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Lucrecia Dalt’s A Danger to Ourselves is a fearless reflection on the unfiltered complexities of human connection. Following up her breakthrough 2022 album ¡Ay!, A Danger to Ourselves unravels like a deeply personal conversation; Dalt’s voice is foregrounded and formidable, supported by a lush array of acoustic orchestration and processing, collaged percussive patterns, and an esteemed cast of collaborators including David Sylvian, who co-produced the album with Dalt, Juana Molina, Alex Lazaro, and Camille Mandoki.

A prolific and limitless musician, performer, composer, and sound artist, Lucrecia Dalt challenges both genre and form, pulling apart familiar elements of pop and experimental music and reassembling them in unexpected ways.

Breaking through to a wider audience with her acclaimed 2022 album ¡Ay!, Dalt has also made a name as a composer for film and TV, including her original, acclaimed scores for HBO’s series The Baby, Cannes 2024 feature film winner On Becoming a Guinea Fowl, and the forthcoming psychological horror The Rabbit Trap.

With “cosa rara,” her new single featuring mixing, production, and a rare appearance by cult music legend David Sylvian, the subject of one's self becomes an unlikely infatuation. Distilling the highs of love, and sonically translating with production precision and hyper focused clarity, “cosa rara” is a bold return for Dalt, inviting listeners on a thrilling escapade of sound and psychology.

Lucrecia Dalt channels sensory echoes of growing up in Colombia on her new album ¡Ay!, where the sound and syncopation of tropical music encounter adventurous impulse, lush instrumentation, and metaphysical sci-fi meditations in an exclamation of liminal delight. In sound and spirit, ¡Ay! is a heliacal exploration of native place and environmental tuning, where Dalt reverses the spell of temporal containment. Through the spiraling tendencies of time and topography, Lucrecia has arrived where she began. CD edition includes lyrics and an essay by Miguel Prado in Spanish and English.

Lucy Duncombe embroiders her signature vocal synthesis on a remarkable cover of Bonnie Beecher’s one-off, cult ballad ‘Come Wander With Me’, a pearlescent gem exemplary of Modern Love’s guess-again, gotta-get-‘em-all 7” shellings - RIYL Maria Chavez, Kara-Lis Coverdale, Laurie Anderson, Nozomu Matsumoto, Niecy Blues. Highly regarded for a pair of innovative releases with 12th Isle, Lucy Duncombe is an experimental singer and artist who uses technology to deftly abstract songcraft in ways that uniquely pique the imagination. With ’Sunset, She Exclaims’ Lucy diversifies Modern Love’s 7” series via a trio of works that embody influences ranging from doo wop to avant garde and pure pop forms, in a style of melismatic sound poetry weft with Jacquardian intricacy. It’s a truly precious, beguiling and evocative record that will reward repeat plays for eons to come, much in the manner of contemporary classics such as Kara-Lis Coverdale’s ‘Grafts’, or Laurie Anderson’s ‘O Superman’. The star of this short story is no doubt ‘Sunset, She Exclaims’, where Lucy reframes Jeff Alexander and Anthony Wilson's haunting ballad, ‘Come Wander With Me’, used as a titular device in The Twilight Zone’s swansong episode, 1964, and which has since notably featured on Vincent Gallo’s ‘Brown Bunny’(2003). In Duncombe’s larynx and motherboard, the song is dissected and reworked as a glossolalic froth of hiccuped melody blooming into crepuscular harmony. Its effect is practically hormonal; affective as indole in, as she puts it, "reducing the stench of the real”, whilst distilling the saccharine sadness of the original to a synaesthetic, dream-nudging whiff of nostalgia. Once you prize yourself away from that A-side, Lucy’s B-side only lures deeper into blurred hyper-pop fantasy. The precedents of Maria Chavez’s experimental sound poetry and Niecy Blues’ raw soul hover around ‘Ghosting’ and ‘Ghosted’, teasing the parameters of avant-pop into plasmic refrains, foregrounding the usually unwanted parts of vocal performance - glitching digital artefacts and errant detritus - in a way that makes the mind’s eye saccade, tracing the half-heard glowworms nestled in its bush of ghosts. Fine-tuned ears will surely recognise the sort of brilliance on show here, and will no doubt revel in its gauzy glaze, which prizes oneiric ambiguity, ephemerality, the supernatural, over anything more corporeal.

Forma by Lucy Railton, is a work that burrows deep inside. It disorientates and teases, without malice. Its beauty lies in gentle projections, which, though subtle, leave deep impressions, like the wings of a nocturnal moth reflecting dark light. Its path, too, is unpredictable, but such disorientation is not a reflection of chaos. Instead, a mysterious intention appears through an imperious unfolding - its logic escapes us, but nevertheless captivates us. It is the story of a becoming of forms, as well as of their fading away and their appearance as a disappearance . Metabolist Meter (Foster, Cottin, Caetani and a Fly), by Max Eilbacher is a teeming piece, a matrix where textures and structures merge together, where the polyrhythmic instances become timbre, where the formal abstraction of the harmonic volutes coagulates around a vibrating form that is actualized in the dramatic reality of a dying fly. And this formal mastery is not disembodied in Max Eilbacher’s work and the kaleidoscopic forms of the sound spectra that he has deployed know how to resonate in the sensations and experiences of each one. These works, each with their own agenda, evolve with grace and inspiration in their exploration of vast sound worlds, and it is with great pride that we present them in the new collection. Released in association with Editions Mego. Coordination GRM: François Bonnet, Jules Négrier 
Executive Production: Peter Rehberg

