MUSIC

Spell Blanket comprises songs and sketches drawn from Trish's extensive archive of 4-track tapes and MiniDiscs. The recordings lay the groundwork for what would have been Broadcast’s fifth album, offering a window into Trish and James’ creative process during the post-Tender Buttons period from 2006-2009.

Vinyl reissue with 1 bonus track! Yusef Lateef's 1961 Far East masterpiece, 'Eastern Sounds', has an exotic feel. A beautifully modal cover of the masterpiece "Love Theme From Spartacus" from Stanley Kubrick's blockbuster movie "Spartacus". 180g weight vinyl.

Japan's world-famous masterpiece by the late Rei Harakami is set to be revived!

The soundtrack of "TENNEN KOKEKKO" (A Gentle Breeze in the Village), created by Rei Harakami, has been remastered by ex-Denki Groove member Yoshinori Sunahara and will finally be released on limited edition vinyl!

The soundtrack for the film adaptation of the manga by Fusako Kuramochi, which is one of Ray Harakami's most popular albums, is now being transformed into a long-awaited analog record. Ray Harakami, who passed away in July 2011 at the young age of 40, left behind a remarkable musical legacy.

The singular musical spirit Joseph Deenmamode aka Mo Kolours presents an exciting new body of work. A catalog of critically acclaimed records, including his self-titled debut (2014), ‘Texture Like Like Sun’ (2015), 2018 album ‘Inner Symbols’ and three companion EPs, established Deenmamode as a prodigious musician and vocalist. Pitchfork extolled his “hypnotic, tribal-infused dance grooves”, DJ Mag appreciated the “colourful celebration of soundsystem culture”, and Resident Advisor advocated that “no one sounds quite like Mo Kolours”. Musical analogies were drawn by The Guardian as “The best album Curtis Mayfield never made with A Tribe Called Quest and Lee Perry” and Mojo as “like Marvin Gaye produced by J Dilla”. Five years ago, Deenmamode moved to the Japanese countryside. Far away from familiarity, he contemplated his place and further questioned his identity. “I had none of my ‘own’ people around. I had time to really find what makes me tick musically. Japan has helped me go back to those subconscious leanings, really go deep, and reflect the aspects that make up my story”. The tracks on ‘Original Flow’ have been constructed from sessions, improvisations and soundbites captured around the world during this time; collecting contributions from musicians including Deenamode’s brothers Reginald Omas Mamode and Jeen Bassa plus Andrew Ashong, Charles Bullen, Dwaye Kilvington, Eddie Hick, Stefan Asanovic, Myele Manzanza, Ross Hughes, and Tom Dreissler. Deenamode says “I’m proud of this album’s creative process. Coming from a tradition of scouring through hours of records, I wanted to create my own samples, to find that perfect loop that no other producer could put their hands on. I decided to invite a group of friends and acquaintances, who also happen to be incredible musicians, to a studio in Crystal Palace to improvise based on some loose ideas I had. We spent all day, and recorded everything”. ‘Original Flow’ is an album of UK street-soul nouveau, future indigenous jazz fusion, Rasta Segga, Nyahbinghi jazz, Malagasy Hebrew hip hop. While retaining a spirit of exploration and improvisation, it sees Deenmamode grow and flex beyond beat tape brevity, expanding composition and stretching his musical muscle to play live with other musicians. Themes of empowerment, overcoming adversity, and mental liberation coexist with notes from ancient history, futurism, and science, as well as musings on family and togetherness. ‘Magik Momentum’ springs from a discussion that features at the start of the song, an inspiring mentor answering a question from Deenmamode about improvisation and what role it plays in life when planning and manifesting the future. ‘Rockets to Mars’ questions the lack of care for the billions of people with nothing, while governments plan to explore space. “This sparked a comparison in my mind to a Sonny Okuson song that I would reference when performing. Okuson’s song talked of the lack of resources in many communities in the world, while governments go to the moon”. He says the music behind ‘The News These Days’ is “possibly my favourite on the album”. Looped like he would a late sixty jazz-fusion sample, there was nothing added and the track was complete within a matter of minutes. “It was the first and best moment from the entire Crystal Palace session”, he adds. The album’s contrasting title track with minimal instrumentation played solo by Deenamode. While frustratingly searching for gems in past recordings, he thought in a burst of ego, “I don’t need no-one else to make a dope beat!” picked up his ravanne, (the traditional frame drum of his fathers home-land of Mauritius), pressed record, and started to play. He says, “In my thoughts were the rhythms of the Nubians in Upper-Egypt and Sudan, the swing of the huge drums played by Mauritanian women, of-course the Sega beat of Mauritius, and the ever inspiring beat of James Yancey”. Driven by UK broken beat, Cuban congas, Nigerian and Mauritian inflections, ‘Love Vibration’ follows the concept that all emotions carry a vibratory frequency and pays homage to the frequency of creation and the power of love. The two part ‘Tatamaka’ tells of the history of Deenmamode’s ancestors, the maroons of Mauritius. “We are people who managed to run from our oppressors and find refuge in a corner of the island called ‘Le Morne’ where they could not reach us. One bloody day they came in numbers to re-capture, to revenge. Many of us chose to jump to our deaths, rather than be taken back into subjugation. The poem by Creole Richard Sedley Assonne says; “there were hundreds of them, but my people, the maroons chose the kiss of death over the chains of slavery”. Tatamaka was the name of a famed maroon leader who was murdered for claiming his, and our people’s freedom. The song is the imagined journey of escape and freedom by an ancestor of the maroons of Le Morne”. Born in the west midlands and raised on the traditional sega music of his father’s Indian Ocean homeland of Mauritius alongside records by the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Santana and Michael Jackson; his influences expanded with late 90s jungle and drum and bass nights in Bristol, experiments at art college in Camberwell, and the rich culture of Peckham, “at the time we called it the Afro Quarters of London” says Deenmamode, adding hip hop, dub, soul and soundsystem styles to his individual sound. He explains, “I love drum music, from hand-drums to 808s. I love music from the ancient past, heritage music, indigenous music, traditional music passed down from the beginning of time. Music from the body, hand claps, grunts and foot stomps. Music with audible depth, busy, bustling, highly charged. Music from the soul, the music from beyond. I love music from the islands and the mountains. The music of the streets, hustle music, alleyway beats. Club music”. He describes the creative process as thinking in images. “The visual world and the world of sound seem to intermingle in my thought process. When I play the drum with my eyes closed, a world of imagery dances and moves with beat. Improvised drumming feels like I am listening to what I want to hear, rather than trying to play what I want to hear. Following the rhythm and finding new pathways to walk within the patterns is what I experience. In this way I often feel I am just a listener, instead of the player”.

