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Arranged, produced, mixed and mastered by Ivan Dubious (April, 2024) __________________________________ A - Ivan Dubious "Flamboyant" AA - Wilbur "Impassive" __________________________________ (c)+(p) Ivan Antezza 2024 __________________________________ nunkirec.bandcamp.com

More top tier biz from a resurgent Scenic Route label, this time in a more bare-boned and classic sounding singer-songwriter mode courtesy of Oakland-raised and Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter Ivy Knight, produced by Deer park (fakemink, Ecco2k, evilgiane) and tipped if you’re anywhere on the line from Joanne Robertson to Sam Amidon, Dagmar Zuniga to Mark William Lewis. "Ivy Knight’s songs reflect a city dreamer creating a new world to sink into: across Iron Mountain, she conjures imagery of barren Southwest American landscapes as she recounts memories that feel beamed from generations past, channeling folk melodies and old trail ballads of the late 50s and early 60s. Much of her work has been created both within, and in reference to the Hudson Valley, where she met frequent collaborator Deer park (fakemink, Ecco2k, evilgiane) who produced and engineered."

The album was conceived as a tribute to the Holy Land of Ethiopia — the New Jerusalem, Zion Land. It takes the listener on a journey through diverse sounds and styles, revealing unique timbres, modern melodies, and both ancient and angelic songs. All of this is enriched with genuine and powerful lyrics, seamlessly integrated and blended in a spontaneous, simple, and natural way, transforming into a unifying and positive energy. A voluntary and curious musical project spreading Word, Sound, and Power.

Izum1, a promising 19(18?) year old trackmaker based in Hiroshima, Japan, who runs a net label "Nekomata Records," has just released his latest cassette album "There is Substance in 2-D." It is a very excellent collection of 12 pop&cute, avant-garde lolicore tracks from this next generation CDR! The album features 12 tracks of pop, cute, and avant-garde lolicore by the next generation of CDRs.

Masterpieces from Australia-based label that seems friends of the current dub ambient landmark West Mineral led by Huerco S. The debut album under the name of "J" by Australian experimental musician = Justin Cantrell, who is also known as the name of Ju Ca and collaboration with mdo as a popular unit called "picnic", has appeared. A daydream or heavenly fantasy, an intimate & nocturnal fantasy ambient / modern classical masterpiece that keeps swaying and swaying forever, it can only be said to be the best! Mastered by Shy (uon).

All songs originally written by J & reinterpreted by the 'J and the woolen stars' Emile Frankel, Rosy Angela Murphy & Nico Callaghan. Artwork by J Pictures by Bernard Caleo Mastered by Shy

Ulla’s 28912 label returns with a gorgeous bouquet of lowercase wonders that'll cast a gentle spell over anyone on the line from Vincent Gallo to The Humble Bee, Sofie Birch to Tenniscoats.​ The fourth release on the label following Naemi's 'Breathless, Shorn' and Ulla's own 'Hometown Girl', and its ‘Other Girl’ companion piece, 'Puff' is a new album from Justin Cantrell aka J and the Woolen Stars, a core member of Naarm's underground scene as part of local supergroup Picnic, and the brains behind the excellent Daisart and se Dessaisir Publishing labels - we recommend you check in on both if you haven't already done so. ‘Puff’ is a glistening pool of lush refractions and music-box lullabies, featuring an array of acoustic instruments and fragile foley sounds that are gently peeled away until all we’re left with are the faded outlines of half-remembered songs. A sound that roots itself in the prophetic machinations of artists like Fennesz and the languid Japanese minimalism of Fourcolour or Moskitoo, 'Puff' strikes a delicate balance, sounding as bewitchingly informal as a Tenniscoats set, but also consistently muddling the perception of high and low-brow sound. Cantrell's skill lies in a sort of sonic conjuration, bamboozling the brains of those of us who grew up listening to stepped-on audio via ramshackle RealMedia streams by alchemising the content, turning found sound into gold. Just tell us you don't get chills from hearing the bitrate-impaired acoustic guitar on 'Dirty like an angel', set against a backdrop of windy, harmonic detritus. It's both meticulously contrived and gloriously off-the-cuff, like one of Vincent Gallo's classic 'When'-era demos reduced down to 96kbps. Similarly, 'She knows just what to say' provokes faint memories of folk music, with impromptu fiddle parts gently steamrolled to create a sound that’s nothing short of exquisite, like pressed flowers rediscovered in an old, discarded book. Even the more palpably electronic elements are hand sculpted in a way that belies the era we're living in - it's music for a digital age that sounds oddly unplugged, flawed and human. An unmistakably lovely antidote to the opiating nostalgia of our time.

