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The World Is but a Place of Survival: Ethiopian Begena Songs documents the spiritual heart of Ethiopia’s Orthodox Amhara tradition. The begena, a ten‑stringed lyre linked by legend to King David, is reserved solely for sacred music. Its rich, buzzing tone – produced by leather strips beneath the strings – is believed to protect against evil and bring players closer to God. Symbolising elements of the faith, the instrument is played during times of prayer and reflection, especially Lent. Long associated with scholars and nobles, the begena endured even the Derg regime’s ban.
Recorded in Addis Ababa by Stéphanie Weisser (2002–2005) and mastered by Renaud Millet‑Lacombe, this release comes via Death Is Not The End under licence from VDE‑Gallo, Switzerland.
Teppana Jänis was born in the village of Uuksujärvi in Suistamo on 21 June 1850. After becoming blind in the late 19th century, he went house to house, supporting himself by playing the kantele, a traditional Finnish and Karelian plucked string instrument belonging to the southeast Baltic box zither family. He performed at dances and in schools, and also participated in the Suistamo kantele and runosong competitions in 1911.
In the summers of 1916 and 1917, the young folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen (1890-1969) made collecting trips to Border Karelia. His aim was to collect kantele tunes, laments and shepherd melodies, which were confusingly few in the archives. The 1916 trip was financed by the Finnish Literature Society, who provided a phonograph for recording purposes. In 1917, the trip was financed by the Kalevala Society and the recording was carried out using a parlograph. During these two summers, Väisänen recorded kantele players in the parishes of Suojärvi, Korpiselkä, Suistamo, Tuupovaara, Kitee and Impilahti. Väisänen met Teppana Jänis in both summers and transcribed 22 kantele melodies from him. He recorded 14 of these on wax cylinders.
This LP, titled simply ‘Teppana Jänis’ fuses and intertwines the original raw cylinder recordings with replayed pieces by Kantele player and researcher Arja Kastinen together with the now late Finnish folk musician Taito Hoffrén, taking into account the additional information and notes found in Väisänen's sheet music manuscripts. Warm thanks to the Finnish Literature Society for permission to use the archive recordings, to Risto Blomster for his invaluable assistance, and to the Karelian Cultural Foundation.
Crass, conceited, vulgar and unpleasant. Also quite unique. DINTE drops a cassette reissue of Iggy and The Stooges chaotic Metallic KO LP, recorded live at Detroit's Michigan Palace between 1973 & 1974 - documenting the band's death throes during what would be their last performances for 30+ years. Remastered by Sterling Roswell of Spacemen 3 and officially licensed from Skydog Records/Jungle Records.
"Metallic K.O. is the only rock album I know where you can actually hear hurled beer bottles breaking against guitar strings"
— Lester Bangs
"Something we should get straight from the start: measured by any normal criteria 'Metallic KO' is one hell of a long way from being a good rock'n'roll record, let alone a great one"
— Giovanni Dadomo
"This cassette is a promo mix that we originally sold in high school to promote the parties my friends and I did back then (The Witch Is Back); M.O.A. Productions, Frantik Party Productions, some of my earliest House crews.
We (Marky P, DJ Juice, DPC, James) did underground house parties in basements and around while in high school. The mix is a fusion of Chicago house, and also the European minimal techno that was coming into Chicago back then. A timestamp on our histories, early roots and what we love."
— Mark Grusane
Yavireri - a Matsigenka word that can be understood as “those who live in the depths” - describes the spirits of the forest and those who, from within the jungle, sustain a way of life rooted in listening, vision, and oral tradition.
This recording is the result of two years of continuous coexistence by Hankel Bellido with Matsigenka communities of the Lower Urubamba in the southeastern Peruvian Amazon. Amongst the rivers, trails and campfires, Bellido recorded the songs, stories and soundscapes where the natural, spiritual, and acoustic worlds intertwine. The Matsigenka inhabit deep territories of Megantoni National Park, an area considered among the most biodiverse and culturally significant in the region. Their language, unwritten, is transmitted through songs, whispers and advice; their spirituality flows through visions, animal-spirits, and the memory of the forest.