A humanity-reminding suite of miracle moments, Someone Like Me unites a geographically unbound cast of real people in pursuit of a meaningful connection. Taping their lived experience in economic studios in quiet English counties, Pacific Northwest woodland retreats and the big city bustle of Sydney and Los Angeles, these kindred spirits rendered sheer beauty in the process. Custom pressed folk songs of love, loss and the lord saviour. Illuminating minor works from seasoned players such as former Syndicate Of Sound chart-topper Sharkey and late-era Canned Heat lynchpin James Thornbury, the collection simultaneously honours the fleeting amateurism of hobby musicians. With their one shot at tangible vinyl, freshman Lynne Ann Kingan realised her loose bubblegum rocker on campus time, while U.S. Navy recruit Fred Potts cut his unconditionally serene ballad remotely stationed on a Spanish naval base. Spartan production continues to reign with Jon Betmead’s hair-raising gospel, howling into infinite space, and Goldrust’s stripped back garden hymn. Throughout the hour-long reflection, faith has an intermittent yet revelatory presence, most overtly with the divine choral soul of Seventh-day Adventist quartet Remnant. More subtly, Gary Ramey and Jim Kennedy both turned to song in their spiritual quests, offering their all to a universal power. An irrefutable compilation cornerstone, the National Office For Black Catholics showcased Charles Murphy’s lionhearted account of the Black experience at a 1971 concert. Five years earlier, high school seniors The Superwomen would use their hauntingly angelic harmonies to address racial inequity with a breathless take on ‘Lowlands’. Reaching the furthest corners, Someone Like Me secures the inaugural licence of three homespun masterpieces. Discovered by fluke in the digital haystacks of Youtube and Soundcloud, Jim Huxley’s bedroom pop earworm melds peacefully into Charlie Webster’s synthesized reverie. Meanwhile, Hollywood’s John Agostino introduces us to the bizarre world of tax scam records, with the artist only now learning that his tender psych-folk demos were leaked via a 1977 bootleg. Compiled and lovingly restored by armchair digger Mikey Young (Eddy Current Suppression Ring/The Green Child), Someone Like Me pays due service to seventeen rarefied journals of truth and devotion. Adorned with visual artist Chris Fallon’s figure and flora dream extractions, the uniting songbook is further detailed by expansive track-by-track liner notes and a foreword from San Franciscan poet Rod Roland.

“Lone is about loneliness and hidden places. It’s been my shelter for the last three years. It’s a work full of internalized questions. Am I still who I was before? Do I have the same energy and ambitions? Is this all still really me? A sense of nostalgia permeates through all its tracks, though each one has a different root. I’ve always felt connected to both tribal and dark atmospheres, and cinematic moods as well. The beautiful dualism with CTM’s cello, and the romantic guitar featured by Carlo Teo Pedretti speak to this; they communicate very intimate feelings. In Lone, you’ll be shackled between chorals and techno kicks. The album should carry you through my many different approaches.” – Tadleeh

Regler resume their series of genre dedicated concept albums following 12 releases which focused on Metal, Harsh Noise Wall, Techno, Free Jazz, No Wave, Blues, Classical Music, Minimalism, Ambient and more. The duo of Mattin (Billy Bao, Josetxo Grieta) and Anders Bryngelsson (Brainbombs, No Balls) are joined on this new chapter by the unique Anla Courtis (Reynols). Devoted to Noise Rock, a genre where all 3 artists had significant contributions - to say the least. This new instalment follows the same guiding principle previously adopted of stripping down a genre to its bare essentials. Here they capture the essence of Noise Rock over two minimal, unrelenting, motorik and hypnotic pieces.