The first release to document the solo cello work of musician and composer Lucy Railton, the 40-minute composition Blue Veil recorded at Église du Saint-Esprit in Paris invites listeners into the realm of precision-tuned states of resonance: states made manifest through Railton’s careful traversal of her cello's most subtle acoustic characteristics as they harmonically interlock with mind’s embodied modalities of attention and imagination.
Blue Veil arises out of, is sustained in and finally dissolves back into Railton’s momentary presence with her intimate connection to the cello, a way of hearing that allows for a deeper engagement with harmonic resonance, one that opens a space for immediate encounters of mind and sound.
Railton’s exploratory practice of harmonic perception emerges from a focus on the physical qualities of intervallic and chordal sounds, their textural qualities, degrees of friction, and inner pulsations. Composing in the moment guided by resonances within the cello’s body, her own, and their shared vibrational space, Railton moves through Blue Veil by giving sounds what they ask for: sounds of pure texture manifesting as a move through temporal transparency, sounds of rough texture marking regions of dimensionally dense space.
Railton’s creative and highly refined use of just intonation harmony deforms sound's inner movements in ways that suggest a mode of listening that actively supplies imagery of sounds implied or completely absent rather than merely savouring those fully present. This active mode of “listening-with”, playfully and semi-metaphorically referred to by Railton as “sing-along music”, allows listening to reflexively participate in the music’s movement as it gradually passes through richly saturated domains of harmonic imagination. And just as the precision-tuned tones of Blue Veil lose their individuality when fusing multifaceted uniformity, listening’s structures of reference and recognition dissolve into nameless waves of intensity, continuously unfolding themselves upon and merging with the listener.
Blue Veil is the result of a deep exploration of the inner worlds of tuning, an undertaking in turn informed by and emerging out of Railton’s realisations of the music of Catherine Lamb and Ellen Arkbro, her collaborative work with Kali Malone and Stephen O’Malley as well as her interpretive practice in performing the work of Maryanne Amacher, Morton Feldman and others. 

The first release to document the solo cello work of musician and composer Lucy Railton, the 40-minute composition Blue Veil recorded at Église du Saint-Esprit in Paris invites listeners into the realm of precision-tuned states of resonance: states made manifest through Railton’s careful traversal of her cello's most subtle acoustic characteristics as they harmonically interlock with mind’s embodied modalities of attention and imagination.
Blue Veil arises out of, is sustained in and finally dissolves back into Railton’s momentary presence with her intimate connection to the cello, a way of hearing that allows for a deeper engagement with harmonic resonance, one that opens a space for immediate encounters of mind and sound.
Railton’s exploratory practice of harmonic perception emerges from a focus on the physical qualities of intervallic and chordal sounds, their textural qualities, degrees of friction, and inner pulsations. Composing in the moment guided by resonances within the cello’s body, her own, and their shared vibrational space, Railton moves through Blue Veil by giving sounds what they ask for: sounds of pure texture manifesting as a move through temporal transparency, sounds of rough texture marking regions of dimensionally dense space.
Railton’s creative and highly refined use of just intonation harmony deforms sound's inner movements in ways that suggest a mode of listening that actively supplies imagery of sounds implied or completely absent rather than merely savouring those fully present. This active mode of “listening-with”, playfully and semi-metaphorically referred to by Railton as “sing-along music”, allows listening to reflexively participate in the music’s movement as it gradually passes through richly saturated domains of harmonic imagination. And just as the precision-tuned tones of Blue Veil lose their individuality when fusing multifaceted uniformity, listening’s structures of reference and recognition dissolve into nameless waves of intensity, continuously unfolding themselves upon and merging with the listener.
Blue Veil is the result of a deep exploration of the inner worlds of tuning, an undertaking in turn informed by and emerging out of Railton’s realisations of the music of Catherine Lamb and Ellen Arkbro, her collaborative work with Kali Malone and Stephen O’Malley as well as her interpretive practice in performing the work of Maryanne Amacher, Morton Feldman and others. 

Lucy Railton trusts in the nuance of her own creative instincts on an intensely modern, quietly radical new album, her second for Modern Love. Following her 2018 solo debut Paradise 94 (LOVE 108LP), and countless collaborations in the time since, Railton's diverse musical circles here bleed into each other, creating an insoluble testament to a lifelong pursuit of sound. The multi-instrumentalist further articulates her own tonal register, embracing her solo strengths and trusting the process to reveal vulnerable and compelling emotional facets through a fluid mix of composition, and pure expression. On the simplest level, Corner Dancer is a record that revels in the momentum of creation. Through a range of approaches, Railton gradually loosens her grip and allows her identities to expose themselves; cut to the bone, sinew and spirit of music making. Reaching outside tried and tested zones, she lands at a charged space characterized by unmetered pacing and an embrace of imperfection, using cello, viella (a medieval cello), Buchla, 808, a fan, synths, horse hair whips, a handheld harp and her own voice, across eight tracks that arc from an opening sequence of ruptured asymmetries, to something bordering the sublime on "Blush Study," the album's masterful closing flourish. In between, Railton invokes psychoacoustic, heady spins and repetitions, while also allowing space for live performance, a mode to which she feels most attuned, and here captured best on "Held in Paradise" (her violin debut) and "Rib Cage." Collapsing boundaries, Railton harnesses a lifetime of formal training in order to patiently trace more ambiguous, intimate and sometimes deviant shapes, operating to a fuzzed logic that loops back to themes with an ingenious underlying dramaturgy of energies, dismantling the form from the inside out, in a way that bends through feeling, rather than design.。

