Electronic / Experimental

Still somehow operating in the shadows despite a pair of exceptional albums under his belt, plus a standout appearance on Space Afrika’s acclaimed ‘Honest Labour’ album, Nigerian born Londoner LA Timpa returns with this super deep, confounding third album featuring screwed, unfathomable dreampop variants that worm from layered flutes to oddly tuned trip hop, referencing everything from Mica Levi to Klein to early Yves Tumor and, most obviously, A.R Kane - ultimately sounding like nothing else. LA Timpa snagged our attention with his exceptional debut ‘Equal Amounts Afraid’ for O___o?, and an acclaimed follow-up for Rabit’s Halcyon Veil, which eventually led to a guest spot on Space Afrika’s cult lightning rod ‘Honest Labour’ and a remix for Tricky. After letting the dust settle, he returns with a new collection of songs mired in rawly sublime melancholy, turning existential reflections into a richly evocative sort of chamber pop akin to Arthur Russell jamming with A.R. Kane. It drifts heavy-lidded between fully formed songs obfuscated by a dense fug to properly bezzonked lo-fi improv that follows his nose for detuned strings smudged and activated with field recordings. It’s all done in the loosest, most hypnagogic style, characterising how the spirits of ‘80s no wave NYC and even ‘90s Kiwi indie rock have sluiced into the truly singular milieu of South London in the 2020s. Sung in a fragile yet shatterproof falsetto to backdrops of smeared loops and lines of coruscating guitar and keys, ‘Pity By One All Good Treasure’ conveys itself by seduction and suggestion rather than any heavy handed or literal techniques. Whether by design or implication, its rhythmelodic make-up recalls how West African music surfaces in the lilt of Lifetones, or even how Jim Reeves’ country music unexpectedly percolates thru Nigerian styles, all obviously at a remove of decades, but nonetheless short-circuiting expectations and putative timelines in the process. The record wails into view with 'Wide', a properly bewildering opening of tangled flutes that sounds like Debit’s pre-historic wind instrument investigations as if treated by Alvin Lucier, before taking flight on a screwy trajectory that seems to reference a great deal of music we love; from labelmate Dawuna to Coby Sey’s pop inversions to Dean Blunt’s enigmatic world-building, from Tricky’s low-lit pre-millennial tension to Mica Levi’s unsteady phased strings - it all sounds immaculately produced and entirely unresolved. In fact, the glossolalic unintelligibility of the songs becomes a virtue it its own right, initially limning and drawing us into psychoacoustic parameters and occupying an elusive mid-distance throughout the album, form the slippery lilt of ‘It Smiles Without my Lie’ to the Blood Orange-esque nod of ‘City Hell Cast In Fire’, the haunted blooziness of ‘Treatment’ and eyes-in-backa-head grog to ‘Brave (forsake)’, and a properly wooze-inducing enigma on the nine minute denouement ‘Ruthless’ - a crumbling epic that centres negative space, splicing field recordings with instrumental strums. When a song does eventually appear from those embers, it's like a queered response to Grouper's enduring 'Heavy Water’ as though perceived through layer upon layer of gauzy saturation. It all makes for a supremely unusual and engrossing listen, and provides further proof, if needed, that LA Timpa is an elemental force all of their own, a vital part of South London’s eminently watchable new musical ecology.

Pity by One All Good Treasure LA Timpa

Fresh from an appearance on Space Afrika’s 'Honest Labour’ album, collaborations with Klein and Lol K and a placement in the Dazed 100 list, LA Timpa finally offers his head-turning 'Equal Amounts Afraid' album on vinyl following a short CD run just before the pandemic hit in early 2020. Served up on promising yung London label O___o, and made with additional mixing from Solange collaborator Kwes and mastering from sometime Dean Blunt engineer Amir Shoat, ‘Equal Amounts Afraid’ is a beautiful smudge of pop experimentation riddled with timeless musical soul. Following from his 2016 debut ‘Animal’, and guest production for Cold Specks’ trip hop sound, LA Timpa’s gently reserved and melancholic productions push an intimate pop vocabulary into spectral, dreamlike dimensions. Introspective and avant like Klein’s psyched chop-ups, as sensuous as Blood Orange, but with a taste for expressively harmonised pop refrains that clearly recall Yves Tumor via Richard Youngs, the album unfolds with its own logic, deploying eyelid-tugging levels of hypnagogic charm that practically demand to be heard in sequestered, lowlit situations. Seducing us to his singular temporality and hazy atmosphere with the vaporous falsetto and ambient soundfield of sirens and groggy bass in ‘Around’, a cut-up interlude leads into fragmented music box melody and intimate plainsong on ‘Fertile’, while ‘Core’ almost echoes the 4AD dream-pop of A.R. Kane, and ‘Give’ beautifully dematerialises indie-pop into ambient gauze. ‘Backyard Exotic’ surfaces his strangest side in a maze of mushied songcraft, ushering a trippier 2nd half where the songs really start to fray between ‘Caretaker’, the smokers’ hymnal vignette ‘Towel Under The Door’, before channelling Thom Yorke in the melting Mbira melody of ‘Rattle Snake’, and spooling out into proper ambient soul with the spine-tracing lines of ‘Tried Ice’ and the smudged magic of ‘Memory Phone’ where he truly divines a strength in his vulnerability in a way that should resonate with the most sensitive souls.

Nueen follows production for Iceboy Violet and a string of releases for Quiet Time Tapes, Good Morning Tapes and Balmat, with a sprawling new album for 3XL, an ambient drill epic featuring guest spots from Dawuna, Space Afrika, Loraine James, Xzavier Stone and RenzNiro. Everything clicked into place for Nacho Pezzati when he turned the humid soundscapes of his early releases into distorted beds for Iceboy Violet's casual free associations on the Hyperdub-released ‘You Said You'd Hold My Hand Through the Fire' back in 2024. He retains the same energy on 'Swerved', working alongside a team of vocalists and collaborators to locate a sweetspot between rap, dub and ambient vistas. His methodology is laid bare on 'Searchtiers', obscuring its UK drill-style sliding bass with weightless synths and gaseous FX, upping the ante when vocalist and producer Xzavier Stone jumps on the mic on 'Nowhere Near A Section'. The addition of proper hooks, adlibs and rhymes - "let it burn like Usher Raymond" - makes the production hit that much harder, not just referencing radio rap and R&B but challenging the paradigm. Fittingly, Loraine James, who early on inhabited similar zones, lends her voice to the grimy 'Atmosphere is my Style', whispering over Pezzati's hair metal samples and booming 808 Mafia-style basses. Manny's own RenzNiro checks in on 'Impls', rhyming over one of Nueen's most decisive beats, all clipped snares, gong samples and tweaked bass. And Space Afrika turn up with an assist on the low-slung highlight 'Shm', a smoove and sensual D'Angelo-style soul banger with none other than Dawuna on the mic. Dawuna returns on 'Matrix', splitting duties with Xzavier Stone who provides an impressive '00s post-jiggy hook and Pezzati's vision materialises. The haze of half-remembered bites of cloud rap, pop and club rap represents a post-P2P hauntology that's global, not really localised. And connecting with Space Africa again on the closing track 'I Guess', he travels beyond the boundaries of the album itself, lavishing SA's orchestral cries with fuzzy synths and swirling vocals.

