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This was his first studio album in four years since his last album, "Endless Talking", and the first release since moving to EPIC/SONY RECORDS. This work was the result of sessions and collaborations with Arabian musicians, with an inclination towards the 'world music' that was gaining attention at the time. Deployed often in pop culture as punchline, Hosono takes such sight-seeing and transforms it into a metaphor for sample-heavy electronic music, drawing from various cultures and weaving them together into a new holistic vision. Omni Sight Seeing is the clearest iteration of this concept, as he alights on Algerian raï, Martin Denny exotica, and acid house, too. It’s one part Jon Hassell-esque Fourth World, one part Duke Ellington “jungle music,” with Hosono’s singular outlook running through it all.
Another favorite from the Haromi Hosono canon. This was the score for the first animated adaptation of The Tale of Genji, a sprawling piece of 11th century literature written by noblewoman Shikibu Murasaki, considered by many to be the first modern novel in recorded history. (Isao Tomita later write his own symphonic adaptation of the story.) The anime was directed by Gisaburō Sugii, and while it only covers a small part of the epic storyline, the score is highly ambitious.
Unlike much of Hosono’s catalogue, here synthesizer mostly acts as an atmospheric texture and instead puts traditional Japanese instruments, particularly koto, flute, and drums, front and center. What’s really astounding about this soundtrack is the layering of instruments, piling them up until they become unfamiliar: droves of fingerpicked strings sound like a hive of insects, waves of gentle hand percussion feel like the swells of inhales and exhales, processed flute suggests the shrieking wind. Despite a pervasive mysteriousness, and even ominousness, this is unmistakably gorgeous music, and structured in such a way that it will appeal to fans of more conventional synthetic ambient music–but retains a feverish futurist-classical elegance all its own.
Hassan Wargui is a self taught musician, composer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and an expert in the songcraft and poetry of the Tachelhit speaking Amazigh tribes of the Anti-Atlas mountains in the south of Morocco.
He was born in 1985 in the rural community of Issafen, which lies between Taroudant and Tafraoute in the Anti-Atlas mountains of Southern Morocco. His music draws from the deep well of Amazigh, or Berber, cultures that have long been suppressed across North Africa after the region underwent a process of Arabization following the Arab invasions of the 7th Century.
Hassan grew up in an isolated mountain community in which art and music is embedded into daily life. This allowed him to develop an excellent musical sense, a deep understanding of the complex poly-rhythms that underpin Amazigh music, and time to become proficient on the banjo which, since the ascendency of the popular modern folk movement involving groups such as Nass El Ghiwane and Jil Jilala in the late '60s and early '70s, has been the preferred instrument of the region. Like many musicians from the region, Hassan built his first instruments himself, and it wasn't until he moved to Casablanca in his teens to find work which was scarce in his local community, that he was able to save for his first real banjo.
Since then Hassan has been active in the Amazigh musical community and has worked with a number of groups, notably Groupe Lbouchart, Imanaren and Etran Tiznit, as well as recording prolifically as a solo artist using Fruity Loops as a home studio. In 2009, Jace Clayton (DJ/Rupture) stumbled across a CD by Imanaren on a stall in Casablanca medina and this led to a fruitful series of collaborations in 2009 and 2011 (you can learn more about their work together here: www.dublab.com/archive/louder-than-the-noise-jace-clayton-hassan-wargui)
Tiddukla (which translates to Friendship) is one of Hassan's numerous group projects and he recorded the album with friends in 2015 and self released it through YouTube due to the lack of music infrastructure in Morocco. The Tiddukla album is raw and hypnotic and sees Hassan and his group channeling the deep and contemplative sounds of classic Amazigh groups such as Izenzaren, Archach, Izmaz, all of whom risked their freedom by daring to sing in Tachelhit at a time when the language was still forbidden, and when Amazigh people were fighting for their rights to be recognised.
Hive Mind are thrilled to be able to release Hassan's beautiful music, and to introduce the fascinating rhythms of the Anti-Atlas Mountains into the wider world. We're incredibly proud to be able to support this fiercely independent and hugely resourceful and tenacious artist who has been able to continue creating music for over a decade without any real support from Morocco's music industry and while holding down a variety of day jobs. We really hope you enjoy his music as much as we do.
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Russell Haswell and Florian Hecker have both a long history with Mego/Editions Mego. Individual releases have peppered the Mego catalogue since Haswell’s Live Salvage 1997->2000 cd release (MEGO 012) in 2001 and the debut Hecker release IT ISO161975 (MEGO 014) in 1998.