The main voice of the recording is Edith Auca Ríos, an oral teacher and guardian of songs. Through her interpretations, a sonic worldview unfolds: where one sings to greet the day, care for children, converse with birds, bid farewell to the dead, or return from the invisible world. All recordings were captured in situ, walking or navigating alongside the communities, with no script or objective. It is not a folkloric reconstruction nor an academic document, rather a sonic witness to everyday life in the margins.
Out of press in its original form for years, controversial beat poet Allen Ginsberg's East Village love-in 'First Blues' - a vast double-album of collaborations with everyone from Arthur Russell to Bob Dylan and Don Cherry - is newly reissued via Death Is Not The End. It's hard to deny Ginsberg's impact; his poetry alone was enough to shift the course of US counter culture, and you can visualise his contributions to downtown punk and folk. But his music career isn't quite as intimately understood, which makes 'First Blues' a pretty vital artefact for anyone looking to investigate further. Ginsberg wrote and recorded the material between 1971 and 1983, taking the opportunity to leaf through his lengthy phonebook and call up anyone he admired or had collaborated with in the past. So Dylan - who Ginsberg had collaborated with before - shows up on the first few tracks, helping to balance out his friend's wobbly-voiced, country-fried recitations with tangled acoustic twangs. The money shots comes with the majority of the remaining tracks, produced and featuring cello by Arthur Russell, given free rein to rumble through folk, blues, jazz and gospel over Ginsberg’s sexcapades, Buddhist revelations and conspiracy theories with bare-faced joy. 'CIA Dope Calypso' is a bonkers highlight, a chirpy Harry Belafonte reinterpretation that lambasts the Central Intelligence Agency for its under-the-radar drug peddling, while 'Sickness Blues' uses Russell's bendy cello tones as a crash mat for Ginsberg's pained lamentations.
An outstanding treasure trove - some 20 years in-the-works - of vintage pop and chaabi bangers from Egypt and Lebanon via NYC cornershops and offies - aka Bodegas - and mobile phone shops, culled from tape and collated by Gary Sullivan ov WMFU and the blog Arabic Singles Going Steady, for DINTE Gary Sullivan gives the lowdown: “A series of random discoveries in the mid-1990s led me to abandon American and British pop and focus on non-English-language music, predominantly Arabic, for the next two decades. Feeding my ears required biking down to Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, or hopping on the subway to Steinway Street in Queens, where I would pop into a handful of the local bodegas and immigrant-run cell-phone stores, some of which offered music from North Africa and the Middle East on cassettes and compact discs. When CDs spiralled into obsolescence in the mid-2010s, I reluctantly made the switch to vinyl, concentrating on 45s and intentionally filling holes not well represented in the digital era – more artists than not hadn’t made the transition from analog in the 1980s. This meant focusing on singles by a lot of artists I’d not heard of, and it quickly became evident just how much of the era – from approximately 1960 to 1974, when 7″ records were all but abandoned in Egypt and Lebanon – had been forgotten. What also became evident was the breadth of popular music issued by even hegemonic titan Sono Cairo. The consensus is that state radio and music publishing ignored traditional folk, shaabi, and other lowbrow pop in favor of the exalted art song we associate with Oum Kalthoum, Abdel Halim Hafez, and Farid al-Atrash. While this active neglect of the broadest Arabic pop spectrum is mostly true, I accumulated a not inconsequential number of what I can only describe as “novelty” records by mostly one- and two-hit wonders. From catchy gimmicks like the “doktor, ya habibi” of Maha’s “Doktor” and the “boom boom boom” of twins Thunai Badr’s “Love Raid,” to the Monty Python-level silliness of Sayed Mandoline’s fake Italian crooning and maniacal laughter in “I Present to You the Mandolin,” these were sounds I was genuinely surprised to hear.= Even more remarkable were the songs recorded in English: Karim Shukry’s celebratory “Ramadan” and Motyaba & Nada’s civil-rights plea “No Black No White” are two of my favorites, and thus included in the present collection. The tracks compiled here are often as beautiful as they are beguiling, but while the intention was to absolutely put together a solid listen, it was also my hope to slightly expand our understanding of Arabic music of this period beyond not just the usual suspects, but also subjects – and treatment of same.”
