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THE FIRST-EVER VINYL RELEASE OF BRION GYSIN’S CULT RECORDINGS, PRODUCED IN THE 1980S AND EARLY 1990S BY RAMUNTCHO MATTA. A HYPNOTIC, GROOVE-DRIVEN BLEND OF FUNKY AFROBEAT, AMBIENT AND MINIMALISM, DREAMACHINE CHANNELS THE VISIONARY EFFECTS OF GYSIN’S ICONIC LIGHT ART DEVICE. A HUGELY INFLUENTIAL FIGURE, GYSIN WILL BE THE SUBJECT OF A MAJOR PARIS MUSEUM OF MODERN ART EXHIBITION OPENING SPRING 2026. Wewantsounds is delighted to release for the 1st time on vinyl Brion Gysin’s cult recordings, produced by Ramuntcho Matta in the 80s and early 90s. The release features the hypnotic 32-minute journey "Dreamachine," which transforms the effects of Gysin’s legendary light art device into a hypnotic audio experience infused with minimalist and Afrobeat elements, alongside the track "The Door," featuring the visionary saxophonist Steve Lacy. A towering figure in avant-garde art, literature, and sound, Gysin influenced generations of creators, from William Burroughs to David Bowie and Laurie Anderson. Newly remastered and accompanied by liner notes by Gysin scholar Jason Weiss, this LP edition coincides with a major exhibition dedicated to Gysin at the Museum of Modern Art in Paris, opening Spring 2026, underscoring his lasting impact on contemporary culture. Wewantsounds continues its exploration of the archives of French producer and musician Ramuntcho Matta with the first-ever vinyl release of these cult recordings by Brion Gysin, one of the most radical and influential figures of 20th-century counterculture. A pioneering artist whose work spanned literature, sound, performance, and visual art, Gysin remains inseparable from the Beat movement and his long-time friend William Burroughs. Born in England and raised in Edmonton, Canada, he lived in Paris in the ‘30s, New York in the ‘40s, Tangier in the ‘50s—where Paul Bowles introduced him to the Master Musicians of Jajouka—and returned to Paris by the end of that decade, becoming a central figure among writers and artists experimenting with new forms of expression. His cut-up technique, permutation poetry, and cross-disciplinary approach influenced generations of creators including David Bowie, Laurie Anderson, Genesis P. Orridge, and Burroughs himself. Produced by Ramuntcho Matta in the 1980s and early 1990s, the recordings on Dreamachine reflect Brion Gysin’s fascination with altered perception. Matta had returned to Paris after a late-1970s stay in New York following the death of his brother, Gordon Matta-Clark, and had already produced Gysin’s album Junk and the single Kick featuring Don Cherry. At the center is the title track "Dreamachine" a hypnotic 32-minute piece built on minimalist repetition, echoing the stroboscopic effects of Gysin’s iconic light sculpture. Slowly evolving grooves create a trance-like state, drawing on Afrobeat in the lineage of Fela Kuti and the laid-back, cyclical guitar patterns of King Sunny Adé’s juju music. As Jason Weiss notes, “the strands of Gysin’s narrative phase in and out of focus, suggesting that experience and memory can always be revisited through new connecting threads.” Conceived as a sonic extension of the eponymous visual device, invented by Gysin with Ian Sommerville, Dreamachine reshapes the listener’s sense of time and perception. The record also includes The Door, a striking collaboration featuring the legendary saxophonist Steve Lacy, adding further depth to the avant-garde jazz elements of Gysin’s world. This vinyl features remastered audio and an insert with a striking photo of Gysin and Burroughs in front of the Dreamachine, shot by French photographer François Lagarde, alongside liner notes by Weiss situating the recordings in historical and artistic context. Issued alongside a major exhibition dedicated to Gysin at the Museum of Modern Art in Paris, opening Spring 2026, this release is both a vital archival document and a timely reappraisal of an artist whose influence continues to resonate across contemporary music and art.

