waters. Nurse With Wound's version is backed by cello drones, repetitive guitar strums and tambourine, sounding very much like The Velvet Un- derground's "Venus in Furs".

It's such a treat to hear Steven Stapleton's multitracked vocals cover this classic song, and this eerie version rates as one of my favorites. This song and the title track prove to the naysayers that Nurse With Wound is equally adept at rock n' roll songcraft as he is at demented sound collages. The creepy jazz cover seques into "Chicken Con- cret (For Missy E)", a truly warped tape-edit job that juxtaposes chicken squawks and sythesized birdcalls with random bleeps, speaker hiccups and gongs.

Active for 40 years, Nurse with wound is one of the projects of Steven Stapleton, materialized in a very wide range of hysterical noise over sound collages and cut ups, abstract music, soothing drones and surreal sound paintings, and more rhythmical and mechanical pieces, always inspired by Dadaism and Futurism, Krautrock, jazz improvisation, surrealism, never losing his main goal, that is having fun and enjoying himself.He has had many collaborators, a recurrent one in the 80s and 90’s being Current 93’s David Tibet, another noticeable one still at work with him is Andrew Liles.The main line of this unpredictable sound builder is hectic and uncompromised, his point of view is that everything is possible and applies it to himself. As a youngster he wanted to be an artist so decided he was one . He is not a musician, and says he has no interest in becoming one. Surprisingly, (or not!), the love of his life is building sculptures out of recycled and reclaimed materials, building things with anything, even junk. And sounds, we are a witness to it.With these very strange juxtapositions of styles and manners, female rap music and 50s and 60s lounge music having a special top priority in Steven’s tastes, and a creativity that has no bounds no taboos, with a taste of novelty every time, Nurse with wound will no doubt continue to surprise people listening to his works, and himself, as he wants to keep it fresh every time, mostly for him.

Official reissue. New remastering vinyl of the 1979 LP by Colin Potter + "silver edition" Gatefold cover + complete NWW list on Gatefold inner.


Chance Meeting on a Dissecting Table of a Sewing Machine and an Umbrella is the debut album by British experimental unusual and absurd music group Nurse With Wound, released on their own United Dairies label in 1979. An unusual record which blends noise and jamming.

The album's equally unusual title is a quote from the surreal, poetic novel Les Chants de Maldoror by Uruguayan-born French author Isidore-Lucien Ducasse, written under the pseudonym Comte de Lautréamont.It has been included in the "100 Records That Set the World on Fire (While No One Was Listening)" by TheWire in 1998, and is one of the records that have had a lasting impact on avant-garde, experimental and psychedelic music.It was on this record that the famous "NWW list" appeared for the first time, featuring dozens of names of musicians and groups who had influenced Nurse With Wound - a list that now serves as a treasure map for many collectors of the genre and fans of outsider music. It's been replicated here in the innersleeve of the gatefold.

includes unearthed fragments of Bladder Flask by Richard Rupenus, circa ’80s, The paths of Nurse With Wound and Bladder Flask first crossed in 1980 and the following year Bladder Flask’s debut album One Day I Was So Sad That The Corners Of My Mouth Met & Everybody Thought I Was Whistling (Orgel Fesper Music) was distributed by United Dairies. Following the aborted project for a second Bladder Flask album, scheduled for 1981, some forty years later, Richard Rupenus approached Steven Stapleton to use fragments of old recordings he’d unearthed from “Bladder Flask”, an invitation that Stapleton accepted, and rather than simply remixing or reworking existing Bladder Flask tracks, Steve Stapleton and Andrew Liles have succeeded in reinforcing Nurse With Wound and Bladder Flask’s sense of the absurd in this new opus “Backside”.

This 1983 period in which Gyllensköld was recorded was a fantastic time for the evolution of Steven Stapleton’s audio art. His collaborations with Diana Rogerson, Robert Haigh (Sema), David Tibet, and Thirlwell around this time elicited some of the most exciting work Nurse With Wound had yet recorded. Listen to this material and compare it to Chance Meeting and it becomes clear that in just a few years, Stapleton’s art had grown by leaps and bounds. The production quality on these tracks is remarkable, and the widening out of the NWW soundworld opened up a whole new audio toybox that Stapleton has continued to experiment with up to today. This new sound encompasses vocal experiments, vintage LPs of easy listening music, demented nursery rhymes, lateral references to disposable pop music, avant-garde jazz and minimalistic piano composition, all glued together with evocative atmospheres redolent of things unholy, troubling and perverse, but always oddly indefinable and puzzlingly misshapen. In retrospect, Gyllensköld can be seen as the beginning of the “mature” period of NWW, and thus it is an indispensible release for fans of the project. : Brainwashed

Mit "Eon of Obscenity" erreicht die texanische Brutal-Death-Metal-Band STABBING neue Höhen der klanglichen Vulgarität. Das Album ist gespickt mit unerwarteten Momenten verdrehter Technizität und sinneszerstörender Kraft. Das Debüt des Quartetts beim Label Century Media übertrifft, überrollt und vernichtet die Konkurrenz gänzlich. Mit Tracks wie "Inhuman Torture Chamber" nimmt Sängerin Bridget Lynch ihren Platz als eine der kraftvollsten und markantesten Stimmen des Genres ein und macht ihrem ehemaligen Tourkollegen Ricky Meyer von Suffocation mit dem Track "Nauseating Composition" ordentlich Konkurrenz. Nachdem sie sich in der Underground-Szene einen Namen gemacht haben, mit Sanguisugabogg und 200 Stab Wounds (u. a.) auf Tournee waren und beim Maryland Deathfest und Milwaukee Metalfest bahnbrechende Auftritte geliefert haben, setzen STABBING neue Maßstäbe in Sachen Brutalität - und legen ohne Kompromisse noch eine Schippe drauf.

