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Back to the golden nights of zouk clubs, where hip-hop, kompa, zouk and Caribbean grooves ruled the dance- floor. This selection documents a pivotal moment : a time when zouk was still not a fixed genre, but more a place, an atmosphere, somewhere people went to dance. It captures the spirit of an era: its creative effervescence, musical freedom, and the diversity of artists who shaped it. The very concept of “Kaz A Zouk” perfectly encapsulates this idea: a space where all styles could meet. Curated by Émile Omar, the driving force behind the Disques Debs and Radio Nova compilations — alongside Tropical Discoteq, Paris’s legendary tropical club night.
Lolina returns with gg, a track that has become a fixture of her live sets before finally making its way to release. Balancing pop, performance art and uneasy humour, the song moves through uncertainty and contradiction while keeping its momentum intact. This edition features the extended version of ‘gg’ alongside two reworkings that push the track in different directions. An Arca remix reshapes its off-kilter energy into something even more unpredictable, while NEW YORK offers an alternative perspective on the original’s distinctive atmosphere. Part club track, part commentary and part mystery, gg captures Lolina at her most elusive, turning confusion, tension and movement into something oddly compelling.
Gorgeous DIY, private press, lounge jazz and Latin boogie stardust from 1984, framing keyboard maestro Ronald Langestraat in his living room, laying down pure vibes to 4-track - huge tip FFO Lewis, Gil Scott Heron, James Mason, Starship Commander Woooo Wooooo. "Searching was self-recorded in Ronald’s living room on a 4-Track Tape Recorder in 1984. The recordings symbolise his engagement to cross-over everything that was known to him musically at that time. Most importantly, all recordings reflect his personal way of searching; searching for his own characteristic sound. Rhythmical patterns meet well balanced distortion, shaping the music into a mirror of his character. He was part of several Dutch Latin and Jazz bands, including Cascada and Ritmo Natural. With the latter he performed at Holland’s North Sea Jazz Festival. At this point Ronald is 78 years old, playing music every day. Instruments: Acoustic Piano, Fender Rhodes Piano, Farfisa Organ, String Ensemble, Tenor Sax, Alt Sax, Soprano Sax, Clarinet, Alt Clarinet, Organ Bass, Micro Moog, Drums, Longa & Voices.”
Reverend Baron’s singular troubadour soul may best understand the capacity music has to span the distance between points on a map and pages in a calendar. Daniel, the acoustic instrumental follow-up to 2022’s Karma Chief label debut, From Anywhere…, expands the world beyond LA’s concrete canyons and overpasses to the bustling, churning sea of life that is Mexico City, to the sparse, rolling landscape of Red Cloud, Nebraska. In each locale, the constant companion was a nylon-stringed acoustic guitar — with a well-traveled history of its own. “It was my father’s guitar,” recalls Danny Garcia, the man behind the Reverend. “I found out a few years ago that it was my grandfather’s as well.” Ever-present since his childhood, the Mexican acoustic has taken on increased meaning for Garcia with each passing year. Hours upon hours spent playing, traveling, and breathing meaning into its fretboard have made it both a tool and talisman. “There’s the obvious bloodline and family and link…that link through history,” confides Garcia. “It’s kinda the only family heirloom I have.” Over the last while, all this playing (or “noodling” as Danny puts it) had Reverend Baron chasing a sound — one which belies the guitar’s origins. It’s a sound he would hear from time to time, and when it came to record Daniel, it would be his true magnetic north (or south as it were). Spinning through Daniel, and you will hear echoes of Antonio Bribiesca and Luiz Bonfa's guitar tones. Dig deeper and you’ll see the bones of Townes Van Zandt and Nick Drake guitar textures as well. While not claiming their virtuosity in his playing, the soul and vulnerability that have become calling cards for the first two Reverend Baron albums complement these influences. There is a warmth in Daniel that takes center stage in these acoustic meditations. From brief, fluid moments like “El Monte” and “How Glad” to the high-lonesome “Muchacho,” the songs drift like cumulus clouds over a deep blue skyway. Their graceful float is in stark contrast to the album’s origins. The studio Garcia was using for his intended second release on Karma Chief was a victim of the LA wildfires in January of 2025. “[The fires] halted work on my record,” says Garcia. “So I ended up leaving and went to Mexico City for a few months, and so worked quite a bit [on Daniel] there.” With his striped-down set up -- featuring his guitar, a few microphones, and a laptop -- the time in Mexico City set the tone for the project. “I just came into this space because it seemed like I could just do it…it seemed like it was time, and I didn’t have to force anything.” After leaving CDMX, Reverend Baron spent a few weeks in Red Cloud. While all the traveling and miles energize Garcia, this small midwestern village’s peaceful and unassuming nature was the ideal spot to focus and create. “LA is home and has its own cultural juice, which I love…Nebraska is very quiet. No one disturbs you, and I can just work and concentrate for weeks [there].” Daniel’s 11 tracks criss-cross the laylines of border music and folk, but categorizing them along a fault line or genre tag misses the point. These acoustic numbers move with a deliberate ease, never overstaying their welcome. The songs respond to time and distance with equal parts reflection and transparency; both mirror and window to the soul. Daniel is Reverend Baron’s conversation with his bloodline, influences, and the stops along the way. By the album’s closer, “Velasco,” Daniel’s conversation becomes your invitation to search for a path along that great sonic continuum housed within a song.
