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言わずと知れたスロウコアの大名盤!これは是非聞いておくがいい。自国のソウル、ゴスペル、ファンクにとどまらず、ニューエイジ・ミュージック始祖ヤソスや日本からは原マスミまで、世界各地のオブスキュアなサウンドを掘り起こしてきた米国の大名門〈Numero〉からは、1998年に〈Up Records〉からリリースされたDusterのデビュー・スタジオ・アルバム『Stratosphere』が25周年を記念してアニヴァーサリー・リイシュー。スロウコアの第一波の頂点にたつ一枚であり、子宮の中で聞くべき!暗い空間と閉じた瞼のための音楽にして、パンクの鋸歯状のエッジを持つアンビエント・ミュージック。

言わずと知れたスロウコアの大名盤!これは是非聞いておくがいい。自国のソウル、ゴスペル、ファンクにとどまらず、ニューエイジ・ミュージック始祖ヤソスや日本からは原マスミまで、世界各地のオブスキュアなサウンドを掘り起こしてきた米国の大名門〈Numero〉からは、1998年に〈Up Records〉からリリースされたDusterのデビュー・スタジオ・アルバム『Stratosphere』が25周年を記念してアニヴァーサリー・リイシュー。スロウコアの第一波の頂点にたつ一枚であり、子宮の中で聞くべき!暗い空間と閉じた瞼のための音楽にして、パンクの鋸歯状のエッジを持つアンビエント・ミュージック。


Low-key legend and occasional spar to everyone from Will Bankhead to Jamal Moss, Duster Valentine throws down a killer deep house meta-mixtape for YOUTH, hustled from myriad Chi-Detroit-NYC-Italian++ records - huge RIYL the OG’s.
Manc-Greek oracle Duster Valentine is the nom de plume of Paul Bennett, a heads-down but vital figure known for nudging disco, deep house and related strains of dance music since the ’80s (maybe longer, nobody knows), influencing everyone from Jon K to Christos Chondropoulos and Sockethead, with work deployed on a secretive, cult edit label and the likes of Berceuse Heroique and MAL.
For YOUTH, your man tends to a perennial touchstone - deep House - with over 90 minutes of cuts screwed and stitched with reeeel passion, parsing slivers of foundational tunes and reassembling them with additional pads and strings, into an eyes-down, pumping and swanging session judiciously tempered with dubwise digits on the mixer, plus a little post-production. It’s deadly stuff from top to bottom; obsessively methodical in its approach, effortless in its hypnotic traction and effect.
Numerous trax breeze by with a timeless guile that speaks to a lifetime immersed in the good stuff, with all his influences writ explicitly in the music and the j-card - dozens upon dozens of the artists whose drums, vox and stabs he cadged, pruned, and puckered. Like Paul himself, there’s no need to overstate it; it’s simply a masterclass, for the heads.


Originally released in 1974, Dzyan’s third and final album is a Krautrock masterpiece, blending daring world beat, jazz-prog, and mysticism. Multi-instrumentalists experiment with exotic sounds and inventive instruments, creating a psychedelic, otherworldly work—an enduring highlight of German rock. Originally released in 1974 on famous German label Bacillus, Dzyan's third and final album,it is recognized for its daring world beat elements, and totally acidic album cover art. Dzyan refined their sound even further into improvisation and exotic sounds, mixed with weird experimentations and mysticism. It offers other-worldly music of incredible beauty and strangeness, influenced by the music of Asia but taking it into far more original realms. Multi-instrumentalists Marron and Karwatky experimented with sitar, saz, tambura, mellotron, synthesizers, bass-violin, and a mysterious invented instrument called 'super-string', all merged in an extreme melting pot of styles, ideas and fertile imagination, interacting into a 'psychedelic worldgroove'; while Giger, bursting with creative power and virtuosity, holds it together with his fantastic drumming. From the weird opium-den trancesoundtrack of 'Khali' to the more funky 'For Earthly Thinking', to the even wilder tracks like 'The Road Not Taken', Dzyan crafted one of the finest and most unique works of the Krautrock era. An amazing work on its own, rhythmically adventurous and unique jazzprog, is indeed one of the landmarks in experimental rock, a masterpiece. A highlight in German rock history.