Editions Mego presents The Psychologist, the sophomore album by the Istanbul born and raised, Berlin based electronic music composer and sound artist Hüma Utku.

As the title suggests, The Psychologist, is a series of sonic essays based around themes of psychological phenomena and can be read as a musical enquiry into the human condition. With Utku’s background as a graduate of Psychology and her current practice as a conceptual music composer we see the two main threads in her professional career intertwine on this unique and ambitious release.

Including recordings of Buchla 200 from Utku’s Elektronmusikstudion residency in October 2020,The Psychologist is a genre aversive work that embodies elements of synthesiser music, electroacoustic, experimental techno, industrial, modern composition and spoken word. Piano, string compositions and vocals hold weight throughout a number of pieces providing a dramatic acoustic edge to the psychological explorations contained within.

The foreboding mood of much of this release is the product of investigation that lends the unsettling theme of anticipatory grief to the mood of the tracks Light of All Lights and Continuing Bonds. Islands of Consciousness refers to Jungian metaphor for consciousness whilst the unnerving Rüya twists around dream analysis in Gestalt psychology. Fuel For The Flames proceeds as a buzzing and swirling representation of alchemy and psychological symbolism. Dissolution of I is haunted by a strange sensation of dissociation whilst defense mechanisms support the sublime Sublimation. The bright shapes of Chironian Wound represent archetypes and analytical psychology whilst the fried soundscapes and rhythms of Ataxia encapture neurological states.

The results unravel with both the clockwork rhythms of the human body and the unpredictable nature of the psyche, the pieces follow arrhythmic patterns in a harmonious way. It tells the raw and intimate story of the human experience with a new work whereby the predictable operates in parallel with the unexpected and like human experience itself, is dark and complex.

Composed, Written & Produced by Hüma Utku
Piano by Hüma Utku
Vocals by Hüma Utku
Double Bass performed by Adam Pultz Melbye
Cello performed by Florina Speth (aka Schloss Mirabell)
Violin performed by Marta Forsberg
Cover photography & art by Gözde Güngör
Design by Eloise Leigh

The capstone of Miles Davis’ electric period, Agharta reigns as a funk-rock fireball — a blazing comet streaked energy and elan, a fearless organism feasting on adventure and freedom, a seven-headed Godzilla stomping its way through Osaka, Japan. Recorded on February 1, 1975 at Osaka Festival Hall at the first of a two-show stand, the double album offers an endless abundance of surprises and shifts — as well as a road-proven ensemble whose chemistry and abilities equal that of any of Davis’ celebrated bands. If the true measure of jazz is the capacity to adapt to the moment and challenge perception, Agharta is consummate.

Sourced from the original master tapes, housed in a Stoughton gatefold jacket, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 33RPM 2LP set of this epic live release presents it in audiophile sound on a domestic pressing for the first time. Offering greater degrees of separation, detail, and richness than the compressed CD editions and more clarity, openness, and presence than older vinyl copies, this version of the 1975 release helps bring the concert stage to your home. Just make sure your turntable and speakers are up to the challenge of Davis and Co.’s explosive performances — and producing the decibels they demand.

Teeming with vibrant colors, tones, and pace, Mobile Fidelity’s reissue captures the hear-it-to-believe-it flow, sweep, and moodiness of the music. Though the group honors looseness and freedom with religious verve, the specificity and scale rendered by this remaster allows you to detect methods behind the alleged madness that are often otherwise harder to discern. This insight extends to the understated changes in volume, harmonics, and phrasings. In many ways, you can listen as Davis himself did that early February evening as he helped coordinate the overall direction and decided on whether to blow his wah-wah-wired trumpet or take a turn on the organ.

Tellingly, Agharta would likely never have been made if not for Davis’ ventures overseas and, specifically, to the Land of the Rising Sun. Having for years faced a backlash on his native soil for his choices to experiment and blow past all known borders, Davis was welcomed with open arms in Japan. The concert documented on Agharta — as well as the day’s later show, captured on the equally exciting Pangea — stemmed from a sold-out three-week tour that would ultimately mark Davis’ final public appearances for years, as he soon settled into semi-retirement and nursed the wounds connected to an unprecedented stretch of restless and relentless output.

For all the band-fueled merit of Agharta — and there’s plenty, given the cast of saxophonist Sonny Fortune, bassist Michael Henderson, drummer Al Foster, percussionist James Mtume, and guitarists Reggie Lucas and Pete Cosey seemingly blasts off to outer space and travels distant galaxies by the time this minimally edited record runs its course — Davis’ own playing often remains overlooked. As critics Richard Cook and Brian Morton observed, it is “often fantastically subtle, creating surges and ebbs in a harmonically static line, allowing him to build huge melismatic variations on a single note.” He attacks like a man on a mission, out to prove naysayers wrong and bent on trailblazing another new path forward. Convention and skeptics be damned.

