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Veils Of Transformation 1972 - 1980 is a collection of the earliest works of Gregory Kramer, one of the 20th century masters of textural electronic music. This collection is available on CD and cassette with liner notes from Gregory Kramer and Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith, who first brought this fascinating work to the attention of Important Records. “Greg is one of the pioneers of electronic music and these pieces are unique opportunities to discover how intricate and dynamic early synthesizers are.” Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith Kramer developed a musical language focused on continuous transformation of timbre, yielding a continuity of attention. This musical language, formed of timbral change, is a compelling aesthetic in its own right and a source of meditative experience. The four works on this album share a deep sense of order derived not from organizing pitches or rhythms, but from the evolution of timbre itself. Gregory Kramer (b. 1952) is a pioneering electronic composer, inventor, researcher, teacher and author. In 1975 he co-founded Electronic Musicmobile, a synthesizer ensemble later renamed Electronic Musicmobile, a series of synthesizer concerts in New York from which he formed the Electronic Art Ensemble, a highly regarded all electronic quartet. His work extended to developing synthesizers and related equipment. Kramer also co-founded the not-for-profit arts organization Harvestworks in New York City. He is recognized as the founding figure of the intensely cross-disciplinary field of data sonification. Since 1980, Kramer teaches Buddhist meditation. The four compositions collected here each represent Kramer’s unique approaches: The structure of Meditations on 32 Parts of the Body (1978) is derived from the means of its production. Recording 5 people chanting an ancient meditation text, then layering to gradually achieve more than one million voices. The layering was all done using analogue tape recorders. The decomposition of the sound reflects the anomalies of tape machines out of sync, and the build up of artifacts from the audio tape itself, such as uneven response curves and tape hiss, are all engaged as musical materials. Role (1972) was generated using one complex patch on a large hybrid Buchla 200/100 system. Emerging from a zeitgeist that valued pure synthesis as a combined artisztic and technological research. At the time this piece was realized its as exceedingly difficult to produce electronic sounds that were internally complex. Blue Wave (1980) is built on Kramer’s timbral development technique Veils Of Transformation which allows for disparate timbres to be woven into a continuously developing sound. Monologue (1977) is a virtuosic performance of a massive patch on a Buchla/Electron Farm hybrid electronic instrument. Built into the patch is a pathway for continuous transformation of voice and voltage-controlled synthesizer. The blunt, raw and sometimes harsh sounds of this piece reflect an attitude prominent among composers that music can, or even should, be difficult, contrary to what’s already been done and, by all means, new.

Veils Of Transformation 1972 - 1980 is a collection of the earliest works of Gregory Kramer, one of the 20th century masters of textural electronic music. This collection is available on CD and cassette with liner notes from Gregory Kramer and Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith, who first brought this fascinating work to the attention of Important Records. “Greg is one of the pioneers of electronic music and these pieces are unique opportunities to discover how intricate and dynamic early synthesizers are.” Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith Kramer developed a musical language focused on continuous transformation of timbre, yielding a continuity of attention. This musical language, formed of timbral change, is a compelling aesthetic in its own right and a source of meditative experience. The four works on this album share a deep sense of order derived not from organizing pitches or rhythms, but from the evolution of timbre itself. Gregory Kramer (b. 1952) is a pioneering electronic composer, inventor, researcher, teacher and author. In 1975 he co-founded Electronic Musicmobile, a synthesizer ensemble later renamed Electronic Musicmobile, a series of synthesizer concerts in New York from which he formed the Electronic Art Ensemble, a highly regarded all electronic quartet. His work extended to developing synthesizers and related equipment. Kramer also co-founded the not-for-profit arts organization Harvestworks in New York City. He is recognized as the founding figure of the intensely cross-disciplinary field of data sonification. Since 1980, Kramer teaches Buddhist meditation. The four compositions collected here each represent Kramer’s unique approaches: The structure of Meditations on 32 Parts of the Body (1978) is derived from the means of its production. Recording 5 people chanting an ancient meditation text, then layering to gradually achieve more than one million voices. The layering was all done using analogue tape recorders. The decomposition of the sound reflects the anomalies of tape machines out of sync, and the build up of artifacts from the audio tape itself, such as uneven response curves and tape hiss, are all engaged as musical materials. Role (1972) was generated using one complex patch on a large hybrid Buchla 200/100 system. Emerging from a zeitgeist that valued pure synthesis as a combined artisztic and technological research. At the time this piece was realized its as exceedingly difficult to produce electronic sounds that were internally complex. Blue Wave (1980) is built on Kramer’s timbral development technique Veils Of Transformation which allows for disparate timbres to be woven into a continuously developing sound. Monologue (1977) is a virtuosic performance of a massive patch on a Buchla/Electron Farm hybrid electronic instrument. Built into the patch is a pathway for continuous transformation of voice and voltage-controlled synthesizer. The blunt, raw and sometimes harsh sounds of this piece reflect an attitude prominent among composers that music can, or even should, be difficult, contrary to what’s already been done and, by all means, new.

Extra Stars is a deeply beautiful expression of Gregory Uhlmann’s ever-evolving sound world, and comes at a pivotal juncture in the LA-based composer, producer, guitarist and multi-instrumentalist’s musical journey.

Following a long run of supporting work with artists like Perfume Genius, Tasha, and Hand Habits, alongside an eponymous recorded output largely focused on his more singer-songwriter oriented music, Uhlmann has spent the better part of the last couple years trotting out album after album of groundbreaking instrumental modern music. From the sparse melodies and hushed ambient soundscapes of Small Day, to his much-lauded duo outing Doubles with Meg Duffy, to his perhaps lesser-known but no-less-brilliant duo record Water Map with Dustin Wong, to the lush chamber-jazz interplay of his trio recording with saxophonist Josh Johnson and bassist Sam Wilkes, to the two genre-breaking albums he released as a co-leader of synth-laced trance-jazz quintet SML (2024’s Small Medium Large and 2025’s How You Been), Uhlmann has subtly, if not quietly, established himself as an essential presence in some of the most progressive recordings of our time.