One of the most essential early documents of Japanese noise, originally recorded and mixed at home in 1980 and released in 1981 on cassette by Lowest Music & Arts, now given the physical treatment it always deserved: a 2LP set housed in a natural birch wooden box with laser print, hand-numbered edition of just 99 copies. Ninety-nine! With a double-sided 42 x 60 cm poster, heavy card insert reproducing the original master tape cover, and black cardboard strip with album credits. An art object, plain and simple.
This is Masami Akita before the impenetrable noise walls that would define his legend - something rawer, more tactile, "a sound world still breathing and searching for its shape." Electric guitar, bass, tapes, electronics, prepared guitar, tabla, junk percussion, radio, egg cutter & noise - everything feeding into a tangle of wires and tape decks in a small Tokyo room. Across four vinyl sides, the sound unfolds as shifting collage: machine-like drones, metallic friction, detuned radio signals, tape manipulations and warped string sonorities. Like Kurt Schwitters building his Merzbau from found objects, Akita assembles sound from the refuse of modern life - "creating something greater than the sum of its broken parts."
Transferred from the original source, this edition reveals microscopic details the cassette could never deliver. Drop the needle anywhere and you're inside that 1980 room. Do NOT sleep on this one.
**200 copies, sold out at the label** New single from the undisputed god of Japanese noise. Masami Akita - the man behind Merzbow - returns with two tracks recorded in February 2024 at Munemihouse, his legendary home studio in Tokyo. Two sides of pure sonic assault that swing just as the title suggests - "Pendulum, Part 1" and "Pendulum, Part 2" - masses of frequencies in constant motion, pendulums of noise crossing the sonic spectrum with the violence and precision that only Akita can orchestrate. From 1979 to the present day, Merzbow has redefined the boundaries of what we can call music. Hundreds of releases - LPs, CDs, cassettes, collaborations, limited editions that drive collectors around the world insane. Yet every new release sounds as if it were the first and the last at the same time. No compromise, no concession to the market, no softening. After more than four decades, Akita continues to push noise into its most extreme and unexplored territories. This 7" arrives at a moment of extraordinary prolificacy for Merzbow - the recent waves of material from Japan, particularly the monumental archival series on Slowdown Records, bear witness to an artist who has never stopped documenting and archiving his sonic research. A continuous flow of noise reaching the rest of the world from Japan. The 7" format is perfect for this kind of frontal attack - direct, concentrated, brutal. No frills, no filler. Two tracks, two sides, a few minutes of total devastation.
The Moon and the Melodies is a singular record within the Cocteau Twins’ catalog—unusually ethereal, even by their standards, and largely instrumental, guided by the free-form improvisations of Harold Budd, an ambient pioneer who had drifted into their orbit as if by divine intervention. Building on the atmospheric bliss of Victorialand, released earlier the same year, it signaled a possible future for the trio, yet it was a path the Cocteau Twins would never take again. Now, 28 years after it was first released, it has been reissued for the first time—remastered, from the original tapes, by Robin Guthrie himself.
The album was never actually meant to happen; no one can even recall exactly how it came about in the first place. As both Guthrie and Simon Raymonde remember it, the independent television station Channel 4 approached 4AD about a film project pairing musicians from different genres. In interviews in the 1980s, however, Budd, who passed away in 2020, believed that his music publisher had linked him with the Cocteaus after the group had expressed interest in covering one of his songs. In any case, the film never happened. “But we’d spoken to Harold, and we were all quite excited about it—in a very sort of downbeat Cocteau Twins way, where we were rarely excited about anything,” Raymonde recalls. “We’re like, well, let’s carry on and do it anyway—you’ve already booked your flight, let’s just hang out in the studio and see what happens.”