To be an attentive listener to the world as it stands is to be saturated with language. Speech resounds through nearly every space that features human beings, whether unwanted or desired, mundane or profound. Words sit on the page and in the ear, proliferating endlessly. This superabundance has long been a point of fascination for composer and musician Ben Vida, but over the past several years it has led to a new method of music making that simultaneously exalts and interrogates the primacy of language in our sonic and cultural environments. Gently, playfully, Vida breaks down language’s hierarchy of meaning and sound until they exist in egalitarian harmony. Oblivion Seekers is Vida’s newest album in this mode of composition, following 2023’s collaboration with new music ensemble Yarn/Wire The Beat My Head Hit. Like its predecessor, the music’s focus is on coordinated duets of spoken word in a neutral tone, the variable cadences of the words in motion creating complex internal rhythmic structures. He is joined by the voices of Nina Dante, Christina Vantzou, John Also Bennett, and Félicia Atkinson, creating a singular tone that is neither theirs nor his, fluid in its gender presentation, accent, and diction. The instrumental compositions that form the album’s understory have the casual flow of dialogue, conversational but subdued, rarely the agent of change. Here, Vida likewise called upon an accomplished community of players to accompany him: Dante on harp, Bennett on bass flute, Matt Bauder and Will Epstein on saxophones, Henry Fraser on bass, Cleek Schrey on violin, and Booker Stardrum on percussion. These elements form lattice-like structures that the text darts in and around, often adhering to downbeats but otherwise moving freely within each lilting phrase. A tranquil, focused temperament persists, enhanced by the reserved cadence of the voices that makes it feel as if the music is one long mantra that never quite reaches back to its genesis point. The effect is entrancing, equally soporific and gripping, implying repetition without ever moving exactly the same way twice. The instrumentation on each of the album’s four pieces varies; “Be Yr Own Abyss” is defined by the wave-like counterpoint of saxophones, while the ambiguous chime of vibraphone floats over “Oblivion Seekers” and Fraser’s swelling bass provides the album’s sole dramatic entrance. The music shifts in the ear as the text constantly redefines and recontextualizes the composition’s form and movement, even as it remains consistent in its otherworldly glow. The text is often drawn from snippets of language that Vida encountered throughout his life as he was composing: overheard mumblings from the supermarket line, impactful phrases from a novel he was reading, impressions of the music that wouldn’t leave his turntable. Small details, otherwise insignificant, accumulate not to form a narrative, but an impression of the complex meaning-making process that happens as one lives day to day. Characters and scenes flicker in and out of the frame, and phrases that beg to be unpacked are allowed to glide by. In “Be Yr Own Abyss” something like a thesis appears without fanfare: “Her tongue was out to kill her / all hail this mental space / constructing ambiguity / and the endless stream.” On two separate occasions the listener is told that waves are heading our way. There are many predecessors to these types of novel confluences of music and speech. Vida’s love of Robert Ashley is well documented, but perhaps even more significant are Mark E. Smith and The Fall, Neil Tennant and the Pet Shop Boys’ spoken verses, the entire history of hip hop, Meredith Monk. The way the words are delivered matters just as much as the words themselves, revealing an intentionality and directness that Vida highlights and subverts with the text’s abstract construction patterns. On Oblivion Seekers, the omnidirectional din is the marble Vida chips away at to illuminate the way we process the vast strangeness of the world. Its triumph is that we lose none of the beautiful mystery of how these signs bridge our external and internal worlds.