Eric Loveland Heath scans the (short)waves for covert messages on this 'The Conet Project'-inspired collection of phantom noises, undeciphered codewords, musical snippets and morse code patterns. Back in the day, perhaps bolstered by Wilco using it so heavily on 'Yankee Hotel Foxtrot' (the title itself taken from the recordings) - The Conet Project was rumoured to have sold over 100k copies on its lavish CD box set edition - so we're expecting big things for this one lol. Originally released last year on Heath's own imprint, 'Recordings of Covert Shortwave Radio Stations (Shropshire & Mid-Wales)' is well worth rediscovering. The material was collected over the last few years, snipped from recordings of amateur shortwave networks that connect us to an eerily hauntological past that's been rendered almost entirely obsolete by the internet. Back in the day, radio hams (or amateur radio enthusiasts) would spend their evenings using shortwave to contact de facto penpals on the other side of the country, or the world. And of course, if you were scanning the channels for activity, you might stumble over more cryptic messages, like number sequences - encrypted cyphers that require a decoder. We're not sure why these still exist, but Heath's found a few in his local neighborhood and links up the eerie recitals with tuned noise, synth-y jingles that sound like supermarket tannoy announcements and anxious, blustery drones. It's surprisingly engaging stuff, too - Heath's clearly done a bit of tweaking to make everything pop, but knowing these sounds just exist on the airwaves makes the experience so much sweeter.
Huayno has its roots in the Andes during the colonial era, when indigenous peoples began to blend their music with influences brought by European settlers. During this process the Spanish guitar naturally became very prevalent, incorporating the tunings, finger-style and rhythms of the traditional Andean harp along with it.
The late Alberto Juscamaita Gastelú, known as Raktako, was a renowned guitarist, composer and mentor to generations of guitarists from his home in Ayacucho, southern Peruvian Andes. His unique style also blended techniques from the Spanish lute and other instruments brought by colonisers, such as the violin and accordion. For over a century, Raktako preserved Ayacucho's musical traditions and the Andean guitar form.
In 2022, the last disciple of Raktako, Gustavo Yashimura, shared with Sound of the Andes' Hánkel Bellido a series of astonishing home recordings made by Raktako between approximately 1930 and 1940. These recordings, made with the sparsest of equipment, had never been published before and represent an invaluable cultural treasure. The guitarist, who lived for over 100 years and passed away in 2023, had been largely forgotten until recently, when the Ministry of Culture of Peru officially recognised him as Meritorious Personality of Culture. His legacy, which includes a profound influence on Peruvian music, especially the Ayacucho guitar tradition, is finally being acknowledged.
Rare documentation of Afro-Pacific funerary ceremonies recorded in 2023 - not solemn, or Frank Sinatra, but heartical, rousing chants, songs and drums to raise the spirits and send brethren into other dimensions. Proper send-offs. "The gualíes, alabaos and levantamientos de tumba are burial rites typical of the Afro-Colombian Pacific communities. The rituals are performed to accompany the dead and their relatives when a member of the community dies, helping the deceased children (gualíes) or adults (alabaos and levantamientos de tumba) in the passage of their souls to eternity. The main objective of these practices is to alleviate and help in the management of grief related to death, based on acts of solidarity that allow us to reaffirm ourselves as communities and unite among family members, friends, neighbours and in general with all those who participate.For the Afro-descendant communities, death is a gateway to the other world, a place where the spirits, our ancestors, are present. We understand death as part of life itself and a necessary step "to enjoy the eternal presence of the Lord". For many of us, there is no doubt that there is a relationship between the living and the dead that does not end with the death of the person, but is simply transformed. Among the Afro communities of Medio San Juan, death means reunion with the Creator, triumph over sin. The Chocoan researcher Ana Gilma Ayala sums the alabaos as a way of "accompanying not only the mourners but also the deceased. For us, in our worldview, there is the idea and it is very African - that there is a road to the afterlife, a road on which the deceased needs accompaniment. So one way of accompanying them is through prayers and songs" According to Father Gonzalo Torres, the idea of links between the living and the dead is linked to our African heritage: "these manifestations are based on the idea of the African muntú, of the large extended family, which is not only lived here but is also transferred to the afterlife. And those who leave remain waiting for the one who stays. And for the same reason you always have to say goodbye to them rather than mourn them - although at some point you also mourn them, you first say goodbye to them so that they can leave peacefully, so that they can rest, so that they can wait for you in peace and not disturb the community" Thus, understanding that death is a step, the journey of a path towards the next life, preparation and accompaniment are necessary. The passage to the afterlife lasts several days beginning on the day of death, when the soul leaves the physical body, and ending nine days later when the soul is ready to leave this world. That is why the performance of each of these rites, the gualí for a child, and the wake, the novena and the raising of the grave or completion of the novena for an adult, are so important for us, as it is our way of saying goodbye and interceding before God for the souls of those who have passed away."