“There was a lot of hilarity,” Guthrie says. “It was strange to have an older man in our life, because Liz and I saw everybody around us—the contemporary bands, the people running record labels, the journalists—as grownups. We were literally kids. I thought, ‘Oh Christ, he’s going to be some pompous, you know, into his classical music,’ and he wasn’t. He was just a big man-child. We clicked in that respect.”
The Cocteau Twins had recently built their own recording studio in North Acton, in West London. It was the first time they’d had their own space, and they relished their newfound freedom. “We were in this lovely little bubble of making our own music,” Raymonde says. Budd fit right into their bubble world; all four musicians got on immediately. Over pints at the pub, they talked about everything but music, and in the studio, Raymonde and Budd both say that very little, if anything, was discussed, save perhaps for questions of tempo or key.
“Harold would sit down at the piano and start playing something, and then maybe I’d pick up a bass and start playing along with him,” Raymonde says. “They were very much noodles rather than songs. That was the way we tended to work anyway. Work out what kind of mood are we feeling, get a drum beat going, just a two-bar pattern; Guthrie would plug his guitar in, I would plug my bass in, and then we’d just jam for a few minutes and go, ‘Yeah, that was cool, let’s carry on doing that thing or that thing,’ really casually, and then all of a sudden we’d have a song. I know that sounds ludicrous, but that is how we did it, and with Harold it was exactly the same.”
Budd played a Yamaha CP-70 electric grand, and the group came armed with a growing arsenal of gear, like the Yamaha Rev7 multi-effects processor and Lexicon PCM60, perhaps an Ensoniq Mirage. Guthrie used an EBow on his guitars, along with a Gizmo, an electromechanical device invented by Godley and Creme. Guthrie remembers endless experiments in search of new sounds: “Lots of messing around, tuning the guitar strings all the same, getting droney sorts of things—really big, loud, sort of Metallica-like feedback sounds, but then put in the mix so quietly you can hardly hear them the first time you listen. All these psychoacoustic sort of tricks that I liked. It’s all in there, you know. Just being fearless—if it didn’t work out, it was never going to be a record anyway.”
The musicians’ contrasting approaches ended up shaping the album’s somewhat curious format—four instrumentals in Budd’s meandering style, more tone poems than actual songs, and four more structured pieces with verses, choruses, drum machine, and, of course, Elizabeth Fraser’s inimitable singing, as bold and inspired as anywhere in the band’s catalog. There was no conscious decision to have Fraser only sing on four songs. “That’s just what came out of the sessions,” Guthrie says. “It was a lightweight atmosphere making it, because we didn’t actually feel that we were making a record at the time. We were trying out some stuff in the studio, and it just evolved into what it did. Which is, essentially, a recorded version of some people trying out some stuff in the studio.”
The sessions were over in two weeks, maybe three. “And that was already getting a bit long,” Guthrie says, “because some of our earlier records had taken just a couple of days.” They fleshed out the material, he adds, with one more song that the trio wrote in Budd’s absence, after they realized they didn’t have quite enough material for a full album. (“Was I that drunk?” Budd asked, upon hearing the final version of the album, which included a song he had no recollection of making.) As much as it may pain fans to hear it, there is no more extant material from the sessions—no outtakes, no rough drafts, no alternate versions. “For the 13 years I was in the band, we have no spare tracks at all,” Raymonde says. “If after an hour or two a track wasn’t coming together, we’d just get rid of it. If it wasn’t good now, our attitude was, it’ll never be any good. So we’d think, tomorrow’s another day—let’s go to the cinema and come back tomorrow, and see how it goes. Let’s go bowling.”
The other curious thing about the album—the fact that it was credited to all four players under their individual names—followed the same intuitive logic as everything else that went into the record. “It’s because it wasn’t a Cocteau Twins album,” Guthrie says. Raymonde concurs: “It was simple. All four of us have gone into the studio and done something, but it isn’t a Cocteau Twins album.” But perhaps the passage of time has changed matters. These days, on streaming services, you’ll find the album filed chronologically alongside the rest of the band’s work. “What’s interesting,” Guthrie adds, “is that I got the tape boxes from the studio, and guess what it says on it? ‘Cocteau Twins plus Harold Budd.’” Perhaps, he seems to suggest, the group got hung up on a detail that never really mattered. In any case, Raymonde says, “The more credit that Harold gets for the work he did, the more people that find his music because it’s in the Cocteau environment, the better.”