Brümmer, the master of computer music
Creative music in pursuit of new richness
Surprised by the beauty of electronic sounds

A new album following "Resonance Sphere" (WER-2077) released in August 2022 by Rudger Brunmer, who has released extremely unique works in electronic, algorithmic, and computer music for decades. is. In this work as well, music with a rich expression that cannot normally be achieved with acoustic instruments is brilliantly created from digital media. Even the electronic sound alone will amaze you with its beauty and the realism of the space, which is different from reality. This is a high-level electro-acoustic work that unifies and embodies the structure of instruments and music from a new perspective.
★ "Kouki Shine" begins with a murmuring sound. It develops energetically into a series of high-density rhythms, and at the moment it reaches its climax, the movement stops, transforming into a sound field in which a huge amount of sound particles fluctuate. Ravel's "Gallows" on a transformed piano are layered at different pitches and speeds.

[Contents]
Rudger Brümmer (1958-): Sound patterns

[CD1]
Amazonas (2010)
Repetitions (2005)
Shine (2007)
Between Twilight(t 2019)

[CD2]
Dynamic Move ~for piano, live electronics, fixed media and live video (2006)
Time opens Le temps s'ouvre (1995)
Nyx (2001)

【player】
Rudger Brunmer (Live Electronics)
Other vocalists, piano and programmers also participate

An album of hypnagogic nocturnes that relentlessly searches for a sense of calm in the great unknown, 'Is Peace Wild?' is German producer, drummer and visual artist Ludwig Wandinger's upcoming release on light-years. He dreamt it up while unpacking the breakdown of a long relationship, working in hotel rooms during the downtime between a series of chaotic live shows. To help empty his mind, Wandinger developed a suite of soulful reflections that prioritize harmony over rhythm and clarity over trivial complexity - music that confronts the eternal duality of romance and tragedy. Almost beatless and consistently sublime, 'Is Peace Wild?' is punctuated by hypnotic lyrical contributions from multi-disciplinary artist, poet and activist Yves B. Golden and producer and vocalist Evita Manji, both of whom bless the album with indispensable friendship and familiarity. "It's almost as if they were telling me a good night story," says Wandinger.

With a series of albums and EPs under his belt already, Wandinger is a tireless solo artist and a prolific collaborator. He's released material for Orange Milk, Gin&Platonic, Creamcake, 3XL, and he worked alongside artists such as Evita Manji, Sara Persico, Grischa Lichtenberger and Brodinski. 'Is Peace Wild?' though emerges as Wandinger’s most personal work to date. The title track opens the album, and Golden's voice breathes softly over Wandinger's warm, lulling arpeggios. "Balloons and birds delight in the flow of air between rooms," she murmurs, floating her surreal phrases in a tranquil pool of pitch-skewed pads and chiming, music box synths. But this airiness doesn't last long: on the noisy, sombre 'Vien', Wandinger interrupts his elegiac, organ-like synths with metallic crashes and distorted, rasping bass, weaving twinkling, pensive notes into the spaces in-between. The oscillation between darkness and light is remarkably even-handed, capturing the aching sense of longing - or "Sehnsucht" - that's at the core of German Romanticism. And it's even more evident on 'Xhausted Form', one of the album's heaviest tracks. Unfolding initially with affecting, sacred chords, the serenity is challenged by eerie, dissonant crunches and unsettling feedback shrieks, yet the spark of romance, in all of its intricacy, never diminishes.

Meanwhile, the album's illusory qualities are fully dilated on 'Fire'. Manji's hypnotic freestyle was recorded in a single take as they were lying in bed on the verge of falling asleep, and provides a quiescent counterpoint to Wandinger's muted trance vibrations. "The world is on fire drowning in its own fluids," they slur into the abyss, vocalizing playfully while Wandinger freezes the sentiment in vanishing 4/4 thuds and dissociated processes. This makes the baroque 'Overlife' and the noisy 'Eternal Image' all the more dynamic. On the latter, Wandinger creates a noisy, apocalyptic atmosphere for Golden's sardonic words, cooling his euphoric synths with hissing white noise and burnished cybernetic textures. "They are afraid of loud noises," Golden mouthes. "Bodies like mine are made for turbulence."

Open-ended and tangled with emotional paradoxes, 'Is Peace Wild?' can be interpreted in many different ways. Wandinger's own serenity is personal, but laying himself bare, he provides listeners with a cracked mirror to consider their unique patchwork of conundrums. 