Extra Stars encompasses all he’s learned through all the above. A radiant sidereal serenade, the album’s fourteen miniature infinities swirl serendipitous synthesis and measured, melody-rich song into a panoramic menagerie of sound. For a record that seldom incorporates percussion instruments, the music is distinctly rhythm-forward, while Uhlmann also leans heavily into swaths of pastoral beauty. Extra care was clearly poured into the kind of harmonic depth that’s often missing from vibe-only “ambient” music, making for a delightfully refreshing take on the electronic, processing-heavy 'quiet' sound.

The compositions and production techniques here reflect Uhlmann’s musicality perfectly, surely the result of him being as much a seasoned practitioner as he is an avid listener. If there is a middle ground between Cluster & Eno, Terry Riley’s Shri Camel, and Yo La Tengo’s There’s a Riot Going On, it’s somewhere nearby. Lofty comparisons aside, Extra Stars seems to look beyond reference or imitation. Even the album’s title indicates as much—inspired by a trip to California’s Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, where the reality of the night sky’s starry expanse stretches beyond the boundaries of belief.

We can feel Uhlmann’s gaze past the horizon line from the jump. Album opener “Pocket Snail” kicks off with a slow-ambling synth bass line before opening up into a richly processed, reverberating cacophony of beautiful sliding melodies. Eyes wide open, the small world of the pocket snail begins to burst with new color after a fresh injection of sunlight, but the tonality is more akin to something of a simple torch ballad. It’s an immense clash of big and small, and sets the stage nicely for the delightful vantage point shifting to come throughout the record.

“Lucia” is named after a quaint lodge nestled amongst the cliffside drama of Big Sur, and the tune’s musical rendering of an intimate yet expansive perspective perfectly fits its namesake. The steady thump and chime of Uhlmann’s guitar repetitions sit atop a field recording of the distant, heavy-winded ocean crash of the Cabrillo Highway coast, held even steadier by harbor bell metallic clank percussion and a firm yet pillowy cluster of electric organ chords and mellotron-like leads. Enter saxophonist Alabaster DePlume, the track's lone feature, with his signature breathy reed work. Here DePlume’s vibrato-heavy tenor sax wandering adds a secret-among-friends intimacy to a sonic scene that could go for miles. DePlume hums low in multitrack as Uhlmann leads the steady pulse on, encountering syncopated harmonic pings, fluttering recorder flourishes, and the little bustling sounds of the rural Pacific shoreline. Earworms must live in the ocean air, because it’s tough to get any element of “Lucia” unstuck once it’s in, and the whole thing is all tied up in a bow in just under three and a half minutes. Equally playful and introspective, “Lucia” is the potential soundtrack to a close reading or a thousand yard stare. If Jim Henson dreamt Link’s Awakening this would be the sound he heard.

“Burnt Toast” is an essential example of Uhlmann’s penchant for using the guitar to make non-guitar sounds. That’s not to say that what is occurring here is a simple act of processing. Rather, Uhlmann has a distinct and instantly recognizable ability to play the instrument itself in a way that lends to drastic and realtime tonal transformation. Clocking in at a lean 1:25, it’s a quick and lively skip through a blend of complimentary and warring syncopations—another hallmark of Uhlmann’s style—topped with synthetic glissandos and stereo-image warbles placed just so. What really makes it gel, though, is the harmonic simplicity that the transformative madness is serving. At the end of the day, the basic structure of “Burnt Toast” is an uncomplicated chord progression.

That essential simplicity, leaning into tonal expressions of quiet joy and deep longing, could be the most relevant throughline in Uhlmann’s work. On Extra Stars it’s likely best exemplified on “Days,” a serene 7+ minute track born in the nerve shattering confusion of 2020. “It was made in my old apartment and felt like a way of self soothing by playing the same chords over and over again,” says Uhlmann. The result is a wisping, languid, near free-time drift through a progression that manages to maintain its directness despite its slow-building reverberated accompaniment. Like a Harold Budd take on the somber fingerpicked elegance of Frantz Casseus, “Days” wanders through the speakers with an almost nostalgic air. A grandmotherly wall organ melody sings around dancing piano notes as chattering synthesis renders itself percussive amongst the steel string comfort of Uhlmann’s electric guitar. It’s the kind of recording that could go on forever and maybe, somewhere, it’s doing just that. On Extra Stars, though, it acts as a spiritual centerpiece, rejuvenating the listener as it fades out slowly, cleansing and leaving us ready for more.

“Back Scratch” is collage-cut from a series of piano improvisations and post-composed with pitch-shifted percussion contributions from Uhlmann’s SML bandmate Booker Stardrum. Uneven loops syncopate in chance mode while the barrage of high-register notes conflate with Stardrum’s stickwork to cement a rhythm dense enough to nearly become a drone. The impulsive comparison to the intensely rhythmic zither dance of Laraaji would be understandable, but mostly inaccurate. “Back Scratch” is produced in a markedly raw, un-reverberated manner—and it’s precisely that stark wonkiness that separates it from something like Day Of Radiance and makes it more akin to a basement DIY crack at Reich’s Drumming. That said, its brevity and singularity among the wildly diverse Extra Stars tracklist means that it might be (just maybe) more actual fun to listen to than both of those records.

The guitarless moments on Extra Stars shine as brightly as those that highlight Uhlmann’s primary instrument, but even those departures display themselves distinctively, especially when he invites and directs a collaborator. The labcoat synth silliness and percussive b-ball bounce of “Dottie,” for instance, contrasts sharply from the unbridled beeswarm rhythm composite of “Worms Eye” despite the implementation of the same tools and techniques—likely due to the co-production presence of synthesist Jeremiah Chiu (another SML bandmate) on the latter. Regardless, there’s no mistaking an Uhlmann composition and there’s no mistaking when he’s at the helm. For instance, while Chiu’s presence can certainly be felt on “Voice Exchange,” its outlandish rhythm focused take on the pitch-shifted vocals of longtime Uhlmann collaborator Tasha couldn’t be further from the other Chiu co-productions on Extra Stars.