The individual exploration of sonic phenomena by these two practitioners has resulted in both being highly regarded for their uncompromising approach to sound as matter. Russell Haswell and Florian Hecker came together as a collaborative duo with the now-legendary record Blackest Ever Black, somewhat inexplicably, on the classical imprint of Warner Brothers.
In 2025, Hecker and Haswell return with a new album featuring the two-channel edit produced initially for their UPIC DIFFUSION SESSION #23, performed as a live diffusion across 8-channels at the X100 Festival, Berlin, 2023, celebrating the 100th anniversary of Xenakis' birth.
This record furthers the duo's exploration of Xenakis's UPIC system as the sole instrument. The UPIC is a computer music system that generates sound from visual input. The original intention of the system developed by Xenakis was to make a utopian tool for producing new sounds accessible to all, independent of formal training. One can locate footage of Xenakis and a group of children making drawings for the system in the 70's.
The duo set off experimenting with a diverse array of hand-drawn images to feed the UPIC system including news photographs of disasters and atrocities, "food porn" through to depictions of the natural world and microscopic images of molecular structures (including 'the blackest ever black'). The resulting eccentric audio from these images is claimed by the artists to heighten synaesthesia and is as mysterious as it is baffling.
Throughout UPIC DIFFUSION SESSION #23 frequency clusters move and morph in the most unusual manner, shifting and stretching into shapes that hint at some kind of magical process. What starts out deceptively simple soon unravels into a large array of sonic mayhem. Symbolic jet planes are shredded by a swarm of insects, a metal bowl howls into the void, a tiny tin toy crawls into a thicket with the resolute aura of a black hole. A burning geyser of laser forms liquid shrapnel. This is sound as an alchemical process, a constant chimerical flow into the netherworld and is the net result of the decades long radical investigations by the two artists involved. UPIC DIFFUSION SESSION #23 is a direct, rich and rewarding listen for those willing to invest time into the outer limits.
Produced & mixed by Vegyn, all lyrics written by Francis Hornsby Clark.
FELT enters 2026 with a newly established sub label for reissues, retrospectives and oddball adjacent non-FELT material under the anagram catch-all LEFT. First on the agenda is a vinyl issue of a modern classical tape by Danish guitarist Johan Surrballe Wieth, founding member of the band Iceage. Initially released on a limited cassette edition and plucked from the vast catalogue of the Copenhagen label Posh Isolation, the solo project Health & Safety can be read as composers meditation on anxiety, depression, insomnia and all the damned things they entangle. Wieth moves across the spectrum with dour, deliberate keys, mangled drone fx, barely-there violin scrapes, erratic chimes and whistles and with a knowing pace that feels akin to a guiding hand. We’re unsure if the form of each piece is meant to directly correlate to the drug so referenced but the quiet fever dream atmosphere of the 25 minutes also blurs each piece into a whole. This quote from Wieth certainly rings true for the highly introspective nature of Health & Safety - “You should be very careful listening to too much music when you're writing an album. It has a tendency to become a little too explicit”
On Unleash, Heavee works simultaneously outside and inside the box, rebuilding footwork's framework and vibe to his own unique specification.
Known to his friends as Darryl Bunch Jnr, Heavee is a Queer, Chicago born and raised DJ and producer. He has a long history within footwork, and like many producers in the genre, started off as a dancer. Notably his track 'it's Wack' with DJ Rashad, from his 2018 album WFM on the Teklife label ended up in Flying Lotus' Grand Theft Auto jukebox , his tracks ‘Icemaster’ and ‘8-Bit Shit’ from earlier Hyperdub compilations are still much loved, and outside the Teklife crew, he's also co-produced alongside Sinjin Hawke & Zora Jones.
2022’s 'Audio Assault' EP on Hyperdub restarted his musical journey with some synth-driven, melodic footwork, but Unleash goes much further into audio world-building with a fresh, spongy and citrusy sound palette and rich, bright chord sequences. It's minimal, airy, balancing light and dark, sometimes breezy and sometimes clinical.
Rhythmically, it's dance floor ready, using footwork's 160 template as a springboard for building new drum sounds to express these rhythms. It's also marked out by transforming footwork's classic commanding chants into personal mantras and declarations - 'it's time for something different', 'Unleash the Freak'. 'Make It Work', with no time for unspecified enemies. At times, it seems to draw from R&B, rap, jazz and grime, with a sprinkling of bitter-sweet vintage Detroit techno and a resonance with ‘Pretty Ugly’ Era Scratcha DVA, but with the up-to-date palette and FXs you might hear from friends and contemporaries such as Fractal Fantasy and Suzi Analog.