重要前衛作曲家ルイジ・ノーノの生誕100周年を記念した弦楽四重奏のための作品の再解釈音源が登場！ノーノ自身が「私はまったく変わっていない。優しさ、私的なものにも、集団的、政治的な側面がある。それゆえ、私の弦楽四重奏曲は、私の中の新しい回顧的な路線の表現ではなく、実験的な現在の私の立場の表現なのだ」と延べており、ベートーヴェンから続く西洋音楽の伝統を感じさせるターニングポイントとなる作品と評された超重要作品。演奏は現代音楽、エレクトロニクス、マルチメディアの実験分野で20年以上活躍しているモーリス・クァルテットで、ノーノの最も親密で熱狂的な側面を捉えることに成功した名演！300部限定お見逃しなく！

DJ Python revives his cult alias, Luis, with a reflective ode to his best friend. The five tracks here represent the inscrutable mix of detachment and contentment that made DJ Python's Mas Amable a modern touchstone, but the 057 (Schwyn) EP also possesses the heartfelt '90s sheen that is Luis's sonic signature. Idiosyncratic rhythms and twinkling ambience build patiently before arriving at the blissed breakbeat closer. "missen and loven. schwyn and i go into each others lives here and there quiet and present. always missen and loven. to know he is on the earth is to know that it is beautiful." - Brian Piñeyro

"Textures & Lines" started as an invitation by Portuguese ensemble Drumming GP to work with the duo Joana Gama & Luís Fernandes. Joana's piano and Luís's electronics find new territories in a mix of subtle and raw use of percussions. In four pieces they defy the limits of classical contemporary music and create a landscape that evolves in each listening.

"My music is a landscape for you to enter your own journey," sings Luiza Lian's crystalline voice after the ceasing of a sonic collage that blends a lament on the keyboard, church bells, hummed vocals, distorted speeches, syncopated beats, and a striking bass line. "Minha Música" (My Music) is our first encounter with 7 Estrelas| quem arrancou o céu? (7 Stars | who tore off the sky?), the fourth album of the São Paulo-based artist, and her third collaboration with french/brazilian music producer Charles Tixier.

Nearly five years after the celebrated Azul Moderno, the duo returns to the scene they materialized before a period of darkness that rewrote Brazil's history. And this new visit pushes the boundaries even further with resources that the singer-songwriter had only started exploring on the previous record. The following tracks, "Tecnicolor" (featuring the only guest appearance on the album, as Luiza is joined by singer Céu) and "Homenagem" (Homage), continue to explore this new horizon, which becomes increasingly bizarre and deceptive.

In addition to layering noises and electronic elements over her musicality, Luiza also explores the range of her vocals by digitally distorting them. The first tracks are just the initial steps in this new work: a profound reflection on how we distort our lives based on false reflections we see both digitally in our use of social media and materially in an increasingly consumerist society. The new album recreates this artificial context in an almost caricatured way, deliberately exaggerated distortions to generate the estrangement we should feel towards the values we cherish and reject based on this false reality we force ourselves to believe in.

While Azul Moderno invited us on a journey of spiritual purification, now Luiza summons us to another voyage, one that confronts the darker side of our nature in songs that resonate with politics and mysticism without distinguishing one from the other, such as "Forca" (Force), "Cobras" (Snakes), and "Viajante" (Traveler), and then leads us towards the light in existentialist yet renewing songs ("Eu Estou Aqui" (I Am Here), "Desabriga" (Shelterless), "7 Estrelas" (7 Stars), and "Deságua" (Unleash)), making the end of the album more playful and lucid, hopeful and danceable as it concludes its reflection.

Composed in 2019 and reworked over four years, the album is another release from the RISCO label in partnership with ZZK Records and will be launched during a series of shows in August at Sesc Pompeia, performances in which Luiza delves even deeper into the exploration she proposed in the live version of her previous album. 

'XV XXVII III XXI IX: Variations & Coda' by composer Luka Aron is a suite in four parts, in which a selected acoustic ensemble, consisting of bass clarinet, contrabass, euphonium, foghorn organ, harpsichord, serpent, shō, and trumpet coalesces with analog as well as digital synthesis, into one unified mass of sound. Following 2022’s 'Tinctures', which centered on raw and unadorned chord-zither and pipe organ recordings in just intonation, Luka Aron’s new work expands the landscape manifold. Emerging as his solo debut on Warm Winters Ltd., 'XV XXVII III XXI IX: Variations & Coda' connects to tropes first developed on Minua’s 'Simulacra' (also released by the Slovak label), to which Aron contributed significantly. An opaque juxtaposition between the steadfastness of electronic sound synthesis and the fragility of the human touch inherent in acoustic instrumentation is a through line in Aron’s work and at its most developed here. By painstakingly tuning sustained tones towards precision upon occupying the same pitch space, the various timbres in 'XV XXVII III XXI IX: Variations & Coda' are as much canceled out as reinforced, resulting in flux states of spectral fusion. This effect is further achieved through traversing a labyrinthine structure of multiple closely related overtone series, serving as a harmonic framework for the piece’s ever-shifting bedrock. Via the appliance of heavy distortion, a secondary structure (that, in fact, exposes the undertone series) is gradually unveiled: like light rays meeting the surface of water, partially reflecting back to air, and refracting at once, as they pass from one medium to the other. As per the title, numerical relationships are ubiquitous here—and yet, this is not music merely arising from mathematical calculation; instead, it is one shaped by the direct experience of sound phenomena themselves, prior to preconceived ideas or beliefs about their potential symbolic meaning or function. During studies at the Royal Academy of Music in Stockholm, Aron spent days on end observing the physiology of hearing through minute listening tests, not seldomly resembling a visit to the ear doctor. The specific tone combinations he discovered in this empirical process quite instrumentally “play the ear” and are potent catalysts for reaching states of mind that transcend the mundane, challenging matters of subject-object relations. As such, 'XV XXVII III XXI IX: Variations & Coda' stems from an artistic approach where one’s perception is not only an endpoint but also a beginning—and the composer’s task is to uncover what is already present. On a structural plane, the pieces stem from multi-layered golden mean relationships that permeate all levels of the composition, ranging from the overall arc to the formal and rhythmical aspects of each variation. Every sound event spirals out of the previous one, and the final instant is determined right at the initial stroke before ever unfolding over a total runtime of 38 minutes. Put forth by an almost self-generating system (here, the math does come into play), the time domain is determined with minor algorithmic interventions set beforehand. Gradually, the omnipresent sequence nests in consciousness and instantiates arresting attention in the listener. With Aron operating the Buchla 200 and EMS VCS3 synthesizers, in addition to the SuperCollider and Pure Data coding environments, the cast of musicians includes an array of Stockholm-based artists, such as Mattias Hållsten on shō—a Japanese mouth organ—and Susana Santos Silva on trumpet (both members of the late CC Hennix’ Kamigaku ensemble), just intonation contrabassist Vilhelm Bromander, along with Amina Hocine and her unique self-built foghorn organ. Frequent collaborators Fabian Willmann on bass clarinet and Raphaël Rossé on serpent and euphonium join from the electroacoustic group Minua, which Aron co-founded.