An impossible-to-find, ’95 Memphis rap tape resurfaces on vinyl via Gyptology, an "Egyptian Archaology" styled re-issue label
Leading on from Shawty Pimp’s ‘Comin’ Real Wit It’ [1995] - which was dished up by Delroy Edwards’ L.A. Club Resource and sold out within days back in 2014 - its sequel, ‘Still Comin Real’ reprises that woozy slow drawl on 11 slurps of syrupy goodness.
As to be expected, noise artefacts carry over from the original, short-run tape edition, but it wouldn’t be a proper, OG Memphis rap session without that haze of tape grit. Safe to say that Gyptology know this, too, and see vinyl as the most faithful, sympathetic form of preservation.
Thus, you can trust the sound is raw as; a distinct adjunct to the prevailing NYC and LA hip hop styles of 1995’s golden era, working with rude, stripped down production values and vibes that have significantly withstood the test of time, and since laid the roots for a lot of contemporary southern rap, hip hop and R&B.
Our season's first edition by the mighty Woo is an ode to Sweet Peas. It is a thoughtfully curated collection of ambient, minimalist, and new-age soundscapes designed to be the perfect soundtrack for moments of sowing these seeds, which accompany every release in quiet reflection.
Composed by the renowned duo Woo—Mark and Clive Ives — this is one of a series of five unreleased albums from their archives. The release combines soothing tones from clarinet, guitars, percussion, and electronic elements, creating the perfect soundtrack for gardeners and music lovers alike. Featuring tracks like “Golden Hours” and “Earth Angels,” this album is an ode to the slow, rewarding process of growth and new beginnings. “Like nature, our approach has always been quite random,” the brothers state, “ as with planting seeds the process has a purity that can bring unexpected results.”
Accompanying each release will be a special seed insert chosen by the artist to enhance the tactile and organic experience of the music. These seeds symbolise the potential for growth and connection to the natural world, aligning with the music's meditative and nurturing qualities.
For this release, the brothers have chosen Sweet Peas:
“To our surprise and delight, Sweet Peas can be planted in the autumn and they’ll blossom in the coming spring”
Each release will be in physical form on a recycled cassette, which will precede its digital counterpart by a few months, allowing the music to be experienced in its intended form first.
As Clive puts it: “Much like nature, music is an ever-evolving process. With this project our aim was to achieve an unpredictable organic flow that still feels harmonious.”
Self-proclaimed as one of DINTE’s faves, the Pinoy Rock mixtape, originally broadcast on NTS, is graduated to cassette with nearly 90 minutes of haunted country blooz and folk rock from beyond the usual hotspots.
As ever, the selections enamour to a lesser-raked zone of interest bound to resonate with lovers of this sound’s roots in US prisms, and appears like a parallel to the sorts of far away but strangely familiar sounds surfacing via reissues of Leong Lau or DJ Sundae & Julien Dechery’s Sky Girl’ set.