Noisy and furious, dark and discordant, abstract and off-balance, radical and intense, abrasive and atmospheric, strangely beautiful and hypnotically eccentric: Agharta evades simple description, and refuses to be pinned down in any established category — rock, jazz, punk, ambient, prog, avante-garde, or otherwise. Shot through with trench-deep grooves, screaming riffs, scalding solos, and free-improv leads, its cosmic thrust comes on as the equivalent of an animated pointillist painting comprised of millions of textured dots, dashes, and dabs that hold your attention so raptly you want to revisit the ideas again and again.

Always steps ahead of everyone else, Davis knew what he was doing even when Agharta debuted in Japan before later hitting U.S. markets. Though “Maiysha” and “Theme from Jack Johnson” are identified in the track listing, the record contains a number of uncredited references to other Davis works, including a nod to “So What.” This decision to bypass labels only adds to the art of the reveal — the rare black magic in which Agharta expertly deals.

Introducing: Temporary Blessings, the new project by stalwart Naarm / Melbourne trumpet player and composer Liam McGorry.

Assembled to realise McGorry's compositions drawing on 1960s Italian & French soundtrack music, Temporary Blessings brings together trusted instrumentalists and fellow travelers from Melbourne's rich enclave of cinematic soul. With Liam at the helm, the group is composed of members of Surprise Chef, Karate Boogaloo, Saskwatch and Let Your Hair Down.

The resulting recordings realise McGorry's sonic visions of film noir, giallo, library music and cinematic soul, captured live in one room with what the maestro describes as "a shared spirit". The recordings, produced by paragon Henry Jenkins, bring together emotive string arrangements, tough horns and a steadfast rhythm section with an acute attention to detail McGorry has developed over years in the saddle.

Liam says: "I find great comfort in collaborating with good friends and playing together in the same room and taking these blessings as they come."

A veteran of Melbourne soul, McGorry's steady hands have touched some of the city's most revered projects over the last 15 years; McGorry-led projects Saskwatch, Dorsal Fins and Ex-Olympian sit aside Sampa The Great, Ella Thompson and Adrian Eagle on Liam's heavy list of credits and collaborators. He has contributed more than his fair share of bricks to the great structure of Melbourne soul, always playing the background, true to his humble nature.

LP available in black or orange and brown splatter vinyl.

Introducing: Temporary Blessings, the new project by stalwart Naarm / Melbourne trumpet player and composer Liam McGorry.

Assembled to realise McGorry's compositions drawing on 1960s Italian & French soundtrack music, Temporary Blessings brings together trusted instrumentalists and fellow travelers from Melbourne's rich enclave of cinematic soul. With Liam at the helm, the group is composed of members of Surprise Chef, Karate Boogaloo, Saskwatch and Let Your Hair Down.

The resulting recordings realise McGorry's sonic visions of film noir, giallo, library music and cinematic soul, captured live in one room with what the maestro describes as "a shared spirit". The recordings, produced by paragon Henry Jenkins, bring together emotive string arrangements, tough horns and a steadfast rhythm section with an acute attention to detail McGorry has developed over years in the saddle.

Liam says: "I find great comfort in collaborating with good friends and playing together in the same room and taking these blessings as they come."

A veteran of Melbourne soul, McGorry's steady hands have touched some of the city's most revered projects over the last 15 years; McGorry-led projects Saskwatch, Dorsal Fins and Ex-Olympian sit aside Sampa The Great, Ella Thompson and Adrian Eagle on Liam's heavy list of credits and collaborators. He has contributed more than his fair share of bricks to the great structure of Melbourne soul, always playing the background, true to his humble nature.

LP available in black or orange and brown splatter vinyl.

Straight out of the local mud of the city of Antwerp comes dancing this next Souvenirs from Imaginary Cities slab of free-flowing bits of electronic wonder : Schönen Abend by Simon B. Just in time to ease you out of this endless winter and right into springtime. Like the previous hit by Purple Uncle, this flower takes some time to bloom and fill up your head and body with it's ear wormy fragrance.

It's hazy and cinematic, makes you think of Italian electronic pioneers and their library magic, Patrick Cowley's School Daze and Haruomi Hosono in some kind of gothic manner. It's quite stripped and lush at the same time, rhythms like minimal mechanics make you fly above the river and land just outside reality. It's a nice place where soft jazz tingles right around the dark corner, and that particular mix of exotica and melancholia — the trademark of this port city's best electronic auteurs is definitely in the air. The river still shines, but she’s deeply poisoned. The old town has lost every bit of fresh air but keeps on digging for old gold. This bitter pill is served with delicacy and lightness, the wound is dressed up seductively — feet in the mud, head in the air. Stuff is sensuous, with quiet places reminding of the good side of those times when the big wheel stopped turning ever so madly. A strange quietness whistles through the leaves. Some things take time to unfold. In or out of C.

Four years in the making, this is the solo debut LP of Simon B, a longtime contributor to Antwerp's improvised music scene (Groovecats Deluxe, Wij Blij Trio ). Primarily a double bass player, he also has a deep-felt passion for offbeat electronica and the rainbowy side of American minimalism, which takes front here. The smoky voice on the last track belongs to Nina-Joy Thielemans, Nina-Joy is part of Particals, a trio working with live electronics and field recordings, releasing an lp on Ultra Eczema later this year. Furthermore, you can hear the tenor and soprano saxophone of Adia Van Heerentals on 4 tracks, deepening out Simon's naturally flowing compositions and playing around with his melodies. You may know her from Bodem and her strong presence in the Belgian jazz scene lately.