Michael J. Blood executes a stunning volte-face from rugged house and soul to more intuitive, introspective, world-building ambient jazz and electroacoustic dub realms under a new moniker SEES, signifying a newfound psychoactive frisson to his work that lands him somewhere in the spiritual vicinity of Vangelis, Moodymann, Ron Trent, Pendant, Terre Thaemlitz. ‘Ampersand Curve’ initiates a brilliant new phase of work by North Manchester’s most elusive artist, best known as Michael J. Blood. His string of ruffkut club bangers as well as jams with Rat Heart & Samizdat over the past seven years, have made his records a true cult property, and now find him signed to one of the UK’s most foundational techno imprints - more of which later this year. But under the SEES aegis, he swims in very different waters, following his instincts to use the studio-as-instrument to produce his most impressive, deep-minded work, made from - and for - the heart. Where MJB was all about off-the-cuff club jams cooked for immediacy, his new stylistic switch reveals myriad worlds of influence swirling under the hood, where interrelated spheres of spiritual jazz, dub, ambient and concrète more clearly light up his rich inner world. As the story goes, MJB was burgled a few years back, and lost most of his studio just as the project was hitting its stride. It prompted a personal review of his practice, re-learning new kit, allowing him to bend the rules. Adopting a sort of first thought, best thought approach to composition, the new methodology fuelled a renewed imagination in flux, or what he identifies as SEES: a personalised way of conveying complex emotions. That un-doing of musical and mental conditioning opens the walls of his music to vast new horizons. Opener ‘Ithaca’ fathoms sonorous midnight jazz with 10 mins of a plangent, searching sax solo in HD widescreen, like some alternate version to the Blade Runner Love Theme, while a resonant vocoder soliloquy ‘Unseem’ reaches into space harmonised between Alvin Lucier and Ron Trent, and ‘Sheer’ chases the devil out of labyrinthine dub dimensions. The floating dream architecture of ‘Caprices’ caps the LP’s underlying narrative and painterly qualities with a romantic conclusion of blushing pads and shivered, metallic echoes of the subtropical that suggest a coming-to-terms with worries, refreshed and good to go again. A huge, heartfelt tip for a 2026 stunner.

Often credited as the father of multi-media theatre, Alwin Nikolais (1910-1993) took complete creative control over his productions - including cutting-edge approaches to lighting and costume that transformed human bodies into shifting sculptural shapes, while also composing wildly innovative electronic music as accompaniment. After initially experimenting with musique concrète and tape manipulation (as demonstrated on the 1959 LP Choreosonic Music of the New Dance Theatre of Alwin Nikolais) Nikolais became the first owner of Robert Moog's synthesizer at the Audio Engineering Society convention in New York in late 1964. Relying heavily on the Moog and later the Synclavier synth/sampler, these 21 tracks document Nikolais' highly-prescient compositions across the mid 1960s through to the late 1980s - existing not only as extensions of his other-worldly choreographic pieces, but standalone pieces of foundational mid-century American electronic and experimental music.

qorakitobchi aka Anvar Kalandarov is a music archaeologist, musician and producer from Tashkent, Uzbekistan whose work is dedicated to uncovering forgotten sounds from across Central Asia. In recent years he has emerged as a singular voice documenting the region’s musical heritage, co-compiling Synthesizing the Silk Roads: Uzbek Disco, Tajik Folktronica, Uyghur Rock & Tatar Jazz for Ostinato Records and curating Digging Central Asia: Musical Archaeology Along the Silk Road split release for Death Is Not The End, alongside presenting his own Maqom Soul imprint. For this mixtape, Kalandarov turns his attention to the synth-pop, disco and electronic music that flourished across Central Asia during the 1980s and 1990s. Drawn from rare vinyl records, private archives and forgotten recordings, this selection explores a period when Soviet modernity, regional traditions and emerging synthesiser sounds merged to create a uniquely Central Asian vision of the future. From Uzbek disco and Tajik synth-pop to lesser-known oddities, the mix offers a glimpse into a musical world that remains largely unexplored outside the region.

A shining star in Mika Vainio’s dense microcosm returns to vinyl - and for our money it’s the most transcendent record in his revered catalogue, unfurling through an hour of disarmingly melodic romance and astral projection that never fails to bring a tear to our eye. First presented on CD in 2005 under Vainio’s Ø alias, ‘Kantamoinen’ became something of a sleeper gem, cultishly adored for its concerted embrace of extended melody and narrative tone within an ambient context, which made it stand out from his preceding decade of ascetic noise brutalism and minimal techno. Our first encounter, back at our Pelicanneck shop, left us utterly smitten with its soundtrack-like qualities, eventually prompting us to issue it on vinyl for the first time via our Editions label in 2016. Sadly, Mika passed the following year, which only made the material more precious as a lone, curious artefact in his deeply influential body of work. It now returns in this new edition, ready to flip preconceptions with a new generation of listeners through its exquisite carousel of tear-jerking soundscpaes where the artist’s most intimate, distinctive spirits endure. Dedicated to Mika’s grandma, Laina Vainio (1913-1991), and adorned with a cover image of her garden in Artjärvi, Finland, the 16-part 2LP is the closest you’ll get to a type of nostalgia in Mika’s catalogue. Whilst recorded 1999-2004 at an early crest of his game-changing work with Pan Sonic, the album clearly manifests a quieter space for Mika to emote far more nuanced feels, from the wide-eyed vastness of ‘Galaxy’ to a breathtaking ‘Sound Picture’, transitioning from Hans-Ulrich Obrist’s snippet of Oskar Sala into icy bliss, and the rosy warmth of a ‘Summerland’ clearly dedicated to his nan’s garden. The rest is better defined as ephemeral snapshots adding up to a broader picture, like a mind’s eye filling gaps in the memory from illusive vapours and sensations, generating all-time gems in the steepled choral synth voice of ‘In Wind’, or a sense of magic realism in the swaying organ of ‘Antenna-ant’, with the blooz folk wheeze of closer ‘To Home’ that could feasibly score the most haunting moments of a Bela Tarr flick.