It's clear that Heavee has upped his production and song writing game for Unleash and he cites studying physical modelling, modulation, and other forms of synthesis along with discussions and collaborative jams with peers that fed into the process. The album takes footworks 'eats all' approach to music in a fresh direction with a freedom of spirit. It's a strong addition to the footwork cannon and shows that experiments in dance music can be fun.
Who would expect that a new Krautrock release on Macadam Mambo would come from a Japanese band called Heavenphetamine?! The duo/couple have been touring all over Europe in the past two years, and started to build a serious fan base, as every performance they deliver is leaving an imperishable memory. This is on a date in Belgrade at Karmakoma that they met with Sacha. They had this album recorded and auto-release on tape but not on vinyl, and it came completely naturally to decide to release it as a LP on Macadam Mambo. The tracks on the album are new versions a bit different from the tape, let’s say a bit more mature and minimal than from the first ones recorded and give the feeling of listening to a masterpiece in the genre. It can be dark and profound but also enough light to bring back this little sun that has trouble to shine in the winter. This album has been highly influenced by their experience with the war in Ukraine, and the friendship they made there, where it has been recorded, and it express this mix of emotions due to the feeling of exasperation and the hope to see someday this conflict come to an end and the relief of the peace…
Duori is an imaginary word. It combines the ideas “dentro” (inside) and “fuori (outside) invoking a place between. Heith and Tarawangsawelas met in Bandung in 2017, since then their collaboration has been evolving, both in person and remotely. The result is ‘Duori’ an album of 5th world music in low data mode that travelled inside lost and found portable recorders, on defunct hard drives and expired e-sim cards. Recording and arranging songs over a long period of time and across a vast geographical distance has lent their practice a distinct character. This distance allows the possibility to see things from different perspectives and creates music that hovers both inside the Sundanese Land, and outside of it, both on the European continent and not. This record carries compositions from one side of the globe to the other, catching spirits and energies from different places, societies and rituals. Their first sketches were influenced while witnessing the Reak ceremonies in Bandung and they were recorded at Tesla Manaf (Kuntari) studio in Bandung. They found inspiration on nights spent at the jaipong clubs, smoking cigarettes and talking about ghosts. The songs then developed while on tours around Europe, playing separately and together. Their song titles are in Indonesian, Italian and English, underling the linguistic shapeshifting of the project, and showing how any linguistic barrier was surpassed by a strong spiritual connection between them as artists. This record is also the story of a friendship, a spiritual bond that goes beyond the differences in their backgrounds and practices. A bond that redefines geographies and creates new psycho-geographies.
Today, Big Dada welcomes beloved producer and singer-songwriter Helado Negro (Roberto Carlos Lange) to the pioneering label’s storied roster. Known for crafting compassionate, atmospheric and experimental pop music, Lange ushers in a new chapter with the announcement of his new EP ‘The Last Sound On Earth’, set for release on November 7th.
Initially inspired by the question – what will the last sound I hear before I die will be? – the EP unfolds as a collection of songs embedded with ominous, often frenetic energy. This unease is amplified by Lange’s heavy use of electronics, echo and distortion, which lend a dazed, shell-shocked quality to his words – emphasising the intense feelings of dread and uncertainty that underscore his deep contemplation of a planet in crisis.
“When I wake up in the morning, I can listen to my ears tuning-in to the world around me. It feels like a blanket being pulled off my eardrums,” explains Lange. “I was watching Michael Snow’s - Wavelength (in increments 😅) while working on these songs and the room for interpretation of what I saw and heard felt large. Every time I watched it carved a new emotion out of me. Despair, hope and inspiration. I wanted to ask more of listeners, to want to take time — not just pause, but ask yourself can you untangle all of the mess and try again”
The EP’s lead-single and opening track “More” captures the soul-crushing pressure and isolation we can feel in a hyperconnected world, where despite being so well connected, we can all feel more alone than ever. “It’s about the day-to-day push and pull that can lead to being overwhelmed with more of everything,” says Lange.
The single is accompanied by a lyric video from renowned animator and filmmaker Annapurna Kumar, who is known for her blending of hand-drawn animation, stop-motion, CGI and 16mm filmmaking techniques, and has previously worked with the likes of Bon Iver and Beach House. She explains that: “The central metaphor of this video, the origami heart, represents a person processing their emotions. By focusing on a simple physical task like folding, the inner mind is freed to meditate subconsciously. I wanted to depict the mindset of someone who is a little bit overwhelmed by fleeting thoughts, but working to channel them into something positive.”