Simon's electroacoustic experiments — using a clarinet and some outboard effects — were important tools in finding the very specific colour of this record. There's this airy character, like wind blowing through old layers of bricks and over the river, anchored with a deep sense of bass, gathering ages of dust and memories in these eight elegantly wobbling tracks, forming a perfect whole that’s really coming together in one deep listening from A to Z.

The centrepiece is perhaps Come to Me, instrumental and reprise with vocals, but no fillers on this one. Every part of the mystery is needed to come to its end and back again. It's a record that works in the morning, to open up a day and in the quiet corners of the night, with it's sleazy quirkiness, smiling towards you from the right corner of the eye. A perfect compagnon for your long-form wandering habits, light reflections on a wet surface obsessions, coffee slurping in the morning and the forgotten art of beachcombing. Quite essential these days, witnessing a world going apeshit.

Sugaring a Strawberry, the sophomore record from Julia, Julia, is a study in coming undone—on purpose. Recorded at COMA, Julia Kugel's home studio, and mixed through a custom Flickenger clone, the album drifts in and out of clarity like memory itself. It's emotionally retrospective, creatively unvarnished, and deeply human. You can hear it in the hiss, the warmth, in the vocals so raw they're like an open window. These songs weren't engineered for perfection. They were built to breathe. Her long-time collaborator and husband, Scott Montoya, mixes it all so loosely that you can hear the air between tracks— a space that makes the music feel inhabited rather than recorded.


"Bound" opens the album like a secret passed between sisters, solemn and unspeakably close. It begins with the softest of touches: hushed guitar, a near- whispered delivery that carries the intimacy of someone singing only for one other person. It's a love song, but not romantic, more ancestral in the way long bonds can be. All glow and undercurrent, "I Know," is like hearing someone hum through a wound. The track arrives as if it had been waiting, coiled and complete, to be sung. Its pulse is slow but insistent, anchored on a hypnotic loop and a vocal that's half-incantation, half-confession. One of the most outward-facing songs on the record, "Feeling Lucky," opens like a cigarette flicked in the dark– smoky and a little bit slick. Built on a skeletal beat and a nearly detached vocal, it leans into a sarcastic swagger that barely masks the ache beneath. The delivery is droll and glazed, the instrumentation is sparse and a little woozy, leaving space for her voice to sway—a shrug of a song, stylish in its sadness. "A Love That Hurts" drifts in on soft, fingerpicked guitar and a dry, close-mic vocal that feels both haunted and immediate. The mix is stripped down and analog-warm, letting tape hum and silence frame the emotion. Julia sings like she's remembering something she doesn't want to, each line a slight unraveling. Like the rest of the album, "A Love That Hurts" doesn't push toward resolution. It sits in the ache, sifts through it, makes it beautiful.

Sugaring a Strawberry doesn't seek catharsis so much as stumbles into it. There's a quiet volatility to these songs like they might fall apart if you press too hard. It moves in shadow and softness, asking questions it doesn't answer. It doesn’t end with closure. It ends with truth.