Despite all its quirks, The Moon and the Melodies has attracted a passionate fan base over the years. Its most atmospheric tracks routinely turn up in ambient DJ sets. 'Sea, Swallow Me' is one of the Cocteau Twins’ most streamed songs on Spotify, second only to Heaven or Las Vegas’ 'Cherry-coloured Funk'; it has also found new life on TikTok, where it serves as the soundtrack to innumerable expressions of hard-to-express melancholy. For such a low-key affair, the album casts a long shadow—but Raymonde believes the record’s uniqueness stems directly from its humble, unpremeditated origins. “It’s always about making something that’s pleasurable,” he says, “capturing a moment in time between friends that are enjoying making music together. Really, that’s the essence of it—the music was just a reflection of how nice a time we were having in the studio.”
A long-selling album that includes a cover of “Firecracker”—a live staple also known for its YMO version! Kruangbin, the Texas-based groove trio whose sound—rooted in Thai funk and wrapped in a unique, mellow groove—has earned them a global following, is releasing a Japan-exclusive album titled *Everything Smiles at You* to commemorate their highly anticipated Fuji Rock appearance, following their sold-out debut Japan tour in March 2019! This release features 10 tracks—all previously released as singles or on EPs but never included on an album and now available on CD for the first time—including “The Infamous Bill” and “The Number 4,” which were performed during their Japan tour and are popular live staples; “Firecracker,” also known for its YMO version; and a cover of Serge Gainsbourg’s classic “La Javanaise.”
Globetrotting Texan trio Khruangbin are set to release ‘Hasta El Cielo’, the band’s glorious dub version of their second album ‘Con Todo El Mundo’. The full album has been processed anew along with two bonus dubs by renowned Jamaican producer Scientist.
The band’s exotic, spacious, psychedelic funk aligns with the dub treatment particularly well. Indeed, keen fans won’t find this a surprising release. Dubs of tracks from their first album ‘The Universe Smiles Upon You’ appeared on limited vinyl releases of ‘People Everywhere’ for Record Store Day 2016 and ‘Zionsville’ on the BoogieFuturo remix 12”. The especially eagle-eared will have caught a dub of ‘Two Fish And An Elephant’ playing over the credits of the track’s celebrated video.
“For us, Dub has always felt like a prayer. Spacious, meditative, able to transport the listener to another realm. The first dub albums we listened to were records mixed by Scientist featuring the music of the Roots Radics. Laura Lee learned to play bass by listening to Scientist Wins the World Cup. His unique mixing style, with the emphasis on space and texture, creates the feeling of frozen time; it was hugely influential to us as a band. To be able to work alongside Scientist, a legend in the history of dub, is an honor. This is our dub version of Con Todo El Mundo.”
- Khruangbin
Formed of Laura Lee on bass, Mark Speer on guitar, and Donald “DJ” Johnson on drums; Khruangbin’s sounds are rooted in the deepest waters of music from around the world, infused with classic soul, dub and psychedelia. Their 2015 debut album ‘The Universe Smiles Upon You’ was heavily influenced by 60’s and 70’s Thai cassettes the band listened to on their long car journeys to rehearsal in the Texan countryside. 2018’s follow up ‘Con Todo El Mundo’, which received hugely positive critical reactions and radio play around the world, took inspiration not just from South East Asia but similarly underdiscovered funk and soul of the Mediterranean and the Middle East, particularly Iran.
Since the album’s release, the band have continued their almost non-stop approach to touring, playing over 130 dates in 2018 alone. They return to the UK this summer for festival shows at Green Man, Latitude, Mostly Jazz, Funk & Soul Festival and Barclaycard British Summer Time.
Press for ‘Con Todo El Mundo’
SML is a Los Angeles based quintet featuring Anna Butterss, Jeremiah Chiu, Josh Johnson, Booker Stardrum, and Gregory Uhlmann.
'Spontaneous Music Live' contains two side-length pieces of unedited improvisation, recorded live at Los Angeles venue Zebulon during SML's December 2025 three-night residency, just weeks after the release of the band's second album HOW YOU BEEN. It was recorded and mixed live to analog tape by Bryce Gonzales (the same engineer/wizard known for his gorgeous live captures/mixes of Jeff Parker's ETA IVtet).
Between HOW YOU BEEN and their 2024 debut SMALL MEDIUM LARGE (both of which were heavily edited, shaped and post-produced) the band has developed a reputation for records that are heavily fused, polished, and punchy. The medium is on full post-modern display on those LPs, and the band’s post-production knife can be responsible for much of the perspective — the tastiest morsels collected, arranged, and rearranged just so.