Admittedly we, and probably many others, have no clue to vintage Filipino music, slo it’s a pleasure to allow DINTE do the heavy lifting, presenting a carousel of laid-back, hook-laden charms sung in Filipino and Tagalog and mostly erring to Western tunings, but also laced with subtle traces of their far South Eastern heritage.
Pastoral folk rock sits shoulder to shoulder with soulful ballads, purring folk shares space with more symphonic works that unusually recall Arabic classical, while psych rock power jams give way to balmy chuggers, eyes-closed lead guitar solos, and slow but hard blues rock and slide guitars, all with DINTE’s reliable seal of approval.
DINTE keep shelling Gary Sullivan’s killer picks with a survey of jiggy SE Asian hip hop to follow his ‘Bodega pop’ set of Arabic zingers: this one featuring an hour of late ‘90s, early ’00s rap and R&B from Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, Cambodia, Philippines, Myanmar and Indonesia...
“"While on a work trip to Chicago in the mid-2000s, I was craving a bowl of pho. A bit of sleuthing led me to hop on the red line “L” up to Argyle Street, ground zero of Chicago’s Little Saigon. In the 1960s, Chicago restaurateur Jimmy Wong invested in property on Argyle Street with a vision to build the city’s new Chinatown, a kind of mall with pagodas, trees, and reflecting pools. In 1971, the Hip Sing Association, a labor/criminal organization, established itself in the area, and along with Wong, they bought up 80% of the buildings on a three-block stretch of the street. Wong reportedly broke both hips in an accident, leaving his dream to wither; in 1979, Charlie Soo of the Asian American Small Business Association brought it back to life.
Soo expanded the area into a vibrant mix of Chinese, Vietnamese, and other Southeast Asian
businesses, pushing for renovations, including an Argyle station facelift and the Taste of Argyle festival. At the time I exited the station and crossed the street to get a better look at a shop with a poster for A Vertical Ray of the Sun in the window, the area was home to some 37,000 Vietnamese residents.
Opening the door, I was gobsmacked by a cavernous Southeast Asian media store, bigger than any I’d been to in Dallas, Montreal, New York, or Seattle. I spent some time at the bins, pulling out collections by some of my then-favorite singers — Giao Linh, Khánh Ly, Phương Dung — before approaching the register to ask the young woman behind the counter if the they carried any Vietnamese rap. It was a longshot, I knew, but if such a thing existed on physical media and anyone carried it, it would be this place.
‘Have you heard Vietnamese rap?’ she replied, her tone of voice and facial expression betraying a comically exaggerated level of distaste. I admitted my ignorance but assured her that I had long cultivated a high threshold for cheesy pop music of all kinds and genuinely tended to like hip hop from around the world.
She rolled her eyes and pointed to an area I had missed. I walked toward a far corner of the store and knelt over a small box on the floor sparsely populated with CDs, VCDs, and cassettes. I pulled out half a dozen Vietnamese hip hop compilations and a strange-looking CD with a cavalcade of odd typefaces in a queasy multitude of colors: THAILAND RAP HIT, it boasted, with 泰國 “燒香" 勁歌金曲 below it. The information on the back provided an address in Kuala Lumpur and the titles in Thai and English translation. The first track included three simplified Chinese characters after the English-language version of the title, “The Chinese Association”: 自己人.
WTF was going on here? Walking back to the register, I waved the CD, asking “What’s up with this one?” She gave me a look. I placed it on the counter so she could bask in the cover’s full glory. She shrugged. “I’m guessing it’s Thai rap?” She looked disappointed in me when I said I’d take it.
It turned out to be a Malaysian pressing of half-Chinese Thai hip hop artist Joey Boy’s third album, Fun Fun Fun from 1996, and it completely changed my sense what the genre could sound like. The rapper’s self-assured, effortless, silly-but-cool rapid-fire delivery weaved in and out of the most bizarre, antic beats I’d ever heard. The six Vietnamese hip hop CDs were a mixed bag, mostly “serious” sounding mimicry of US rapping over predictable production, but the highs were very high. When I got home and listened to it all, I made a point to find as much hip hop from this part of the world as I could.