The ability to maintain a recognizable voice across vast stylistic shifts, while employing the talents of those who also possess singularly recognizable voices, is not something that is heard often and it’s Uhlmann’s ability to recognize what makes each collaborator unique that makes it work here. A great example is “Bristlecone,” which finds him directing the powerful low-end command of Anna Butterss’s bass and the multiphonic mystery of Josh Johnson’s processed alto. The composition and arrangement are supported at every turn by Uhlmann’s SML bandmates without the result ever wandering away from something we can hear as distinctly his. Like David Bowie, Joni Mitchell, or Miles Davis, Uhlmann uses collaboration to both support and transform. To reinforce and evolve. With Extra Stars he has delivered such a promising collection of instrumental concepts following an extended period of vast, high-level artistic output. There’s no doubt that it will continue to be a joy to experience that evolution in real time.

Extra Stars is a deeply beautiful expression of Gregory Uhlmann’s ever-evolving sound world, and comes at a pivotal juncture in the LA-based composer, producer, guitarist and multi-instrumentalist’s musical journey.

Following a long run of supporting work with artists like Perfume Genius, Tasha, and Hand Habits, alongside an eponymous recorded output largely focused on his more singer-songwriter oriented music, Uhlmann has spent the better part of the last couple years trotting out album after album of groundbreaking instrumental modern music. From the sparse melodies and hushed ambient soundscapes of Small Day, to his much-lauded duo outing Doubles with Meg Duffy, to his perhaps lesser-known but no-less-brilliant duo record Water Map with Dustin Wong, to the lush chamber-jazz interplay of his trio recording with saxophonist Josh Johnson and bassist Sam Wilkes, to the two genre-breaking albums he released as a co-leader of synth-laced trance-jazz quintet SML (2024’s Small Medium Large and 2025’s How You Been), Uhlmann has subtly, if not quietly, established himself as an essential presence in some of the most progressive recordings of our time.

Extra Stars encompasses all he’s learned through all the above. A radiant sidereal serenade, the album’s fourteen miniature infinities swirl serendipitous synthesis and measured, melody-rich song into a panoramic menagerie of sound. For a record that seldom incorporates percussion instruments, the music is distinctly rhythm-forward, while Uhlmann also leans heavily into swaths of pastoral beauty. Extra care was clearly poured into the kind of harmonic depth that’s often missing from vibe-only “ambient” music, making for a delightfully refreshing take on the electronic, processing-heavy 'quiet' sound.

The compositions and production techniques here reflect Uhlmann’s musicality perfectly, surely the result of him being as much a seasoned practitioner as he is an avid listener. If there is a middle ground between Cluster & Eno, Terry Riley’s Shri Camel, and Yo La Tengo’s There’s a Riot Going On, it’s somewhere nearby. Lofty comparisons aside, Extra Stars seems to look beyond reference or imitation. Even the album’s title indicates as much—inspired by a trip to California’s Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, where the reality of the night sky’s starry expanse stretches beyond the boundaries of belief.

We can feel Uhlmann’s gaze past the horizon line from the jump. Album opener “Pocket Snail” kicks off with a slow-ambling synth bass line before opening up into a richly processed, reverberating cacophony of beautiful sliding melodies. Eyes wide open, the small world of the pocket snail begins to burst with new color after a fresh injection of sunlight, but the tonality is more akin to something of a simple torch ballad. It’s an immense clash of big and small, and sets the stage nicely for the delightful vantage point shifting to come throughout the record.

“Lucia” is named after a quaint lodge nestled amongst the cliffside drama of Big Sur, and the tune’s musical rendering of an intimate yet expansive perspective perfectly fits its namesake. The steady thump and chime of Uhlmann’s guitar repetitions sit atop a field recording of the distant, heavy-winded ocean crash of the Cabrillo Highway coast, held even steadier by harbor bell metallic clank percussion and a firm yet pillowy cluster of electric organ chords and mellotron-like leads. Enter saxophonist Alabaster DePlume, the track's lone feature, with his signature breathy reed work. Here DePlume’s vibrato-heavy tenor sax wandering adds a secret-among-friends intimacy to a sonic scene that could go for miles. DePlume hums low in multitrack as Uhlmann leads the steady pulse on, encountering syncopated harmonic pings, fluttering recorder flourishes, and the little bustling sounds of the rural Pacific shoreline. Earworms must live in the ocean air, because it’s tough to get any element of “Lucia” unstuck once it’s in, and the whole thing is all tied up in a bow in just under three and a half minutes. Equally playful and introspective, “Lucia” is the potential soundtrack to a close reading or a thousand yard stare. If Jim Henson dreamt Link’s Awakening this would be the sound he heard.

“Burnt Toast” is an essential example of Uhlmann’s penchant for using the guitar to make non-guitar sounds. That’s not to say that what is occurring here is a simple act of processing. Rather, Uhlmann has a distinct and instantly recognizable ability to play the instrument itself in a way that lends to drastic and realtime tonal transformation. Clocking in at a lean 1:25, it’s a quick and lively skip through a blend of complimentary and warring syncopations—another hallmark of Uhlmann’s style—topped with synthetic glissandos and stereo-image warbles placed just so. What really makes it gel, though, is the harmonic simplicity that the transformative madness is serving. At the end of the day, the basic structure of “Burnt Toast” is an uncomplicated chord progression.

That essential simplicity, leaning into tonal expressions of quiet joy and deep longing, could be the most relevant throughline in Uhlmann’s work. On Extra Stars it’s likely best exemplified on “Days,” a serene 7+ minute track born in the nerve shattering confusion of 2020. “It was made in my old apartment and felt like a way of self soothing by playing the same chords over and over again,” says Uhlmann. The result is a wisping, languid, near free-time drift through a progression that manages to maintain its directness despite its slow-building reverberated accompaniment. Like a Harold Budd take on the somber fingerpicked elegance of Frantz Casseus, “Days” wanders through the speakers with an almost nostalgic air. A grandmotherly wall organ melody sings around dancing piano notes as chattering synthesis renders itself percussive amongst the steel string comfort of Uhlmann’s electric guitar. It’s the kind of recording that could go on forever and maybe, somewhere, it’s doing just that. On Extra Stars, though, it acts as a spiritual centerpiece, rejuvenating the listener as it fades out slowly, cleansing and leaving us ready for more.

