MUSIC

kishun is a duo: ISHIKAWA Ko, player of the shō (mouth-organ), and NAKAMURA Kahoru, player of the gaku-biwa (Japanese court lute). Since 2015 they have used only shō and biwa. Their idea is to bring out the hidden sound in what they call “gagaku without melody.”

Gagaku is the ancient court music of Japan. It is more than a thousand years old. In the Heian period, nobles gathered old songs and dances from Japan and pieces that had come from Korea and China between the 5th and 9th centuries, and shaped them into one art. As gagaku took root in Japan, it was arranged and rebuilt. The form we hear today is unique to Japan. By the Heian era, it was already close to its present shape. Gagaku lives in two worlds: as court music at the Imperial Palace, and as sacred music for rites and festivals at temples and shrines. Because of this history, it was kept by nobles and professional musicians, away from the taste of ordinary people. Its instruments and dances are very different from most other Japanese traditions.

Gagaku has four main kinds: bugaku (dances, including those from the continent), kangen (an instrumental ensemble), kuniburi-no-utamai (old songs and dances from Japan), and utamono (vocal music from the Heian period). Among these, kangen is rare in Japan: it is a full orchestra made only of instruments. Most other Japanese music centers on singing. When there is instrumental playing, it is often in small groups or as support for theater and dance. Kangen stands apart.

The kangen ensemble is called “three winds, two strings, three drums.” The winds are shō, hichiriki (double-reed), and ryūteki (transverse flute). The strings are biwa and so (zither). The drums are kakko, taiko, and shōko (gong). The hichiriki and ryūteki carry the melody. The shō wraps them in chords. The string parts frame the rhythm. Kishun plays only shō and biwa, both in classic pieces and in improvisation.

The shō is a free-reed mouth organ with 17 bamboo pipes of different lengths and pitches. Each pipe has a small metal reed. In the classic style, players do not use tonguing. They shape phrases with breath. The shō is not loud. In ensemble it plays long, steady chords called aitake. These chords color the melody and show the center of the mode (scale).

The gaku-biwa is a lute. Today it has four strings and four frets, and is played with a plectrum. Its back is flat and the body is shallow. Its sound is strong at the start, then fades quickly, with almost no ring. For this reason, the biwa speaks more in rhythm than in harmony.

kishun leaves out the melody instruments of kangen. They focus on the shō, which builds a field of sound through aitake chords, and the biwa, which draws the rhythm. This is their experiment: to bring forward the voices that hide behind the melody. With the skill of two masters, they reach this goal. Sounds that the full gagaku ensemble often covers without notice step into the foreground and speak to us in a fresh, striking way.

(*1) ISHIKAWA Ko — Studied shō and gagaku song with MIYATA Mayumi, BUNNO Hideaki, and SHIBA Sukeyasu. He began performing in 1990. He plays classic and new works with Reigakusha, a well-known gagaku group, and also performs as a soloist. He has taken part in many projects with artists such as SAKAMOTO Ryuichi and Evan Parker. He is also active in free improvisation.

(*2) NAKAMURA Kahoru — While at university, she met the revival of Bankaso (the oldest known biwa score, reconstructed by SHIBA Sukeyasu) and began to study gagaku. She studied ryūteki with Shiba Sukeyasu, and gaku-biwa and umai (right-dance, a style with roots in the Korean peninsula and northeast China) with YAMADA Kiyohiko. A member of Reigakusha, she has performed since 1990 at festivals in Japan and abroad, and as a soloist. She also works to bring lost classic pieces back to li

The latest mixtape LP, “Even The Devil Smiles,” comes from rapper and producer IDK (Jason Mills).