Experimental enigma 1127 fuses grime and hard techno into early 20th Century Egyptian music on his outstanding second album for Cairo’s Nashazphone label, building a wall of floury, computerised noise that relentlessly pushes the dancefloor into the backroom, and the backroom towards the rally. Breathtaking, mind-altering gear, essential listening for fans of Mutamassik, Autechre, Kelman Duran, Nkisi, even James Ferraro. The fifteenth letter of the Arabic alphabet, ض (ḍād) is one of only six letters that were added to the Phoenician alphabet to construct the language. It exists only in Arabic, and is notoriously difficult for non-native speakers to pronounce. As such, it's a fitting title for 1127's mystifying second album, a profound expression that challenges us to look beyond the aesthetic and unravel a knotty collage of influences and innovation. On his acclaimed 2019 debut ’Tqaseem Mqamat El Haram’, 1127 delivered a shock to experimental electronic club musicks that snagged everyone from Rat Heart to Rabit and Elvin Brandhi with fractal decimations of Egyptian rave and street noise. On this new one, he simmers it down through reticulated junglist and trap modes, whilst crucially retaining a hallucinatory sense of chaos reflective of modern day Giza. With contributions from a whole bunch of collaborators including Minusdesire, Caironomixx, Emna Mâaref - plus many others, he deploys fractured melodies, voices and robust club structures at once distinctly recalling Mutamassik’s millennium-era fusions, with a crucial quota of controlled madness that 1127 can safely call his own. There are traces of Autechre's latter-day autogenic reveries on 'hyperfals(E)xoteric@iro', sweeping up thunderous, asynchronous percussion in brisk sonic winds, folding in oud-like electronic plucks to illuminate unconventional commonalities and shared narratives between future / primitive practice. On '1446' he uses a heavy-footed drum battery, burying drill-warped subs and almost invisible vocals in a disheveled mix, shepherding us towards 'iii اعيش في جلباب ابي Lenn', a disco-baked headmelter that takes the language of French touch and uses it to carve new shapes into deconstructed Egyptian pop. On the Caretaker-referencing ‘complexity induced amnesia’, he creates a smoky aura, dissolving the rhythm and trace vocals into unstable FX-corroded loops, designed to melt the memory banks. With thanks to Rashad Becker’s faithful vinyl master that presents the music with all its burred edges, pressure drops, and textures in tact, ‘ض’ is an absolute must check for anyone bitten by the unstoppable sprawl and refraction of traditional club and experimental musicks into new dimensions.

Japan’s exceptional NAKID label follows up AOTY-worthy records from goat (JP) and KAKUHAN with a total curveball, the first album in years from Max Loderbauer (Sun Electric) and Tobias Freund’s cult Non Standard Institute. Delving deep into the aether with a double LP - almost an hour and a half in length - featuring ruined, vaporous and engrossing ambient variations on a theme, it comes highly recommended if yr into Selected Ambient Works Vol II, Chained Library, Jan Jelinek, or TCF’s generative works. Planing axes between iridescent new age ambient, sublime folk and avant-classical, to miasmic drone and plangent shoegaze; ‘A Day or Two’ charts the Non Standard Institute’s first actions in 6 years and serves as a compelling reminder of their intuitive work in abundance. Expanding and contracting their sound across 18 parts, they arc from heaving, oddly-tuned drones to smoggy, surreal soundscapes, bringing a wealth of fine-tuned instincts to the table. With Max Loderbauer’s 35+ years as Berlin ambient pioneer with Sun Electric, jams with Villalobos, and roles in Vladislav Delay Quintet and the Moritz von Oswald Trio, he’s matched by Freund’s 40 years of deep engineering expertise embedded in the experimental industrial and techno trenches. The melancholy, Satie-laced piano meditations that grounded 2018's '5863' are gone, and the human touch that's been present since their very first collaborations is placed under the microscope, enhanced by their use of the Haken Continuum Fingerboard, a gestural synth that was developed to open up new modes of playing. Loderbauer's experience with the piano helps him make the most of the instrument's touch-sensitive 3D surface, while Freund uses two multi-channel loopers, piping the sounds through his arsenal of pedals. The 18 tracks are billed as "unplanned atmospheres" that arc from sombre, drone-heavy material to humid, tape-saturated imaginary-island jams such as 'Listening To Cells' and 'Are You One Of Them'. On the latter, the duo work patiently, letting dusted string plucks tumble across each other while warbling pads hum below, bending like flutes. On 'Unlikely Events', anxious didgeridoo-like wails are ruptured by environmental rattles, before ominous voices lead us into a pocket of industrialised resonance. In time, the skies open up and the sounds morph into pastoral song, the drone blurring into hopeful pads almost as lucid and eloquent as AFX's 'SAW Vol. II', with sonorous synths that float over formless strings. Reflective, cinematic arrangements for flute and silvery ambient give way to diffusions of denser, resonant polychromatics and pucker up in outernational, alien ambient impulses recalling Connor Camburn jamming with dirashe folk pipes. A very special album to get lost in, coming to us from one of the buy-on-sight labels of our time.