“Back Scratch” is collage-cut from a series of piano improvisations and post-composed with pitch-shifted percussion contributions from Uhlmann’s SML bandmate Booker Stardrum. Uneven loops syncopate in chance mode while the barrage of high-register notes conflate with Stardrum’s stickwork to cement a rhythm dense enough to nearly become a drone. The impulsive comparison to the intensely rhythmic zither dance of Laraaji would be understandable, but mostly inaccurate. “Back Scratch” is produced in a markedly raw, un-reverberated manner—and it’s precisely that stark wonkiness that separates it from something like Day Of Radiance and makes it more akin to a basement DIY crack at Reich’s Drumming. That said, its brevity and singularity among the wildly diverse Extra Stars tracklist means that it might be (just maybe) more actual fun to listen to than both of those records.

The guitarless moments on Extra Stars shine as brightly as those that highlight Uhlmann’s primary instrument, but even those departures display themselves distinctively, especially when he invites and directs a collaborator. The labcoat synth silliness and percussive b-ball bounce of “Dottie,” for instance, contrasts sharply from the unbridled beeswarm rhythm composite of “Worms Eye” despite the implementation of the same tools and techniques—likely due to the co-production presence of synthesist Jeremiah Chiu (another SML bandmate) on the latter. Regardless, there’s no mistaking an Uhlmann composition and there’s no mistaking when he’s at the helm. For instance, while Chiu’s presence can certainly be felt on “Voice Exchange,” its outlandish rhythm focused take on the pitch-shifted vocals of longtime Uhlmann collaborator Tasha couldn’t be further from the other Chiu co-productions on Extra Stars.

The ability to maintain a recognizable voice across vast stylistic shifts, while employing the talents of those who also possess singularly recognizable voices, is not something that is heard often and it’s Uhlmann’s ability to recognize what makes each collaborator unique that makes it work here. A great example is “Bristlecone,” which finds him directing the powerful low-end command of Anna Butterss’s bass and the multiphonic mystery of Josh Johnson’s processed alto. The composition and arrangement are supported at every turn by Uhlmann’s SML bandmates without the result ever wandering away from something we can hear as distinctly his. Like David Bowie, Joni Mitchell, or Miles Davis, Uhlmann uses collaboration to both support and transform. To reinforce and evolve. With Extra Stars he has delivered such a promising collection of instrumental concepts following an extended period of vast, high-level artistic output. There’s no doubt that it will continue to be a joy to experience that evolution in real time.

'Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes' is the debut album from Gregory Uhlmann (SML, Anna Butterss, Duffy x Uhlmann, Perfume Genius), Josh Johnson (SML, Jeff Parker ETA IVtet & New Breed, Meshell Ndegeocello, Anna Butterss, Leon Bridges), and Sam Wilkes (Sam Gendel, Louis Cole, Chaka Khan). The three improviser/arranger/producers’ impressive individual credits encompass such a wide stylistic pendulum swing that a collection of group music from the trio could mine any number of musical territories with masterful results. In these 11 instrumental songs, the trio explores a spacious lyrical curiosity that could be described as a jazz-informed take on progressive electro-acoustic chamber music.

Conceived during two live shows at ETA and a session at Uhlmann’s house in Los Angeles, the album maintains a focus on beauty, melody, and movement as the pieces unfold, with the trio pushing their instruments and highly-dialed effects to sculpt otherworldly sounds with the collective sensibility of a rhythm section. The ethos of these instant compositions is arrangement-minded improvisation that showcases the mournful beauty of Uhlmann’s fingerpicked electric guitar, the hybrid rhythm-lead of Wilkes’ bass chording, and the textural harmonic worldbuilding of Johnson’s effect-laden alto saxophone.

The trio’s explorations are rooted in more than just musicality, though. The arc of the group’s story is one of friendship and mutual admiration. Uhlmann and Johnson have known each other since their formative days as teenagers studying jazz. Shortly after first meeting in an educational setting, they would connect for nascent musical probing via low-stakes get-togethers back home in Chicago. They didn’t even know at the time that they had both taken lessons from a mutual guiding light – legendary guitarist/composer Jeff Parker.

After high school, they headed in separate directions – Johnson to Jacobs School of Music in Bloomington, Indiana; Uhlmann to Cal Arts in Santa Clarita, California – but reconnected quickly upon migrating to LA, where shared opportunities for studio work as well as revolving-cast free improvisation at small clubs around the city naturally cemented their loose partnership. Uhlmann was both playing and programming, creating platforms for collaboration at the Bootleg Theater, while Johnson’s transition from student-of to collaborator-with Jeff Parker was well underway via their weekly gig at Highland Park’s ETA. In the immediate periphery of all of this was bassist Sam Wilkes, a serial collaborator well known in the LA creative music scene’s cross-pollination trenches.

“I was playing with some musicians who went to Cal Arts,” says Wilkes. “I started going up there regularly, and Greg had this great band called Fell Runner. A group I was in split a bill with them at the old Bootleg Theater and it really solidified my appreciation and deep respect for the band and for Greg’s playing. They were doing things that were completely unique. We’ve been friends ever since.”

Wilkes and Johnson’s first collaboration came after years of knowing one another in LA, but the musical connection and respect was similarly instantaneous. “It was a session for Louis Cole Big Band,” recalls Wilkes. “Everyone went around on this one tune and took 4 bars, and Josh took this really, really unique 4-bar solo that really stood out. After the session, Louis looked at me and said ‘Josh Johnson!’ and I was like ‘I know!’

In 2021, even before Uhlmann and Johnson began working on what would become SML, Wilkes and Uhlmann played together on an album by Miya Folick, which left them feeling like there was more music to be made together. Uhlmann suggested booking a live date as a trio with Johnson at ETA. With engineer Bryce Gonzales at the controls, the group worked through a short list of prepared material, augmented with passages of improvisation. “We all agreed that it was important to have a nice melodic repertoire to use as a starting point to freely improvise,” says Wilkes. “Landing zones, essentially, while we’re out in the field.”