Mana is the International Anthem debut by composer, trombonist and vocalist Kalia Vandever. This new full length carries on the expansive and dazed spirit of their first solo album, We Fell In Turn, while entering a new landscape of spacious songwriting.
Vandever’s music has quickly and widely gained traction in the last few years despite the fact that their style has been consistently difficult to pin down, boasting a compositional scope ranging from the cinematic modern jazz of their quartet work to the synthetic, gauze-like droning ambience of their solo material. Mana leans into the expansion of the latter: solo trombone filtered through a well-dialed pedalboard and manipulated live, paired with spare piano à la late-career work of Ryuichi Sakamoto. The electroacoustic interplay simultaneously echoes and transforms the long-note melodicism of Vandever’s melancholic brass work; and the whole sound is emotively augmented with head-on, unambiguous, and deeply personal sung lyrics—a particularly fresh move for the composer. This dexterity has not gone unnoticed, with The Wire asserting, “Vandever has never sounded more assured and in control of their many strengths.”
“It was born out of curiosity,” says Vandever of the new record. “Of wanting to explore playing in a solo context, but also wanting to interact with my own sound. I was also asking myself things like ‘how can I do this in a way that feels personal, but different from what I've seen?’ It's allowed me to go deeper into my relationship with the instrument and with sound in general.”
A turning point in that development came when Vandever began to get more opportunities to play outside of the context of the jazz world. Some of those opportunities came in the form of playing a part in backing groups for pop stars (Harry Styles) or indie-rock mainstays (Japanese Breakfast), but the true exploration of Vandever’s own sound personality came while performing solo to new audiences unconcerned with genre. In particular, an opening slot on a tour with folksinger Haley Heynderickx seemed to knock something loose. There was, perhaps, less of a feeling that they needed to touch on jazz traditions in order to satisfy some kind of unspoken expectation from the audience—less perceived rigidity and, thus, less shyness about how to present. For Vandever, warming up the stage for Heynderickx and seeing a very different kind of crowd from the stage night after night helped to cement a sort of bravery about sharing a number of more intimate, lyric-centered pieces. “I was considering that they might gravitate more toward words,” says Vandever. “So I thought I could try these songs that I had been developing, that maybe I was feeling a little nervous to share."
“When I started opening for Haley, her audiences were just so giving and really open to receiving anything,” they continue. “So I started trying these songs and I feel like the words really resonated with audiences. It felt important to include them on the record.”
It’s more than just the words that resonate here. There’s a sonic scope on Mana which tees up a deep world for these lyrics to live in whenever they appear. A full-bodied trombone awash in reverberation and polyphonic pitch-shifting introduces “Hubbard Road,” Mana’s opening track. Vandever’s trusty brass axe rings out with confident warmth and soft power, ascending and descending in register, before being joined by the song’s primary theme—two repeating grand piano triads. It’s a quietly tense musical figure that is slowly unwound by Vandever’s soul-bearing horn improvisations.
“Waiting” opens with solo trombone laid deeply in a dense web of cloudy effects, holding a warped mirror to Vandever’s melodic brass call. The two elements vie for position until the halfway mark, when the disorienting tonal wash wins out, soon joined by Vandever’s longing and contemplative high-register vocal work—not dissimilar to the alluring intimacy of Grouper or the obscure swoon of Victorialand era Cocteau Twins.
“Murmuray” is a could-be brass reverie, rendered ambient via the foghorn solitude of Vandever’s effect chain savviness. By the 1:30 mark it’s transformed into a droning take on a tune grandma might have hummed, appropriate for the early riser’s first step into the day or the night owl’s weary and quiet walk home.
The track’s title is an Ilocono term used to describe waking and being fully awake. “Ilocono is one of three most common languages in the Philippines and was spoken primarily by my maternal grandfather,” says Vandever, who learned the term when their grandmother used it to describe their voice on a phone call. “I'm very close to my grandma on my mom's side. She's the only one in the family who sings, and I grew up listening to her sing Hawaiian folk songs. I feel like her singing encouraged me to discover my voice. She's been an influence of mine for my whole life.”
For Vandever, that family connection and that lineage cannot be overemphasized. In the liner notes for Mana, they focus on the importance of Hawaiian mythology and ancestry as inspiration for their solo work. Mana, which in Hawaiian means “foundational, supernatural, or divine power and strength,” reveals more of their voice and words, drawing from yearning, loss, and bewilderment.
From Vandever's liner notes for Mana: "Mana in Hawaiian culture is the divine and supernatural spirit that gives strength and power to living beings, places, and objects. In traditional Hawaiian society, mana lived in Ali'i, known as chiefs and royalty who upheld the kapu (code of conduct) and cared for their people and the land. They possessed the most mana due to their believed relation to Gods and their responsibilities to the islands. In modern culture, mana can be felt, cultivated, and strengthened as you grow closer to your inner self, native land, and ancestral power. I carry the stories, wisdom, and care of my ancestors as I navigate grief, love, community, and exploration and feel my sense of mana deepening when I play for them."
In the last few years Vandever has had several opportunities to travel to Hawaii to play music, and it seems to have shed new light onto their personal connection to Hawaiian mythology and ancestry and how it relates to their musical expression—a meeting of their familial and professional life that represents a sort of closing of a circle.
“My experience of going to Hawaii when I was younger was purely to see family, and it always felt very separate from music,” they explain. “A lot of my Hawaiian family doesn’t really travel, so they weren't able to see me perform until the last couple of years. I’m just feeling really grateful that there's been this convergence, and I feel like it really influences the way that I play, and to have this confidence and when I play the solo set. I think a lot about the presence of family and ancestry when I play—connection with family that I've lost.”
The final song on Mana is “Holding,” Vandever’s version of a breakup song. Swirling, suspended chords pile up beneath a trombone-led intro, concentrating into droning clusters of soft synth-like sound. These frenetic yet melodically unchanging tones become a gentle beeswarm bed for Vandever’s simple and direct lyricism, the most apparent point of new growth on the album itself, delivered with the same floating confidence as their trombone work:
Holding on to you
Will you hold me til the end?
Will you release me?
I will release you
I am holding