"Drawing" cover, aka "Old Donuts," the unofficial name for the original edition of J Dilla's Donuts 2/LP with an illustrated sleeve, the way the vinyl was originally released in 2006.

"Drawing" cover, aka "Old Donuts," the unofficial name for the original edition of J Dilla's Donuts 2/LP with an illustrated sleeve, the way the vinyl was originally released in 2006.

"Before we get this started, let me explain it. It's Ruff Draft. For my real niggaz only ... Sound like it's straight from the ma'fuckin' cassette! ... Let's do it." ... Thus begins Ruff Draft. These self-produced tracks make up one of the late J Dilla's least known works during his lifetime. Released on vinyl only in February 2003 this sought-after release was elusive and virtually unknown to the casual Dilla fan until Stones Throw's reissue in 2007. Recorded in the wake of a failed deal with major label, Dilla returned to solo recordings as a fiercely independent artist with Ruff Draft. The CD contains photos from this era and detailed liner notes by Ronnie Reese discussing Dilla's career in 2002 when Ruff Draft was recorded. Tracks on this disc were taken from J Dilla's original master tapes, where additional previously-unreleased tracks “Wild” and “Take Notice” were also discovered. Sleeve by Jeff Jank.

Habitat, an environmental music collaboration by Berlin based composer Niklas Kramer and percussionist Joda Foerster, is inspired by the drawings of Italian architect Ettore Sottsass. Each of the eight tracks represents a room in an imaginary building.

In Habitat the duo layers, loops and merges sonic textures and patterns into fluid blocks without the restraint of statics. African log drum, Bolivian chajchas, vibraphone, kalimba and various other percussion instruments are processed, pitched, harmonised and filtered through modular synth and script based sample cutting to form a collage of asynchronous layers.

By using acoustic instruments and expanding their sound into abstract shapes, Habitat evokes a vague intimacy, a curious state of comfort in the unknown.

Tokyo playwrite, director and artist J A Caesar sprang to prominence in the early ‘70s largely through his work with Shuji Terayama’s Tenjo Sajiki Theatre, specializing in vaguely sinister music. The Kokkyou Junreika release, often considered Caesar’s finest work, was culled from the 5 hours of music written for the original play distilled down to an album’s worth of ageless chants, Budhist mantras, heavenly invocations and fuzztone guitar vamps supported by Caesar’s droning electric organ and the eerie female vocals of Yoko Ran, Keiko Shinko and Seigo Showa. An album that sits comfortably alongside early Ash Ra Temple, Cosmic Jokers and ATEM-period Tangerine Dream.

Habitat (what we might now properly refer to as Habitat I) arrived, fully-formed, in 2021—the product of a conscientious, exploratory, and decidedly Covid-era collaboration between two Berlin-based experimental musicians: the composer N. (Niklas) Kramer, and percussionist, J. (Joda) Foerster. Inspired by the Italian architect, Ettore Sottsass, Habitat’s simple, albeit beguiling conceit (following in the footsteps of canonical ambient releases like Music for Airports and Plantasia) was that each track ought to represent a room in an imagined building. Taken quite literally, tracks like “Curved Hallway” guided the listener through a kind of psychogeographic labyrinth, at once welcoming and slightly uncanny. Habitat II operates on a similar premise. But if Habitat I charted the perplexing intricacies of an imagined, self-contained structure, Habitat II expands the conceptual realm. Think now, not only of rooms in a hypothetical home, but of the winding hallways and grounds of a mid-century structure—perhaps slightly past its prime, but not at all an inappropriate venue for a late-night soiree. How might these features be imagined, mapped, and rendered enticing for a listener? We begin, appropriately, with “Seating (Welcome),” which, in its fluttering, aetherial suite of static, winds, and percussive depths, gently hypnotizes in the vein of Terry Riley, beckoning our entry. The clarity here, the directional flow of air, recalls the dignity and gestural simplicity of the Bauhaus school. Of significant note is the Wasserspiel (track seven)—”water fixture” (loosely translated), like the sculpture by Lily Clark, which graces the record’s cover. In an album grounded by analogies, Wasserspiel constitutes an especially mimetic highlight: a cascading, shimmering, font of radiance that does not (to its strength) rely upon a sample or found-sound reference to running water. Instead we are left with the distinct impression of the glimmer of flowing liquid, and of the attendant, refractory evening sunlight. Indeed, fountains (the most common and domesticated form of Wasserspiele)—their simultaneous kitsch and abundance—may very well epitomize the kind of cultivated, sixties home-shopping catalog aesthetic that undergirds the Habitat series. These habitats, wherever they are, however they appear to you (and there is indeed ample room for interpretation)—we can all certainly agree that they are vaguely utopian and achingly nostalgic. Of their compositional process, Kramer and Foerster reference their mutual interest in improvisation, and, furthermore, a kind of “first thought best thought” approach to recording and indexing ideas. Relying primarily on a sampler with a 15 second limit, their process emphasizes the organic layering of asynchronous (though, crucially, harmonious — perhaps even “hospitable”) loops. Suffice it to say, many rooms have been lost to the aether, casualties of a mercurial recording process. Those rooms that remain in Habitat II have been cultivated, furnished, and decorated. And they eagerly await your entry.