The tracks collected here provide a limited but potent reflection of the two-decade ascendency
and ultimate world-takeover of hip hop, as it displaced rock and its endless variants for millions of listeners. This not a fair and balanced overview of regional production: I’ve only included tracks from Cambodia, Indonesia, Myanmar, Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam. Nor is this a biggest or most important artists collection; instead, I’ve tried to recapture the pure visceral thrill of that first time I heard Joey Boy, choosing bangers that sound like nothing else, from nowhere else."
—Gary Sullivan”
Another cassette-only mixtape taking in Soviet punk selections, 1985 to 1992, issued in partnership with Philadelphia's World Gone Mad.
A special cassette-only Halloween drop in the form of part one of a two-part Japanese post-punk, goth & new wave mixtape, the first in a tranche of globally-focused mixes reissued in partnership with Philadelphia’s punk archivists World Gone Mad.
Collecting pop songs, poetry, solo folk performances and corridos, 'In Search of Revolutionary Voices' provides a cracked window into Mexican life at the turn of the century.
There's something magical about wax cylinder recordings - it almost doesn't matter what sounds are dubbed on them, the medium itself adds so much character. This anthology was inspired by a paper from musicologist Dr. Fatima Volkoviskii, who excavated the University of California, Santa Barbara's cylinder audio archive to examine the performance practices of Mexican singers. And we get a pretty wide selection of material: there are zarzuelas, Spanish musical theater excerpts with spoken dialogue and sung scenes, a little like a cross between pop, opera and folk, such as Rosete and Camcho's 'Agua, azucarillos y aguardiente'; corridos, poetic ballads that were popular during the Mexican Revolution, like J. Morales & Cortazar's foggy 'Los amores de un charro'; and weirder, more unexpected deviations.
Our favorite moments come from Rita Villa, whose harp-like recordings - 'Czardas' and 'Bagatelle' - sound like long-forgotten library cues, and Quinteto Jordá, who impresses with the noisy orchestral cut 'El Amor es la vida'. Like all good Death is Not the End anthologies, it's a history lesson.
Each cassette in this trilogy is based off over a decade of audio-spiritual research on three beings who have created highly spiritual musical compositions, and who have transitioned off this planet in the physical: Pharoah Sanders, Alice Coltrane (Swamini Turiyasangitananda), and Sun Ra. You will hear two ensembles - Roman Norfleet & Be Present Art Group as well as The Cosmic Tones Research Trio - play interpretations, responses, and hypotheses pertaining to the research on the music and message of those beings. Each cassette is simultaneously in tribute and is also a sonic dissertation. These cassettes are intended as future research on how the music of these beings affected the playing, the witnesses, and the hearers at the time of performance.
The first cassette "Something’s Happening: The Transitioning of a Pharoah" centers the beingness and music of Pharaoh Sanders. This recording took place on the day of his transition (9-24-22) at The Lumber Room in Portland, Oregon and features the ensemble Roman Norfleet & Be Present Art Group. The news of Pharaoh’s transition stunned the whole planet. The ensemble had different compositions prepared for this day originally, but immediately made new sonic arrangements in response, prayer, grief, and gratitude. Norfleet had a formative encounter with Sanders around 2013 while working as a computer salesman and learned about the music of Sanders directly from him. They spent hours in conversation on technology and music, which included talks about Sun Ra.
The second cassette is titled "Explorations of Turiya Loka" and was recorded at Leach Botanical Garden in Portland, Oregon (9-24-23). "Turiya" is a spiritual, blissful state and "Loka" means planet - according to Vedic spiritual systems. Turiya Loka is a spiritual, blissful planet. This cassette holds a recorded ceremony by Roman Norfleet & Be Present Art Group honoring the music and spiritual teachings of Swamini Turiyasangitananda (also known as Alice Coltrane) and explores what Turiya Loka may sound like. Turiya Loka is a home for Swamini Turiyasangitananda based on her song “Om Supreme” on the album Eternity. Since 2017, Norfleet has been studying and fellowshipping with the students of Swamini Turiyasangitananda who are based in California and still run the Vedantic Center organization. The organization continues to hold classes and ceremony. In this recording, listeners will get a chance to hear spiritual insight from Radha Botofasina, who is a student of Swamini Turiyasangitananda and lived on the ashram the spiritual teacher founded in Agoura Hills, California.