Sooj — a collaborative project between members of Duster and Dirty Art Club. Picking up where their 2024 two-sider Anhedonia II b/w Ecstasy Cowgirl left off, Crusher sees Duster’s slowcore drift dissolve into Dirty Art Club’s sample-heavy, collage-minded production. The result is neither band, nor side project, but something more elusive — a third space built from tape hiss, chopped memory, and late-night signal bleed. Across its runtime, the album avoids the gravitational pull of nostalgia. Instead, it hovers in a liminal present — part collaboration, part escape route.

These stunning recordings combine the great strengths of Pauline Oliveros on her Roland V-Accordion, Issui Minegishi; Ichigenkin master and great-great granddaughter of the founder of the Seikyodo Ichigenkin tradition and Miya Masaoka on her 21 string Japanese Koto. Together, these masterful improvisors create a beautiful and fascinating world of instrumental communication. This trio of legendary artists establish a sonic zone so compelling that you'll never want to leave. This double CD preserves the original session edits chronologically in order to preserve the emotional flow of the recordings. Disc one presents the first day of sessions and disc two presents the second day. Hence the title, Two Days In Dreamland.



Delphine Dora, the prolific French composer and multi-instrumentalist, graces Marionette with a suite of keyboard instrumentals that evoke futurism and the transcendental. Based in France and actively releasing music since the 00’s, Delphine’s remarkable solo and collaborative projects loosely connect the dots scattered across modern classical, folk, ambient, and poetic writing - always seeking new ambitions in terms of her sound. Leaving behind the chaos of city life for the quiet solitude of a small village in the French countryside, Delphine finds herself fully immersed in the present moment and committed to her multi-disciplinary creative practices, savoring the experiences of deep listening in nature and her environment. Drawing from an academic background in Outsider Art and Art Brut, Dora yearns to express intimate inner dialogues, revealing the beauty of vulnerability through transportive musical passages to the mystical and sublime. L’inéluctable pulsation du temps was composed in 2018, at a time when Delphine’s life was becoming increasingly busy, marked by relentless touring and concerts unfolding in rapid succession across different places. Written in parallel with L’Inattingible, her most ambitious album, it stands as its instrumental counterpart. The recordings reflect a period of exploration and assimilation of the Nord Electro, an instrument that opened up vast sonic possibilities, particularly for the development of rich polyphonies inspired by repetitive music. The track titles draw inspiration from an essay by Hartmut Rosa on the notions of acceleration and alienation - a reflection that resonates strongly with the pre-covid era right before the quarantine. The album reveals Delphine’s most colorful and rhythmic side, an aural mille-feuille, in total contrast with her previous melancholic vocal works. On L’inéluctable pulsation du temps, Dora sustains atmospheric drone miniatures that form the foundation for flowing, cyclical arpeggios, spiraling into a liminal dream space where the repetitive phrasing of melodies rewards introspective listening. The compositions move through (dis)enchanted landscapes, taking unexpected turns into more haunted terrain, their contours further blurred by Dora’s intuitive articulation and sense of refinement. By mirroring both the acceleration of time and the experience of alienation, Delphine conjures up timeless sonic meditations, rendering the inevitable pulsation of time as something at once mesmerizing and unsettling.
Khadim is a stunning reconfiguration of the Ndagga Rhythm Force sound. The instrumentation is radically pared down. The guitar is gone; the concatenation of sabars; the drum-kit. Each of the four tracks hones in on just one or two drummers; otherwise the sole recorded element is the singing; everything else is programmed. Synths are dialogically locked into the drumming. Tellingly, Ernestus has reached for his beloved Prophet-5, a signature go-to since Basic Channel days, thirty years ago. Texturally, the sound is more dubwise; prickling with effects. There is a new spaciousness, announced at the start by the ambient sounds of Dakar street-life. At the microphone, Mbene Diatta Seck revels in this new openness: mbalax diva, she feelingly turns each of the four songs into a discrete dramatic episode, using different sets of rhetorical techniques. The music throughout is taut, grooving, complex, like before; but more volatile, intuitive and reaching, with turbulent emotional and spiritual expressivity.