Originally released in 1973, Dzyan’s second album "Time Machine" marked a shift from vocal prog-rock to a unique blend of jazz, ethnic, and acid-rock influences. Showcasing virtuosic musicianship, it stands as a pioneering work in German rock, ahead of its time. Originally released in 1973 on famous German label Bacillus, Dzyan’s 2nd album “Time Machine” showed a “new” Dzyan line-up consisting of guitar player Eddy Marron (also playing a lot of other string instruments), bass genius, band founder and “mastermind” Reinhard Karwatky and drummer Peter Giger. Produced by Peter Hauke and recorded and mixed by great engineer Dieter Dierks the trio performed on Time Machine a new sound mutating away from vocal-prog-rock of the first album to explore further jazz and ethnic tonalities with far more space-out and exotic improvisations to an unusual hybrid of acid-rock with serious jazz chops approaching “Mahavishnuland”. Time Machine offers virtuous and unorthodox musicianship with a high and very own esthetic quality. Existing in a no-man’s land between jazz and rock, and as a pre-cursor to the post-rock crowd of the ‘90s, Time Machine was well ahead of its time. A highlight in German rock history.


Susumu Yokota’s glyding mid ‘90s acid works for Dr. Motte and co’s Space Teddy revived for a 30 year anniversary reissue with Transmigration, dovetailing their interests in early Goan dance and ‘90s trance with this double album set of lush, SAW-like bubblers.
Replete with liner notes by top flight ‘90s trance producer Mijk Van Dijk, the ‘Space Teddy Collection’ scans a seam of Susumu Yokota’s work circa his albums for Harthouse and the legendary ‘Acid Mt. Fuji’ for Sublime. This posthumous retrospective hails his purest acid works, inflected with the rhythmelodic lilt and aerodynamic elegance that distinguished Yokota’s work from his contemporary milieu. Sifted from two albums, ‘Zen’ (1994) and ‘ten’ (1996), the nine cuts are all characterised by a pursuit of hypnotic club sensuality, and scale between FM feathered ambient acid house and more urgent acid trance.
Beginning slow and spacious with the resonant 303 tweaks and wide open pads of ‘Sou’, the set toggles the intensity of Susumu’s Ebi output between the lip-smacking upness of ‘San’ to the sand-trample triplet wiggle of ‘Tsuru’ and proper yoghurt-weaver tackle in ‘Hi’. At the set’s core he takes the longview with the near 9 minute slow mo drug chug of ‘Zen’ and the Plastikman-esque ambient acid crawler ‘Chuu’, saving the beatific bliss of ‘Kaze’ and ‘Tsuki’ to play out on the back of fluttering eyelids.

Harnessing the chaos born from endless jams in a remote, rented farmhouse, the album dives deeper into their punk approach to jazz, while opening up space for long-nurtured fascinations with electronic textures and cinematic oddities. Their third album, it features previous singles feely, and bamboo.
The title was pulled from a bank of favourite names after the band saw Ez’s artwork; a quirky world of three cell-like flats housing absurd creatures. 'frank dean and andrew' nods to the anonymous, everyday passersby whose lives quietly unfold in the background of a nondescript town.
Pulling back the curtain on its creation further, the band reveals, “The album was recorded at the end of a year of extreme highs and lows. The tensions play out in the music in weird ways... the feeling of the music is very particular, and peculiar. Most UK Jazz music can end up too arranged and neat, or generally optimistic in mood, whereas this album goes the other way in all aspects.”
At the album's core, the glitchy, late-night focus track red in tokyo features Chinese-Vietnamese-British rapper Jianbo, whose grimey, distorted flows cut through growling guitar riffs and a dragging, drill-like drum line. “It’s a weird, grimey anger with a touch of no-wave and post-punk,” the band explains, “Hari’s bass ended up sounding like a Japanese Koto”. The intensity is fitting, as Jianbo recounts a tense moment in Tokyo that left him “seeing red.”
Shifting through moods, the second track oscillates to life with a dubby bassline and bursts of distant, animalistic commotion, like a flock scattering after a disturbance. With unsettling keys and guitar, the instrumental upends the familiar contours of jazz and leaves a lingering unease as part of what the band calls the album’s “weird, off-key” side. Equally unexpected, the title, horticulturalists nightmare (birds), taps into the surreal fear lurking in the pulsing soundscape.