In 2020, when the coronavirus pandemic began, environmental sounds were recorded in the dense forests of Kerala, India, and

in 2023, in the chaotic wastelands of Karachi and Lahore, Pakistan, where suicide bombings still occur, Peshawar,

where suicide bombings still occur in 2023.

This futuristic Asian music, created by blending traditional instruments with electronics and collage, mysteriously blends with Arab and African elements, evoking the scent of the earth despite being rooted in asphalt—a truly unique masterpiece!

More Japanese lysergic madness ! The 1972  soundtrack for Shuji Terayama's visionary movie of the same name contains all the elements necessary to reach composer & theatre producer J.A. Caesar's intended pleasure-centers. Disturbing, but in the end truly innovative, this soundtrack is as certified gateway to the underworld in the vein of classic by Faust, Cosmic Jokers or early Amon Düül.

"This mighty soundtrack for Shuji Terayama's nihilistic movie of the same name contains all the elements necessary to reach J.A. Caesar's intended pleasure-centers. Here, turmoil, mind-numbing repetition, abject misery and grisly partriarchs abound, and all orchestrated by Caesar's damaged proto-metal and choral-led psychedelic sound. Mind-infesting in the truest sense, this soundtrack played in the dark is as certified a Gateway to the Underworld as any acknowledged classic by Faust, Magma, the Cosmic Jokers, Ash Ra Tempel or early Amon Düül." --Julian Cope, Japrocksampler.</p><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0KGi-KJQkak?si=-GuIwoImAyG7euYw" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe>

“I had the honour of remixing all of the Bamboo tapes that J.Derwort ever recorded. Most of my mixes were approved by the master himself during the last days of his life in Oliva, Spain. For ‘Eleven’, I sampled from his last live performance at Jazzcafe Dizzy in Rotterdam on February 11th, 2018. He died on the day of the release of our latest Chi Factory album, ‘The Mantra Recordings’, on February 11th, 2019. We will miss him, life will not be the same. Farewell soul brother!” Words by Hanyo van Oosterom.

J.P.A. Falzone and Morgan Evans-Weiler have been working together since 2016 in the famous ensemble "Ordinary Affects" of the Weindelweiser school. A 2-CD set containing the feature films composed individually by each is released from the famous place ! In January 19 at the Wesleyan University Memorial Chapel at the Liberal Arts University in Middletown, Connecticut, by Luke Damrosch, who is known for engineering works around Van der Weiser and co-writing with Alan Sondheim and José James. A recorded work. Both the string drone minimalist Morgan Evans-Weiler side, which accelerates isolation in the void, the melancholy piano and violin, and the JPA Falzone side, where the pointillistic sound of the vibraphone gives off a dull beauty. A very enigmatic chamber music work that makes you feel even the taste of Japanese loneliness while suppressing the number of sounds. It's ridiculously wonderful!