Not that Khadim represents any kind of break. Its transformativeness is rooted in the hundreds upon hundreds of hours the Rhythm Force has played together. Nearly a decade has passed since Yermande, the unit’s previous album. Every year throughout that period — barring lockdowns — the group has toured extensively, in Europe, the US, and Japan. With improvisation at the core of its music-making, each performance has been evolutionary, as it turns out heading towards Khadim. “I didn’t want to simply continue with the same formula, says Ernestus. “I preferred to wait for a new approach. Playing live so many times, I wanted to capture some of the energy and freedom of those performances.” Though several members of the touring ensemble sit out this recording — sabar drummers, kit-drummer, synth-player — their presence abides in the structure and swing of the music here.
Lamp Fall is a homage to Cheikh Ibra Fall, founder of the Baye Fall spiritual community. The mosque in the city of Touba is known as Lamp Fall, because the main tower resembles a lantern. Soy duggu Touba, moom guey séen / When you enter Touba, he is the one who greets you. After a swift, incantatory start Mbene sings with reflective seriousness. Her voice swirls with reverb, over a tight, funky, propulsive interplay between synth and drums, threaded with one- two jabs of bass. Cheikh Ibra Fall mi may way, mo diayndiou ré, la mu jëndé ko taalibe… Cheikh Ibra Fall amo morome, aboridial / Cheikh Ibra Fall shows the way forward, he gives us strength, he gathers his disciples… Overflowing with grace, Cheikh Ibra Fall has no equal.
Interwoven with Wolof proverbs, Dieuw Bakhul is a recriminatory song about treachery, lies, and back-biting. Over moody, roiling synths and ominous, lean bass, Mbene throws out fluttering scraps of vocal, as if re-running old conversations in her head. The music shadows her despair to the verge of breakdown, at one moment seemingly so lost in thought and memories, that it threatens to disintegrate. Bayilene di wor seen xarit ak seen an da ndo… Dieuw bakhul, dieuw ñaw na / Stop judging your friends and companions… A lie is no good, a lie is ugly.
Khadim is a show-stopper; currently the centrepiece of Ndagga Rhythm Force live performances. The song is dedicated to Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba, aka Khadim, founder of the Mouride Sufi order. Serigne Bamba mi may wayeu / Serigne Bamba is the one who makes me sing. The verses name-check revered members of his family and brotherhood, like Sokhna Diarra, Mame Thierno, and Serigne Bara. Though Islam has been practised in Senegal for a millennium, it wasn’t until the start of the twentieth century that it began to thoroughly permeate ordinary Senegalese society, hand-in-hand with anti-colonialism. The verses here recall Bamba’s banishment by the French to Gabon, and later to Mauritania, in those foundational times. During exile, his captors once introduced a lion to his cell: gaïnde gua waf, dieba lu ci Cheikhoul Khadim / the lion doesn’t budge, it gives itself over to Cheikh Khadim. Deep, surging bass, steady kick-drum, and simple, reverbed chords on the off-beat lend the feel and impetus of steppers reggae. A reed plays snatches of a traditional Baye Fall melody; the dazzling polyrhythmic drumming is by Serigne Mamoune Seck. Mbene compellingly blends percussive vocalese, narrative suspense, exultant praise, introspection, and grievance.
Nimzat is a devotional tribute to Cheikh Sadbou, a contemporary of Bamba, buried in a mausoleum in Nizmat, in southern Mauritania. Way nala, kagne nala… souma danana fata dale / I call upon you and wonder about you… If I am overwhelmed, come to my aid. The town holds special significance for Khadr Sufism. An annual pilgrimage there is conducted to this day. The rhythm is buoyantly funky; the mood is sombre, reined-in, foreboding. Punctuated by peals of thunder, Mbene sings with restrained, intense reverence; huskily confidential, steadfast. Nanu dem ba Nimzat, dé ba sali khina / Let us go to Nimzat, to seal our devotion.