GATEFOLD DOUBLE VINYL WITH SPOT UV FRONT COVER

Following the skewed-unself-help-brilliance of ‘Sus Dog’ (which marked his first full foray into songs, abetted by Thom Yorke), and its companion piece ‘Cave Dog’, Chris Clark returns to the dancefloor’s simple, but no less affecting pleasures, with ‘Steep Stims’.
“I found it hard to pull away from listening to this record, hard to stop making it, I had to remove myself from the Stims and stop enjoying it at some point. The album feels like nature to me. I love it when electronic music feels more naturalistic than acoustic music, more potent, that’s the devil’s trick, the promise of electronic music.” comments Chris.
“I used an old synth - the Virus on all of the tracks. I used it at Mess in Melbourne - run by my friend Robin Fox - I loved it so much I had to buy one when I got back to the UK, it took a while to find. They’re a bit clunky to program but make some of my most favourite sounds.”
‘Steep Stims’ marks a back-to-basics approach, invoking the early years of gung-ho creativity enforced by limitations in technology at the time. “Most of the tracks on this album capture the spirit of making music on old samplers, which don’t have much memory time”, explains Clark. “It reminds me of making ‘Clarence Park’, my first album, where I would have to finish tunes in the session, as they would be saved on floppy disks and I couldn’t easily go between tracks. This new record is just a few synths and a few choice sounds; the writing is the important thing.”
Made quickly, ‘Steep Stims’ reflects the immediate rave energy of his live show, but that’s not to say it’s basic floor fodder, as it’s rife with personality, synth magic, and knack for melody. Although swift and impressionistically captured rather than laboured over, it’s still formidably deft, with plenty of oddball weirdness lurking beneath the dancefloor.
Soft, orange, scorched, brutal, the opening track ‘Gift and Wound’ captures the classic dance music dread / awe / euphoria combo perfectly, before ‘Infinite Roller’ merges sparkly-minimalism with snarling bass and soft sines, which turn more dense and metallic as it progresses.
The melancholic smoke belch of ‘No Pills U’ gives strong classic vibrations, which is belied by its creation, made in just 20 minutes. “I love working quickly sometimes”, comments Clark. “Inspiration hits, rough and ready. It’s off the cuff but also screams ‘don’t gild the lily with nonsense, keep it simple keep it clean’”. Segueing into its elder brother, the piece becomes bigger and beatier on ‘Janus Modal’, where it permutates for over 7 minutes of fluttering, beatific club majesty.
At ‘18EDO Bailiff’ you inexplicably find yourself at a clearing, things have suddenly got much quieter. You enter a decrepit and eerie old house, and as you move through its unsettling interior, you arrive at ‘Globecore Flats’. A real piano tuned to 18 notes per octave gives the pair of tracks a haunted, olde worlde feel, which promptly gets eaten by a huge tech step tearout monster, birthing a strange but exotic beast.
The white hot ‘Blowtorch Thimble’ is all hooktasm-rave-hyper-amen-energy, whilst acidic flute leaps around like Ian Anderson on pingers throughout the catchily simple jump-up lurch of ‘Civilians’.
“‘In Patient’s Day Out’ is like some sort of Morricone-does-kraut-rock-with-drum-machines, but that’s probably just in my head” says Clark. “I made several versions of this then went with the early mix but cranked through some choice outboard because it just had something.”
Drumless, yet still full of exhilarating-big-trance-drama, ‘Who Booed The Goose’ flashes by in stroboscopic fast forward, then ‘5 Millionth Cave Painting’ gives a palate cleanser, letting “the virus with its delicious broken, luxurious reverb have a moment”, before ‘Negation Loop’ swoops down in all its glory, with Clark’s tweaked vocals leading deconstructed trance breakdowns, tape edits and brutal noisebursts.
An antidote to the bombast of its predecessor is ‘Micro Lyf’, which closes the set on a poignant note, of sorts. Muted staccato gives way to field recordings “that gradually put it in this outside space; alien in a meadow somewhere nameless. It feels like a sinkhole. The record kinda swallows itself up and then is gone”, ends Chris.

His fourth album, City Music works as a counterpart to Morby’s acclaimed 2016 release Singing Saw, an autobiographical set that reflected the solitude and landscape in which it was recorded. Saw was imagined as “an old bookshelf with a young Bob and Joni staring back at me, blank and timeless. They live here, in this left side of my brain, smoking cigarettes and playing acoustic guitars while lying on an unmade bed.” And now follows City Music, the yang to its yin, the heads to its tails. It is a collection crafted using the other side of its creator’s brain, the jumping off point perhaps best once again encapsulated by an image. “Here, Lou Reed and Patti Smith stare out at the listener,” explains Morby. “Stretched out on a living room floor they are somewhere in mid-70s Manhattan, also smoking cigarettes.” It finds Morby exploring similar themes of solitude, but this time framed by a window of an uptown apartment that looks down upon an international urban landscape “exposed like a giant bleeding wound.”

Los Angeles-based producer and composer Hayes Bradley returns with his most ambitious work yet, Audience, out now via StrataSonic Records. A departure from his years composing for film and fashion, the 14-track album marks a return to his dancefloor roots by melding breakbeats, trip-hop, and ambient textures into something both nostalgic and forward-thinking.

After two beatless, melodic LPs on Secular Sabbath, Bradley arrives at Los Angeles’ StrataSonic—an independent label celebrated for prioritizing artistic freedom—with Audience, a record defined by moody, churning breaks and rich soundscapes. Across the album, he merges the emotional depth of his scoring work with the kinetic energy of underground dance music, crafting a deeply-layed and adventurous project that exists beyond trends while highlighting his versatility as both producer and performer.

The album features collaborations with Luna on the ethereal “Dear Treasure” (accompanied by a music video with collaborator and partner Luna Blaise) Amtrac on “Be Right With You,” and Oxis on “Wishes,” alongside a range of instrumental cuts that highlight Bradley’s approach to rhythm and sound design.

At its core, Audience is an exploration of embracing personal and musical chaos. Bradley channels moments of anxiety, uncertainty, and raw emotion into tracks that are unpredictable and immersive. The album reflects his philosophy of leaning into disorder—turning moments of anxiety, unpredictability, and chaos into kinetic music that moves both body and mind.

Leviathan Whispers is an album of longings, laments, deliriums and drones, savage and sublime. Within are breaths, hums and bone songs for shadows and fl ames to dance to. Tim Hill is an inspirational fi gure within the UK arts, jazz, noise and improv world. A shapeshifting maverick exploring Britain's diverse musical traditions, from rough music to industrial folk, free jazz to dub, post-punk to avant-rock, incorporating ambient electronics, hymns and noise. Having worked with pioneering arts company Welfare State International, Tim’s performed inside Stonehenge, on the back of trucks at Notting Hill Carnival, leading giants through the streets of London, Dublin and Galway, at Olympic Torch events, celebratory feasts and leading humanist funerals. Tim is also festival director for The Sound of the Streets, a charity promoting outdoor music and musical director of the Wye Valley River Festival where he helps street bands across the country including The Big Noise in Taunton and Horns of Plenty in Oxford.

