Electronic / Experimental
4135 products
Iconic PULSE DEMON design printed on the front
Bowed MERZBOW script on the back
Front & Back Silver Prints on Black T-Shirt
Limited edition of 100
T-Shirt brand: GILDAN
*300 copies limited edition* A sporangium (from Ancient Greek sporá 'seed' and angeîon 'vessel') is an enclosure in which spores are formed. It can be composed of a single cell or can be multicellular. Virtually all plants, fungi, and many other groups form sporangia at some point in their life cycle. Sporangia can produce spores by mitosis, but in land plants and many fungi, sporangia produce genetically distinct haploid spores by meiosis.
Sporangium is brand new "merzsoniks"! Equipments used by Masami: handmade instruments / contact microphones / various fuzz / distortion / glitch pedals / synthesizer... And many other soft & hard-ware to be discovered...
Originally released in 1996 as the M series, Vainqueur's outstanding and universal masterpiece of minimal techno has been repressed in 2025 and includes a remix by Maurizio.
Originally released in 1993 as the M series, Vainqueur's outstanding and universal masterpiece of minimal techno has been repressed in 2025 and includes a remix by Maurizio.
2026 repress. With Dub Techno firmly back on the menu in clubs the world over, Deadbeat, at long last, resissues what is perhaps his greatest collaborative work with Paul St Hilaire aka Tikiman. A true genre masterclass, as the name suggests, the album infinitely showcases two titans of the form at their very best, and 10 years on, remains a stone-cold classic. Re-cut by their old friend Stefan Betke aka Pole at Scape Mastering who first cut it to wax so many years ago, this 10-year anniversary edition is a crucial showcase of two masters at work.
Recorded in a live setting and played with instruments conserved in the collections of the MEG Museum, Cutting Branches For A Temporary Shelter is Midori Takada’s very own rendition of "Nhemamusasa", a traditional work emblematic of the musical repertoire for mbira of the Shona of Zimbabwe, well known worldwide, thanks notably to its version by Paul F. Berliner included on the famed 1973 album The Soul of Mbira.
The choice of this title by Midori Takada evokes the links between traditional African and contemporary music which are the foundation of this work, and it also translates the resolutely multicultural vision of the artist.
Midori Takada explains: "African music is remarkable for its polyrhythms. Not only are there simultaneously several rhythmic motifs, sometimes as many as ten, but furthermore it may be that the part played by each musician has its own starting point and its own pace, all combining to form a cycle. All the cycles progress at the same time according to a single metrical structure which functions as a reference point, but which is not played by any one person from beginning to end. The structure emerges out of the multi-level parts, all different. With the Shona, the musical system is based on the polymelody: one performs simultaneously several melodic lines which are superimposed, each having its own rhythmic organization. It is truly captivating. In Western classical music, one four-beat rhythm induces some precise temporal framework and regular reference points, which come on the strong beats 1 and 3. But in the logic of the Shona musical system, and in other African music, the melody can begin in the very middle of the cycle and be continued up to some other place in an autonomous manner, as if it had its own personality. It’s very rich."
The album comes with in-depth liner notes that include an interview with Midori Takada, a point of view by Zimbabwean scholar, musician and activist Forward Mazuruse, and background information on the project by Isabel Garcia Gomez and Madeleine Leclair from MEG Museum.
The sleeve features an artwork by celebrated Zimbabwean painter Portia Zvavahera.
Part of the budget for the album was donated to Forward Mazuruse’s Music For Development Foundation whose aim is to identify, nurture, and record young but underprivileged musicians in Zimbabwe.
Mieko Shiomi is known both for her avant-garde musical activities with the Group Ongaku collective during her student years and for her participation in Fluxus from 1964 onwards. The Fluxus Festival held in Venice in 1990, to which she was invited, became a pivotal event that brought about a major shift in her subsequent work. That same year, she self-released a cassette requiem in memory of Fluxus founder George Maciunas.
This tape work combines original compositions performed on synthesizer harpsichord and organ with recordings of her own voice played backwards. These sound sources were taken to a studio and edited together with environmental sounds recorded at the Venice venue. The piece also incorporates the voices of key Fluxus artists including La Monte Young, Marian Zazeela, Eric Andersen, Willem de Ridder, and Ken Friedman. Making use of the specific properties of tape, the piece integrates unique ideas and structures and occupies a distinctive place among Shiomi’s oeuvre.
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
'Music for a Bellowing Room' is a collaborative durational work by musician Sarah Davachi and filmmaker Dicky Bahto, both based in Los Angeles.
With a performance/running time of three hours, 'Music for a Bellowing Room' is an exercise in resolution, inviting the audience to shift their concentration and perception through gradual changes in sound and image. This piece was originally commissioned by the Museum of Modern Art in New York, and received its premiere performance in September 2023.