Gondwana Records is pleased to announce ‘Interlude’, the second album from Estonian-born, London-based composer and pianist Hanakiv. Showcasing an expanded sound, the compositions trace a journey of overcoming the past, unfolding into a seductively unconventional style imbued with hope and a therapeutic quality. Existing in a liminal space between genres, Interlude , the second album from composer, pianist and now singer Hanakiv is as mysterious as it’s seductively unconventional, with piano, often prepared, only one of its elements, both analogue and electronic. First inspired by “those crystallised moments where time almost stands still, pain hasn’t yet fully set in, and happiness is still just a glimpse,” it provides, all the same, “a sense of hope that standing still is part of living.” Interlude’s range is further intimated by its contributors, including Portico Quartet’s Milo Fitzpatrick, who, as well as playing double bass throughout, co-wrote the refreshed long-term live favourite, ‘Intro’, and the eloquent closer, Stillness’. Also present are saxophonist Pille-Rite Rei, cellist Joanna Gutowska, violinist Gabriel Green, and PIKE on drums, helping capture the instances Hanakiv calls “in-betweens”. Unpredictable, unfathomable, candid and carefree, Interlude embodies flaws embraced as well as senses regained. This record is a product of creative and personal revelation, earned only when one’s true self.

Award-winning composer and producer Sarathy Korwar to release new album celebrating the melodic power of the drum ensemble Sarathy Korwar, genre-breaking drummer, producer and composer, announces the release of his seventh album, There Is Beauty, There Already, out on Otherland on 7th November 2025. Celebrating the melodic power of the drum ensemble, the album follows his 2022 Indofuturist manifesto KALAK with a deeply immersive longform suite of percussion-led compositions. Playing as a 40-minute suite of hypnotic and transcendent drum improvisations, the album beats through a repetitive, circular structure that brings to mind Indian folk music, jazz drum ensembles like Max Roach’s M’Boom and the contemporary classical minimalism of Terry Riley and Steve Reich. From the undulating bass tones of the tabla to the tonal varieties of South Indian clay pot ghatam, the snare drum snap of the drum kit, and shades of electronic texture through the Buchla Easel, Korwar’s ensemble bubbles and flows through a stream of steady rhythm, forever in motion like the ceaseless energy of a river.
“The album is me finding my voice as a composer again and going back to the thing I know best, which is the drums,” Korwar says. “It’s me falling back in love with percussion and expressing just how melodic and emotive it can be. Unlike my other albums that have often engaged with weighty themes like migration, identity and futurism, this is a raw act of placing myself front and centre – letting the drums speak instead.”
Written and recorded over four days at Peter Gabriel's Real World Studios, Korwar is joined by drummers Photay, Magnus Mehta, and Joost Hendrickx. Setting up an array of drums in the live room – from drum kit to tabla, marimba, balafon, udu and ghatam – Korwar gave himself and his instrumentalists free reign to flow through and play whatever complimented their ever-developing music, while triggered attachments to synthesisers and the Buchla Easel added unexpected elements of electronic texture. "By day three, we realised that we kept coming back to this single, repeated 40-minute pattern, which was locking us in and making us hypnotised by its rhythm," Korwar says. "I decided to do multiple takes of that idea to build a structure – and that’s what you ultimately hear on the record." A riposte to our flitting attention spans, the album is designed to be played from start to finish as a singular, longform suite of music, evoking a constant sense of motion and intent. Drawing on the idea of repetition to the point of going beyond monotony and into the unknown – like a word repeated so many times