Leviathan Whispers is a spectral, contemplative selection of Tim's recorded work, including material created for art installations, outdoor projects, solo performances and personal meditations. Inspired by landscape and the eternal pull of Blake's Albion, baritone, alto and soprano saxophones are mixed with tape loops, old synths, recycled live recordings, woodwinds and reeds. Other sounds are processed by Colin Potter (Nurse With Wound) and drone artist Jonathan Coleclough. The album artwork and accompanying videos feature sound sculptures by Michael Fairfax (Royal Society of Sculptors) alongside unsettling visuals by fi lm-maker and junk-alchemist David Young. "an amazing player - there's a weight to his music with a wonderfully dark edge" Corey Mwamba / BBC Radio 3 Fans of Colin Stetson, John Surman, Anna Von Hausswolff , William Basinski and La Monte Young will fi nd much to savour on this new 12" LP. LAUNCH PARTY: we're holding a special launch event with a live performance and talk by Tim Hill on Saturday, 15th November inside a beautiful Victorian chapel beneath Royal Berks Hospital, Reading.

An enthralling weave of cathartic, introspective spirituality and thrumming, industrial darkness; The Wounded Healer is the first full-length from PREYRS, the new incarnation of Irish singer-songwriter Amy Montgomery and her band as one formidable entity. From the fourpiece's new janiform name; a twisting, conflicting play on the tenderness and innocence of prayer and the deadly dance of prey and predator to the band's fiercely independent journey, PREYRS is a project already steeped in story. After breathtaking album opener `Humble Eyes', lead single `Wave of Wisdom' immediately lays this concept bare as Amy's incandescent delivery of uncertainty, "lesson learned / don't know how / but here I am again / stronger than before", soars over a defiantly discordant clash of alt-folk slide guitar and Mormecha's pummeling industrial percussion. Elsewhere, the high-octane `Zeros, Ones & Lies' wrestles with the spiritual toll of being fed constant footage of atrocity and catastrophe by a media that accepts no responsibility for their part in the global race to the bottom. As such, the track bursts into furious life with urgent, double-time drums met by guitars distorted to the brink of destruction before the song all but caves in on itself as Amy quietly asks of us "Can you feel it? / like a river / it flows so silently / it flows so violently". By contrast, `Bring Ur Bruises' radiates resplendent, self-empowering positivity. Centred once again on the concept of the wounded healer, `Bring Ur Bruises' implores the listener to welcome their trauma in, to own it and wear it as a paradoxical means of ultimately letting it go as triumphant, reverb-soaked guitars soar ever higher. If it wasn't already clear, PREYRS are no strangers to doing things differently and, across every iteration, the band have always taken a DIY approach to every aspect of their existence. From covering themselves in paint and rolling over every single early album cover to, until recently, booking all of their own shows and festivals as diverse as Glastonbury, Green Man (UK), Blizzarrrd Rock (GER) and Bloodstock (UK), last year the band found themselves touring the UK as Amy Montgomery in support of musical heroes and British post-punk legends New Model Army. In November 2025 they will be joining New Model Army again on tour across Europe, but this time as PREYRS performing tracks from The Wounded Healer, the same four people but an entirely different beast. FOR FANS OF Nine Inch Nails, Chelsea Wolfe, Sonic Youth, Julie Christmas, Alanis Morissette, My Bloody Valentine, Siouxsie and The Banshees, Melvins

An enthralling weave of cathartic, introspective spirituality and thrumming, industrial darkness; The Wounded Healer is the first full-length from PREYRS, the new incarnation of Irish singer-songwriter Amy Montgomery and her band as one formidable entity. From the fourpiece's new janiform name; a twisting, conflicting play on the tenderness and innocence of prayer and the deadly dance of prey and predator to the band's fiercely independent journey, PREYRS is a project already steeped in story. After breathtaking album opener `Humble Eyes', lead single `Wave of Wisdom' immediately lays this concept bare as Amy's incandescent delivery of uncertainty, "lesson learned / don't know how / but here I am again / stronger than before", soars over a defiantly discordant clash of alt-folk slide guitar and Mormecha's pummeling industrial percussion. Elsewhere, the high-octane `Zeros, Ones & Lies' wrestles with the spiritual toll of being fed constant footage of atrocity and catastrophe by a media that accepts no responsibility for their part in the global race to the bottom. As such, the track bursts into furious life with urgent, double-time drums met by guitars distorted to the brink of destruction before the song all but caves in on itself as Amy quietly asks of us "Can you feel it? / like a river / it flows so silently / it flows so violently". By contrast, `Bring Ur Bruises' radiates resplendent, self-empowering positivity. Centred once again on the concept of the wounded healer, `Bring Ur Bruises' implores the listener to welcome their trauma in, to own it and wear it as a paradoxical means of ultimately letting it go as triumphant, reverb-soaked guitars soar ever higher. If it wasn't already clear, PREYRS are no strangers to doing things differently and, across every iteration, the band have always taken a DIY approach to every aspect of their existence. From covering themselves in paint and rolling over every single early album cover to, until recently, booking all of their own shows and festivals as diverse as Glastonbury, Green Man (UK), Blizzarrrd Rock (GER) and Bloodstock (UK), last year the band found themselves touring the UK as Amy Montgomery in support of musical heroes and British post-punk legends New Model Army. In November 2025 they will be joining New Model Army again on tour across Europe, but this time as PREYRS performing tracks from The Wounded Healer, the same four people but an entirely different beast. FOR FANS OF Nine Inch Nails, Chelsea Wolfe, Sonic Youth, Julie Christmas, Alanis Morissette, My Bloody Valentine, Siouxsie and The Banshees, Melvins

Room Noises is the debut album by the American indie rock/pop band Eisley. The album spawned three singles: "Memories",

"Telescope Eyes", and "I Wasn't Prepared". It was placed at number 9 among Paste magazine's top albums of 2005.