Those landing zones include a stunning cover of “The Fool On The Hill,” perhaps the eeriest McCartney ballad in The Beatles’ songbook. Johnson’s tender rendering of the classic vocal melody unites the raindrop-leslie-plonk of Uhlmann’s electric guitar and the quietly grooving drone thump of Wilkes’ bass so comfortably that any move could feel natural by the time the trio opens it up for improvisation at the two-minute mark. What follows is a sublime take on the purring consonance only occasionally found in the best moments of the ECM or Windham Hill catalogs. Even more incredible is the fact that this particular recording of the tune documents the first piece of music this trio played together, from the opening moments of their first performance at ETA.

That instantaneous cualidad simpático is what makes this trio special. What we’re hearing is a friendship between high-level improvisers translated into musical moments and executed with such curious precision that the lines between supposed opposites – composition and improvisation, jazz and chamber music, ennui and contentment – are delightfully blurred.

“Frica” is, perhaps, the track on which that blur is most evident. The tune incorporates the staccato stutters and repetitions heard throughout the album, but doubles down with a subtly disorienting post-production chop by Johnson, which accentuates the trio’s live trance by introducing a floating phrase cut-and-mix. The fact that these concepts are employed intuitively, pre-edit, throughout Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes is precisely what makes the post-production shine. It can be difficult to discern what is a slip of the sampler and what is live, turn-on-a-dime action, and it’s exactly that mystery which draws us in.

“Marvis," the album opener, makes that clear from the jump. This fresh spin on a tune from Johnson’s solo album 'Unusual Object' checks many of the same boxes as “Frica” on the production level, but it’s all in service of a truly demented low-key groove. The trio is in lock step here, but it’s unclear how many legs are doing the stepping and just whose legs are taking which steps.

Conversely, the Uhlmann composition “Arpy” is a slow-paced, descending four chord meditation teeming with the life provided by the guitarist’s causally precise reverberated triplet repetitions and held down by Wilkes’ sturdy bass chording, which occasionally wanders into flamboyant high register flourishes. Johnson’s soft alto treatment morphs in tonality throughout, eventually settling into something more aurally reminiscent of an Ondes Martenot or some gently twisted echo of Clara Rockmore.

All told, 'Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes' is a beautiful snapshot of three endlessly interesting players at the top of their game, rendered in such a skilled manner that its inherent mastery flows effortlessly, making passive atmospheric immersion as pleasant and stimulating as deep focused listening. 

'Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes' is the debut album from Gregory Uhlmann (SML, Anna Butterss, Duffy x Uhlmann, Perfume Genius), Josh Johnson (SML, Jeff Parker ETA IVtet & New Breed, Meshell Ndegeocello, Anna Butterss, Leon Bridges), and Sam Wilkes (Sam Gendel, Louis Cole, Chaka Khan). The three improviser/arranger/producers’ impressive individual credits encompass such a wide stylistic pendulum swing that a collection of group music from the trio could mine any number of musical territories with masterful results. In these 11 instrumental songs, the trio explores a spacious lyrical curiosity that could be described as a jazz-informed take on progressive electro-acoustic chamber music.

Conceived during two live shows at ETA and a session at Uhlmann’s house in Los Angeles, the album maintains a focus on beauty, melody, and movement as the pieces unfold, with the trio pushing their instruments and highly-dialed effects to sculpt otherworldly sounds with the collective sensibility of a rhythm section. The ethos of these instant compositions is arrangement-minded improvisation that showcases the mournful beauty of Uhlmann’s fingerpicked electric guitar, the hybrid rhythm-lead of Wilkes’ bass chording, and the textural harmonic worldbuilding of Johnson’s effect-laden alto saxophone.

The trio’s explorations are rooted in more than just musicality, though. The arc of the group’s story is one of friendship and mutual admiration. Uhlmann and Johnson have known each other since their formative days as teenagers studying jazz. Shortly after first meeting in an educational setting, they would connect for nascent musical probing via low-stakes get-togethers back home in Chicago. They didn’t even know at the time that they had both taken lessons from a mutual guiding light – legendary guitarist/composer Jeff Parker.

After high school, they headed in separate directions – Johnson to Jacobs School of Music in Bloomington, Indiana; Uhlmann to Cal Arts in Santa Clarita, California – but reconnected quickly upon migrating to LA, where shared opportunities for studio work as well as revolving-cast free improvisation at small clubs around the city naturally cemented their loose partnership. Uhlmann was both playing and programming, creating platforms for collaboration at the Bootleg Theater, while Johnson’s transition from student-of to collaborator-with Jeff Parker was well underway via their weekly gig at Highland Park’s ETA. In the immediate periphery of all of this was bassist Sam Wilkes, a serial collaborator well known in the LA creative music scene’s cross-pollination trenches.

“I was playing with some musicians who went to Cal Arts,” says Wilkes. “I started going up there regularly, and Greg had this great band called Fell Runner. A group I was in split a bill with them at the old Bootleg Theater and it really solidified my appreciation and deep respect for the band and for Greg’s playing. They were doing things that were completely unique. We’ve been friends ever since.”

Wilkes and Johnson’s first collaboration came after years of knowing one another in LA, but the musical connection and respect was similarly instantaneous. “It was a session for Louis Cole Big Band,” recalls Wilkes. “Everyone went around on this one tune and took 4 bars, and Josh took this really, really unique 4-bar solo that really stood out. After the session, Louis looked at me and said ‘Josh Johnson!’ and I was like ‘I know!’

In 2021, even before Uhlmann and Johnson began working on what would become SML, Wilkes and Uhlmann played together on an album by Miya Folick, which left them feeling like there was more music to be made together. Uhlmann suggested booking a live date as a trio with Johnson at ETA. With engineer Bryce Gonzales at the controls, the group worked through a short list of prepared material, augmented with passages of improvisation. “We all agreed that it was important to have a nice melodic repertoire to use as a starting point to freely improvise,” says Wilkes. “Landing zones, essentially, while we’re out in the field.”