Backwoodz Studioz is excited to announce the release of Crayola Circles, a collaboration between rapper Fatboi Sharif and producer Child Actor. While both artists have long standing connections to Backwoodz, this album marks their first collaboration of any kind and breaks new artistic ground for all parties. Sharif’s previous album, Decay, released on Backwoodz in 2023, was a haunting experimental rap masterpiece, an acid trip in a mental hospital. On Crayola Circles Sharif trades menacing psychedelia for a simmering stew of blacklight expressionism, his verses slipping effortlessly through the swells and tides of Child Actor’s masterful production. No matter how uneasy the waves grow, Sharif is at ease, a truth teller whispering anti-riddles in your ear.This album feels like a new chamber for Child Actor, as well. The producer has been on an impressive run since dropping CINE- a collaboration with rapper Cavalier- on Backwoodz in late 2024. Child Actor has shown up in the liner notes of everyone from Navy Blue (The Sword & The Soaring) to Earl Sweatshirt (Live, Laugh, Love) to ELUCID (Revelator) to Open Mike Eagle (Neighborhood Gods Unlimited), to Ghais Guevara (A Quest to Self-Mythologize), amongst others. On Crayola Circles Child Actor’s production is dynamic, shifting and sliding into new phases and movements in an instant. The beats are full and knotty, leaning into jazz and folk, while remaining tethered to the tender minimalism that is his signature. It’s a difficult balance for any producer, and here it is executed perfectly, placing us in a world of wood and brass, cowhide and undersea piano. On any other record, this soundscape would steal the show — and it very nearly does — but Sharif’s command never wavers, ever in control; a lucid dreamer in an induced coma.There are no guests, no skits, and no interludes. There might not even be songs, instead Crayola Circles seems akin to a great river; singular, traversing forest and jungle, mountain and valley, running from mouth to endless sea.

Two turntables and a microphone. There is a truth in the clarity of that simple coda, a truth that also belies the breadth of what is possible within its confines. Sometimes you gotta get reminded. I Guess U Had To Be There, the new album from NYC rapper ELUCID and veteran producer Sebb Bash, is one of those ones. So fresh it sounds like it was made tomorrow, but bet money you could put this on in '89 and get heads bopping.

There are moments in music when masters of their craft cross paths at the height of their respective powers - records like Madvillainy, Liquid Swords, Dr. Octagonecologyst, and Hell Hath No Fury - where the result is more than the sum of its parts. ELUCID and Sebb Bash find themselves in this heady, seemingly effortless ephemera on I Guess U Had To Be There. Everything is both familiar and groundbreaking. The beats shift and flip under ELUCID's feet but he tightropes it all, delivery nimble as a mountain goat, producer and rapper moving in perfect synchronization. Some shining stars make memorable appearances: billy woods, Breezly Brewin, Estee Nack, Shabaka Hutchings. But this is a two-man show, and the duo keep the spotlight where it belongs. I Guess U Had To Be There is a captivating, convention-defying listen and a high-water mark for two of the best artists in the genre.

The classic album now returns with new analogue mastering and stunning smoky blue vinyl pressing Originally released in 1970, Soul Rebels marked the first full-length album credited to Bob Marley and The Wailers, establishing it as a cornerstone of the roots reggae movement and a musical monument in the early stages of their career. This album is a powerful blend of love songs and defiant rebel anthems that captures the essence of the era's burgeoning reggae scene. With its catchy rhythms, revolutionary spirit, and thought-provoking lyrics, this recording stands as a testament to the band's ability to seamlessly merge the themes of love, liberation, and self-awareness. The title track, ‘Soul Rebel’, has become an anthem for those seeking freedom from societal norms and restrictions, encapsulating the themes of resistance and self-determination that Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, and Bunny Wailer wove into their music. The album also highlights their collaboration with visionary producer Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry, recorded at the renowned Randy’s Studio in Kingston, which became the birthplace of some of the most influential sounds in reggae history.

A pure shakuhachi work by Katsuya Nonaka, a shakuhachi player and organic rice farmer whose deep relationship with nature forms the very foundation of his musical express

Having studied under Takehisa Kosugi in 1975 and participated in the legendary improvisation group East Bionic Symphonia, Tomonao Koshikawa—now also a member of Marginal Consort and an artist who performs experimental music, jazz, rock, Indian classical music, and even Kanze‑school Noh chanting—presents his second solo work, following his ato.archives debut Footprint

SUDA Seishu (1947–) is a master of the Satsuma-biwa and Heike-biwa, traditional Japanese instruments. He was born in Tokyo and studied Satsuma-biwa with Tsuji Seigo and Heike-biwa with Kindaichi Haruhiko. In 1970, he won the Biwa Music Competition and has been a leading performer in the biwa world for over 50 years. The biwa is a Japanese string instrument with a long history. It came to Japan during the Nara period (710–784 AD) and is thought to have originated in Iran. It is related to instruments like the lute and oud. There are several styles of biwa, such as Gagaku-biwa and Heike-biwa, but this recording features the Satsuma-biwa. This type was created about 500 years ago in Satsuma (modern Kagoshima prefecture) under the orders of a samurai lord, Shimazu Tadayoshi. He asked a blind monk named Fuchiwaki Juchoin to develop it. The Satsuma-biwa grew as the music of the Satsuma samurai class and is known for its strong, simple, and bold style.