Yeah a bit special this one, commissioned and curated by Flora Yin Wong for her label and publishing house Doyenne, ‘Venus Rising From The Sea’ is a collection of love-themed cover versions featuring Teresa Winter, Susu Laroche, Alex Zhang Hungtai, aya, Maria Minerva, Christina Vantzou, Spivak, Salamanda, clare rousay, Wild Terrier Orchestra, Dania and Flora Yin Wong herself covering songs by The Cure, Robert Wyatt, Mariah Carey, The Cranberries, Pentangle, The Carter Family, Spiritualized, Debussy and more. ‘Venus Rising From The Sea’ takes its cues from the classical deity Aphrodite - whose name literally means “sea foam” - for an ever necessary expression of love in the modern age. The label asked friends and collaborators to interpret “love” in whichever way they saw fit, be it obsession, self-love, unrequited, unconditional, whatever. But despite the open brief, and the vastly different modes of execution, all the artists involved somehow ended up linking hands with a shared determination to smudge the original songs into bleary-eyed, uncanny traces of the originals. To open, Pentangle's jaunty 'No Love is Sorrow' is puffed into stormy clouds by Teresa Winter, who retains the original’s unmistakable bass twang and teases Jacqui McShee's siren song into a saturated buzz of layered, obfuscated words. Verses twist into verses, lines into echoed-out lines, capturing the song’s boundless yearning, rather than tracing its exact contours. Next, Susu Laroche yields one of the set’s highlights on a brilliantly nuanced, highly impactful version of Nina Simone’s take on folk standard ‘Black is the Colour of My True Love’s Hair’, turning the original’s multi-faceted Appalachian/Scottish routes into a heart-stopping, Nico-esque fuzz we haven’t stopped playing for weeks. Christina Vantzou (the CV ov CV & JAB) is joined by pianist Ezra Fieremans in the absorbingly filmic scenes of ‘Hot Springs’, while Maria Spivak's interpretation of Robert Wyatt's 'Just as You Are' finds her singing Brazilian vocalist Mônica Vasconcelos' words with reverence, smearing them into a hypnagogic fantasy. Flora Yin Wong takes an inconspicuous approach on her love-letter to Mariah Carey's 'The Roof (Back in Time)', itself a melodramatic interpolation of Mobb Deep's Herbie Hancock-sampling 'Shook Ones, Part II'. The unmistakable piano line is frayed into a granulated gurgle, fleshed out by gauzy cries; Mariah's ecstatic diva logic haunts the edges like a furtive glance, hanging beautifully behind Wong's dense soundscapes. Alex Zhang Hungtai's take on the 1927 standard 'Me and My Shadow' is even more atomised, reduced to a disembodied vocal that oozes around a clattering woodblock. Always a standout, aya's tribute to The Cure's 'Lovesong' infuses the 1989 classic with the same self-investigatory charm she exhibited on 'im hole', slowing it down to a giddy, infatuated lurch, and replacing the guitars with eerily-tuned oscillations and drums with hollowed-out, electrically charged thuds. "I will always love you," she moans through a wall of static, like some lost “Pop Artificielle” addendum. The album’s biggest surprise is saved for last, however, a cover of The Cranberries' 'No Need To Argue' from Paralaxe Editions boss Dania Shihab. Already a poignant memory of a faded romance, Dania's version is even more glacial, her tender voice gusting over inverted guitars and looping, wordless moans, guiding us ever so gracefully into the nether-world. ‘Venus Rising From The Sea’ is a gooey, emotionally raw set of recollections and affirmations from some of the scene's most open-hearted operatives. In the end, the love that's most evident is the love each of the artists has for their source material, somehow binding loose threads into a rich tapestry that will leave you gasping, perhaps a little tearful too.

NUG is the musical collaboration of artists Jordan Juras aka PVAS and Florian T M Zeisig. They previously released their debut album Napping Under God on 3XL (2022). Recorded February 2022 in Hinang, mixed November 2022 in Berlin.

Feels as if we're stepping outside the known universe of Nigga Fox but simultaneously being invited in. It's not about being hermetic, shutting out followers of his trademark dance beats or making an experimental statement per se. All this music comes effortlessly during sessions such as any other, so don't throw away valuable time searching for a concept. "Chá Preto" sounds revolutionary but not so much in his discography, accustomed as we are to game-changing compositional solutions in the afro musical continuum but - never forget - also in Dance Music taken as a broad genre. But is it Dance? Certainly a fair amount of suffering and introspection comes clear throughout the album, namely in the sequence made up of "Má Rotina" and "Mutadoree Leonor". "Mutadoree" is a free, alternative spelling of "much pain" and each listener can process the info as s(h)e pleases. The music is also strikingly beautiful, so there's really no final word on this. Beats come sparse, a very personal phraseology, the dancefloor a memory. Or just something to keep in mind for a future night out. Presently there's no lack of adventure or excitement in these grooves, a uniquely themed one-person show of musical skills and bare emotion. It ends in a snap, not a trace of embellishment. Pragmatic and out of the loop. Rewind and feel it all over again. Any comparison in mind? Flip through History books and you won't find this chapter.