Hylic by J.TRIPP distills post-millennial tensions, taking us to the edge of unfamiliarity and then pushing us back, inward, to find comfort in artificial intimacy. At first, it awakens a sense of disorientation - as if there were something we can’t quite grasp. As the listening deepens, the album begins to feel like the cohesive soundtrack to a metropolitan simulation - one where reality as we know it morphes into something new. At some points, soft and expansive; at others, sharp and distorted. Although its sonic world echoes urban landscapes, folk and pop sensibilities start to emerge - the human-like nature of the music feels suspended, while voices thread indistinct, siren-like messages, anchoring us to a melody that guides us through a hostile environment. Laic (feat. Lutto Lento) is our portal - we stomp into a dusty land without gravity, metallic sand in our eyes and mouth, and an echoing, child-like song in our ears. Static shocks propel us toward the next space, Gelid, a sparring between bells-loaded guns with no winners. The pace speeds up, then stretches down again, warping the walls around us in Skirr. We’re running inside a factory - machines pumping steam, shiny drops falling from the ceiling - until we stop again, feeling our heartbeat racing, head turning. Wend takes us back to the hazy atmospheres of Laic: a slow-motion, romantic dance in the quicksands. Then Comesss (feat. Enhancement), with its sticky textures and choir of mellifluous, distorted vocals and the odd bass slap, slashes and reverses reality. In contrast, Melic is a balm - the otherworldly lullaby, backed by the cooing of synthetic doves, is enchanting but wicked. We hesitate to indulge in it for long and step into Lithic, an endless ascension built on electric keys, strings and stomping beats, before entering the almost-fantastic realm of Whilom again - where a waterfall of dissonant flutes decompose into buzzing synths under the rumble of fake thunder. The conclusion of this lucid vision is Thole, where rattlesnakes slither at our feet - or is it the steam pushing through the underground’s iron grates? - and the memory of a song brings us back to a pop idea of emotions. Across nine tracks, Hylic reminds us that we’re already living the future we have been raving about - and that, perhaps, it’s already slipping away.

Operating on the fringes of pure improv, organised chaos, minimal composition, lo-fi electronics and Italian spaghetti westerns, wide-eyed and with a healthy dose of DIY aesthetics lies the world of Jaan. It’s a poetic & cosmic universe, exploring “discreet music” whilst wandering on the edges of the Cat People soundtrack & Brian Eno’s more experimental output, in which you might yourself find floating, wandering or in the middle of a market place.

Jaan is a collective of one, a deliberately anonymous activistic unit with strong ties to the international art scene. Purposefully bypassing the know-it-all of the the internet & embracing the bygone mystery of dusty old archives and deep-dive searching, remarkably little is known about this project. Jaan is lead by veteran experimental sonic alchemist Jaan; they operate between Greenland, the Middle East and Europe, with frequent associates Lisqa, Mashid & Schneorr N. acting as local hubs for collaboration and exploration.

The purpose of this wilful obscurity: full focus on the actual music, whether live events or on recordings. Which brings us to Baghali, their first for World of Echo. It’s a deeply personal album, much like slowly browsing old family albums filled with vaguely remembered tales, some still very much present, some faded, leaving but a ghost-like reflection of what once was. Baghali was compiled over the course of a year on the road, trapped in snow storms, waiting for cancelled flights and stuck rides. It’s made up of snippets of diary, quick recordings on road sides, abandoned buildings, garden ruins, vast desert and focussed studio sessions, following a collage-like aesthetic and steeped in an exploration of non-lineair storytelling. There’s broken memories, a sense of displacement and an occasional yearning for what can’t be again, clouded in fever and unrest, but there is also hope, wonderment and bright colours seeping through the cracks in the wall. Jaan weaves home-made instruments, old tape loops, broken synths, beat-up reeds, dusty beat boxes and the occasional doom guitar squall into a tapestry of fractured sound, with tracks following their own inherent logic rather than following formats. Sounds crash in and out, field recordings placing the listener firmly in an environment then throwing several perspectives at once onto them, with individual elements - a wandering clarinet, a lone mandolin, a beat out of place yet perfectly in place - slowly walking in and out & doing their thing.

The whole album is alive, breathes, takes a wrong turn, gets lost, somehow finds its way again - effortless and with a unique sense of space and flow.