LUKAS DE CLERCK brings us the ancient greek instrument, the aulos, of which his new interpretation of long form expression is coaxed forth on this tremendous recording. Lukas de Clerck explores a niche of archaeological research in music; the aulos is a historical Greek instrument that Lukas analyzed and reinterpreted by a luthier in modern times—navigating this impression as an artwork or living sculptural object, as there is an absence of historical partitions or written information about how to recreate technique on the instrument. Lukas de Clerck has interpreted information from the rare archaeological resources and visual art of the classical Greek period to recreate both playing technique and possible sound timbres with the instrument. With his contemporary approach to drone, post-minimalist music, and contemporary folk, we find a deeply satisfying and compelling, even playful set of songs, timbral exercises and compositions.“The morphology of the aulos is defined by its reeds... The tubular memory inside the fibre of the plant will ensure it closes and opens naturally like the mouth that will blow breath inside... The reeds are the core, the sound source—the naked instrument.... They behave like two oscillators, bending high-pitched notes into beatings. The pipes are a context, a channel for the sound. They create a narrative.” An important document of new music meets contemporary archaemusicological research via Stephen O’Malley of SUNN O)))’s label Ideologic Organ.::::THE TELESCOPIC AULOS OF ATLAS The telescopic aulos is speculative: might it have existed? It takes on features from the historical aulos, a double-reed instrument of which we know how it looked but little about what music was played on it or how it would have really sounded. It's an instrument without the limitations of canon or manual, providing creative freedom and awakening curiosity. The new instrument featured on this album is ancient and futuristic at once. The aulos has no tone holes; instead, each of the two tubes consists of three parts that can slide into each other. In this sense, the metal pipes bear a certain resemblance to the principle of a trombone. However, since both hands are already in use to hold both tubes, the sliding has to be done by way of gravity and the help of a "phorbeia", a leather mask which helps keep the reeds in place. The aulos's material is metal (instead of wood), which gives it a certain electronic allure and intensity, as well as a variety of sonic possibilities and textures. It produces overtones efficiently and allows them to play with their microtonality. The aulos Lukas plays on this recording was developed at Brasserie Atlas, a temporary occupation of a former brewery in the heart of Brussels where Lukas lives. It is quite a poetic coincidence that the birthplace of the instrument is named after the Greek titan condemned to carry the sky, while this instrument needs to be turned skywards to lower its pitch with the help of gravity. At Brasserie Atlas, Lukas has found collaborators who have shared in the process of building this new instrument: the collective Noir Métal has constructed the tubes, in this way becoming instrument builders; the phorbeia has been manufactured by Jot Fau; a former water reservoir in the vast cellar of the building carried the instruments' resonance for its first sounds. The place has left an imprint on this new instrument.With all of the telescopic aulos' layers, its sonic, musical and extra-musical components are still unfolding their potential as a medium for discovery and research, next to being an instrument of great musical potential. The music on The Telescopic Aulos of Atlas reflects this spirit. In several miniature pieces, it presents an encyclopaedia of musical possibilities that the instrument offers while keeping an intense and corporeal sonic specificity. The short pieces are studies that reflect on the sonic possibilities of this instrument that are yet to be explored. It meanders, searches and interacts with itself and the space. It needs to answer common expectations of old instruments being harmonious or pleasing. It transports a kind of experimental archaeology that, by formulating hypotheses in the present, allows us to reflect on what might have been in the past and simultaneously questions concepts of beauty, harmony or virtuosity. However, in the end, this instrument might have never existed before.–Julia Eckhardt