Those landing zones include a stunning cover of “The Fool On The Hill,” perhaps the eeriest McCartney ballad in The Beatles’ songbook. Johnson’s tender rendering of the classic vocal melody unites the raindrop-leslie-plonk of Uhlmann’s electric guitar and the quietly grooving drone thump of Wilkes’ bass so comfortably that any move could feel natural by the time the trio opens it up for improvisation at the two-minute mark. What follows is a sublime take on the purring consonance only occasionally found in the best moments of the ECM or Windham Hill catalogs. Even more incredible is the fact that this particular recording of the tune documents the first piece of music this trio played together, from the opening moments of their first performance at ETA.

That instantaneous cualidad simpático is what makes this trio special. What we’re hearing is a friendship between high-level improvisers translated into musical moments and executed with such curious precision that the lines between supposed opposites – composition and improvisation, jazz and chamber music, ennui and contentment – are delightfully blurred.

“Frica” is, perhaps, the track on which that blur is most evident. The tune incorporates the staccato stutters and repetitions heard throughout the album, but doubles down with a subtly disorienting post-production chop by Johnson, which accentuates the trio’s live trance by introducing a floating phrase cut-and-mix. The fact that these concepts are employed intuitively, pre-edit, throughout Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes is precisely what makes the post-production shine. It can be difficult to discern what is a slip of the sampler and what is live, turn-on-a-dime action, and it’s exactly that mystery which draws us in.

“Marvis," the album opener, makes that clear from the jump. This fresh spin on a tune from Johnson’s solo album 'Unusual Object' checks many of the same boxes as “Frica” on the production level, but it’s all in service of a truly demented low-key groove. The trio is in lock step here, but it’s unclear how many legs are doing the stepping and just whose legs are taking which steps.

Conversely, the Uhlmann composition “Arpy” is a slow-paced, descending four chord meditation teeming with the life provided by the guitarist’s causally precise reverberated triplet repetitions and held down by Wilkes’ sturdy bass chording, which occasionally wanders into flamboyant high register flourishes. Johnson’s soft alto treatment morphs in tonality throughout, eventually settling into something more aurally reminiscent of an Ondes Martenot or some gently twisted echo of Clara Rockmore.

All told, 'Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes' is a beautiful snapshot of three endlessly interesting players at the top of their game, rendered in such a skilled manner that its inherent mastery flows effortlessly, making passive atmospheric immersion as pleasant and stimulating as deep focused listening. 

Greville returns to Mad Habitat, accompanied by the Lonely Voices. This incorporeal chorus gives voice to the tribulations of ''Blue Dreams'' and the interplanetary serenade of ''Sun, Moon, Stars''. This record takes Greville's keen interpretation of natural sonics and considered sound sculpting into the realm of cosmic synth-pop, recalling luminaries like Sheila Chandra's Monsoon or the fourth-world exotica-pop or Water Melon Group. Digi-dub basslines add a weight to the celestial melodies and jalatharangam-esque percussion. It’s a transportive suite of songs and an insightful reflection of Greville’s evolution as an artist; showcasing how his world-building makes room for a myriad of voices.

An ode to a very good girl, Luna. It is my hope this record is soothing and trippy because it is trippy how soothing she is to me ºo∞Oº

Domestic Exile warmly welcome the return of Grim Lusk, coming full circle to follow up 2018’s ‘SUNP0101’ after releasing under their Dip Friso and Sunny Balm aliases in the interim. ‘Diving Pool’ is a hallucinogenic concoction of marshy, aquatic, oscillated dubs and skittering, microtonal beat experiments. Grim Lusk's signature production style is in full effect, often occupying some liminal space nearing offbeat discordancy, but beautifully pulling together on the brink. Gelatinous machine funk rhythms and sweet, syrupy dub bass ooozing with a vibrant convergence of bright psychedelic greens, yellows and oranges, akin to bubbling sulphur pools and lava lakes, are present throughout the 6 tracks; Nuovo takes late 80’s drum machine patterns and twists them up with rough-cut vocal chops and long-form sampling of a 60’s film on the first iteration of ‘​​Il Gruppo”. Striding into the turbulent sea, Partans is kept jovial by rim shots, cymbals and snares fed back over the forward bass buzz. Not Enough is a bizarre, primordial, stretched-out gloop sludge half-speed version of the B-side track Too Much, twisted into new rhythmic territory by an off-kilter breakbeat sample. Diving Pool takes crushed, bouncing drum machines and loop-focussed experimentation to find incidental interplay between the two, whilst somehow retaining ebullient make-you-movable gusto. Angular rhythm and zealous sample manipulation seep through in Too Much, live drums patched, extrapolated and pulled further out in the mix, where jump cuts between familiar vocal chops and distorted tape delay contort manically- a warped, swinging echo of Slum Village's ‘I Don’t Know’. Wazoo rounds things out with the most club-leaning moment of the record, a saturated, throbbing atmosphere hanging over a beat-up, lurching drum sample layered with malleable pitched percussion and fuzz guitar. Peculiar shapes, fragmented shards of rhythmic patterns, crushed, crystallised snares, and congealed, jelly-like dubs; the music embodies a sense of carefree fun and playfulness, where dissolving layers of organic echoes, warm, slippery reverbs, and expansive phaser EFX stretch out into nebulous space…

Selected tracks from the album are featured in Hideo Kojima’s video game, Death Stranding 2: On The Beach.

Selected tracks from the album are featured in Hideo Kojima’s video game, Death Stranding 2: On The Beach.

Grimm Grimm’s quiet, folk‑rooted songwriting and his experimental sound treatments come together in their most refined form on the 2020 album Ginormous

Hazy Eyes Maybe is the debut album by Grimm Grimm, the musical project of singer‑songwriter and composer Koichi Yamanoha, who works between Tokyo and London and has been active since around 2014. He has performed at alternative music festivals around the world, including Le Guess Who? and All Tomorrow’s Parties, and has also expanded his activities into film and video‑game fields through collaborations with game creator Hideo Kojima, contributing music and making a cameo appearance in Death Stranding 2.

My Bloody Valentine’s Kevin Shields–run Pickpocket Records released this early, signature 7-inch from Grimm Grimm.