That freeform, borderless creativity carries into grilly, where the keys lay out the pace and mood. “The tempo and the ambience frame the track to be like a dance tune, but with a darkness from Burial-type ambiences and pulsing drill-style delays,” the band notes. As horn layers clear the haze, the jam’s raw energy and feeling come together as a transportive piece.
Taking a dip into the melancholic, toucan opens with a whir and solemn, ceremonial horns, underpinned by a mellow harmony that moves into far-off, choral-like overlays. Opening with a similarly dystopian eeriness is location, the band’s favourite. From the heavy slump of the drums to the three-piece horns of Dan, Akers, and Jonny, which counterpoint each other in a sea of reverb. The tune is named after a Playboi Carti song of the same name, inspired by the opening synth movement.
The title track, frank dean and andrew, flickers with a bittersweet nostalgia, capturing for Ebi Soda, a modern sense of indifference, a stay-at-home, it-is-what-it-is kind of resignation. It mirrors the mood of the figures on the album artwork: sitting alone in flats, suspended in quiet isolation. Lou’s chords, Hari’s chordal bass, and Sam’s laid-back tempo lay down a "loose, Midwest, emo undercurrent, a tone that runs deep in much of the hyperpop" the band had been absorbing. Will vocalises through the trombone, making it sound as though someone is singing down a crackling phone line. A flugelhorn overdub adds more warmth to the track’s slow-burning atmosphere, with trombone and sax joining the mix in the second half.
Closing the album is insectoid creatures are infesting the land, beginning as a dissonant, scattered hellscape of wailing improvisations, freewheeling robotic noise, and buckling delays that eventually rupture into a cinematic scape, giving way to an ascending sequence of hopeful, mood-settling melodies.
As a whole, the album’s character arises from stylising with production and mixing. The approach fluctuates between focusing on ambience and reverb, drawing from UK dubstep influences like Zomby, Burial, and Joe Armon-Jones’ collaborations with Maxwell Owin, and embracing the raw, grainy DIY ‘mixtape’ sound, inspired by artists like Athletic Progression, Yameii Online, and Playboi Carti.
Harnessing the chaos born from endless jams in a remote, rented farmhouse, the album dives deeper into their punk approach to jazz, while opening up space for long-nurtured fascinations with electronic textures and cinematic oddities. Their third album, it features previous singles feely, and bamboo.
The title was pulled from a bank of favourite names after the band saw Ez’s artwork; a quirky world of three cell-like flats housing absurd creatures. 'frank dean and andrew' nods to the anonymous, everyday passersby whose lives quietly unfold in the background of a nondescript town.
Pulling back the curtain on its creation further, the band reveals, “The album was recorded at the end of a year of extreme highs and lows. The tensions play out in the music in weird ways... the feeling of the music is very particular, and peculiar. Most UK Jazz music can end up too arranged and neat, or generally optimistic in mood, whereas this album goes the other way in all aspects.”
At the album's core, the glitchy, late-night focus track red in tokyo features Chinese-Vietnamese-British rapper Jianbo, whose grimey, distorted flows cut through growling guitar riffs and a dragging, drill-like drum line. “It’s a weird, grimey anger with a touch of no-wave and post-punk,” the band explains, “Hari’s bass ended up sounding like a Japanese Koto”. The intensity is fitting, as Jianbo recounts a tense moment in Tokyo that left him “seeing red.”
Shifting through moods, the second track oscillates to life with a dubby bassline and bursts of distant, animalistic commotion, like a flock scattering after a disturbance. With unsettling keys and guitar, the instrumental upends the familiar contours of jazz and leaves a lingering unease as part of what the band calls the album’s “weird, off-key” side. Equally unexpected, the title, horticulturalists nightmare (birds), taps into the surreal fear lurking in the pulsing soundscape.
That freeform, borderless creativity carries into grilly, where the keys lay out the pace and mood. “The tempo and the ambience frame the track to be like a dance tune, but with a darkness from Burial-type ambiences and pulsing drill-style delays,” the band notes. As horn layers clear the haze, the jam’s raw energy and feeling come together as a transportive piece.
Taking a dip into the melancholic, toucan opens with a whir and solemn, ceremonial horns, underpinned by a mellow harmony that moves into far-off, choral-like overlays. Opening with a similarly dystopian eeriness is location, the band’s favourite. From the heavy slump of the drums to the three-piece horns of Dan, Akers, and Jonny, which counterpoint each other in a sea of reverb. The tune is named after a Playboi Carti song of the same name, inspired by the opening synth movement.