Dub, Folk … Rat Heart lands on Modern Love’s 7” series with two asymmetric ohrwurms, featuring Ben Vince on the stunning saxophone-led A side, with a wildly morose Spanish guitar ballad on the flip.

Madelyn Byrd’s practice is built on the intersections of hydrofeminism and neuroaesthetics, an exploration into uncanny interactions between ecology and technology. Under their Slowfoam moniker, they have produced a string of intoxicating EPs, synergizing acoustic and synthetic sounds. In a mutated evolution from 2000’s glitch and micro-tonal experimentalism, Slowfoam’s queered ambience oozes with sensual tactility, an effervescent gurgling of digitally processed organic material. On their debut LP, Transcorporeal Portal, aqueous field recordings are stretched, compressed and elongated into a symphony of celestial purls, smudging all sense of time. Digital ripples are traced by murmurs of the body; the steady pulse of a heartbeat and the intimate breath of whispered words. Slowfoam embraces the glossy tonality of the hyper-digital, metamorphosing samples through deep manipulation. Sounds are sequenced in intricate arrangements like branching fractals of living organisms, with complex patterns forming at every scale. This process, layered and enigmatic, evokes the unfathomable processing of AI algorithms, offering prophetic glimpses inside the shimmering portal. Through all the digital rendering, there’s a profound vitality to their sound, evident of the immensely rich source material. Collaborator Pablo Diserens, founder of the forms of minutiae imprint, contributes exquisite, esoteric field sounds, too strange to be fictional; bubbling sulphur pools, gushing, glacial streams and the intense, shrill calls of krías (birds of death), interlacing the record with mythical wonder. Elsewhere recordings are sourced from the delicate thrum of a hand-made lyre harp, the spiritual flute playing of Diane Barbé and the digital instrumentation of composer Ran Park. From the rumbling inception of Enlightened Smudge on the Machine, Slowfoam’s sound world erupts into life in rapture, like sparkling light through opalescent glass. As quickly as they appear, these heightened reverberations decay, revealing the deep depths below the surface, radiant drones drifting and rolling eternally. The allure of these unadorned drones evokes altered states of consciousness, a full-body tingling of erotic synesthesia. There is a meticulous balance in the way sounds materialise and disintegrate, hypnotizing in their free-flowing sway. Byrd describes their creative process as resonant with the alchemic manifesto ‘solve et coagula’ and Transcoporeal Portal is teeming with the remnants of former encrypted layers that were ripped away. They find catharsis in the transformative cycles of regeneration, reconstructing their narratives with a tender embrace of the present through interconnection with the fluttering of life in the here and now. “Degenerate to regenerate, rend to reconstruct, in art, and in life. All circles back to Earth, and our exuberant fidelity to the Now, the Here, and the Tomorrow. Slowfoam teaches us that speculative melting yields radical presencing.” - Lou Croff Blake

Delphine Dora is a prolific composer, improviser and musician who has released on a plethora of labels including Recital, Morc, Sloow Tapes, Feeding Tube, Okraïna and more, and ‘Le Grand Passage’ is her Modern Love debut, a stunning set of songs for piano and voice, recorded in one take without overdubs or edits. We don’t think theres much, if anything, quite like it, but if you’ve been snagged by transcendent, advanced and amateur music by Andrew Chalk, Virginia Astley, Dominique Lawalrée, or Emahoy Tsege Mariam Gebru, we think this one might just be for you. In an act of pure expression, Delphine Dora recorded the 8 songs of ‘The Great Passage’ in a single take, succumbing to a whirlwind of inspiration that transported her beyond the material world. Baroque paradigms bleed into fragile, introspective mantras, expressed through a made up language of existential yearning and channeled through piano and voice. It’s music that caresses the sublime, made without any premeditation. Delphine was nearing the end of a three-day prepared piano residency when an technician stepped in to tune her grand piano for her final performance. He removed the objects from the strings and fixed the pitch, leaving Dora with a freshly tuned instrument. Mesmerised by its new sound, she proceeded to switch on her recorder and pour out her soul, channeling, in her own words, "something greater than myself". The result is some of the most unusual but elevated material the prolific composer, improviser and multi-instrumentalist has ever recorded, rooted in a deep understanding of European musical history but willing to push at its boundaries, questioning the earthly logic of life and death, asceticism and impiety. Glistening imperfections lash 'The Great Passage' to the physical world, but Dora - seemingly possessed as she quivers in a fictional dialect - lets her fantasies intensify her spirit, lifting the music towards the heavens. It's not sacred music, per se, but it is unashamedly mystical. On the luxurious, languid opening, Dora dissolves eerily familiar romantic piano motifs into an attentive ceremony, singing with charged emotion. Her words aren't really decipherable, but their resonance vibrates beyond language; it's striking to hear how confident she is in vulnerability. She lets the piano wrap into her voice, connecting us directly to a unique mode of emotional expression by urging us - the listener - to project our own meaning onto her abstracted words. Dora refers to the act of improvisation itself as a way to indicate "the fragility of being”, and as her words blur in and out of focus, dipping from a hoarse croak to a choking wail, she places herself at the very edge of musical formality, questioning strictures put in place to suffocate self-expression. Her music has often been labeled "outsider", but here she sounds intimate and interconnected, more self-consciously candid than anything traditional might have allowed. She conjures affecting, plainspoken poetry, like a bedside diary written in a hypnagogic, delirious state: a stream-of-unconsciousness, channelling the beyond. The album title connects to a book dedicated to French philosopher and activist Simone Weil, who famously pored over global religions to ascertain spiritual truths. To Weil, meditation was a passage to access mystical experience, or a bridge between humanity and divinity. In Dora's hands, this idea is a corridor between herself and the listener, a liminal place where she's able to address feelings without making anything explicit. The title, of course, also refers to life, its impermanence, finitude, and fragility, presenting the complex, multi-dimensionality of being through one of the most undiluted, unbridled set of songs imaginable.