Sometimes, Mitski says, it feels like life would be easier without hope, or a soul, or love. But when she closes her eyes and thinks about what’s truly hers, what can’t be repossessed or demolished, she sees love. “The best thing I ever did in my life was to love people,” Mitski says. “I wish I could leave behind all the love I have, after I die, so that I can shine all this goodness, all this good love that I’ve created onto other people.” She hopes her newest album, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, will continue to shine that love long after she’s gone. Listening to it, that’s precisely how it feels: like a love that’s haunting the land. Love is always radical, which means that it always disrupts, which means that it always takes work to receive it. This land, which already feels inhospitable to so many of its inhabitants, is about to feel hopelessly torn and tossed again – at times, devoid of love. This album offers the anodyne. “This is my most American album,” Mitski says about her seventh record, and the music feels like a profound act of witnessing this country, in all of its private sorrows and painful contradictions. But “maybe it’s beyond witnessing,” she says. At times, it feels like the album is an exercise in negative capability – a fearless embodiment and absorption of the pain of other bodies. When I ask her what the album would look like, if it were a person, she says it would be someone middle-aged and exhausted, perhaps someone having a midlife crisis. But through the daily indignity and exhaustion, something enormous and ecstatic is calling out. In this album, which is sonically Mitski’s most expansive, epic, and wise, the songs seem to be introducing wounds and then actively healing them. Here, love is time-traveling to bless our tender days, like the light from a distant star. Mitski wrote these songs in little bursts over the past few years, and they feel informed by moments of noticing – noticing a sound that’s out of place, a building that groans in decay, an opinion that splits a room, a feeling that can’t be contained in a body. It was recorded at both the Bomb Shelter in East Nashville and the Sunset Sound Studios in Los Angeles. The album incorporates an orchestra arranged and conducted by Drew Erickson, as well as a full choir of 17 people - 12 in LA and 5 in Nashville - arranged by Mitski. And for the first time, it felt important to Mitski to have a band recording live together in the studio, to create this new sublime sound. Working with her longtime producer Patrick Hyland, the album has a wide-range of references, from Ennio Morricone’s bombastic Spaghetti Western scores to Carter Burwell’s tundra-filling Fargo soundtrack, from the breathy intimacy of Arthur Russell to the strident aliveness of Scott Walker or Igor Stravinsky, from the jubilation of Caetano Veloso to the twangy longing of Faron Young. From the first track, the album introduces and then heals a wound. “Bug Like an Angel” finds the divine in the ordinary, in the boozy drowning of sorrow. The narrator sings from the strange comfort of rock bottom: “sometimes a drink feels like family.” And suddenly, that choir of angels sings: “FAMILY!” This first track introduces a cosmic paradox: “The wrath of the devil was also given him by God.” This is an album in which dark and light exist in the same gesture, the same broken prayer. Like the Buddha inviting the demon Mara in for tea, The Land embraces brutal, daily pain — the necessary toll of transcendent love. In “Buffalo Replaced,” the wail of a freight train replaces the vibrations of the long-gone stampeding buffalo. Here, hope itself is personified, anthropomorphized into a sleeping creature, and our narrator wonders if life would be easier without her. But then, as though in response, “Heaven” offers a beautiful moment of passion, preserved like a fossil in time even though the “dark awaits us all around the corner.” This oasis is aggressively interrupted by “I Don’t Like My Mind,” a song from the perspective of someone in extraordinary pain. They are begging to keep their job, while actively keeping terrible traumatic memories at bay. Without their employment, these memories might take over, consuming them as relentlessly as the cake that they ate one “inconvenient Christmas.” The toggling between hope and despair in these four songs is masterful — the good, the bad, and the ugly in America’s backyard. This mythology continues to deepen with the stunning “The Deal,” in which someone is so burdened by their soul that they beg for it to be taken from them. Soon, the singer’s soul is revealed to be a bird perched on a streetlight. In a coup of songwriting, the narration does not switch into the newly-souled bird’s voice. No, we stay with the soulless “I.” The bird calls down: “You’re a cage without me. / Your pain is eased but you’ll never be free.” This song reinforces the album’s tug-of-war between the intoxication of love and the pain of isolation. Close on its heels is “My Love Mine All Mine,” an instant classic and the beating heart of the album, wherein the singer imagines their love shining down on the earth from the moon, long after the speaker is gone. “It’s just witness-less me,” she sings on “The Frost,” which suddenly takes us from the anticipation of loss right into the aching loneliness of it. On the subject of witnessing, Mitski says: “I’ve always been the person on the outside watching. And I’ve also done that with myself... outside of myself, witnessing myself, watching myself.” She thinks that she might have adopted this habit as a condition of being a woman of color, and that it’s led to the occasional post-apocalyptic fantasy of being the only person left in the world. We talked about Samuel Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape, in which a man is profoundly alone, with only an archive of old tapes to keep him company. He remembers the seismic event of an old sexual encounter, but now it’s: “Past midnight. Never knew such silence. The earth might be uninhabited.” The Land repeatedly offers that same hypothesis. Without love, is there anyone here? After the alien lift of “Star” comes the album’s showdown. “I’m Your Man” feels as inevitable, bloody, and haunting as a Sergio Leone duel scene. The “Man” in the title isn’t some fella proclaiming devotion, Mitski says, but rather the man inside her head, the haunting patriarch who treats her like a dog and can destroy her at whim. Despite his confidence and swagger, he is tracked down by a pack of hounds — who have unionized in the name of catharsis. After this violent reckoning, a Fowler’s Toad calls out in what sounds like a human scream. The night settles into silence. The earth might be uninhabited. We glide into the liberating closer, “I Love Me After You,” in which someone is truly alone but truly free. King of all the land. “I don’t have a self,” Mitski observes. “I have a million selves, and they’re all me, and I inhabit them, and they all live inside me.” Loving all of these selves does not yield the easy burst of a pop song. It’s the “long, complex, deep love, that you can never get to the end of, that’s always evolving, like a person. And there’s just no end to it. It feels like space travel.” The album is full of the ache of the grown- up, seemingly mundane heartbreaks and joys that are often unsung but feel enormous. It’s a tiny epic. From the bottom of a glass, to a driveway slushy with memory and snow, to a freight train barreling through the Midwest, and all the way to the moon, it feels like everything, and everyone, is crying out, screaming in pain, arching towards love. Maybe this is what our best artists do: take a spaceship into the furthest reaches of pain, in order to bring back the elixir that we already had inside us. The unknowable known of love. “You have to go to both worlds all the time,” Mitski says, by which she means the mysterious world of making and the brutal world of living. This album is an act of hyperlocal space travel. Love is that inhospitable land, beckoning us and then rejecting us. To love this place — this earth, this America, this body — takes active work. It might be impossible. The best things are.