The title track, frank dean and andrew, flickers with a bittersweet nostalgia, capturing for Ebi Soda, a modern sense of indifference, a stay-at-home, it-is-what-it-is kind of resignation. It mirrors the mood of the figures on the album artwork: sitting alone in flats, suspended in quiet isolation. Lou’s chords, Hari’s chordal bass, and Sam’s laid-back tempo lay down a "loose, Midwest, emo undercurrent, a tone that runs deep in much of the hyperpop" the band had been absorbing. Will vocalises through the trombone, making it sound as though someone is singing down a crackling phone line. A flugelhorn overdub adds more warmth to the track’s slow-burning atmosphere, with trombone and sax joining the mix in the second half.
Closing the album is insectoid creatures are infesting the land, beginning as a dissonant, scattered hellscape of wailing improvisations, freewheeling robotic noise, and buckling delays that eventually rupture into a cinematic scape, giving way to an ascending sequence of hopeful, mood-settling melodies.
As a whole, the album’s character arises from stylising with production and mixing. The approach fluctuates between focusing on ambience and reverb, drawing from UK dubstep influences like Zomby, Burial, and Joe Armon-Jones’ collaborations with Maxwell Owin, and embracing the raw, grainy DIY ‘mixtape’ sound, inspired by artists like Athletic Progression, Yameii Online, and Playboi Carti.

Born from ten-hour jam sessions in peeling Brighton bedsits, the technical parameters of a bootstrap recording process and the osmotic, multi-genre influence of internet music archives, quintet Ebi Soda have been steady-cultivating a unique sound amidst the exploding UK jazz scene.
Balancing irreverent musical and technical improvisation with an uncompromising instinct for vibe and prodigious musicianship, the Ebi ascent has been swift. Their eponymous debut EP, follow-up aptly titled “Bedroom Tapes” and debut LP ‘Ugh’ were originally released on Sola Terra, and won international plaudits, major radio plays and performances at Gilles Peterson’s We Out Here, London’s Jazz Re:Freshed, EFG London Jazz Festival and Latitude.
Despite their steep rise – the Brighton outfit have preserved as much as possible of their unique recording process, originating from their very first sessions. With just a two-track recorder around, the band would lay down whole takes, one instrument at a time, then immediately transform the overdub, digitally reshaping the sound with the same mischievous, adderall energy as the musical performance. This call-and-response between performance and production spurs an instinctive development – with musicality, player and producer egging one another on through naturally developing phases and textures.
‘Honk If You’re Sad’, their sophomore full-length album, stays true to these foundations, while bringing more ambitious experimentation, technical mastery and a stellar lineup of guest players to the studio including Yazz Ahmed, Deji Ijishakin and Dan Gray.
In typical Ebi style, while recalling jazz pioneers in playing style, ‘Honk If You’re Sad’ draws from a vast neural network of influences: the Ebi Brain has been marinating in a digital soup of trap, drill, dub, post-punk and no wave to name but a few. The result is a mercurial record that beams in psychedelia, dissonance, serene ambient passages, tough, neck-snapping beats and lush textures, all underscored by the intersection of jazz, hip hop and electronic music.
Across opening heaters, “Tang of the Zest” and “My Man from College”, Will Heaton’s trombone growls in and out of focus over a tight uptempo breakbeat. Deji Ijishakin’s tenor sax solo shrieks and shudders between lush layers of sound. Driving basslines, liquid keys, murmuring dissonant brass, delay and hazy reverb tumble into progressive cycles of frenetic climax and oceanic calm.
These patterns recur over the record. “Giraffe Bread” and “Listen, King” opens with a tight funk on the bass; short crisp phrases from drummer Sam Schlich-Davies dissipate in cascading dub echoes and the track opens into an instrumental, psychedelic jam, with rippling synth pads and trombone murmurs peeking out from a deep, reverberating soundscape. Ijishakin’s hyperactive sax solo on “Gated Community with a Public Pool” sits on a glitched-out rhythm section: a rocking, window-shaking bassline and sparse stuttering drums.
From influences as diverse as Kokoroko, Can, Lounge Lizards, BadBadNotGood, Ronin Arkestra, and The Fall, ‘Honk if You’re Sad’ focuses a cohesive whole; an explorative, playful and technically brilliant record that coaxes the listener through immersive phases of fun, chaos and harmony.