The story of each re-release begins with the original. In the late 90s, Uwe Zahn (Arovane), along with Robert Henke (Monolake) and Stefan Betke (Pole), began releasing music on Torsten Pröfrock’s (Dynamo) newly launched DIN label. This was a very inconspicuous undertaking, but fans of the flourishing IDM, glitch, and constantly evolving abstract techno genres quickly picked up on the quality of sound coming out of Germany. After a few successful EPs, Zahn began working on his debut full-length, Atol Scrap. The release was a success, at least in the underground circles, where followers of the melodic harmonies, stuttering off-beat rhythms, and, most importantly, advanced sound design feverishly consumed the imprint’s output. There was only one thing missing – the album was never pressed on vinyl, and for decades remained in the digital domain. The fans, of course, inquired. There were multiple offers on the table, but Zahn retained control until he was assured that it was properly attained. “I thought of taking everything into my own hands and releasing the record myself,” says Zahn, “but at the end of last year, Matthias from Keplar asked me to re-release Atol Scrap on vinyl.” The label and its owner revolve in the Morr Music universe, and so it made sense for Zahn to trust the platform to treat the record right.

Listening to Atol Scrap over twenty years later it is inane not to admit how well it has held up. Where other genres clearly aged, becoming stale, bland, and dull, the music on eleven tasty tracks still keeps the neurons tickled with each note. More than an echo of the past, the bottled sound truly has matured. Many of the newly evolving techniques are recognizable on the album. “I created the digital artifacts with a digital multi-track recorder, the Fostex D80,” recalls Zahn. “The thing had a scrub wheel with which I could achieve wonderful glitch effects by winding through the audio data. I have sampled and further processed these artifacts.” And this approach is still embedded in Zahn’s sound design. “I still use my 24-track analog desk from Tascam to mix my audio. I love to use hardware synths and samplers. I’ve definitely built upon my studio experience in the 90s.” From this debut to the most recent output, Arovane’s sound has evolved to become more intricate, detailed, and pronounced. “My music has become much quieter and much slower. But that’s probably also due to the noise in the world.” And just as Atol Scrap reminds Zahn of the past, retaining charm preserved in a container traveling through time, it also jitters memories of long ago, when we were twenty years younger, less experienced, and bold. For me, among the many records of the time, this album held a special place in life, my heart, and many CD boxes moved across the world. And now I’m only happy to restock the vinyl space, where Atol Scrap belongs among the beloved records. Welcome home. - Mike Lazarev

CHBB was a project by Beate Bartel and Chris Haas that developed from their collaboration in 1981, while working on the self-titled album 'Liaisons Dangereuses‘. They released their music only on four limited cassettes. This compilation presents the complete works of CHBB, including all recordings from their original cassettes alongside previously unreleased tracks produced by both artists.

Originally released in 2008 on Ezekiel Honig’s own Anticipate Recordings, Surfaces of a Broken Marching Band finds the artist refining a compositional language rooted in the methodologies of musique concrete, ambient, and beat research. Working from a palette of environmental recordings, instrumental fragments, and soft electronic treatments, Honig pushes the source material into an array of sympathetic forms ranging from pillow-soft, lowercase ambient to diffuse downtempo and minimal house. For its reissue on Keplar, the album has been remastered by Kassian Troyer (D&M), bringing a new clarity to its intricate, low-lit architectures. Throughout the record, serving almost as audiographic guideposts, are faint but insistent gestures toward propulsion, an abiding and recurrent 4/4 pulse that guides the music laterally and instantiates a slow negotiation between its various elements. This music invites close listening precisely by not revealing itself all at once, allowing small collisions of timbre and subtle shifts in emphasis to carry the weight. The traces of lived environments that remain embedded in the mix - distant crowds, sounds of transit, the indistinct acoustics of interiors in flux - expand the frame without breaking its intimacy, creating a potent dislocation between the nearness of the sound and the scale of its sources. Rather than foregrounding any single voice, this is music that distributes attention equally across its materials, allowing background details to assert their presence as much as melody or rhythm. Honig presents listeners with an astute practice that’s concerned less with building from the ground up than with uncovering what happens when disparate textures and structures are brought into close contact with one another. (Alex Cobb, 2026)

Vind is 12 pieces written and performed by CTM and produced by Jakob Littauer. The album consists of cello compositions with few exceptions - a daf enhancing the rhythm, a distant memory of the kora, a pensive flute or folly sounds. The softness of the acoustic instruments is counterplayed by concise compositions and hyperreal productions. The music presents itself as part spirit, part form; the movement in the moment, repetition, anticipation, what happened and what is to come. It's a sensuous search into stretched out moments, captured and held in one’s hand for a little while. It finds play and devotion, love and light. Dedicated to Jannis Noya Makrigiannis

Limited new edition with revised artwork on the sleeve and labels.Originally released in 2022, this is an epic collage and mixed LP of all original material, compiled and stitched together over three years by Morgan Buckley.KWALK features Roger Doyle, Mr & Ms KWalker, Sli Town Crier, Olmo, Davy Kehoe, Morgan Buckley, plus some surprise guests.

Smerz continue to mark out sui generis wyrd-pop territory on their second proper full-length, this time for the on-fire Escho label, stripping away the club nostalgia and doubling down on oddball R&B harmonies and quirky DIY-cum-downtown NYC production tics - a sort of genius missing link between Astrid Sonne, Cibo Matto and Luscious Jackson.