From Recital:
"Recital is joyed to publish the newest record by Canadian composer Sarah Davachi. Currently working on her PhD in Musicology at UCLA, her trajectory has been unorthodox. Hailing from Calgary, Alberta, which, if you've never been there, doesn't really scream "Avant-Garde" (Calgary is the rodeo capital of the world). From a young age, Sarah was a driven pianist (and figure-skater, although that's a story for a different time). It is important and interesting that she chose to study esoteric music; as Sarah could have easily been a cowgirl or a concert pianist had her ingrained love of synthesis and sonic phenomenology not taken the wheel.
Sarah is a considered person. I find few people that have the diligence and resolve to take their time with music... especially in a live context. I respect that about her. The first time I saw Sarah perform, I presumptuously told her that her music reminded me of my favorite Mirror albums (the exceptional project of Andrew Chalk and Christoph Heemann). Sarah was not familiar with Mirror, so the compliment was initially lost on her. Years back I was in the same situation when a review compared my music to Andrew Chalk, who was unknown to me at the time. So I felt a kinship in our magnetic drift towards unspoken and clustered beauty.
Let Night Come On Bells End The Day follows the release of her "sound-wheel" LP All My Circles Run, which examines the isolation of different instruments. Let Night Come On..., recorded mainly with a Mellotron and electronic organ, feels like a return to the nest. Burrowed in the studio, Davachi was the only performer on this album. She both splays her compositional architecture and re-contextualizes the essence of her early output. She chiseled careful and shadowed hymns; anchors of emotion.
Two pillars of this album are "Mordents", which to my ears drops hints of her love for Progressive rock music - and "Buhrstone," comparable to a sombre funeral march of piano and flutes. These two examine punctuations of early music, gently plucking melodies and movements. The three other compositions are tonal works, blowing slow jets of lapping harmonics.
Writing this description now, I find it hard to separate "At Hand" from filmmaker Paul Clipson, who made a melancholic film for this piece of Sarah's. A fitting title for Sarah and Paul's relationship - frequently working in orbit of each other, meticulous and tactile. I cherish this track as a memory of Paul.
This is a lovely album to fill an evening living room with. A blanket, a cup of wine, a dim bulb, a wide window."
Clairvoyant Dimensions is the first album by Mei Homeycomb, a new duo of Jordan Czamanski, renowned as a member of the acclaimed Juju & Jordash and the Magic Mountain High project, with solo work released as Jordan GCZ, and legendary saxophonist Jeff Hollie, known mostly for his work with Frank Zappa and Ike Willis. An explorative ambient album, Clairvoyant Dimensions is an exercise in distance and contemplation, and the exhilarating feeling of insight, however fleeting, like staring at the midnight flicker of an old VCR. Czamanski's music has a trademark tenderness and soft-spokenness, an ability to maximize minimalist musical elements and bring them to an open-ended conclusion. Jeff Hollie provides interpretative sax lines on all tracks, slipping into the scene like a shadow, silent and unexpected, touching upon emotional registers almost explicit, yet confounding. As musical signifiers keep turning around themselves, they set up a mood of euphoria, one that suggests understanding. Never explicitly spaced-out, there is continuous reference to cosmoses both inward and far away. Ambient music in modern form. Jordan Czamanski uses his experience in producing off-the-charts club music to come up with five tracks that at times are standstills, and at times dwell in forward momentum. Jeff Hollie provides both comprehension and beautiful confusion. As grainy images switch into focus, Clairvoyant Dimensions is a beautiful and contemplative trip that suggests its own reality in delicate ways. One of the five tracks, the gorgeous live-recorded Painted Desert Pastel, features composer, performer, and researcher Ilya Ziblat Shay on double bass and electronics.
Third volume in Dave Huismans' stellar ex_libris series, further exploring the outer edges of deep house and leftfield music across three cuts in a total runtime of 25 minutes. The A-side offers up a rough-around-the-edges, spirited 4/4 beatdown epic, while the B1 & B2 venture into equally vivid world-building and fluttering wildlife curiosity. Limited edition - once again housed in lovingly hand-stamped, full-color sleeves. Design by Bernie van Vlijmen. Mastered and cut by Anne Taegert at D&M.