The dreamy sound on this album is pretty unique and the album contains a healthy dose of fragile songs.
Room Noises is available as a limited edition of 750 individually numbered copies on crystal clear & black marbled vinyl and includes an insert.

Sanguis is the alias of Berlin-based producer Ludwig Wandinger, a fixture in the city's experimental scene.
On his debut album Wounding dark ambient textures and solo piano improvisations let the listener's attention slip in and out of focus creating a liminal state of dreaming, feeling and drifting through inner worlds and thoughts.
Wandinger tries to capture fleeting moments - all tracks are unedited first takes, some recorded only with his phone in various places, from a friend's flat in Neukölln to his family home in rural Bavaria. Background noises become a part of the music and create a tangible sense of place, urging the listener to keep an ear out for one's own surroundings.
Though firmly rooted in the ambient genre, the album is not just about finding comfort. It's an acknowledgement of the ambiguity of our world where menace and beauty coexist, a dichotomy most apparent in nature itself - a constant source of inspiration for Wandinger.
Wounding is about walking alone on damp foliage at night and being handed a blanket by a loved one at the earliest daylight.

Ein inspiriertes Treffen musikalischer Köpfe erzeugt eine mehrdimensionale Noir-Welt auf diesem luftig-intimen, wunderschönen Kooperationsalbum. Zugleich der Höhepunkt seiner Disciples-Trilogie, treibt Ruth Mascelli (Special Interest) zusammen mit Mary Hanson Scott die paranoiden Torch-Songs des Vorgängers "Non-Stop Healing Frequency" in noch liminalere und abgehobenere Gefilde. Die Songseite ist stärker denn je, während die FX-beschallten Rohrblatt-Klänge von Mary Hanson Scott nicht nur Ruths verführerisches Gesäusel perfekt untermalen, sondern auch ein wolkig-ambientes Klangbett für die Instrumentals bilden, die die Sequenzen zusammenhalten und zu einer wahrhaft emotional mitreißenden Reise formen. Mit Gastauftritten von Jae Matthews (Boy Harsher) und Maria Elena (Special Interest). Im Coverdesign von Brett LaBauve von der Queer-Dance-Party-Institution Gimme A Reason, New Orleans. Zu den Höhepunkten zählt die episch-sehnsuchtsvolle Power-Ballade "Haunted Hearts", das hinreißende Zeitlupen-Cover des Hi-NRG-Pop(per)-Knallers "Self Control" und die zerhackten Rhythmen von "A Lover's Theory Of Value" zwischen abgestumpftem Trip-Hop und Julee Cruise, während "Vaseline Lens" an die elegischen Klagelieder über den Niedergang auf Seite 2 des Debütalbums "A Night At The Baths" erinnert.

Recital releases The Holy Restaurant, the new full-length album by Derek Baron, and their first solo LP since Curtain (Recital, 2020).

The album is built from years of miniature transcriptions of improvisations, functioning in many ways as a sister to Curtain. Half-thoughts and mistakes are revisited, gilded, and illuminated. The floorboards of the album are laid with piano, organ, string pads, while serrated accruements (distortions, flourishes, and recording interferences) step and drop overhead. The resulting conflux, as Baron notes in the accompanying booklet “becomes the point and the problem to explore.”

The second track “Oven Girls” opens with us galloping on a horse in some video-game meadow on a bed of MIDI strings. Abruptly, a helicopter soars over us and we transition to a latticed guitar and woodwind exploration. The album rolls on in this fashion, juxtaposing musical half-sentences within a museum of sounds rag-picked from history and daily life. Emotional interviews with Midwestern friars who build and sell caskets are set against gothic piano and guitar duets. On “Music in the Casket,” A disorienting and hilariously epic guitar solo erupts. The penultimate titular piece, “The Holy Restaurant,” sets a text written by Baron’s grandfather. A small chorus voices his words, echoing the humanistic storytelling of “Blue” Gene Tyranny’s A Letter From Home. Under sunlit piano progressions, a fleet of smokey trumpets emerges.

Running throughout the album is a series of “traces”: short melodic phrases painted over again and again with different real and MIDI instrumentation. The “luxurious asceticism of doubling” as Baron puts it. They explain, “Part of the allure for me is that the ‘original’ material is itself kind of thin, sketchy, meaningless, maybe calling attention to itself only by way of a felicitous mistake. Hearing, transcribing, and learning what was basically only ever played first on accident becomes the guiding concern.”

The album’s shifting, variegated forms and voices pass quickly; the record feels both comforting and elusive, suitable for any hour of the day.

The Holy Restaurant features guest players Ed Atkins, Lucy Liyou, Quentin Moore, Emily Martin, Dominic Frigo, Jacob Wick, and several of Baron’s family members. It is released in a limited edition vinyl pressing of 200 copies, accompanied by a booklet of effusive program notes by the composer, alongside an assemblage of photographs, scores, and artwork.