Delphine Dora is a prolific composer, improviser and musician who has released on a plethora of labels including Recital, Morc, Sloow Tapes, Feeding Tube, Okraïna and more, and ‘Le Grand Passage’ is her Modern Love debut, a stunning set of songs for piano and voice, recorded in one take without overdubs or edits. We don’t think theres much, if anything, quite like it, but if you’ve been snagged by transcendent, advanced and amateur music by Andrew Chalk, Virginia Astley, Dominique Lawalrée, or Emahoy Tsege Mariam Gebru, we think this one might just be for you. In an act of pure expression, Delphine Dora recorded the 8 songs of ‘The Great Passage’ in a single take, succumbing to a whirlwind of inspiration that transported her beyond the material world. Baroque paradigms bleed into fragile, introspective mantras, expressed through a made up language of existential yearning and channeled through piano and voice. It’s music that caresses the sublime, made without any premeditation. Delphine was nearing the end of a three-day prepared piano residency when an technician stepped in to tune her grand piano for her final performance. He removed the objects from the strings and fixed the pitch, leaving Dora with a freshly tuned instrument. Mesmerised by its new sound, she proceeded to switch on her recorder and pour out her soul, channeling, in her own words, "something greater than myself". The result is some of the most unusual but elevated material the prolific composer, improviser and multi-instrumentalist has ever recorded, rooted in a deep understanding of European musical history but willing to push at its boundaries, questioning the earthly logic of life and death, asceticism and impiety. Glistening imperfections lash 'The Great Passage' to the physical world, but Dora - seemingly possessed as she quivers in a fictional dialect - lets her fantasies intensify her spirit, lifting the music towards the heavens. It's not sacred music, per se, but it is unashamedly mystical. On the luxurious, languid opening, Dora dissolves eerily familiar romantic piano motifs into an attentive ceremony, singing with charged emotion. Her words aren't really decipherable, but their resonance vibrates beyond language; it's striking to hear how confident she is in vulnerability. She lets the piano wrap into her voice, connecting us directly to a unique mode of emotional expression by urging us - the listener - to project our own meaning onto her abstracted words. Dora refers to the act of improvisation itself as a way to indicate "the fragility of being”, and as her words blur in and out of focus, dipping from a hoarse croak to a choking wail, she places herself at the very edge of musical formality, questioning strictures put in place to suffocate self-expression. Her music has often been labeled "outsider", but here she sounds intimate and interconnected, more self-consciously candid than anything traditional might have allowed. She conjures affecting, plainspoken poetry, like a bedside diary written in a hypnagogic, delirious state: a stream-of-unconsciousness, channelling the beyond. The album title connects to a book dedicated to French philosopher and activist Simone Weil, who famously pored over global religions to ascertain spiritual truths. To Weil, meditation was a passage to access mystical experience, or a bridge between humanity and divinity. In Dora's hands, this idea is a corridor between herself and the listener, a liminal place where she's able to address feelings without making anything explicit. The title, of course, also refers to life, its impermanence, finitude, and fragility, presenting the complex, multi-dimensionality of being through one of the most undiluted, unbridled set of songs imaginable.

Originally released on September 30, 1991, Orbital's eponymous debut album became known as "The Green Album" to distinguish it from their second album (known as "The Brown Album") The Green Album includes the seminal 'Belfast' and a live version of 'Chime', the landmark dance track that launched their career in 1990

Yes! Tommy Guerrero’s revered Return Of The Bastard gets its first ever vinyl reissue. Endearingly simple but beautifully beguiling, it's lo-fi dusty break business with the most elegant guitars this side of Vini Reilly and Gabor Szabo. Tommy's breezy drum-machine guitar-soul should be prescribed to soothe an aching world. By rights, he should also be a Balearic god. Here's 14 tracks of drop-dead laconic beauty, all of them combining to create this unheralded masterpiece. Working with Tommy directly, the LP has been fully remastered and sounds as dazzlingly, heartbreakingly beautiful as it did back in 2007.