Catharina Stoltenberg and Henriette Motzfeldt's earliest gear was a torch in a dark digital corridor, a prophetic look at a hazy pop future that blurred genre boundaries and trampled across the borders between the mainstream and the underground. Needless to say, they set the stage for a sound that's more or less orthodox in 2025 - we see Smerz's shadow on ML Buch's world-beating 'Suntub', or Erika De Casier's bedroom R&B groover 'Still', for example. And their contribution to the canon hasn't gone completely unnoticed; the duo co-produced K-pop girl group NewJeans' impressive 'Get Up' EP in 2023 alongside de Casier, and turned in an edit of Astrid Sonne's 'Say you love me' in 2024. If there's a discernible scene coalescing between Copenhagen, London and Oslo, Smerz are operating somewhere near the center.

So four years after threading supersaw-led trance-pop and rattly footwork-pilled kicks through a lattice of offhand skits and classical interludes on their impressive debut album 'Believer', Stoltenberg and Motzfeldt return to an art-pop landscape that's humming with energy. Fittingly, they reply by setting a new sonic benchmark, pruning their productions considerably and focusing on the bumpy, textural weirdness that often lurked in the distance on prior recordings. The best way to get a handle on this one is to scrub thru the duo's archive of NTS shows (they've been producing weekly bulletins for the best part of a decade), where you might hear Klein, Morton Feldman, Leila, Angelo Badalamenti, Young Thug or Kaskade alongside demos and cuts from like-minded peers such as Clarissa Connelly, Lolina and Peder Mannerfelt.

They're enthusiastic, discerning listeners who can cut away some of the cultural baggage to figure out links between vastly different sounds, and that's exactly the experience 'Big city life' provides. From the first few notes of the title track it's as if we've been dialed into NYC circa 1981, with rubbery microsampled half-riffs that project like they're being coughed out of a malfunctioning Fairlight CMI. Trading schoolyard rhymes back and forth, Smerz sing-rap nonchalantly over jerky MIDI piano and strangulated breaks, imagining a mid-point between day zero trip-hop and Craig Leon's enduringly influential 'Nommos'. And that intermixture of casual amusement and heads-y deep digging nourishes the entire record. There's the whipsmart Stereolab-in-dub vibe of 'But I do', 'Close' with its sad lounge and sensual Chicago lilt, and the lead single 'You got time and I got money', that's a raggy doll stitch-up of Air's 'Sexy Boy' and Verve's 'Bittersweet Symphony' covered by Neneh Cherry.

And just like on their debut album, it's Smerz's bijou, ostensibly throwaway moments that fully crystallize their narrative. They understand exactly what draws us back again and again to "classic" albums (and good mixes, actually), and pepper 'Big city life' with elegant, eccentric digressions, like the General MIDI player-piano loosie 'What', and 'Street Style', a stripped-back candlelit ballad that couches the bolshy TR-909-led 'Imagine This', a screwed-n-chopped Mantronix moment that accents their vast knowledge of '80s rap and electro. And if you're missing the old Smerz, they throw us a bone with the Autotune-d trance digression 'Dreams', leading us out of the album with a melancholy reminder that the flicker of the club is still there, somewhere, just distorted into a hypnotic, euphoric outline.

Straight from the weedy fields of swampville Bruxelles we bring you 8 ‘tranches de vie’ of deep zone-hall by weirdtronic bass veteran Michael Crabbé’s best fitting sound costume to date: the mighty Rudi J! You might know him from earlier outfits but that’s not the main issue here. Rudi J is!When this swamp thing touches the pads, it’s off-road after three seconds, even if you’re in the middle of Europe’s capital. Mixing analog dirt and digital sound bits in a very loose and personal take on dancehall, we’re pretty far away from the dance floor but definitely swinging. It’s a trippy affair wandering around concrete flowers with a deep ambient flavor, but it’s edgy.A hot summer fever dream following his own lusty path, full of life and wonder but with something sinister hiding around every corner. Often reaching for the stars, a deeper shade of bass keeps things nicely grounded. These sounds are built with a sound system in mind and bass culture at heart. Even if you can definitely surf on it from your couch, picking out all of its ear-pricking details, it will very much come alive on a big sound.A layered affair with almost jazzy and orchestral elements peeping through the stereo-field, spectral and dissonant but also playful. Like early dubstep, some of these tunes can destroy a clubsound, keeping you skunking out in pedestrian mode and snorting up the atmospherics, finally forgetting about that damn phone.

Going Up, originally released in 1983, is one of the most curious and enduring records from British studio mavericks The RAH Band. Long out of print, it now sees its first ever vinyl reissue courtesy of Shocking Music and Rush Hour.

Led by super-producer, arranger, and multi-instrumentalist Richard Anthony Hewson, The RAH Band has always existed just outside the mainstream. Blending jazz-funk, sci-fi synth pop, and cosmic lounge, their sound never quite fit the mould. That might explain the cult status they’ve held ever since. Beloved by Balearic heads, rare groove collectors, and adventurous synth diggers, Going Up is perhaps their most influential record.

At the centre of it all is the intro track “Messages From The Stars”, the band’s runaway cosmic hit. A spacey, retro-futurist groove that has become a viral favourite in recent years, it now boasts hundreds of millions of streams, with a new generation discovering it through TikTok and YouTube. But it was originally just one track on this understated 1983 album.

The rest of Going Up is just as compelling, filled with dusty drum machines, off-kilter instrumentals, woozy vocals, and that unmistakable early '80s charm. It is a snapshot of a band in transition, blurring the lines between leftfield pop, sci-fi funk, and home-brewed synth experiments.

Out of print for over 40 years, Going Up finally gets the reissue treatment it deserves. Restored and remastered, and still sounding like nothing else.

Throbbing Gristle revisits TGCD1, long out of print, now available on vinyl for the first time ever via Mute. This release includes the original sleeve notes by all the members of the band, uncovering the story and ethos behind TG’s independent record label, Industrial Records. Formed in 1975, Throbbing Gristle, aka Chris Carter, Peter “Sleazy” Christopherson (1955-2010), Cosey Fanni Tutti, and Genesis Breyer P-Orridge (1950- 2020), fully delivered on punk’s failed promise to explore extreme culture as a way of sabotaging systems of control. Their impact on music, culture, and the arts has been immeasurable and still felt today. Originally released on Mute’s imprint, The Grey Area, in 1986, TGCD1 comprises forty-two minutes of studio recordingscaptured at their own Industrial Records Studio on a TEAC 8-Track in 1979. Initially serving as an exclusive piece of unreleased material for TG’s first-ever CD release, the record’ dark and harsh droning sound stands as a significant chapter in their discography, showcasing the band during, arguably, their most formative era. TGCD1 is reissued alongside The Third Mind Movements - both vital additions for dedicated Throbbing Gristle and industrial music fans.