But the source material from both those albums were live recordings. Long-form, unwieldy, ebbing and flowing. On top of that, every performance the band has ever done has been fully improvised in that spirit. So in the sphere of live performance the band’s esteem has grown down a different path — one of linear, hypnotic, expansion. It’s a perceived split persona shared by some of SML’s most inspiring conceptual bedfellows: compare the extended madness of Can’s 'Live in Paris 1973' to the relative tight form of 'Future Days' from the same year; the speed-funk chaos of Miles Davis’ 'Dark Magus' to the heavily deconstructed 'On The Corner' or 'Big Fun'.
'Spontaneous Music Live' removes the curatorial perspective and pulls the curtain back on that search-pluck-reconstruct editing process. What we’re left with is the psychedelic realism of the band in situ, in their home town, collectively improvising, fully in-the-moment, mining for that moment of discovery. We hear, in macro, each nugget of sound which could be the basis for a future SML album track, spattered amongst the collective chaos-and-control like stars in the night sky.
For his new album, Irreparable Parables, Andrew Wasylyk felt a strong desire to write a set of songs featuring an element hitherto rare in his work: the human voice. Equally strong was the conviction that he did not want to sing them himself. The Scottish multi-instrumentalist and composer set about assembling a group of guest singers, sending out the songs to wherever they were in the world. The vocals were recorded remotely and then, like migrating birds, winged their way back to Scotland. The result is an album of great beauty which, perhaps preeminently in Wasylyk’s work, expresses the vulnerability and resilience of the human spirit. Six singers appear on the record, represented by six songbirds illustrated on the sleeve by Clay Pipe Music’s Frances Castle. The cuckoo is a nod to Belle and Sebastian’s 2004 single ‘I’m A Cuckoo’, that band’s Stuart Murdoch being the first voice you hear on the new album. When the vocal for ‘Private Symphony #2’ arrived, says Wasylyk, “it was everything that I was looking for and more. But this is Stuart Murdoch. Of course he’s going to make something incredibly beautiful and thoughtful.” The song lyrics were, for the most part, written by the singers. The music is Wasylyk’s creation. He navigates a sound world that lies somewhere beyond the borders of classical and jazz, ambient and abstract. It is difficult to describe, but easy to understand, which is to say to feel. That is the way Wasylyk’s work is experienced: as a feeling. It takes you back to childhood, perhaps, to feelings of comfort and safety, or to memories of walks at sunrise and sunset, or to the way a shadow falls on a particular field in a particular place at a particular time in your life. This is consoling music. That is why, though pretty, it is not merely pretty. These are songs to shore up the soul. Wasylyk writes in a room, in his native Dundee, full of “half-broken” instruments. He picks these up, plays a little, seeking an idea, a feeling, a door that lies ajar. The musical palette of Irreparable Parables includes brass and woodwind, a six-piece string section, guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, tape loops, synthesisers and percussion. The strings were arranged by the cellist Pete Harvey, a long-term collaborator. Among the other guest vocalists are Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, Saya Ueno from Japan’s Tenniscoats and Peter Brewis from Field Music. Wasylyk himself takes the lead vocal on the title track, though a throat infection and touch of pitch-shifting have altered his singing in a way that even he, having fallen out of love with his own voice, finds acceptable. The heart of the record can, arguably, be found in two tracks, ‘Love Is A Life That Lasts Forever’ and ‘Spectators In The Absence of God’, sung respectively by Molly Linen and Kathryn Joseph. The former, bright with trumpets, was inspired by the writing of Derek Jarman. “I was feeling deeply upset about the world and wanted to try and write something that was obviously hopeful,” Wasylyk says. ‘Spectators …’ offers an emotional counterpoint. It is an “apocalyptic hymn” that seems to grapple with watching human suffering from afar, too distant to be at physical risk, but experiencing the psychological wounding, and feelings of helplessness, even complicity, that come with constant awareness of other people’s pain. “Kathryn’s a pal, I love her dearly, and she’s a brilliant artist who really feels what she writes,” Wasylyk says. “The cracked tenderness of her voice is spellbinding.” The album closes with an instrumental piece, ‘Soul Enters The Ocean Sun Climbs Out Of The Sea’, all piano and strings, that offers a sense of resolution and ascension. A good moment, too, for Wasylyk to reflect upon the artistic companionship that he enjoyed while making this record – the songbirds that answered his call: “These humans are incredible at what they do. I’m deeply grateful and feel so lucky. It blows my mind.”