it loses meaning – the record becomes a remarkable exploration of rhythm as trance and transformation. Exploding onto the international jazz scene with his 2016 Ninja Tune debut Day to Day, Korwar has released four albums exploring everything from the folk music of the Indian Sidi community to hip-hop, electronics, contemporary jazz and Indian classical music. He won the 2020 AIM Award for Best Independent Album and MOJO’s Jazz Album of the Year for 2019’s spoken word-influenced More Arriving, as well as being nominated at the Jazz FM and Worldwide Awards and in 2023 won the Songlines Award for Best Album (Asia/Pacific) with KALAK.
As a musician and producer, meanwhile, he has collaborated with Shabaka Hutchings and producer Hieroglyphic Being on 2017’s A.R.E. Project, as well as releasing a collaborative album with Auntie Flo in 2022, and forming jazz supergroup FLOCK with Bex Burch, Tamar Osborn, Danalogue and Al MacSween. He is also currently a member of sitarist Anoushka Shankar’s band and produced and co-wrote her 2025 album, Chapter III: Return to Light. Almost a decade on from his debut, There Is Beauty, There Already sees Korwar producing some of his most personal and vulnerable work to date. From the album cover – a grid of self-portraits taken at his local Co-Op checkout over the past five years, “a ritual story of my life in images” – to an accompanying, self-written poem reflecting on beauty, the record marks a new direction. It also signals the launch of Korwar’s own label, Otherland. “It’s a home for my own future music and music from others that doesn’t tick many boxes – that doesn’t have a motherland or fatherland of its own," he says. "It’s about embracing this music as it is, finding the beauty in it and recognising it, just as the album title says." The album will launch with an exclusive show at The ICA on 15 November 2025 as part of the London Jazz Festival, where Korwar will expand his ensemble to a dozen drummers, guiding live improvisations through the record’s percussive textures from start to finish. There Is Beauty, There Already is released on Otherland on 7th November 2025, distributed worldwide by !K7.


Bifuu_ZONE, translated loosely as “a zone of gentle breeze,” is a concept drawn from Tsudio Studio’s personal vocabulary rather than a strict linguistic equivalent. While liminal spaces are often framed through unease, Bifuu_ZONE reimagines them as sites of quiet comfort, restoration, and slow transformation. The project centers on impermanence, erosion, and the subtle ways time reshapes even the most solid structures.The West takes its title literally, drawing inspiration from buildings and environments located west of Osaka. Each track is composed with a specific architectural space in mind, allowing tone, texture, and resonance to emerge from imagined structures rather than narrative progression. The result is a site-responsive ambient work that listens closely to stillness, weathering, and spatial openness. Saxophonist mori_de_kurasu appears on three tracks, introducing breath and human fragility into the album’s restrained sonic palette.This perspective is deeply informed by a Japanese sensibility toward impermanence, an acceptance of loss and change not as absence, but as gentle continuation. Rather than positioning liminal space through anxiety, Bifuu_ZONE gestures toward what lingers quietly after the dream has ended.Beyond the album itself, The West also marks a point of convergence within Tsudio Studio’s broader practice. In March, he will present an exhibition and live performance at Gallery SHUTL in Higashi-Ginza, Tokyo, centered on the idea of “post-liminal space.”Under his primary name, Tsudio Studio has released work through Media Factory, Local Visions, and ULTRA-VYBE, collaborating across Japan, Europe, and the United States. In 2022, the compilation OACL, which he contributed to and mastered through Local Visions, reached #2 on Bandcamp’s global charts. The West is a focused ambient work shaped by space, time, and quiet transformation.