Two rare recordings from the archives of legendary producer Richard Hewson. Rising Star (Cosmix) began life in 1984 as a vocal single performed by Debbie Sharp. Hewson reworked the original track into a percussive cosmic disco interpretation, aptly titled the “Cosmix”, experimenting with his newly acquired Bel Delay effects unit, which became central to his studio explorations at the time. Deep Song dates back even further, to the late-70s Richard Hewson Orchestra period - the creative blueprint that would later evolve into Hewson’s cult studio project, The RAH Band. Written, produced and assembled by Hewson in his home studio before additional strings and vocals were layered in, the track was inspired by his deep admiration for Miles Davis, particularly the landmark album Kind of Blue. Deep Song was originally released as a B-side under a mysterious alias in 1979.

'Edge Conditions' is the new album by Chicago born and raised, longtime Los Angeles based composer, synthesist, and multi-media artist Jeremiah Chiu.

Following three electro-acoustic duo albums with violist Marta Sofia Honer (one in collaboration with late legend of minimalist music Ariel Kalma) and three heavily-fused trance-jazz LPs with his co-led quintet SML, 'Edge Conditions' settles Chiu into a world of densely layered, tightly composed electronic music deviations in the vein of the YMO spinoffs, Arthur Russell 12-inch mixes, Yasuaki Shimizu, classic Boards of Canada, Aphex Twin, or Art of Noise. Outsider deconstructions spun through the dance/chill cycle and lovingly rebuilt on California land. There’s an emotional, energetic arc here — a shining display of Chiu’s range and depth as both a composer and producer, in which every facet of his collaborative work and sonic personality feels represented without force.

Chiu’s previous solo album, 2023’s 'In Electric Time', was a first-thought-best-thought album recorded at the Vintage Synthesizer Museum in LA, and offered a narrower glimpse into his solo process and sound, essentially acting as a collection of studies & experiments à la Raymond Scott's essential 'Manhattan Research Inc'. The goal was for the work to be immediate, improvisational, and born of quick decision making. The operation was ultimately simple: Jeremiah Chiu, synth practitioner, finding his way around a very impressive collection of analog synthesizers, recording said findings to 8-track tape.

'Edge Conditions' expanded the aim of that approach to make room for a larger scope of vision, developing under a more nuanced series of self-imposed boundaries, limitations, and clarifying frameworks meant to help connect the threads of the disparate artistic worlds Chiu inhabits in a more patiently-considered way. The music was mostly written and recorded during February and March of 2026, with the composer operating both in isolation and with a select team of musical comrades, while also incorporating live collaborations, field recordings, and audio sketches going back years.

About the album’s title and binding concept, Chiu says: “In architecture, “edge conditions” are the boundaries, interfaces, or transition zones between two different areas, materials, or states, often acting as a unique, occupiable, or functional space. They describe the interaction between systems — such as public vs. private land, or contrasting building materials — and are critical in architectural design, urban planning, and ecology for their "active" or "passive" nature. Thematically, the idea of an architectural edge condition came to mind during the process of making this record as it, too, feels like a practice bound by (environmental) restrictions, or boundaries.”

“Way In” is the album’s bite-sized call to action. A classic key-turner, this introductory wind-up promptly kicks into a wave of bleeping electronics atop a melancholic synth motif while chaotic, ultra-processed drum samples build at warp speed in wide stereo. By the time we know what is happening the mid-tempo techno-jazz of “A.M. Fuses” is in full swing, echoing the sonic upheaval of turn of the century Chicago — Tortoise, Prekop, Chicago Underground, et al — and the magnetic pull it had for formative groups like Stereolab. It’s more than just a reference, though. These sounds are from a community that Chiu grew up listening to and is now, fittingly, enmeshed in as a forward-marching composer in his own right.

“In Visibility” eases in with soulfully abstract drip-drop melodies, quickly and smoothly enveloped by a laid back west coast rhythm. “It was written with Art of Noise in mind, whom I love,” says Chiu. “I always get the sense that they’re having fun. Their music is all incredibly dialed in, but there’s a lightness to it — serious play.” It’s a spaced-out cruiser of a tune and a perfect example of Chiu’s use of industrial sounding texture to create an almost humanlike sense of pulse and breath. Somewhere in the multiverse an alternate Laurie Spiegel came home from the club, recorded the perfect makeout track, and it sounded exactly like this.

The title track follows with a wide-swinging pendulum, boasting both the most sensuous groove and the noisiest chaos on the album: ramping up the tension with truly anarchic processing of Marquis Hill (trumpet), Will Miller (EVI), and Patrick Shiroishi (saxophone) before a cool down coda of synthetic ambient waves and cut-up distant human chatter, segueing again, suddenly tuff, into the muscle drums of “Interfaces.”

That wide swing is something that covers the entirety of 'Edge Conditions', and it’s the sheer breadth of the spectrum which really makes the record shine as a whole. As listeners, we’re never in the same place for long. The pastiche of recording styles and fidelities, the quick cut employment of field recorded moments, the building and dissolving textural focuses — it’s all done within tracks, as well as over the album in macro. It’s clear that Chiu is not solely focused on one thing, and that he is insisting, correctly, that all of his points of focus work together.

It’s on the most radical departures that Chiu proves himself right. “Sentimental Object,” which features luscious strings from Marta Sofia Honer, delivers an almost academic turn away from pulsing drone and cool modality, instead favoring a tonal concern with drama, tension, and tonic resolution. Chord changes, essentially, and more of them than you think, all nestled in a dense collection of expertly synthesized sonic layers. “The day I first sketched it out, I re-listened to a Handel figured bass exercise as well as Ryuichi Sakamoto’s async,” says Chiu. “It felt like what I was doing subconsciously had these reference points. There’s this incredible melancholic feeling that overtakes you when listening to Sakamoto’s song “andata.” It’s impossible not to be moved by it. Similarly, Albinoni’s Adagio shares this melancholy, but feels more uplifting and hopeful, almost stately.”