Elsewhere on ‘The Last Sound On Earth’, Lange examines systemic power structures, as on “Sender Receiver”, which contemplates the inherent violence and imbalance built into our technical terminology. or “Protector” – built around a classic jungle break – where he offers a cynical reflection on the broken notion that those in power are truly acting in our best interests and protection.
Despite the often heavy themes, the music itself finds Lange in uptempo territory, and closing tracks “Zenith” (the other side of nadir, the balance of the something and nothing) and "Don't Give It Up Now" (a song about holding on and fighting for change) attempt to transform Lange’s feelings into something positive and forward-looking. Though, as Lange puts it: “The doom is real, and the gloom is unfortunate; I'm not sure how to make this any lighter,” he has found relief through music and movement. “How can I dance to this grief?” he wonders. “It almost seems counterintuitive… but when I perform, I dance. I've found a way of moving my body on stage that gives me a direct, freeing feeling with the music.”
Never less than brimming with complex layers of emotion, ‘The Last Sound On Earth’ is the sound of an artist reckoning with the changing world around them and tentatively searching for a path forward. In doing so, he ultimately finds an answer to his own question:
“What is the last sound on earth? The last sound is love…That’s the sound I hope to hear.”
Helado Negro returns with This Is How You Smile, an album that freely flickers between clarity and obscurity, past and present geographies, bright and unhurried seasons. Miami-born, New York-based artist Roberto Carlos Lange embraces a personal and universal exploration of aura – seen, felt, emitted – on his sixth album and second for RVNG Intl.
There are collaborations that feel engineered, and then there are those that feel like summer sun’s warmth on a Sunday. Helado Tropical, the debut collaborative album from Helado Negro and Reyna Tropical, belongs to the latter, channeling that easy, sun-drenched tenderness into sound. It didn’t begin with a plan so much as a meeting: two artists orbiting similar questions around language, identity, and music, finally landing in the same room. What followed was less a traditional writing process than a shared unfolding – an instinctive, immersive exchange that stretched across geographies, time zones, and states of being. The duo first met in June 2024 in North Carolina, brought together by a mutual friend and a loose invitation to spend time in the studio. What might have been a brief session turned into something closer to a three-day sleepover – equal parts conversation, curiosity, and creative risk. Reyna Tropical, who often works within intimate, long-standing collaborations, arrived unsure of what it would mean to open their process to someone new. Helado Negro, long known for expanding the sonic and emotional language of Latin music, entered with a similar openness: no expectations, just a willingness to see what might emerge. What emerged was immediate, rather than easing into collaboration, the two found themselves propelled forward by it – building songs in real time, responding to each other’s instincts without over-explaining them. There was no rigid division of roles. One would begin an idea, the other would answer. A melody would suggest a rhythm; a rhythm would reshape a lyric. “There was never a moment where we felt super stuck,” Helado Negro recalls. “It was just like ‘ok what’s next?’ and even within the songs, trying to create these micro worlds – we just felt excited about each moment.” That sense of momentum became foundational to Helado Tropical, a nine-song project that feels both weightless and deeply rooted. Built from guitars, drum machines, and synthesizers, the album resists clean categorization. It lives somewhere between ambient and rhythmic, intimate and expansive; essentially, a sonic language of its own making, shaped as much by feeling as by form. If there is a unifying thread, it’s movement. The album was written across multiple locations – North Carolina, Portland, and the midwest – with both artists continuing to shape the songs in between sessions, sending ideas back and forth in a kind of long-distance dialogue. At times, the process resembled a “postal service” exchange, each artist adding layers in solitude before returning to build together again. The result is music that carries a sense of travel within it – not just physical, but emotional and spiritual. For Reyna Tropical, that movement became central to the project’s meaning. “You can really lose yourself in where you are and you can miss a lot of processing,” they say. “But I think that this particular album really was able to ground me in what movement means to me and just different characters that the range of movement, travel… environment – sun, wind, and water – has the potential to bring out.” The songs reflect that duality: they drift, swell, and shift, yet remain tethered to something steady beneath the surface. That balance is perhaps most evident in “Sensación,” a song that explores intimacy outside of traditional frameworks. Rooted in curiosity, it opens up a more expansive understanding of closeness – one that, yes, can exist between people but also within oneself, and in fleeting shared moments. There is a softness to it, but also a charge: like a storm forming quietly in the distance. Elsewhere, “Fluye” captures a different kind of release – an almost suspended state of awe, inspired in part by Reyna Tropical’s experience watching a sunrise stretch endlessly across a long-haul flight. It’s a song about surrendering to flow, awakening, and recognizing continuity and connection – even in moments of disorientation. And then there is “Tocando,” one of the album’s most visceral recordings. Built from a pre-existing beat Helado Negro introduced