Loose Grooves & Bastard Blues is Tommy Guerrero's sublime debut. Of this beloved masterpiece, the legendary skater himself says: "my 1st album. It was never meant to be released. I was just recording for the fun of it.. still my fave. Oh so naive..." And you know what? It's definitely Be With's fave too. An astonishingly great record. A chill, blissful, deeply moving album, it was rightly garlanded as an instant classic.

A Colourful Storm begins 2024 with a luxurious suite of daydreaming introspection courtesy of Unchained, the longstanding solo project of Nathaniel Davis. Recorded at home between 2020 and 2023, Gabbeh is the latest expression of Davis’s guitar-based instrumental musings and represents an almost two decade-long stylistic evolution of his self-released noise tapes and CD-Rs into romantic, bossa nova-influenced melody-making. He wrote the tracks sporadically, with minimal instrumentation and intervention. Electric guitar, bass improvisations and rhythms from an old drum machine are layered and given new life, the space between them softly breathing with minutiae of the everyday: the buzz of cicadas, the passing of cars, the whistling of passersby. The psychogeography of Grenoble, Davis’ home since 2018, played a conscious role in the weaving of Gabbeh’s fabric: “I think certain songs reflect, in ways, Grenoble’s natural surroundings. ‘Drac’ is named after the river that flows from the mountains down to the city… ‘Dru’ is the name of a well-known peak near Chamonix”. And from the city’s strange humidity, alpine surroundings and significance in the lives of, say, Henri Fantin-Latour and Stendhal, feelings at once hopelessly romantic and deeply melancholic permeate throughout the album. Opener ‘Largo’ sets the mood, its primitive samba rhythm concealed by a cloud of saudade, guided by the spirit of Wes Montgomery. “I take inspiration from Wes’s disregard for conventional technique and his insistence on feeling above all else,” reflects Davis, who also cites the multifaceted dexterity of Toninho Horta and lucid expressionism of Maurice Deebank as influences on his work. The bebop sensibility follows suit in the title track, the tension between its angular picks and percussive shuffle a wondrous balancing act, while the intoxicating sway of ‘Rambler’, an updated version of a track Davis self-released in 2020, is perhaps the most poignant expression of longing and loss we’ve heard in recent years. Pure atmospheric bliss floating into the clouds, Gabbeh captures a longing for endless, hazy days.

Baba Stiltz has written and produced the award-winning soundtrack for the Swedish movie Shame On Dry Land (Syndabocken). Awarded the Guldbagge prize for best feature film soundtrack in 2024, the music is dense, at times oppressive, than again light-mediterranean, all perfectly accompanying the stories vibe. The score is now available on vinyl for the first time.

Originally released as a bonus compact disc to the original The Space Lady's Greatest Hits CD, Other Hits is a 6 track E.P. of music never released on vinyl. Culled from the same original 1990 recording sessions that were the source of the original Greatest Hits, which has gone on to multiple pressings and licenses. First time on limited Clear vinyl, the tracks are amazingly remastered for release by Mikey Young. The Space Lady began her odyssey on the streets of Boston in the late 70s, then San Francisco ten years later, playing versions of contemporary pop music with an accordion and dressed flamboyantly. Following the theft and destruction of her accordion , The Space Lady invested in a then-new Casio keyboard, complete with a phase shifter, delay pedal and headset mic, birthing an otherworldly new dimension to popular song that has captured the imaginations of the underground and its leading exponents ever since. The Space Lady’s Other Hits were recorded as they were played on the street, live, one-take, with Schneider playing, singing and simultaneously manipulating the various effects. Beginning with Elvis Presley’s iconic All Shook Up, the walking bassline underpinning the vocal, phasing in and out of this dimension, providing a fragile, extraterrestrial shadow to Presley’s original lust-driven performance. Slapback Boomerang is an original composition, written by Schneider’s then-husband Joel Dunsany a Rock ’n’ Roll pounder that could have been performed by The Cramps, its tale of relationship turmoil changed into a meditation on the nature of echo and feedback. There are moments where Schneider performs vocal caesuras, swimming in delay and phase for the pleasure of it, a pantomime drama performance that rings out. Closing Side B, Puttin’ On The Ritz is Irving Berlin’s 20s smash hit manipulated into a sombre ballad with its latent class struggle narrative brought to the fore. A staple of The Space Lady’s performances to this day, Golden Earring’s 70s global hit Radar Love retains something of the original’s driving gallop but in The Space Lady’s telling it is shorn of the tight-trousered, taut machismo. The Space Lady coos and reaches up into the heavens away from the road, the phaser waves drenching the composition with transcendence. Schneider’s falsetto performances in the choruses do nothing but lift the spirits ever-arching upwards. Next, The Space Lady emasculated Jim Morrison’s performance in The Doors’ 20th Century Fox. Faithfully playing Ray Manzarek’s keyboard parts on her Casio, Schneider disintegrates Morrison’s lust into waves of echo and delay, creating a Dubbed out version of the song, sounding eroded and decayed in all its ghostly glory. Pioneering Rock ’n’ Roll outfit Pete and The Pirates’ 1960 hot Shakin’ All Over, something of a response to Elvis’ All Shook Up, is blown out in warm fuzz and the celestial hug of The Space Lady’s spirit.