Following the passing of Ryuichi Sakamoto in early 2023, Richard Pike turned to the piano as a daily ritual of improvisation – or, as he frames it, real-time composition. The result is [album title], a suite of intimate pieces for piano and looping textures that explore cassette sound sources, minimalism, harmony, and the fragile acoustic artefacts that surface from the process. Pike’s method was simple and disciplined: gather tape loops and sonic beds in the studio each morning, then move to a 1950s Eavestaff Minipiano in the living room to record melodic responses over them. These performances were captured quickly and left largely unedited, allowing instinct, error, and texture to dictate shape and direction. The music reflects a fascination with earthy, worn sound worlds, drawing on influences such as Romeo Poirier, Deepchord and early musique concrète, as well as Pike’s own history with the tape-scarred aesthetics that informed his early work with Warp-affiliated band PVT. This is a quietly expressive record of repetition, decay and emergence – a document of daily practice finding form almost by accident.
Senor Coconut's cult classic ‘El Baile Aleman’—one of Atom TM's many aliases—is reissued on vinyl for the first time in 25 years. Born from the half-joking idea that “if you're going to cover Kraftwerk, do it with cha-cha-cha or death metal,” this work reconstructs Kraftwerk's electronic minimalism through tropical imagination. It presents an original sound where cha-cha-cha, mambo, and cumbia intertwine with glitch and breakbeats.
The shifting dimensions of Masana Temples, fourth album from psychedelic explorers Kikagaku Moyo,are informed by various experiences the band had with traveling through life together, ranging from the months spent on tour to making a pilgrimage to Lisbon to record the album with jazz musician Bruno Pernadas. The band sought out Pernadas both out of admiration for his music and in an intentional move to work with a producer who came from a wildly different background. With Masana Temples, the band wanted to challenge their own concepts of what psychedelic music could be. Elements of both the attentive folk and wild-eyed rocking sides of the band are still intact throughout, but they’re sharper and more defined.
More than the literal interpretation of being on a journey, the album’s always changing sonic panorama reflects the spiritual connection of the band moving through this all together. Life for a traveling band is a series of constant metamorphoses, with languages, cultures, climates and vibes changing with each new town. The only constant for Kikagaku Moyo throughout their travels were the five band members always together moving through it all, but each of them taking everything in from very different perspectives. Inspecting the harmonies and disparities between these perspectives, the group reflects the emotional impact of their nomadic paths. The music is the product of time spent in motion and all of the bending mindsets that come with it.
Welcome to the world of Edward Blankman, a retired dentist who wrote elegant, minimalist jazz in obscurity circa 1970.
At least that’s the story. In truth, Edward Blankman’s Cape Cod Cottage is the 2021 concept album from Echo Park composer Brendan Eder.
A tender, wistful follow up to 2020’s To Mix With Time, the Cape Cod Cottage sound evokes the spirit of Erik Satie, Miles Davis with Gil Evans, and Stevie Wonder, balanced with the accessibility of 1960s lounge-exotica.
Eder created Blankman’s story to channel his own grief, with bittersweet tenderness. Read the liner notes (or watch the mini-doc), and you’ll be transported to the quiet shores of Cape Cod, where a lonely retiree mourns his late wife, Natalie, with walks in nature and evenings at his Wurlitzer.
The story is brought to life with a meticulously crafted package sporting classic liner notes, faux 1970s photographs documenting Edward with the musicians (taken during the actual session), a make-believe jazz label, and a commissioned oil painting of Edward’s cottage.
Eder brought together a dream line up with a ton of chemistry for the project; drummer Christian Euman (Jacob Collier), saxophonist Josh Johnson (Jeff Parker, Leon Bridges), and bassist Alex Boneham (Billy Childs), who all studied together at the Hancock Institute of Jazz. Rounding out the group is flutist Sarah Robinson, a recurring player in Eder’s ensemble, and Edward Blankman (Brendan) on the Wurlitzer.
The cast was booked for a single date with coveted engineer Michael Harris (Kamasi Washington, Angel Olsen) at famed Electro-Vox Recording Studios. To create realism for Edward’s story, the charts were purposefully withheld from the musicians until they arrived at the studio. The result is an authentic and natural performance delivered by players at the top of their game, captured on lauded vintage equipment including the legendary Neve-8028 console.
Cape Cod Cottage will be released on September 10th including a gatefold vinyl.