Future Development is Del the Funky Homosapien’s third album and, following his departure from major label Elektra, it was his first album on his independent label, Hieroglyphics Imperium Recordings. Originally released on cassette in 1997, and later reissued on CD and vinyl in 2002, the album largely relied on in-house production from Del along with contributions from Hiero crew members A-Plus, Opio, and Toure. The only guest feature on the album is from crew member Casual, who joins Del on the energetic “Checking Out The Rivalry.”Sonically, Future Development bridges the funk-heavy stylings of Del’s debut with the darker, more futuristic textures he explored on No Need for Alarm. Lyrically, Del refines his rapid-fire wordplay with sharper thematic focus, tackling life in Oakland, societal observations and hip-hop culture, all with a blend of humor, streetwise insight, and multi-syllabic dexterity. Ultimately, the album captures a snapshot of his progression from raw talent to a more conceptually matured songwriter. It remains a significant and under-appreciated chapter in Del’s evolution, showcasing early seeds of the creativity and independence that would come to define much of his career thereafter.

L.A. composer and Leaving Records label founder Matthew David McQueen is largely known for his experimental production including releases on Flying Lotus' Brainfeeder label. After nearly a decade of evolution, Trust the Guide and Glide is at once a powerful statement of identity and a new door into cosmic consciousness."It’s Now! Eternally! Easy, Tender, Loving Sound.The Guide is You. The Glide is Life. Be Yourself, Live Fully –That’s what the Vibrations are Encouraging, Echoing,Waving, Glowing, Singing, Rippling, Radiating.Matthewdavid’s Mindflight is Heart Music. It’s a recordof beauty that has evolved from explorations into hisdeepest emotions, visions and imagination. The Flightswere most directly inspired by his profound connectionwith Michael Stearns’ Planetary Unfolding (ContinuumMontage 1981). You can feel that Trust is it’s Brother.Stearns speaks of Dreams, Resonance, Unity, and Ecstasy.Matthew adds that this journey has been one of Healing,Discovery, Finding, and Transformation. The two andtheir kindred are wondrous Sonic-Energetic-Midwiveshelping to usher in this age of Expanded Consciousness.The process and source are Extra and Terrestrial,Synthesized, Improvised (Live on Dublab Radio) Meditations.Sourced from the well of spiritual expression, theserecordings were further realized in Ableton. You’re flyingthrough the mystical world of Gilbert William’s cover,the software technology is dancing with circuitry, Flute,Harp, Hulusi, Water, Sonar, Quasar, and microtonallanguage are Tied and Dyed in the moment.The Mind is programmed by the Heart. With an openHeart the Mind can apply our gifts. I asked Matthewwhat he’s seen on / in his Mindflights: “Unconditional Love!Stillness – Centeredness,” he replied. “I’ve seen and feltmy ancestors, I’ve heard the songs of humanity . . .”Welcome, Listen, Hear, Here, Now, Celebrate!Joyously Written with Trust the Guide and Glide on repeat,Tuesday, December 8, 2015, in Woodland Hills, California– Carlos Niño