The final cassette consists of music from The Cosmic Tones Research Trio composed of Harlan Silverman, Kennedy Verrett, and Norfleet. It was recorded in community at Mississippi Records in Portland, Oregon (12-3-23). The ensemble's name gives a nod to Sun Ra’s "Cosmic Tones For Mental Therapy" album title and was formed for extensive research purposes pertaining to universal and cosmic tones - how they affect human mental wellness and overall interspecies wellbeing. Sun Ra’s "Cosmic Tones For Mental Therapy" is a great example and research tool for audio wellness. The evening of this concert was the trio’s first mental wellness event which had tremendous positive effects on the beings and buildings present and surrounding.
Harnessing the chaos born from endless jams in a remote, rented farmhouse, the album dives deeper into their punk approach to jazz, while opening up space for long-nurtured fascinations with electronic textures and cinematic oddities. Their third album, it features previous singles feely, and bamboo.
The title was pulled from a bank of favourite names after the band saw Ez’s artwork; a quirky world of three cell-like flats housing absurd creatures. 'frank dean and andrew' nods to the anonymous, everyday passersby whose lives quietly unfold in the background of a nondescript town.
Pulling back the curtain on its creation further, the band reveals, “The album was recorded at the end of a year of extreme highs and lows. The tensions play out in the music in weird ways... the feeling of the music is very particular, and peculiar. Most UK Jazz music can end up too arranged and neat, or generally optimistic in mood, whereas this album goes the other way in all aspects.”
At the album's core, the glitchy, late-night focus track red in tokyo features Chinese-Vietnamese-British rapper Jianbo, whose grimey, distorted flows cut through growling guitar riffs and a dragging, drill-like drum line. “It’s a weird, grimey anger with a touch of no-wave and post-punk,” the band explains, “Hari’s bass ended up sounding like a Japanese Koto”. The intensity is fitting, as Jianbo recounts a tense moment in Tokyo that left him “seeing red.”
Shifting through moods, the second track oscillates to life with a dubby bassline and bursts of distant, animalistic commotion, like a flock scattering after a disturbance. With unsettling keys and guitar, the instrumental upends the familiar contours of jazz and leaves a lingering unease as part of what the band calls the album’s “weird, off-key” side. Equally unexpected, the title, horticulturalists nightmare (birds), taps into the surreal fear lurking in the pulsing soundscape.
That freeform, borderless creativity carries into grilly, where the keys lay out the pace and mood. “The tempo and the ambience frame the track to be like a dance tune, but with a darkness from Burial-type ambiences and pulsing drill-style delays,” the band notes. As horn layers clear the haze, the jam’s raw energy and feeling come together as a transportive piece.
Taking a dip into the melancholic, toucan opens with a whir and solemn, ceremonial horns, underpinned by a mellow harmony that moves into far-off, choral-like overlays. Opening with a similarly dystopian eeriness is location, the band’s favourite. From the heavy slump of the drums to the three-piece horns of Dan, Akers, and Jonny, which counterpoint each other in a sea of reverb. The tune is named after a Playboi Carti song of the same name, inspired by the opening synth movement.
The title track, frank dean and andrew, flickers with a bittersweet nostalgia, capturing for Ebi Soda, a modern sense of indifference, a stay-at-home, it-is-what-it-is kind of resignation. It mirrors the mood of the figures on the album artwork: sitting alone in flats, suspended in quiet isolation. Lou’s chords, Hari’s chordal bass, and Sam’s laid-back tempo lay down a "loose, Midwest, emo undercurrent, a tone that runs deep in much of the hyperpop" the band had been absorbing. Will vocalises through the trombone, making it sound as though someone is singing down a crackling phone line. A flugelhorn overdub adds more warmth to the track’s slow-burning atmosphere, with trombone and sax joining the mix in the second half.