The story of Mar Vista begins in northern France, in Lille, in the early 1970s, with the meeting of two music enthusiasts: Claude Cuvelier and Jean Skowron. They connected through Claude’s brother. At that time, Jean was already standing out at blues concerts for his singular sonic approach: he placed microphones inside suitcases that he struck to produce raw, primitive sounds — an experimental process that immediately impressed Claude. Claude, shaped by the 1960s rock scene with his first band The Eaglestones, already had a solid musical background. After the group dissolved at the end of his military service, he explored folk and blues sounds as a solo artist, while discovering major new influences: Terry Riley, La Monte Young, Balinese music, as well as the emer- ging German scene — Kraftwerk, Popol Vuh, Tangerine Dream, Ash Ra Tempel, Neu!, Klaus Schulze. Jean, for his part, drew inspiration from Pink Floyd, Alan Parsons, and Tangerine Dream. A shared vision quickly took shape: to create repetitive, atmospheric music, freed from traditional formats. In 1973, they gave birth to Mar Vista, with the desire to compose long, immersive works, sometimes built around a single chord, in the spirit of Balinese music. The duo gradually equipped themselves: a Mini Korg in 1972, a Yamaha synthesizer, a Farfisa organ, and even a drum machine discovered by chance during a television appearance by Henri Salvador. The home studio became their creative sanctuary. Jean worked on a 4-track Teac tape recorder, Claude on a Philips model. Each freely composed their own side of the future album, while collaborating on each other’s ideas. Side A, led by Jean, is more rooted in the progressive electronic music of the time, influenced by Heldon, Amon Düül, and Soft Machine. Side B, bearing more of Claude’s imprint and his influences (Terry Riley, La Monte Young), is far more experimental and consists of a 22-minute trippy instrumental piece. On this record, Jean notably composed “Her Eyes Are Closed” (with his wife) and imagined the sound introduction using an alarm clock. The atmospheric transitions were created from white noise generated by a Yamaha synthesizer. In 1976, after facing rejections from several labels ((they dreamed of signing with the Düsseldorf label Brain — home of Neu! — but never dared to send their tracks), they self-produced “Visions of Sodal Ye,” a rare record pressed in only 150 copies by Le Kiosque d’Orphée. The sleeves were handmade. A photo was glued on each side of the cover, and the band name and album title were written with nail polish enhanced with silver glitter. Despite its confidential release at the time, the album is now consi- dered one of the most remarkable works of the genre ever released in France. A second album project inspired by the universe of H. P. Lovecraft was in progress, but family responsibilities slowed this creative momentum. As for concerts, the band performed live only rarely, mainly within the squat and anar- chist circuits of the time. Moreover, on this reissue you are holding, the second vinyl — composed of unreleased tracks — features improvised pieces without synthesizers, recorded live in August 1973 on a hill near Valence, in the garden of friends (Hervé and Martine). These rediscovered tracks had until then existed only on a cassette tape kept by a close acquaintance. The tracks Expedition and Crash73, meanwhile, date from 1975 and remained in demo form. As the years passed, the two musicians took different paths. Claude remained active in the music scene, through radio, record fairs, and fanzines such as L’Écho d’Hector and Le Poireau Gabardine. Jean’s passing deeply affected Claude, but did not prevent him from returning to music. Driven by nostalgia for Mar Vista, he powered up his synthesizers again, modernized his equipment, and resumed creating. Mar Vista never truly stopped. It survives like a discreet yet persistent pulse, much like its music: hypnotic, free, and resolutely off the beaten path. Sacha Sieff et Jean-Baptiste Guillot
Discover New Decade Of Dub by Mad Professor and Jah Shaka on Ariwa Sounds. A UK Dub collaboration from 1996, with Phasers set to stun. Musical and restrained throughout. TIP!
Roy Montgomery and Martha Skye Murphy first connected when Murphy included one of Montgomery’s songs on a mixtape. Conversations about their respective practices soon followed, revealing a shared musical language. They also discovered they used the same recording device, a Tascam recorder, which prioritises process over correction. Their approach embraces layering, multitracking, and imperfection. Since then, they have developed an ongoing creative relationship, regularly sharing music and crossing paths in various projects. Montgomery later featured on Murphy’s 2024 album Um, released via AD 93 to critical acclaim, while Murphy joined Montgomery during his summer 2023 residency at Cafe OTO. What draws them together is the emotional force of each other’s music. Montgomery’s cyclical, decaying compositions are shaped through intricate guitar and piano work, blending post-rock, folk, and drone. Murphy, meanwhile, possesses a rare gift for transformation; though her vocals often resemble fragments of words, consonants, or vowels, they frequently function as pure sound, drawing on glossolalia and prioritising feeling over any ‘learnt’ language. Emotion and intuition are the driving forces behind Nebular, an album that oscillates between the intimate with the unknown. This spirit is reflected in its artwork. Murphy shared a painting by Irish artist Simon English depicting a solitary house bathed in dusky blue light, and the pair quickly settled on it as the cover image. Both were captivated by its atmosphere. Montgomery related it to the isolated, seemingly uninhabited houses he encounters while travelling through rural New Zealand—places that inspire a desire to knock on the door and discover what lies beyond. “Terra incognita springs to mind. A search into the unknown,” Murphy agrees. The nocturnal and remote nature of the artwork mirrors the process of making Nebular. The album was created entirely through remote correspondence, with stems exchanged via email. Their messages were often written and read at different times of day, and, because of the time difference and the demands of daily life, replies usually were sent late at night and the music too often composed at nocturnal hours. Their exchanges took on the quality of pen pals sending letters across great distances. This suspended sense of time is echoed in Nebular’s sound, with its feeling of temporal drift and timelessness. On Nebular, Montgomery and Murphy have harnessed raw emotion and launched it into a time capsule bound for the stars. It allows you to drift, to be present, and to feel; creating something timeless. Martha Skye Murphy comments: “Roy and I have a shared vernacular in the music we make together; a kind of sonic sign language, which allows us to communicate without ever really explaining the material to one another. This is partly due to our shared process, which embraces layers, multitracking and imperfection (for me). I see our collaboration as a continuously unravelling piece of string; one song leads onto the next like a slowly evolving constellation and I’d like to hope we continue in this vein.”