Formed in Taipei in 2013, Scattered Purgatory (破地獄) has occupied a liminal space between drone, ambient, psychedelic folk and ritualistic kosmiche experimentation. Their early work, including ‘Lost Ethnography of the Miscanthus Ocean’ (2014) and ‘God of Silver Grass’ (2016), blended dense instrumental drones, improvisational guitar, and ambient textures rooted in the heat, humidity, and urban pulse of Taiwan. Over the years, the duo-turned-band has drawn on Krautrock, minimalist electronic music, and heavy drone traditions while remaining firmly grounded in Taiwanese geography and culture. ‘Post Purgatory’ emerges after a three-year hiatus following the pandemic, a period the band describes as pivotal to the album’s conception. “The feeling of loss and uncertainty has later become the inspiration of this record, and ‘time’ is the main theme – it can heal or it can destroy,” they explain. Musically and lyrically, the record traverses Taiwanese, traditional Chinese, and English, reflecting the multilingual fabric of Taipei life. While there isn’t a linear storyline, metaphor and poetry imbue the lyrics with reflections on love, loss, and the human experience, interlaced with influences of Hokkien and Mando pop and traces of trip-hop. Recorded half in their home and half at the studio where they composed their first album, ‘Post Purgatory' integrates precision, clarity, and digital production techniques. Guest contributions—from White Wu’s dynamic drumming to Minyen Hsieh’s tenor saxophone and dotzio’s sci-fi-infused vocals—expand the band’s sonic palette, creating a doom metal record shaped by electronic sensibilities. ‘Post Purgatory’ is a statement of loss and re-empowerment, a bridge between their past and present. Through it, Scattered Purgatory reclaim their distinctive voice, presenting a sound that is at once rooted in Taiwan, informed by global musical traditions, and unflinchingly forward-looking.
Or Sobre Blau's 'Making Friends' on Stroom."Andreu G. Serra and Kiran Leonard first met in Lisbon nine years ago, arriving in the city within weeks of each other by chance. Living together in a crumbling warehouse in Alto São João, they recorded a series of improvisations that became The Piri Piri Samplers (Memorials of Distinction, 2019): Serra’s abrasive, tape-warped guitar lines colliding with Leonard’s stark, pedal-free counterpoint. They played a single gallery show, left Lisbon that summer, and then spent almost a decade living in different countries.When Stroom reissued The Piri Piri Samplers in 2024, the label suggested the duo make a new record. At first, it seemed impossible: Leonard was in London, Ubaldo in southern Catalonia, and their attempts at long-distance recording quickly collapsed into nothing. But the near-failure sparked something. Leonard travelled to Catalonia to restart the process in person; soon after, Serra moved to South London, and the pair began meeting every week.The result is Making Friends: a richer, more expansive album built over six months. Where The Piri Piri Samplers was assembled from raw improvisations, Making Friends transforms fragments into fully realised songs, weaving together nylon and steel-string guitars, piano, drums, bells, samplers and more. For the first time, Serra and Leonard sing together, each in his own language - Catalan and English - sometimes translating one another in real time.Musically, Making Friends still carries the jagged dissonance and free-blues spirit of the duo’s earlier work, while opening outward toward everything from emo and blown-out noise to fractured chamber pop. There are only three guests on the album, and they are worth mentioning: Rachel Leonard and Antonia Serra (the musicians' mothers) on the seventh tune, and the American poet Pete Simonelli (of Enablers) appears on Top of Duboce / Tyne Bridge Crossing, one of the album’s two sprawling centerpieces.At its heart, Making Friends is an album about friendship: about distance, reunion, family, and the stubborn need to make music together. It begins with uncertainty and disconnection, but ends somewhere stronger - with, as put on the closing track, “molta il.lusió per lo que pugue vindre” or “much excitement for what may come.”"
Intergalactic Music Is Of the Outer Darkness It is rhythm against rhythm in kind dispersion It is harmony against harmony in endless coordination It is melody against melody in vital enlightenment (Excerpt from The Outer Darkness by Sun Ra) From Detroit’s techno resistance to Berlin’s elastic minimalism, Lusaka’s ancestral futurism to Chicago’s house communion, When There Is No Sun is a global recording project, uniting visionary electronic music producers to reimagine the universe of Sun Ra. One of the most radical musical pioneers of the 20th century, Sun Ra used jazz, electronics, poetry, and performance to expand the possibilities of sound, identity, and imagination. Commissioned by Omni Sound and curated by Ricardo Villalobos, the series brings together Underground Resistance, Chez Damier & Ben Vedren, Calibre, A Guy Called Gerald, She Spells Doom, Barış K, and Ricardo Villalobos himself. Drawing from Omni Sound’s recordings of Living Sky by the Sun Ra Arkestra and My Words Are Music, a spoken-word album of Sun Ra’s poetry, the producers pull fragments of sound and text into their own creative orbits, passing through the portal that Sun Ra opened into a realm where the impossible is possible. Invocations by Saul Williams, Anthony Joseph, Mahogany L. Browne, Abiodun Oyewole, Tunde Adebimpe, and Tara Middleton turn rhyme into rhythm and resistance into revelation. Rooted in deep reverence for Sun Ra’s legacy, yet reaching forward as a living, generative force, When There Is No Sun is not a tribute but a continuum, balancing the pulse of electronic music with the spirit of experimentation, embodying Sun Ra’s promise that ‘there are other worlds’ if you are willing to see them.