Balmat began our journey in 2021 with the release of Luke Sanger’s Languid Gongue. Now, three years later, we turn an important corner as the Norfolk musician rejoins us with Dew Point Harmonics, the first repeat appearance on the label. Sanger’s new album feels like a natural extension of his inaugural record for Balmat: It’s a bewitching collection of esoteric synth sketches that slips unpredictably between consonant repetition, poignant melodies, and gnarled bursts of noise that catch in the ear like burrs in hiking socks. That natural metaphor is perhaps not accidental. Despite having been composed on Sanger’s diverse array of hardware and self-written software, many of the tracks were first conceived while Sanger was hiking in a particularly wild and isolated section of the Norfolk coast. The field recording that opens the album, on “6am Beach Walk,” was taken on one of his many early-morning walks there, in which he and his dog might go for miles without seeing another soul. The album’s title was inspired by the overnight condensation covering the long marram grass in the dunes, glistening in the early light (and drenching everything coming in contact with it) before evaporating in the morning sun. Indeed, the concept of dew point—the temperature at which water vapor condenses into a liquid—feels like the perfect metaphor for Sanger’s music, in which foggy ambience is distilled into glistening quicksilver orbs, transient spheres of perfection eventually absorbed back into the atmosphere. A shapeshifting collection of richly detailed and deeply expressive electronic miniatures, Dew Point Harmonics is both a testament to the mysteries of transformation and an invitation to get lost in the wilderness of your own imagination.

After following Luke Blair's work for approaching two decades from his 2007 debut as Lukid on Actress' Werk Discs, we're humbled to present a new album on Death Is Not The End. Following relatively hot on the heels of 2023's Tilt (his first in 11 years, not counting his work with Jackson Bailey under the Rezzett guise) Underloop brings Blair's innate knack for building loops and sound structures further to the surface, while allowing his ear for emotional expression to be dialled up a notch.

Those fortunate enough to be familiar with Lukid's work as a DJ will be aware of how distinct his ability is to seamlessly disappear into loop-based abstraction and back again seemingly without blinking, and often Underloop feels much like a collection of the sludgey interludes and foggy sketches that underpin his sets. Blending apparently ramshackle melodies and textures and pulling them together into an undeniable whole, Blair's tendency for pairing the simple and the indescribable with an understated vigour is fully on show here.

A cozy collection of botanical background sounds from Lullatone – an arrangement of atmospheric ambience that blossoms into a bouquet of meditative melodies.

What is the obsession with electronic musicians and houseplants? Is it because they are a captive crowd to watch composers create? Because photosynthesis kind of sounds like synthesizer? Because roots and vines like cables on a modular synth rig? Or is it just because ever since Erik Satie coined the term “Furniture Music” every person with a penchant for soundtracking can’t help but look for things in their immediate surroundings to turn into a muse?

From seedlings to sprouts, these melodies mature more like the life cycle of flowers than typical long-lasting houseplants. Living in Japan, Lullatone quickly learned that half of what makes a flower beautiful is knowing it won’t be around for long. Every spring, phrases about fleeting beauty flood conversations as cherry blossoms saturate the sky. Even the flitting run time of some of the songs evokes the haiku-ish poetry of plucked petals falling away too soon.

Imagined also as a tribute to an avant-garde(ning) local flower shop in Nagoya, Japan called Tumbleweed, which hosts a special event called “Flower Listening” multiple times a year, this album plays a bit like a mixtape but with tracks made all by one person. Shawn, the songwriter / producer behind Lullatone often played at the event and found himself making more and more new songs to especially fit the space. But as time went by, he listened to them other places and noticed the impressionistic tone of the tracks translated to lots of other areas as well.

Whether you want to call it botanica / petalcore / pollinated pastoral / j-ambient / folktronica / floraltronica / compositional collage / environmental / kankyō ongaku / “ambient for angiosperms” or just plain instrumental, we hope these soft & serene synth sounds soundtrack anywhere you (and maybe some flowery friends) find yourself growing.

A cozy collection of botanical background sounds from Lullatone – an arrangement of atmospheric ambience that blossoms into a bouquet of meditative melodies.

What is the obsession with electronic musicians and houseplants? Is it because they are a captive crowd to watch composers create? Because photosynthesis kind of sounds like synthesizer? Because roots and vines like cables on a modular synth rig? Or is it just because ever since Erik Satie coined the term “Furniture Music” every person with a penchant for soundtracking can’t help but look for things in their immediate surroundings to turn into a muse?

From seedlings to sprouts, these melodies mature more like the life cycle of flowers than typical long-lasting houseplants. Living in Japan, Lullatone quickly learned that half of what makes a flower beautiful is knowing it won’t be around for long. Every spring, phrases about fleeting beauty flood conversations as cherry blossoms saturate the sky. Even the flitting run time of some of the songs evokes the haiku-ish poetry of plucked petals falling away too soon.

Imagined also as a tribute to an avant-garde(ning) local flower shop in Nagoya, Japan called Tumbleweed, which hosts a special event called “Flower Listening” multiple times a year, this album plays a bit like a mixtape but with tracks made all by one person. Shawn, the songwriter / producer behind Lullatone often played at the event and found himself making more and more new songs to especially fit the space. But as time went by, he listened to them other places and noticed the impressionistic tone of the tracks translated to lots of other areas as well.