Synergy Trilogy land with a self-titled debut, moving fluidly between dream pop, folk, spoken-word collage and gothic minimalism. Recorded in a home studio in Melbourne, the album assembles a sequence of songs and scenes threaded with poetry and dream logic, drawing together atmospheric synths, skeletal hooks, pulsating drum machines and intimate spoken-word exchanges – a world fully formed from the outset. Emerging from Melbourne's underground, the duo arrive with a first full-length effort that stands as its own singular, immersive environment. Songs dissolve into poems, spoken fragments into melody, leaving behind something that feels delicate and strangely immediate. Flitting between song and spoken-word storytelling, the album unfolds with an airy romanticism that manifests as part love letter, part spell. They join a seemingly ever burgeoning Melbourne scene, sitting alongside contemporaries Who Cares?, Dregs and Prophetic Justice Ministry. The album navigates a shifting landscape of darkness and light. Moments such as Dark Passenger, Whisper and Girl Over There draw from the stripped tension of minimal wave and gothic pop, while elsewhere the record opens into softer dream-folk territory on pieces like Something's Snapped and Sian. These movements are punctuated by passages that evoke the suspended atmosphere of 1980s psychological thriller soundtracks particularly on I Like To Watch – before giving way to the bright, melodic dream pop of Holo Law. For those looking to place it, the album's lineage runs through the fogged minimalism of From Nursery to Misery, the sparse emotional pull of Carla dal Forno, and the gothic candor of Rose McDowell's Sorrow project. At its more propulsive moments, it reaches for the kinetic drive of Nostalgie Éternelle – though the duo's approach feels instinctive rather than referential, shaped as much by friendship, mysticism and dream writing as by any recognisable forebears.
Sensible Soccers x Mad Professor present EP#1 - Dub Versions, a meeting point between Atlantic psychedelia and classic dub techniques. The collaboration pairs the Portuguese trio’s hypnotic grooves with Mad Professor’s deep-rooted studio approach, resulting in a set that moves between dancefloor propulsion and spacious, exploratory textures. ‘Dub de Saia Travada’ and ‘Berlaitada Dub’ lean into heavy basslines and rolling rhythms, built for movement and sound system play. ‘Dub Discreto’ shifts the focus outward, stretching into kosmische territory with nods to Cluster and Klaus Schulze, while retaining the warmth and depth of dub. Bridging styles, scenes and sensibilities, EP#1 - Dub Versions captures a focused exchange between two distinct approaches, reshaped into something fluid and transportive.
"I have always been searching for a way to articulate the intangible area between the recognizable and the unfathomable, a feeling perhaps informed by some long-abandoned experiments with psychedelics. This has been a continued pursuit starting with my tape experiments in the 1970’s until the present, with technological evolution driving new ways of expression. With the exception of Xé May, which is performed on an Elektron Octatrack, these pieces were constructed for live performance using a laptop computer running programs I have built in the MAX programming language. Okajouki and Xé May were composed in 2011, all the rest are from 2018. The pieces use a technique of time slicing that I first started doing back in the 90's, notably with my piece Mom’s, wherein sound files are metaphorically shattered in time like glass and then reorganized into mosaic patterns. The technique used to require laborious preparation outside of real-time before the files could be brought onstage. Now not only can it be done spontaneously while performing, but also with a degree of flexibility that I find quite liberating. They are a lot of fun to play and hopefully to listen." - Carl Stone