The 2 songs are remixed by south London-based artist Klein (Hyperdub), and Tokyo-based experimental hiphop musician Killer Bong (Black Smoker Records) Mastered by Bunsho Nishikawa, who is known for his works with goat and Tenniscoats, among others. The ominous clockwork nursery song “Kazega Fuitara Sayonara” (Goodbye When The Wind Blows) was originally written by Koichi Yamanoha and released under the name of Grimm Grimm via Kevin Shields (My Bloody Valentine) and Charlotte Marionneau (Le Volume Courbe)’s Pickpocket Records / Honest Jons in 2014. London-based Tokyo-born singer-songwriter experimentalist Koichi Yamanoha has been operating under the guise of Grimm Grimm since 2013. The project is an outlet for his fragile, haunted, otherworldly forays into baroque folk, futurist lyricism and electroacoustic oddities. His debut album, “Hazy Eyes Maybe”, was released by ATP Recordings in 2015. A track “Last Word Is Mine” from the album was used over the end credits for the Aaron Brookner / Jim Jarmusch directed documentary film “Uncle Howard” (2016), featuring William Burroughs. His sophomore album, “Cliffhanger” was released in June 2018. And currently the 3rd album has been mixed and co-produced by Marta Salogni. The virtual 3D music video for Klein remix has been directed and edited by London based film maker Kenichi Iwasa. He filmed the footage in Tottenham using Super 8, 3rd generation iPhone and 4K Camera, and created the zero zone virtual world with glitchy SFX work by William Cunningham. Iwasa is also known for his legendary Krautrock Karaoke night as well as being a sought after collaborator throughout Europe.

“Untitled II” is a grainy mixtape/sound collage produced by London-based artist, Koichi Yamanoha. Contains demo recordings on a 4-track cassette, humming by Yamanoha’s mother, sound sketches of sleep-talk. the sea recorded during the road trips, and guitar feedback at a local supermarket’s event, etc. Featuring multiple musicians including Josephine Foster, Bryan Michael Mills, and Naima Nefertari. 30 limited cassette tape edition comes with the Grimm Grimm original pillowcase (Designed by Yamanoha’s 7 years-old niece)

Good Morning Tapes call on grimwig, aka Ali Safi of the Marionette label (Pretty Sneaky, Khôra, Francesco Cavaliere & Tomoko Sauvage++) for a 90 minute exhalation of tripped-out DMT synths and deep, sublimated atmospherics. Aye it’s a good one.

‘The Third Place’ presents a revision of a mix initially cooked up for Marionette’s 10th anniversary session at Cafe Oto and perfectly encapsulates ethereal, transcendent dream-weaving with cherry-picked slices of ambient, 4th world, field recordings and wafts of meditative flute, sitar and snatched conversations, seamlessly slanted to the supine.

Inspirations from Indian classical and kosmische seep into lysergic West Coast sentiments and subby, weightless futurism with a cinematic grasp of sound design that hews to a path that patently aligns with Good Morning Types core interests. Where the label usually deals in more overtly sunny strains of this vibe, however, Grimwig takes us to more dappled territory with passages of post-industrial murk, Malibu-esque silhouettes and slow-pulsing drums elevating the 4th world topography into something much more nuanced - and all the better for it.

Live At Fondazione Museo Pino Pascali sees Grischa Lichtenberger transfigure a forty-minute set into a tactile, visual, and kinetic experience. Industrial clangor, mechanical pulses, and fleeting ambience merge, sculpted with rigor. Issued by Hermit Records as a collector’s vinyl, it stands at the edge between noise, rhythm, and abstraction With Live At Fondazione Museo Pino Pascali, Grischa Lichtenberger distills the art of sound into forty minutes of fiercely organized chaos. Recorded in the unique space of the Pino Pascali Museum in Polignano a Mare and released by Hermit Records, the album is a study in constructive friction—mechanical pulses and ferrous textures recurring, splintering, and coalescing in real time. Lichtenberger's palette draws from the imaginary of Russolo and Brinkmann, yet forges its own path: rhythm and abstraction in an endless handshake, frequency as sculpture, and every crackle a gesture or a mark. This release, limited to a black vinyl edition and including original music and artwork conceived over more than a decade, is purposefully an object as well as a document. No digital footprints, just a testimony pressed in the grooves—an encounter with matter, with noise, with control. Here, listening is not passive; it is as much a process as the performance itself, alive with tension and raw poetics. [Soundohm] An abstract painting with expressionist hues and futurist echoes, a mix between action painting and informal art: this is the first impression from Grischa Lichtenberger's live performance recorded at the Pino Pascali Museum in Polignano a Mare. The artist, based in Berlin, makes the rhythms creak, cuts them with a laser, weaves imaginative harmonic coils, smoothes with electric razors and draws figures with echoes and industrial clangs. Then he uses ferrous materials that, with a precision lathe, are abraded and cause sparks. Suddenly steel springs fall to the ground, generating a cascade effect. In the distance, you can hear the roar of speeding cars and the ringing of bells. Lichtenberger pulps, compresses, dilates, mixes, electrifies, heats up, liquefies: he does all this in just less than forty minutes, treating the sound material with violence, transforming it from time to time, shaping it and succeeding in the arduous task of controlling its effects. It is as if Luigi Russolo, Alva Noto and Thomas Brinkmann were closed in a workshop on the edge of a highway, parodying the famous definition of techno.