Sweet Company is the second album by Jabu. Where their first LP, Sleep Heavy, was an unflinching exploration of grief, dark and disembodied, Sweet Company’s deep, sedative soul feels like more of a lovers’ outing: optimistic, becalmed, looking outwards as well as inwards, and longing for the kind of human connections where ego and self-consciousness might dissolve. It is perhaps also an exhortation to love and accept yourself, to recover a lost innocence and peace – that paradise which has always been lost. Released via their own do you have peace? label, Sweet Company is on the one hand a very intimate and private-sounding work - the sound of life played out in a room, a bubble, a home, a head. The rhythms of everyday domesticity: listening to the plants, cars in the street, voices through the wall…. going to work, not going to work, sleeping heavy or not sleeping at all. Wavering on the brink of a revelation, of something just beyond the material world, while you wait for the kettle to boil. The core Jabu trio of producer Amos Childs and vocalists Jasmine Butt and Alex Rendall is present and correct. Sweet Company has the exhilarating sweep and confidence of a collaboration between people who trust and understand each other implicitly, and, secure in that knowledge, are able to give the absolute best of themselves to us. As before, Jasmine’s voice is a textural, painterly instrument, layered and blurred into abstraction, resisting the limits of language; the songs she sings on are portals into vast internal landscapes where the normal rules of gravity are suspended, every sound is smothered in a cathedral-like resonance, and you're both fearful and hopeful that you might never find your way back out again. Alex takes a more narrative, confessional and no less engaging pop tack: as on the gauzy, decelerated 2-step of ‘Lately’, with his masochistic, self-mocking entreaties to “be cruel to me […] I like it when you make a fool of me”. Childs has a true hip-hop fiend's ear for a striking sample, and how to loop it to most hypnotic and rapturous effect, but here takes things to ever more powerfully uncanny and auteurish places, drawing inspiration from the voidal bliss-outs of shoegaze (AR Kane’s amniotic dream-pop epic 69 is one influence cited) and the space-time disturbances of dub, commanding both a raindrops-on-cobwebs delicacy and an immense, oceanic pressure. His productions seem to resist linear progression - instead they move by a kind of unstoppable diffusion, like weeds reclaiming an unkempt garden, or alien flora patterning the sea-floor and coral-caves of the subaquatic level of a computer game which may exist only in your, or his, imagination. Perhaps it's Daniela Dyson, the British-Afro-Colombian artist who contributes her vivid, energising poetic mysticism to two tracks, who best sums up Sweet Company's ambition and effect: “Me quiero perder en los momentos tan puros en su esencia que Las Horas mismas se detienen para ser testigo de nuestro amor” (I want to lose myself in the moments so pure in their essence / that The Hours themselves stop to bear witness to our love…). For a precious half an hour, we're invited to celebrate the smallness of our lives - and the limitless grandeur which that smallness contains. When it ends, we step back from the brink but things aren’t quite the same anymore: we’re haunted by what we briefly almost knew.

"Combining steppy dance music, lush detail and a diaristic tone, Jack Chrysalis’ debut album dials between music that is destined to catch the ear of the club-goer and the heart of the dreamer, his signature propulsive mutations of organic techno and UK garage sounding strongly in tracks like Another Year and Coldharbour. Between these, Chrysalis threads in more introspective moments. Tracks formed by running a hand along piano keys in improvisation, or made in recollection of Koji Kondo’s clear bright musical palette for Zelda. They lend a sense of atmosphere and a deeper running mood to the album’s overworld, heightening endorphin hits from the garage swing and affording a little more bittersweetness to its textures and secrets. Whether in rush or retreat, each track on this album emerges with its own emotional resonance. There’s a sense of seasons turning, or a twilight quality that’s hard to fully pin down. “Owl music” became shorthand for Jack’s tunes, a way for Mana to capture a prescient, nocturnal flight within their environment."

Downtempo, Folk, Pop … Just a little over two years since the release of his debut album Opening the Door, Jack re-emgerges with a new full length album. On Blue Desert, the Australian-born Vancouver-based multi-instrumentalist, singer, songwriter and producer wades deeper into the stylistically prismatic pool of his own creation.

Well it's been more than 365 days and nights since we released a record on our small and independent record label based in Vancouver, BC. For better or worse we have always operated at a pace that feels natural to us. The same could be said for Mood Hut recording artist Jack J who has not released any music in over seven years. Do you remember his last record? It was called Thirstin' and it came out in the summer of 2015, hot on the heels of Something (On My Mind) which came out the year before. So naturally after this very long silence we are proud and excited to be able to finally share Opening the Door, the first full length LP by Jack J. Self-recorded slowly but surely between 2015 and 2019 between Mood Hut and C'est Life Studios, and featuring some crucial saxophone work by Linda Fox, this LP confirms Jack J to be a masterful mood maker as well as an incisive songwriter. Over the course of the album an undeniably blue haze settles over inward-peering ambient jazz, On-U-inspired digital-dub and quiet storm soft rock leaving a distinct sense of sadness amongst all the tangerine funk. Check it out!

A cassette version of ‘Croon Harvest’: a performance-installation for voices, field recordings, and white noise by composer and conductor Jack Sheen.