“Sentimental Object” certainly embodies that stately melancholy while maintaining the boundaries and limitations of the larger project, showing us that anything goes as long as the internal logic is followed. The entire album maintains an effortless, almost tidal ebb-and-flow. Each new moment arrives and dissolves just when it should, not a moment before and never outstaying its welcome. Chiu is, here, making a very difficult thing look very easy. A mathematical equation that is somehow ecstatic. Rarely has something so masterful sounded so hip: total rhythmic transformations accompanied by harmonic and melodic modulation drawing clear, functional lines between distinct, fully developed and interconnected moments. Edge conditions.

By contrast, “Plastic Mind / Elastic Machines” returns us to the body: dense but soft train whistle puffs beg the attention behind a steady shaker before the beat drops courtesy of SML bandmate Booker Stardrum. Chiu’s modular chatter sits on top of Stardrum’s deeply saturated low-end percussive bump, augmented by only occasional, expertly placed phrases of tonality amongst the satisfying chaos of pings, clangs, and shimmers. The train has left the station, no doubt, and in the final movement the rider joins the pastoral world: the chatter becomes tonal and melodic; the percussion becomes gentle and deliberate; a long and simple melody hovers delicately on top. It’s in this second movement that we hear what might be the most Chicago vibe on the record, with Chiu reflecting back the essence of his heroes as a peer from the next generation.

'Edge Conditions' is that full reflection and most definitely the first full-frame look at Jeremiah Chiu as a composer. Here, one of the most exciting artists in Los Angeles, a subtly ground-breaking new voice in contemporary music across the globe, finally flashes his badge and steps fully into the spotlight.

'Edge Conditions' is the new album by Chicago born and raised, longtime Los Angeles based composer, synthesist, and multi-media artist Jeremiah Chiu.

Following three electro-acoustic duo albums with violist Marta Sofia Honer (one in collaboration with late legend of minimalist music Ariel Kalma) and three heavily-fused trance-jazz LPs with his co-led quintet SML, 'Edge Conditions' settles Chiu into a world of densely layered, tightly composed electronic music deviations in the vein of the YMO spinoffs, Arthur Russell 12-inch mixes, Yasuaki Shimizu, classic Boards of Canada, Aphex Twin, or Art of Noise. Outsider deconstructions spun through the dance/chill cycle and lovingly rebuilt on California land. There’s an emotional, energetic arc here — a shining display of Chiu’s range and depth as both a composer and producer, in which every facet of his collaborative work and sonic personality feels represented without force.

Chiu’s previous solo album, 2023’s 'In Electric Time', was a first-thought-best-thought album recorded at the Vintage Synthesizer Museum in LA, and offered a narrower glimpse into his solo process and sound, essentially acting as a collection of studies & experiments à la Raymond Scott's essential 'Manhattan Research Inc'. The goal was for the work to be immediate, improvisational, and born of quick decision making. The operation was ultimately simple: Jeremiah Chiu, synth practitioner, finding his way around a very impressive collection of analog synthesizers, recording said findings to 8-track tape.

'Edge Conditions' expanded the aim of that approach to make room for a larger scope of vision, developing under a more nuanced series of self-imposed boundaries, limitations, and clarifying frameworks meant to help connect the threads of the disparate artistic worlds Chiu inhabits in a more patiently-considered way. The music was mostly written and recorded during February and March of 2026, with the composer operating both in isolation and with a select team of musical comrades, while also incorporating live collaborations, field recordings, and audio sketches going back years.

About the album’s title and binding concept, Chiu says: “In architecture, “edge conditions” are the boundaries, interfaces, or transition zones between two different areas, materials, or states, often acting as a unique, occupiable, or functional space. They describe the interaction between systems — such as public vs. private land, or contrasting building materials — and are critical in architectural design, urban planning, and ecology for their "active" or "passive" nature. Thematically, the idea of an architectural edge condition came to mind during the process of making this record as it, too, feels like a practice bound by (environmental) restrictions, or boundaries.”

“Way In” is the album’s bite-sized call to action. A classic key-turner, this introductory wind-up promptly kicks into a wave of bleeping electronics atop a melancholic synth motif while chaotic, ultra-processed drum samples build at warp speed in wide stereo. By the time we know what is happening the mid-tempo techno-jazz of “A.M. Fuses” is in full swing, echoing the sonic upheaval of turn of the century Chicago — Tortoise, Prekop, Chicago Underground, et al — and the magnetic pull it had for formative groups like Stereolab. It’s more than just a reference, though. These sounds are from a community that Chiu grew up listening to and is now, fittingly, enmeshed in as a forward-marching composer in his own right.

“In Visibility” eases in with soulfully abstract drip-drop melodies, quickly and smoothly enveloped by a laid back west coast rhythm. “It was written with Art of Noise in mind, whom I love,” says Chiu. “I always get the sense that they’re having fun. Their music is all incredibly dialed in, but there’s a lightness to it — serious play.” It’s a spaced-out cruiser of a tune and a perfect example of Chiu’s use of industrial sounding texture to create an almost humanlike sense of pulse and breath. Somewhere in the multiverse an alternate Laurie Spiegel came home from the club, recorded the perfect makeout track, and it sounded exactly like this.

The title track follows with a wide-swinging pendulum, boasting both the most sensuous groove and the noisiest chaos on the album: ramping up the tension with truly anarchic processing of Marquis Hill (trumpet), Will Miller (EVI), and Patrick Shiroishi (saxophone) before a cool down coda of synthetic ambient waves and cut-up distant human chatter, segueing again, suddenly tuff, into the muscle drums of “Interfaces.”

That wide swing is something that covers the entirety of 'Edge Conditions', and it’s the sheer breadth of the spectrum which really makes the record shine as a whole. As listeners, we’re never in the same place for long. The pastiche of recording styles and fidelities, the quick cut employment of field recorded moments, the building and dissolving textural focuses — it’s all done within tracks, as well as over the album in macro. It’s clear that Chiu is not solely focused on one thing, and that he is insisting, correctly, that all of his points of focus work together.

It’s on the most radical departures that Chiu proves himself right. “Sentimental Object,” which features luscious strings from Marta Sofia Honer, delivers an almost academic turn away from pulsing drone and cool modality, instead favoring a tonal concern with drama, tension, and tonic resolution. Chord changes, essentially, and more of them than you think, all nestled in a dense collection of expertly synthesized sonic layers. “The day I first sketched it out, I re-listened to a Handel figured bass exercise as well as Ryuichi Sakamoto’s async,” says Chiu. “It felt like what I was doing subconsciously had these reference points. There’s this incredible melancholic feeling that overtakes you when listening to Sakamoto’s song “andata.” It’s impossible not to be moved by it. Similarly, Albinoni’s Adagio shares this melancholy, but feels more uplifting and hopeful, almost stately.”