Searchlight Moonbeam is the new narrative compilation from Time Is Away (Jack Rollo and Elaine Tierney) whose eponymous monthly NTS Radio shows, tinctured fusions of fugitive sounds and reverie-inducing archival speech, have won them an ardent following. It follows from the London-based duo’s Ballads, a remarkable driftwerk released on A Colourful Storm in 2022. 
 Searchlight Moonbeam is an autumnal dreamscape, intimate and vespertine, pensive and irresolute. An imagined community where differences drop off and resonances emerge – between Maher Shalal Hash Baz affiliates Kasumi Trio, Taiwanese score composer Chen Ming Chang whose ‘Rainwater’ (written for Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s 1986 film Dust In The Wind) is exquisitely heartbroken, and the plangent improvisations of self-taught French pianist Delphine Dora. 
 Revelations are frequent: the bedsit isolationism of Bo Harwood and John Cassavetes’ ‘No One Around to Hear It’ (from The Killing of a Chinese Bookie); the narked minimalism of Klang (an early 2000s band formed by ex-Elastica guitarist and featuring prize-winning experimental novelist Isabel Waidner on bass); the etude-grooves and echoic wobble of below-the-radar French avant-gardists Omertà ; the beautiful, plaintively dubby ‘Is It You?’ by Slapp Happy; a psych-tinged reimagining of PiL’s ‘Poptones’ by Simon Fisher Turner (one half of Deux Filles, and here, recording for él as The King of Luxembourg) that's as perverse as the cover of Throbbing Gristle’s 20 Jazz Funk Greats. 
 Searchlight Moonbeam is the musical analog of an Italo Calvino novel or a medieval fable. Associative, intuitive, borderless. Emotional and mysterious. Endowed with the tactility of Braille. A private language that is both unknowable and understood. It is a record of the seasons, for the seasons. 2023 marks the tenth anniversary of Time Is Away’s first broadcast. Featuring an evocative essay by writer Jeremy Atherton Lin and disarming cover art by Penny Davenport, Searchlight Moonbeam showcases Rollo and Tierney’s still-unrivalled talent for gloaming melodies, disques du crépuscule and ensorcelled storytelling.

Habitat (what we might now properly refer to as Habitat I) arrived, fully-formed, in 2021—the product of a conscientious, exploratory, and decidedly Covid-era collaboration between two Berlin-based experimental musicians: the composer N. (Niklas) Kramer, and percussionist, J. (Joda) Foerster. Inspired by the Italian architect, Ettore Sottsass, Habitat’s simple, albeit beguiling conceit (following in the footsteps of canonical ambient releases like Music for Airports and Plantasia) was that each track ought to represent a room in an imagined building. Taken quite literally, tracks like “Curved Hallway” guided the listener through a kind of psychogeographic labyrinth, at once welcoming and slightly uncanny. Habitat II operates on a similar premise. But if Habitat I charted the perplexing intricacies of an imagined, self-contained structure, Habitat II expands the conceptual realm. Think now, not only of rooms in a hypothetical home, but of the winding hallways and grounds of a mid-century structure—perhaps slightly past its prime, but not at all an inappropriate venue for a late-night soiree. How might these features be imagined, mapped, and rendered enticing for a listener? We begin, appropriately, with “Seating (Welcome),” which, in its fluttering, aetherial suite of static, winds, and percussive depths, gently hypnotizes in the vein of Terry Riley, beckoning our entry. The clarity here, the directional flow of air, recalls the dignity and gestural simplicity of the Bauhaus school. Of significant note is the Wasserspiel (track seven)—”water fixture” (loosely translated), like the sculpture by Lily Clark, which graces the record’s cover. In an album grounded by analogies, Wasserspiel constitutes an especially mimetic highlight: a cascading, shimmering, font of radiance that does not (to its strength) rely upon a sample or found-sound reference to running water. Instead we are left with the distinct impression of the glimmer of flowing liquid, and of the attendant, refractory evening sunlight. Indeed, fountains (the most common and domesticated form of Wasserspiele)—their simultaneous kitsch and abundance—may very well epitomize the kind of cultivated, sixties home-shopping catalog aesthetic that undergirds the Habitat series. These habitats, wherever they are, however they appear to you (and there is indeed ample room for interpretation)—we can all certainly agree that they are vaguely utopian and achingly nostalgic. Of their compositional process, Kramer and Foerster reference their mutual interest in improvisation, and, furthermore, a kind of “first thought best thought” approach to recording and indexing ideas. Relying primarily on a sampler with a 15 second limit, their process emphasizes the organic layering of asynchronous (though, crucially, harmonious — perhaps even “hospitable”) loops. Suffice it to say, many rooms have been lost to the aether, casualties of a mercurial recording process. Those rooms that remain in Habitat II have been cultivated, furnished, and decorated. And they eagerly await your entry.