Closing the album is insectoid creatures are infesting the land, beginning as a dissonant, scattered hellscape of wailing improvisations, freewheeling robotic noise, and buckling delays that eventually rupture into a cinematic scape, giving way to an ascending sequence of hopeful, mood-settling melodies.
As a whole, the album’s character arises from stylising with production and mixing. The approach fluctuates between focusing on ambience and reverb, drawing from UK dubstep influences like Zomby, Burial, and Joe Armon-Jones’ collaborations with Maxwell Owin, and embracing the raw, grainy DIY ‘mixtape’ sound, inspired by artists like Athletic Progression, Yameii Online, and Playboi Carti.
“No second-guessing, no overthinking. The way I want to live my life is by doing the things that are important to me, and I think everyone should live that way,” says Mei Semones of her strengthened self-assurance. Through continuously honing in on her signature fusion of indie rock, bossa nova, jazz and chamber pop in a way that highlights her technical prowess on guitar, the 24-year-old Brooklyn-based songwriter and guitarist is quickly establishing herself as an innovative musical force. Since the release of her acclaimed 2024 Kabutomushi EP, a series of lushly orchestrated reflections on love in its many stages, Mei has gone on to tour extensively across the US, cultivate a dedicated following, and write and record her highly anticipated debut album, Animaru. Inspired by the Japanese pronunciation of the word “animal” in Japanese, Animaru is the embodiment of Mei’s deeper trust in her instincts – a collection of musically impressive tracks that see Mei sounding more adventurous, more vulnerable and more confident than ever before.
Mei’s newfound assertiveness comes in part from her experiences in the past year, as 2024 was a transformative year for the Mei Semones band. They shared bills with the likes of Liana Flores, Elephant Gym and Kara Jackson, among others, and Mei transitioned to doing music full-time. Amidst the frequent touring, Mei and her five-piece band recorded the album in the summer of 2024 at Ashlawn Recording Company, a farm studio in Connecticut operated by their friend Charles Dahlke. To these sessions, she brought a batch of tracks that, not unlike Kabutomushi, are sophisticated declarations of non-romantic love: love of life (“Dumb Feeling”), love of family (“Zarigani”), love of music and her guitar (“Tora Moyo”). Animaru exemplifies Mei’s enchantingly wide range as a songwriter and musician, including some of the most challenging and most straightforward songs Mei has ever written.
Though her music might inherently evoke feelings of romance and softness, the crux of the album lies in Mei and her band’s skillful balance of tension and release. Often within individual tracks, there will be moments of pared-back acoustic guitar adorned by Mei’s infectious vocalizations that, in a moment’s notice, transform into orchestral swells of sweeping strings and complex guitar rhythms. Album opener “Dumb Feeling” is a prime example, a bossa/samba blend complete with indie rock sensibilities in the choruses as Mei details her contentment with her life in New York City. Mei actively seeks out musical challenges throughout Animaru, like on “I can do what I want,” the album’s most technically ambitious track. But she still manages to make the quickly cascading guitar harmonics and odd meters sound like a breeze to play, her breathy, lilting voice cutting through the track’s energetic dynamics. It epitomizes the album as a whole – she sings of doing things her own way, on her own terms, in hopes of inspiring others to make the same active switch in their own lives.
The simpler moments on Animaru are equally as captivating as when Mei is shredding on guitar or her bandmates are carrying out an intricate arrangement. “Donguri,” a stripped-down jazz duo performance between acoustic guitar and upright bass, is the simplest song Mei has ever written, brought to life by Mei sweetly chronicling (mostly in Japanese) what she imagines life would be like as a woodland creature living in the forest. The album’s penultimate track also encompasses themes relating to the titular “animaru.” Translating to “crayfish,” the bright, effervescent “Zarigani” is a nostalgic expression of love for her twin sister, with Mei singing “We’ll always have each other / I love you like my guitar / I love you like no other.” Family is one of the primary loves of Mei’s life, with her mom, Seiko Semones, making all of her album and single artwork. Despite Animaru being a statement of Mei’s autonomy and confidence at this point in her life, it's the various loves that she surrounds herself with – her family, her friends, her band, her music – that empower her to do things her own way.