Well known for their Music for Saxofone & Bass Guitar series—also familiar to Meditations—Sam Gendel and Sam Wilkes return with a new duo work. This time, they step away from their signature sax-and-bass pairing and move toward a fresh approach centered on guitar and synthesizer. Compact at eight tracks and roughly 27 minutes, the album builds a distinctive world through a sequence of short, interconnected pieces.

Recorded between the iconic Abbey Road and Polish Radio studios, Hania Rani’s original music for Joachim Trier’s Cannes and Golden Globe winning, Oscar and Bafta nominated ‘Sentimental Value’ is a deeply intuitive collaboration, composed before a single frame was edited. Intriguingly Hania worked on the score for Sentimental Value without an edit in hand; instead, she was given a carefully written script and the freedom of her own substantial imagination. The story told in the film oscillates around three characters and the motionless presence of the house, yet the relationships between all these personalities are not fixed, but in progress. Those subtle qualities were at the center of her attention and became the core topic of numerous discussions with Joachim about the music, the film, and the philosophy behind Sentimental Value. In September 2024, Hania went to Oslo and spent a couple of days in the main film location (the family home in Oslo) with her sound engineer, Agata Dankowska. The film crew was away in France to shoot another scene for the project, so they were allowed to freely explore the space - both visually and sonically. They made field recordings in the building, capturing the sounds of objects and furniture found in the apartment, and they also managed to record a couple of piano pieces. The house plays a significant role in the story, silently witnessing the tangled trajectories of its residents.

A 2026 release from Japanese sound artist Chihei Hatakeyama. Spanning six tracks and roughly 43 minutes, the album unfolds without dramatic shifts, letting subtle fluctuations and delicate changes in texture gradually expand across each piece.

A 2026 release from Japanese sound artist Chihei Hatakeyama. Spanning six tracks and roughly 43 minutes, the album unfolds without dramatic shifts, letting subtle fluctuations and delicate changes in texture gradually expand across each piece.

Based in Hong Kong, vocalist and songwriter Anita Tatlow — also known for her work as Salt of the Sound and Narrow Skies — presents a delicate ambient work that gently draws the listener into its sound world.

Based in Hong Kong, vocalist and songwriter Anita Tatlow — also known for her work as Salt of the Sound and Narrow Skies — presents a delicate ambient work that gently draws the listener into its sound world.

Here In The Valley is the debut full-length release from helllhound, the intimate sonic collaboration of life partners Cadmar Fitzhugh and Nailah Hunter. Born out of a seismic shift from urban Los Angeles to a remote mountain town in the Sierra National Forest, the record reflects a period of profound transition—into the wilderness, into parenthood, and into a deeper communion with self. Woven together through acoustic guitar, harp, voice, and gentle electronics, Here In The Valley evokes the textures of the natural world and the unseen dimensions of ancestral memory. It moves like mist through tall pines and echoes like a fireside tale overheard from across a moonlit meadow. Tracing the arc from conception to early motherhood, the album celebrates the beauty and impermanence of life on Earth, the mysticism of matrescence, and the long journey home to oneself. With tracks written before, during, and after pregnancy, the album unfolds like a handmade map of a spirit-led pilgrimage—through waterways, starfields, and golden hills. Each song is a milestone, a myth. From the harmonic murmurs of “downstream” to the ancestral chant of “by sea,” the stargazing restfulness of “the pleiades (sleep),” and the gentle nighttime balm of “lullaby,” Here In The Valley is a love letter to new life, old stories, and the sacred quiet in between. The pair’s shared creative language finds expression in ethereal ambient and folk sounds. Nurtured in the stillness of California’s high country, their music conjures pastoral dreamscapes that hum with the mystery of birth, the longing of memory, and the wild devotion of partnership. Named after their spirited Husky-Aussie dog Sigge, helllhound channels both the chaos and comfort of life lived close to the bone—deep in the valley, with stars above and earth below.