With this album, Heleen Van Haegenborgh returns to her roots as a pianist.
In recent years, she has primarily composed works on commission for a diverse range of ensembles, from recorders to foghorns.
On this solo album, her entire journey of musical encounters and compositions comes together subtly.
Van Haegenborgh doesn't think in terms of stories or boxes, but rather in colours, energy, and texture - without drifting into the abstract.
She remains true to her personal inside piano world, including the use of wires she has been experimenting with since 2008. These are given a place here as fully-fledged musical elements, communicating on different levels, in various contexts and forms.
The electronics sometimes become completely one with the piano, but often follow an entirely different path: at times calm, subtle and refined; at other times nervous and under the surface. Always within specific atmospheres and with precise timing.
Van Haegenborgh took charge of every detail from start to finish - electronics, composition, and performance.

"I stood on top of the mountain and looked out over the landscape. It was so beautiful that my chest hurt. The light vibrated, time stood still, and the contours dissolved for a moment. Everything had changed; I felt it then. I took their little hands so as not to lose contact with the ground. Then we ran down the mountain, scraping our knees. Still, we didn't make it. You had already put away all the nautical charts, loosened the moorings and steered out among the skerries. Mum stood waving from the jetty. You were alone, you wanted it that way. It was to be just you in the boat this time. I called out to you. I think you heard me and felt less lonely. We couldn't carry each other anymore, no matter how hard we tried. We washed our wounds on the shore and scattered tears and rose petals in the bay. The children laughed and searched for treasures under water. We called to them that it was time to come up. They were cold, and we hugged them to warmth. One ran ahead, the other up on our shoulders. Up the mountain, our mountain."

In 2020 Anna Högberg put her widely celebrated band Anna Högberg Attack on hold, retraining as a nurse whilst continuing a solo practice and playing in other groups. With Ensamseglaren she makes a spectacular return with her own ensemble — this time a double sextet — performing an album length suite of new music written in dedication to her late father — the titular ‘ensamseglaren’ pictured on the LP cover as a young boy.

 (ensam in Swedish can mean both alone and lonely, seglaren = the sailor).

Shot through with renewed energy and a brutally affective emotional punch, Högberg’s formal experimentation opens up vibrant possibilities for the assembled musicians to let loose with some of their wildest and most ecstatic playing on record.

Högberg’s contention with grief leans into collective joy as method of mourning — the big band as extended family; where bonds are made through a shared experience of being together. Where everyone gets to be themselves without expectations of who they should be or what they can do. It’s a radical commitment to care — of her self and others — that animates and unifies this suite of music’s radical dynamics and variations in colour: from whisper-quiet textural intensity to harrowing distortion and double drum chaos; raucous and solemn song.

"Throughout history, humans have had different images of the transition between life and death. Imagine standing on the seashore on a summer evening and seeing a beautiful vessel being prepared for departure. The sails are hoisted. The evening breeze comes, the sails fill and the boat glides out onto the open sea. You follow it with your eyes as it heads towards the sunset. It gets smaller and smaller, until it finally disappears as a tiny dot on the horizon. Then you hear someone next to you say, ‘Now they have left us.’ Left us for what? The fact that they got smaller and smaller and finally disappeared is only how we see it. In reality, they are just as big and beautiful as when they were here, lying on the beach by our side. Just as you hear that voice say ‘Now they have left us’, there may be someone on another beach who sees them appear on the horizon, someone waiting to welcome them when they reaches their new port."

"Pop" is a tag that's been assigned to Minus The Bear throughout their career. It's been used to set a distinction between the unique brand of complex indie rock they introduced on their first EP and the more angular and aggravated sounds of their previous bands Botch, Kill Sadie, and Sharks Keep Moving. It's also a tag that was thrown around frequently in the wake of their streamlined fourth album, OMNI. And it's a descriptor that immediately comes to mind within the first few seconds of their classic second formal EP, They Make Beer Commercials Like This. Now celebrating its 10-year anniversary and first time in print since 2011, Beer Commercials is the evolutionary step between Minus The Bear's first two landmark albums, Highly Refined Pirates and Menos El Oso. Opening track "Fine + 2 Points" remains one of the band's strongest opening tracks in their discography,charging out of the gates with a syncopated stomp that comes across as a more agitated take on Kylie Minogue's "Can't Get You Outta My Head". If Minus The Bear were looking to make pop music without any of its major-scale bubblegum trappings, they nailed it here. The band follows it with "Let's Play Clowns" and "Dog Park" - nods to Highly Refined Pirates' formula of frenetic clean guitar work, bombastic choruses, and Jake Snider's lyrics of detached romantic nostalgia. These tracks may represent Minus The Bear's original trademark version of pop, but on songs like "I'm Totally Not Down With Rob's Alien" the band eschews it's restless energy for atmosphere and dynamics, creating a sound that's inspired more than a handful of contemporary melodic post-rock bands. By the time the band belts out "Pony Up!" the listener has watched the three-year sonic transition between Minus The Bear's first two full-lengths transpire within under half-an-hour, with the their earlier math rock predilections yielding to the tightly wound club-banging pedalboard trickery that defined their sophomore album. Even if Beer Commercials doesn't fit within your definition of pop music, the unorthodox energetic charm of this relatively low-profile release serves as an exciting reminder of why Minus The Bear became one of the most important and influential indie rock bands of the new century.