Whether you want to call it botanica / petalcore / pollinated pastoral / j-ambient / folktronica / floraltronica / compositional collage / environmental / kankyō ongaku / “ambient for angiosperms” or just plain instrumental, we hope these soft & serene synth sounds soundtrack anywhere you (and maybe some flowery friends) find yourself growing.

A cozy collection of botanical background sounds from Lullatone – an arrangement of atmospheric ambience that blossoms into a bouquet of meditative melodies.

What is the obsession with electronic musicians and houseplants? Is it because they are a captive crowd to watch composers create? Because photosynthesis kind of sounds like synthesizer? Because roots and vines like cables on a modular synth rig? Or is it just because ever since Erik Satie coined the term “Furniture Music” every person with a penchant for soundtracking can’t help but look for things in their immediate surroundings to turn into a muse?

From seedlings to sprouts, these melodies mature more like the life cycle of flowers than typical long-lasting houseplants. Living in Japan, Lullatone quickly learned that half of what makes a flower beautiful is knowing it won’t be around for long. Every spring, phrases about fleeting beauty flood conversations as cherry blossoms saturate the sky. Even the flitting run time of some of the songs evokes the haiku-ish poetry of plucked petals falling away too soon.

Imagined also as a tribute to an avant-garde(ning) local flower shop in Nagoya, Japan called Tumbleweed, which hosts a special event called “Flower Listening” multiple times a year, this album plays a bit like a mixtape but with tracks made all by one person. Shawn, the songwriter / producer behind Lullatone often played at the event and found himself making more and more new songs to especially fit the space. But as time went by, he listened to them other places and noticed the impressionistic tone of the tracks translated to lots of other areas as well.

Whether you want to call it botanica / petalcore / pollinated pastoral / j-ambient / folktronica / floraltronica / compositional collage / environmental / kankyō ongaku / “ambient for angiosperms” or just plain instrumental, we hope these soft & serene synth sounds soundtrack anywhere you (and maybe some flowery friends) find yourself growing.

Seattle-based producer Jeff McIlwain, aka Lusine, returns with his 9th full-length record, Long Light, marking twenty years since he first joined the Ghostly International roster. A cited influence for myriad electronic artists including London’s Loraine James and others, Lusine is known for visceral, kinetically-curious music that fuses techno, pop, and experimental composition. In recent years, McIlwain has pushed his craft skyward with more collaborative, song-forward work. Long Light shines the throughline; his signature looping patterns and textures are dynamic yet minimalist as ever. Structurally straightforward, tight, and bright, the material radiates as the most direct in his catalog, featuring vocal contributions from Asy Saavedra, Sarah Jaffe, and Sensorimotor collaborators Vilja Larjosto and Benoît Pioulard. Lusine found his sound early on, but he’s never stopped pushing and pulling at its potential, patiently deconstructing the distractions and solving the puzzles. With Long Light, a laser-focused, process-driven artist reaches an exceptionally satisfying level of clarity and immediacy. McIlwain sees the title, taken from the lyrical phrase "long light signaling the fall again,” written by Benoît Pioulard for what became the title track, as a guiding device that reflects several meanings. “There’s this sort of paranoia where you don't know what is real, it's an age of high anxiety and there are all these distractions,” McIlwain explains. “It's like a fun house mirror situation.” Following the long light is the only true way through, and he holds that metaphor to the album’s recording, which also carried a cyclical nature akin to seasons. Like the start of fall, the album completes a period of cultivation; “Music making is a struggle and you have to have a ton of patience.” Long Light is proof that what lies beyond the noise, at the end of the figurative tunnel, is worth all the work it’s taken to get there. Across the collection, McIlwain identifies the core sonic element, a vocal cut or a simple beat sequence, from which to build everything else off. On the opener “Come And Go,” he multiplies a vocal take from longtime collaborator Vilja Larjosto into a celestial choir, evoking their Sensorimotor standout “Just A Cloud.” It’s the bass hook on the single “Zero to Sixty,” curving around the voice of Sarah Jaffe, whose pliable range and cool delivery provide the source for Lusine’s unmistakable mapping. The chorus is Jaffe’s (“cold-blooded”) line repeated in step with melodic synth pulses and the buzzing deep bass. For the verse, McIlwain unlocks the loop and she completes the thought, giving the track a sense of tension and relief. “I feel like I am dreaming / You make me feel like I am walking on a cloud / I don’t ever want to feel the ground,” sings Asy Saavedra (of Chaos Chaos) on “Dreaming.” This time McIlwain keeps the phrase intact, making subtle tweaks to the timbre and texture as chimes, clinks, and snaps oscillate. The album balances vocal pop motifs with some of Lusine’s strongest instrumental expressions, from ambient-minded foreshadowing (“Faceless,” “Plateau,” “Rafters”) to hypnotic head-nodders like “Cut and Cover” and “Transonic.” The latter jumps out as the rhythmic centerpiece; first McIlwain outlines the track’s silhouette before filling in its details one layer at a time. Stuttering synth hums join the kick, then proliferate a step higher, harmonizing at the peak with sparkled bell sounds and a burst of feedback. “Long Light” has it all: Lusine’s percussive mood-building, rendered with samples from drummer Trent Moorman, and a contortion of tender poetry, courtesy of friend Thomas Meluch, aka Benoît Pioulard (Morr Music, Kranky). “This track has a sort of melody that I haven’t really messed with before,” says McIlwain. “It’s this very droney, mysterious thing, that I really liked, and focused on, and kind of counter balanced with a nasty wavetable patch. Tom just absolutely nailed the feel of the song.” It is rare to arrive at a landmark work two decades into one’s craft, but through repetition, refinement, and patience, Lusine extends a defining moment, an essential piece to his discography.