On Revolutionary Pekinese Opera, Ground Zero - under the ferociously precise direction of Otomo Yoshihide - detonates a cut‑and‑splice orchestra where free improv, noise, opera and plunderphonics collide with undimmed urgency. With the blessing of Otomo Yoshihide himself, Revolutionary Pekinese Opera returns to vinyl as one of the defining artefacts of 1990s avant‑garde music, sounding less like a period piece than a live explosive smuggled into the present. Originally conceived as a hypercharged reimagining of revolutionary opera through the cracked lens of sampling culture, the album captures Ground Zero at the height of its powers: a band that refused to respect borders between genres, media or histories, instead treating them all as combustible material. Three decades on, these compositions still feel like they might slip the stylus off the groove through sheer centrifugal force. At the core of the record is Otomo’s role as a kind of Deus ex machina from Fukushima, orchestrating a dense, unruly melting pot of musicians, sounds and strategies. Turntables, guitars, horns, rhythm section and electronics are marshalled into a constantly shifting field where nothing is allowed to remain stable for long. Fragments of Peking opera collide with free jazz eruptions; abrupt cuts splice militant fanfares into stretches of near‑silence or sandblasted noise; cartoonish samples and solemn themes rub shoulders, unsettling each other. What could have been a mere collage becomes, in Otomo’s hands, a tightly argued montage, where each juxtaposition pushes the music into a new, volatile state. The album’s power lies in how it weaponises experimentation without losing a sense of structure. Ground Zero operate like a rogue theatre troupe and a demolition crew at once, pulling recognizable motifs out of the wreckage only to shred them again seconds later. Passages of almost symphonic weight flare up out of scratchy loops and feedback, while sudden drop‑outs expose tiny, nervous details - a stray cymbal brush, a voice buried in the mix, a tape wobble - before the full ensemble slams back in. The result is a music of permanent revolution in miniature, forever overthrowing its own premises, yet somehow coherent in its manic logic. What is striking today is how little of Revolutionary Pekinese Opera’s allure has faded. In an era when sampling, hybridity and “experimental” tags have been thoroughly domesticated, this record still feels genuinely disruptive, its raw drive undiluted by time. The vinyl reissue not only restores one of Ground Zero’s keystone statements to its proper physical scale - with all the crackle, impact and dynamic extremes that implies - it also reasserts the album’s place as a key node in the global avant‑garde of the 1990s. Heard now, these pieces continue to strike with the same force they had on first release: unruly, subversive, and rigorously constructed, a reminder of how dangerous a band can sound when the studio, the archive and the stage are treated as one continuous battlefield.

DOWN 2 EARTH, which was established by Toshio Nakanishi as a "Nagomimono" music line within the Major Force label, has finally released the album of the group of gods, known as the pinnacle of exotic music, on analog. !

An exotic work that can be said to be an extension of the Watermelon Group, Toshio Nakanishi, Masayuki Kudo, steel guitar player Genichi Tamura, who is also known for activities such as Little Tempo, and Shunji Mori of Natural Calamity gathered in Bali to record. This album is an exotic sound that has been consistently slowed down in line with the label's concept.
A work that can be said to be the highest peak of domestic exotic music.
Works in 1992

Tracklist:
Side A
1.BEYOND THE JUNGLE (there’s something)
2.MOON HOTEL

Side B
1.DEATH A GOOD ADVISER
2. NUMBERS
3.WHEN THE SKY FALLS

DISC 2
Side C
1.MOVING WATER (GET HOT, GET WET)
2.SLACK BABY SLACK

Side D
1.THUNDER ISLAND
2.SPACE COWBOY
3.VOICES

2025 repress. "Out-of-print LPs from the critically acclaimed electronic experimental singer/songwriter. Unavailable since 2012.'This sound / synapse transposition is as haunting as it is beautiful -- surely Grouper's best.' --Tiny Mix Tapes. 'If past Grouper releases have inhabited abyssal trenches and damp backwoods, here Harris takes us journeying across constellations and stars. Two of the most beguiling albums of the year, exquisitely realized and singularly evocative.' --The Quietus. 'This music feels both spacey and expansive and also oddly intimate and grounded, the work of someone who has mastered her tools and knows how to get the most out of them.' --Pitchfork. 'Harris finds a way to dive deeper in simple and unassuming ways.' --NPR."

"The third full-length release for Portland, Oregon-based Liz Harris. Harris might have achieved a significant fan base thanks to the whispering, near-ambient vocal crusades of her debut album Way Their Crept and its follow-up Wide, but those with a careful ear would have heard slightly more trapped beneath her fuzzy chain of effects. Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill marks a departure of sorts for Liz, which sees her turn down the fuzz boxes which caged (and to some degree defined) her sound and allows her voice to ring out above everything else. It is an album steeped in the world of dream-pop and far from shying away from the reference, Liz has instead grabbed on with both hands, creating an album's worth of perfect, left-field pop songs. Using delicate song structures which are at once both familiar and somehow alien, her vocals cry out hauntingly over stripped-down guitar lines and looped environmental recordings. These are the future soundtracks to love, despair and ultimately, hope." "This remarkable album is actually what I personally always wanted 4AD records to sound like, only they never quite delivered the hazy pleasures their beautiful sleeve art promised." --Pitchfork (8.2)

Ruins was made in Aljezur, Portugal in 2011 on a residency set up by Galeria Zé dos Bois. I recorded everything there except the last song, which I did at mother's house in 2004. Iʼm still surprised by what I wound up with. It was the first time Iʼd sat still for a few years; processed a lot of political anger and emotional garbage. Recorded pretty simply, with a portable 4-track ,Sony stereo mic and an upright piano. When I wasnʼt recording songs I was hiking several miles to the beach. The path woundthrough the ruins of several old estates and a small village.The album is a document. A nod to that daily walk. Failed structures. Living in the remains of love. I left the songs the way they came (microwave beep from when power went out after a storm); I hope that the album bears some resemblance to the place that I was in.

The 12th full-length by Pacific Northwest artist Liz Harris aka Grouper is a collection of songs spanning fifteen years. She characterizes Shade as an album about respite, and the coast, poetically and literally. How one frames themselves in a landscape, how in turn it frames themselves; memories and experiences carried forward mapping a connection to place -- 'an ode to blue / what lives in shade.' Songs touch on loss, flaws, hiding places, love. Deep connections to the Bay Area, and the North Coast, with its unique moods of solitude, beauty, and isolation -- a place described and transformed by the chaos and power of rivermouth, wild maritime storms, columns of mist that rise up unexpectedly on the road at night. Portions were recorded on Mount Tamalpais during a self-made residency years back, other pieces made longer ago in Portland, while the rest were tracked during more recent sessions in Astoria. Throughout, Harris threads a hidden radiant language of voice, disquiet, and guitar, framed by open space and the sense of being far away -- 'Echoing a lighthouse, burying the faults of being human / Into things that we project upon the sky at night.