during their sessions, the track took shape after more than a day without sleep. Reyna Tropical recalls pacing, waiting for the lyrics to arrive, before finally delivering them in what they describe as an almost essay-like outpouring. The result is a song that holds tension and tenderness simultaneously: a meditation on relationships that feels both fragile and fraught, intimate yet edged with warning. That duality of softness and sharpness, as well as openness and resistance, runs throughout the album. It’s there in “Soledad,” the final track recorded, which came together in a single late-night session after the project was technically complete. What began as an improvisation on keys turned into something magnetic, keeping both artists back into creation. “[We] couldn’t leave the room,” Reyna Tropical says. The finished song retains that energy between them, and sense of flow coupled with immediacy, unfolding with minimal alteration from its original form. Across Helado Tropical, there is a noticeable absence of constraint: not just musically, but conceptually. Both artists share a long-standing resistance to the expectations often placed on Latin music: what it should sound like, how it should feel, what stories it should tell. As they do individually, these two artists create space for something more fluid and personal on this project. That freedom extends to the album’s emotional perspective. While many of the songs explore intimacy, they rarely function as direct dialogues between the two voices. Instead, they exist within a shared world where each artist expresses something individual and collective. “It’s not about us speaking to each other,” Helado Negro explains. “It’s about us existing in the same feeling.” What makes Helado Tropical particularly resonant is the sense of trust that underpins it. Trust in each other, of course, but also trust in instinct, in process, and the idea that not everything needs to be fully understood in the moment it’s created. Much of the album was written through improvisation, with meaning revealing itself only later, as the artists listened back and reflected. In that way, the project functions as both creation and documentation: a record of a specific time, place, and connection. Reyna Tropical describes it as a form of archiving – capturing not just songs, but the emotional and relational context in which they were made. “It was a lot of processing, a lot of transition” they say about where they were at personally. Ultimately, it was about understanding that “this is supposed to be released so we could keep going. I really feel like this album does that personally, and hopefully is able to hold that for other people too.” That forward motion propelled by release is felt in every part of the album. It hums beneath the surface of even its quietest moments, carrying a sense of continuation, and of something still unfolding. Ultimately, Helado Tropical encapsulates a moment of two artists meeting at the right moment, with the right openness, allowing something larger than either of them to take shape. It is spontaneous yet intentional, grounded yet expansive, deeply personal yet invitingly universal. And this convergence of forces is just the beginning.
Folds of water sanctify the river. Tracing soft, cool hands, the tall oak make way for a child who is older now. The moon gives chase, as clouds attempt to climb her. And choiceless, she falls through, further out of sight. An episodic, dreamlike place; Headwater is an invitation to explore what is fundamental to life – as if asking the listener; what, after losing my compass, is the nature of my experience? The headwater is the childhood of the stream – its beginning. And as though banished from the safety, innocence and purity of this place, the individual is carried through rapids, gashed and sawn, calling for the self to be woven again. In these early moments, the poignancy of this venture is felt in droves – a woman lost in the forest trying to find a way out, silhouette skating through light while something approaches, further out of sight. Everyone is thrown out of childhood – hurled into a life to make sense of something which lives on in memory. The mind catches fragments, painted by ink found in the canals of the veins and rivers within – their headwater, the heart. Like tentacles beneath our skin, their message arrives unannounced, while a great struggle embarks to keep them at bay – the clarity of their awareness polluted. After a time, the river is older now. The forest’s foliage has tuned, sculpted and moulded her – so much so, that the water is barely recognisable. But the girl is no fool, and her sensitivity will not be auctioned. Catching glimpses of the headwater – she cries out to the forest and the valley. This time, unafraid of the pain it wears and hides behind, pretending. She sings to the eclipse, crying for the stars and their breath on the river’s back. Calling for the animals, insects and fish - bowing to the scent of the pine in the evening warmth of the air, weeping to the memory of her childhood, she comes alive. Only in such a surrender does the headwater of her tears make itself known, and all that is longed for arise without having ever been lost. Could she really be creating all of it? And like a child with a boundless imagination, be confusing her role in the play with the candid, honest face of life itself? Humility might yet speak – claiming all she has taken herself to be as the leaves and foliage which pollute and fragment the stream. That a quest to return to childhood is an unnecessary one – because the currents which begun at the headwater still contain, at every step of the river, the headwater itself. And that the cries and memories heard starkly through the forest valley have still come from the deepest waterways the body has pronounced. And so, originate in the heart – and are no threat.