Growing up in Minnesota, life constantly took multi-instrumentalist and producer Lutalo Jones back and forth across the Mississippi River, through the beating heart of the Twin Cities, from their home in Minneapolis to school in St Paul. In 2021 Lutalo and their partner moved east, to settle among the green peaks of Vermont, having taken ownership of an area of land with the intention of building a small community for themselves. The aim is to accomplish a long-held dream: to live life differently, to invest in and create something tangible that can be passed on to future generations. The to-and-fro of that early life has been replaced by something altogether more steady, a burning desire to not get so caught up in the intensity of the world.It's this overwhelming potency of modernity that ripples through Lutalo's musical work. Their six-song debut EP, Once Now, Then Again, bristles with tension, despite the open laidback nature of the performance. The new EP – which follows a few well-received singles in 2021 and a run of live shows alongside Adrianne Lenker – spans both of Lutalo's contrasting worlds, the songwriting beginning in the Twin Cities before being finished in the serene surroundings of Vermont, and both environments leave their mark on Lutalo's rich and absorbing sound.For now, Lutalo's world consists of new pastures and new beginnings, the search for brightness in spite of all the dark. They remain optimistic in attitude, and steadfast in their belief that change can only happen when you believe in a better future. "At the same point you also have to recognize that this is also your time to be alive," Lutalo says, "and to try to find beauty in those moments and focus on the smaller details: to watch the water trickle down the stream, to see the ice as it melts from the rooftops."

ZZK Records Presents: Luzmila Carpio’s Inti Watana: El Retorno del Sol The iconic voice of Luzmila Carpio rings out from the Andes, spreading messages of indigenous struggle, female empowerment and unceasing love for both the people and planet around us. An undeniable icon of Bolivian Andean culture whose career spans multiple decades, Luzmila has released more than 25 albums (there’s a reason that Rolling Stone described her as”one of the most prolific indigenous singers of South America”), inspiring millions while singing in both her native Aymara-Quechua language and Spanish. Yet Luzmila Carpio isn’t someone who’s content to simply rest on her laurels; she continues to take risks—and push her music into vibrant new soundworlds. On new album Inti Watana: El Retorno del Sol (her first LP in a decade), she’s teamed up with Argentinian producer Leonardo Martinelli (a.k.a. Tremor), a ZZK veteran who’s spent the bulk of his career finding the common ground between Latin American folk rhythms and modern electronics. Building off the momentum created by 2015’s Luzmila Carpio Meets ZZK collection—in which her music was reworked by not only Tremor, but standout electronic artists like Nicola Cruz, Chancha Vía Circuito and El Búho—this new album is meant to stretch across genres, generations and continents, with Luzmila’s sonorous, occasionally birdsong-inspired vocalizations gracefully gliding amongst ambient textures, programmed beats and (of course) a bevy of traditional instrumentation from around the globe. Over the course of the LP, Bolivian charangos and quenas sit comfortably alongside the sounds of harmonium, violin, acoustic and electric guitar, Argentinian bombo leguero and sacha guitar, Armenian duduk and a litany of Asian percussion. Inti Watana: El Retorno del Sol—which will be accompanied by a full length documentary—might not sound like previous Luzmila Carpio releases, but on a spiritual, political and lyrical level, her core values remain unchanged. A native of Bolivia’s Potosí region, she’s long been a beacon for indigenous communities in not just her home country, but throughout Latin America, her voice inspiring joy and pride amongst ancient peoples whose culture and inherent beauty are often overlooked. Her pursuit of music—a field traditionally dominated by men in Andean communities—long ago made her a pillar of women’s empowerment, but Carpio has also been a vocal proponent for social change, using her influence to advocate not just for the rights of women, but for the protection and increased visibility of all indigenous people. Yet it’s the planet itself that Carpio is most passionate about, and she’s devoted much of her new album to conversations with Mother Earth and Father Sun, whom she refers to as Pachamama and Tata Inti. In a time of acute environmental turmoil, it’s more important than ever to find harmony with our surroundings, and Carpio has purposely planned for the unveiling of her new LP to coincide with the June 21 solstice, while the record’s release date falls on September 21—the date of the September equinox. There 's an ancient magic flowing through Carpio’s music, one forged through millennia of ceremony, ritual and communion with nature. On Inti Watana: El Retorno del Sol, that magic feels more vibrant than ever before, whether she’s joyously referencing sacred traditions (“Kacharpayita”), pondering loss and regret (“Requiem para un Ego”), talking to birds (“Ofrenda de los Pájaros”) or paying tribute to the divinity of the natural world (“La Alegría del Gran Venado”). Through it all, Carpio exudes a palpable sense of wonder, her optimism (and reverence for all that exists beyond the everyday) undimmed by even the most seemingly insurmountable challenges. Pachamama and Tata Inti may be the central characters of Inti Watana: El Retorno del Sol, but it 's Carpio herself who emerges as the album 's most inspiring figure.