“Sentimental Object” certainly embodies that stately melancholy while maintaining the boundaries and limitations of the larger project, showing us that anything goes as long as the internal logic is followed. The entire album maintains an effortless, almost tidal ebb-and-flow. Each new moment arrives and dissolves just when it should, not a moment before and never outstaying its welcome. Chiu is, here, making a very difficult thing look very easy. A mathematical equation that is somehow ecstatic. Rarely has something so masterful sounded so hip: total rhythmic transformations accompanied by harmonic and melodic modulation drawing clear, functional lines between distinct, fully developed and interconnected moments. Edge conditions.

By contrast, “Plastic Mind / Elastic Machines” returns us to the body: dense but soft train whistle puffs beg the attention behind a steady shaker before the beat drops courtesy of SML bandmate Booker Stardrum. Chiu’s modular chatter sits on top of Stardrum’s deeply saturated low-end percussive bump, augmented by only occasional, expertly placed phrases of tonality amongst the satisfying chaos of pings, clangs, and shimmers. The train has left the station, no doubt, and in the final movement the rider joins the pastoral world: the chatter becomes tonal and melodic; the percussion becomes gentle and deliberate; a long and simple melody hovers delicately on top. It’s in this second movement that we hear what might be the most Chicago vibe on the record, with Chiu reflecting back the essence of his heroes as a peer from the next generation.

'Edge Conditions' is that full reflection and most definitely the first full-frame look at Jeremiah Chiu as a composer. Here, one of the most exciting artists in Los Angeles, a subtly ground-breaking new voice in contemporary music across the globe, finally flashes his badge and steps fully into the spotlight.

SML is the quintet of bassist Anna Butterss, synthesist Jeremiah Chiu, saxophonist Josh Johnson, percussionist Booker Stardrum, and guitarist Gregory Uhlmann. Their debut album 'Small Medium Large' began as a collection of long form improvisations recorded during two separate two-night stands at beloved Highland Park, Los Angeles venue ETA. Unfortunately, this major development site for the burgeoning new West Coast jazz & improvised music sound closed its doors permanently at the end of 2023. The venue, perhaps best known outside of LA for Jeff Parker's 2022 album 'Mondays at the Enfield Tennis Academy', was the perfect location for the start of SML, especially given that both bassist Anna Butterss and saxophonist Josh Johnson are part of Parker's quartet that held down a regular gig at ETA since the venue's early days (and hence thoroughly documented, heard on Parker's album). 'Small Medium Large' was engineered and recorded in stereo direct to Nagra by Bryce Gonzales and compiled, arranged, and edited with additional production, recording, and studio composition by SML across their various home studios. While editing, chopping, and rearranging stereo mixed improvisations is hardly a new idea (for a modern and relevant example we can look to Makaya McCraven's output on IARC) these results are a stunning expansion of the Teo Macero / Miles Davis editing concept explored on classics like 'In a Silent Way', 'On The Corner', and 'Get Up With It'. Stylistically though, these recordings have more in common with the proto-trance repetitions of Harmonia, and with Holgar Czukay's re-assembly technique used in his work with Can. Throw in a supremely intuitive utilization of polyrhythmic floating patterns (a la Susumu Yokota), and the result is a truly innovative take on time-clocked electronic rhythms augmented with live instrumentation that never loses that elusive human sway. 'Small Medium Large' is a sublime assemblage of circulatory grooves and textural anomalies, at different moments recalling the synth-laced improvisations of Herbie Hancock's Sextant, the jagged dance punk of Essential Logic, the rhythmic revelry of Fela Kuti, the low-end elasticity of Parliament/Funkadelic, or the glitchy dub techno of Pole. Taken in totality, the album captures a euphoric creative synchronicity between some of today's most exciting musicians.

"Consumação" marks a major change in Domingos' life, a break with his old self. A new found spiritual awareness is channeled into music as often as he is able. Broken and missing relationships, broken PC, but the music still flows in his mind and with the tools at hand: tablet and cellphone. The EP is therefore a transitional document, beginning to show that "my current thoughts are not the same as before". The traditional ID punctuating the music now often proclaims "Solta!". Let go. The music, though, stays consistent with a left-field vibe, even while the appeal is pretty much universal. "Não Acredito" and especially our longtime favourite "Hot Girl" come out as monuments to loneliness and disillusionment but still with enough room to feel good about oneself. To receive all that as part of the natural course of life. None of these considerations break new ground. "Não Acredito" is simply the very human exclamation of disbelief in face of a ton of bad things happening cumulatively. "Coração de Pedra" is about a common sentimental feature in contemporary love life: hearts of stone. Face them or develop one. "Leave Me Alone" is simply that: get lost, give me space. But one listens to the song and there's hope in there. Not even buried deep. All these contradictory feelings are played out throughout the EP and become a compositional tool, a signature, although the producer confides he's not too bothered with making the titles correspond to the mood. It just happens. The music is its (and his) own self.

It all started in 2018 when experimental musician Raquel Bell released a solo record and was invited by Mike Watt to be interviewed on his radio show - The Watt From Pedro Show. Raquel and Jared Marshall (Primary Mystical Experience) just happened to be in Los Angeles at the time. It was the early days of Galecstasy on the road, and they were somewhat living out of the tour van. Raquel and Jared played experimental music and free jazz together after both of them had played in bands and as solo musicians for many years. Raquel asked Mike Watt if they could do his radio show in person at his house, worried that they might not find a good internet connection while bopping from place to place in the tour van. Watt said yes! Galecstasy then drove out to Watt’s hometown of San Pedro, home of the largest port in North America and the birthplace of The Minutemen.

All three musicians sat on Watt’s carpeted living room floor surrounded by incredible records and mementos of music history. Before the live interview began, Watt reached over and held up D. Boon’s guitar and handed it to Raquel. Tears filled her eyes as she strummed, feeling the presence of one of her musical heroes. The Minutemen had influenced most every musician that came across their sound and had immortalized their lead singer, D. Boon as well as their now legendary bassist, Mike Watt. It was in this context that the three of them, Bell, Marshall, and Watt, got to know each other on-air.

Soon after this, in early 2019, Watt brought his Secondmen Trio to play Galecstasy’s music residency at The Grand Star Jazz Club in historic Chinatown, Los Angeles. It was an appropriate second meeting place as the plaza at Sun Mun Way had been the scene of some of the first punk and jazz music in Los Angeles many years before. After the show the three of them agreed to get together again and make a record some day.

They set the date for April 2020 for Watt to travel to Galecstasy’s recording studio in Joshua Tree, California. Nobody knew at the time that the pandemic was coming! Naturally everyone was quite disappointed that the recording had to be rescheduled. But it simply meant that when it did happen it was going to be truly special.

The day finally came In June 2022 and Watt and Galecstasy went into the studio. Primary Mystical Experience had spent time in preparation deciding on which microphones to use, where to place the mics and amps, which compressors, everything was perfectly set in anticipation of the recording session. Raquel Bell had been concocting which synthesizer sounds she wanted for the leads, making detailed notes and settings. The idea was to play completely free - no direction - no bandleader - no songs - nothing decided in advance - just to play in one room together for the first time and see what each musician would bring to the sound. The result of this experimental session is what you hear on “Wattzotica”. Very late that same night the three of them listened back to what they had recorded and a celebration under the desert night sky ensued.

The next morning Raquel awoke and discovered a young rattle snake in a perfect coil taking a nap a few feet away from Watt in the doorway. In that moment she knew that the record was going to be a success. They performed live as a trio for the first time out in the desert at the old Firehouse Outpost later that night.

The music from the recording session was then cut into tracks and mixed by drummer/producer Primary Mystical Experience. Once the record was finally ready it was mastered by Grammy-nominated Joe Lambert Mastering in New York City.

After the wild Afro-jazz fusion of Trancedance (reissued as BT118) and the meditative solo Christer Bothén Donso n’goni (BT133), legendary Swedish multi-instrumentalist Christer Bothén returns to Black Truffle as part of a dream quartet completed by the three members of Ghosted: Oren Ambarchi (guitar), Johan Berthling (bass) and Andreas Werliin (drums). Recorded at a rustic studio built by Werliin and Hans Fredriksson in the sylvan surrounds of Hamburgsund, Sweden across a few days in September 2023, Serpentine offers up four generous slices of hypnotic repetition and shimmering resonance, cut through with wild bursts of Bothén’s bass clarinet. The depth and ease of the quartet’s rapport is evident from the first moments of the opening title-track. Berthling’s resonant upright bass locks into a head-nodding ostinato that makes sensitive use of a prominent end-of-phrase rest, opening spaces through which Werliin’s continually shifting statements of the pulse shine through. Having worked together in various groups for many years, Berthling and Werliin are masters at playing subtle games of difference and repetition, creating a driving rhythmic flow animated by perpetually changing details: here, you can never step in the same groove twice. Weaving through it all is Ambarchi’s now-signature Leslie-cabinet guitar tone, sounding out long chords at times strikingly close to a Hammond, while also creating intricate cross-rhythms through the play of his tremolo modulations against the bass and drums. When Bothén enters five minutes in, the growl of his bass clarinet at first works deep in the collective brew, carving off brief staccato phrases and twisting them into fragmented melodies. As he moves into the instrument’s higher registers, Bothén’s playing becomes wilder, twinning with Ambarchi’s guitar in shimmering arcs like a 21st century update of the Garbarek-Rypdal pairing immortalised on Sart. Each of the four pieces explore different possibilities of a shared language. On ‘Antigorite’, another hypnotic bass riff emerges gradually from an atmospheric haze, eventually developing into a frenetic rhythmic workout propelled by Werliin’s cowbell. Berthling sits out for ‘Lizardite’, while Bothén moves from bass clarinet to the Donso n’goni, the sacred Wassoulou hunter’s harp he has studied for half a century; the resulting performance streamlines the approach heard on other tracks into pure modal propulsion, sparkling with harp-like arpeggios from Ambarchi’s guitar. On the closing ‘Chrysotile’, the bottom drops out, leaving a swampy, churning mass of wavering organ-like chords, roaming bass runs, and distant toms, over which Bothén floats bass clarinet figures by turns bluesy and abstract, the whole thing landing somewhere between classic ECM and the most blasted freeform moments of early Amon Düül II. Bearing a delicate calligraphic abstraction by Bothén on its cover and beautiful documentation of the recording sessions on its inner sleeve, Serpentine is a powerful reminder of the magic that can happen when inventive musicians just get together and play.

viragezero was born on a cold Sunday evening in December, on the way home after a Chris Cohen concert at the Face Z festival. In the Geneva winter, the desire emerged to create a new collective space, nourished by the long drifting journeys of kosmische musik. Initially imagined as a parallel playground bringing together the duo Citron Citron, two former members of L’Éclair and musicians from Magic & Naked, the project quickly developed its own gravity. This self-titled debut album sketches a world that feels both familiar and distorted, where everyday landscapes slowly shift into something more unstable. Through tracks carried by nervous synths, rhythms inherited from 1990s trip hop and abstract hip hop, hazy guitars and moving electronic textures, viragezero builds a music suspended in midair. A music driven as much by sensation as by structure, where tensions rise without ever fully exploding, like a dream that refuses to let go. Zoé Sjollema’s lyrics play a central role in this feeling of drift. Built from fragments of dreams written down upon waking over several years, they develop an instinctive form of writing in which reality constantly seems to lose its stability. Emptiness, wandering, exhaustion and the sensation of being disconnected from the world run throughout the album without ever becoming completely explicit. The songs move more like mental states, spaces where emotions take the shape of shifting landscapes, diffuse tensions or distorted memories. Beneath its misty textures and hypnotic rhythms, viragezero also speaks to a form of contemporary solitude, to the feeling of moving in circles, searching endlessly for an exit without ever quite reaching it. Yet within this instability emerges a desire to let go, to drift away, to disappear momentarily into something larger than oneself. Without ever falling into conventional narrative songwriting, viragezero works instead through impressions, repetitions and sensory shifts. The album unfolds like a nocturnal passage between quiet anxiety and contemplative surrender, each track opening a new mental space. Somewhere between dream pop, electronica, IDM and spectral songwriting, viragezero delivers a dense and instinctive debut album, capable of being contemplative, abrasive and deeply immersive all at once. A nocturnal, haunted and living record that transforms fragments of reality into shifting sonic matter.