Meditations bestseller! Originally released as a self-pressed in 2018 in a limited edition of only 50 copies. A collaboration between L.A. saxophonist Sam Gendel, best known as the leader of the jazz trio Inga, and bassist Sam Wilkes, whose unique sound has been described as psychedelic, outsider and meditative, and Jon Hassell's Fourth World.This is a collaboration between Sam Gendel, a saxophonist from LA, and Sam Wilkes, a bassist from LA. You will be into a vortex of dope music. This is a work of confidence, in which a sophisticated jazz mind is incorporated into a unique and experimental sound full of the free spirit of the West Coast, and sublimated into a unique sound that is even meditative. The muffled soundscape with the perfect amount of salt makes the listener feel even better.

Greg Mendez has always been an economical songwriter – he wields restraint and simplicity as tools, the core of his songs sharpened into simple, cutting truths. On Beauty Land, his new album and debut LP for Dead Oceans, we’re guided by a wry but forgiving narrator, an underdog who has learned to balance cynicism and faith. These songs are self-effacing without self-pity, carefully constructed altars of imperfection channeled through pop melodies, shimmering but urgent guitars, and a voice that reaches for choir boy innocence. The bulk of Beauty Land was recorded directly to tape, almost entirely alone in Mendez’s makeshift home studio in Philadelphia – a small room with no natural light. It’s his first full length since his unexpected self-titled breakthrough in 2023, which was a slow burn success following 15 years of writing and recording music in relative obscurity between Philly and New York. Beauty Land picks up where we left off three years ago – plumbing the depths of grief, love, and addiction – but its intense, quiet clarity shows Mendez at his songwriting best. Parts of Beauty Land feel like a lucid dream, dented characters carve their way through a world that’s cartoonish and warped – the broken-clock march of “I Wanna Feel Pretty,” the chiming toy piano on “Gentle Love.” “Mary / Dreaming” begins as a sparse, finger-picked lament before cutting abruptly to a deflated, Beach-Boys-but-make-it-fucked-up resolution that brings both melancholy and joy; a sense that all things can be true at once. None of the 14 tracks here break three minutes, but they tell stories that span lifetimes. Death floats through the record, whether it appears as a memory or a threat. Everything feels precarious. There’s a fragility to how these songs are built: the way the funeral organ hits alongside the morphine on “Looking Out Your Window,” the devastating simplicity of “Frog,” with its slowed-down keyboard and bare refrain: “Please forgive me for my faults.” Beauty Land feels, at times, impossibly lonely. Which makes it really count when it doesn’t – like when Mendez sings in harmony with his wife and bandmate, Veronica near the end of “So Mean” and it feels like a cherished reunion, a fleeting moment of redemption, a temporary parting of the seas.

Rabit takes his DJ Screw worship to heavily absorbing trip hop levels on a magnum opus of codeine-soaked tape loops and creeping vapours, including a guest spot from Lolina. By any measure it’s his strongest solo LP - huge RIYL Tricky, BoC, Croww, The Caretaker, Andy Stott, Basinski, Lynch & Badalamenti. In the decade since a debut album on influential witch-house label Tri Angle, Rabit has become a singular figure at the intersection of US rap, weightless grime and experimental electronic music, defining his sound on a string of crooked albums, DJ Screw-indebted mixtapes, and jams with everyone from Chino Amobi to Croww, besides production work for Björk and Boy Harsher. Perhaps notable by his absence in recent years, the Texan producer has clearly spent his time well in the studio, refining and adapting his process and distilling thoughts to analog tape loops for ‘Stranger in a Strange Land’; a heavily immersive half hour of sublimated, super groggy pressure that we’ve spent months wrapped up in and can 100% confirm its sandman potency. Logically, he derives from a formula of DJ Screw x Basinski x ‘Old Tapes’-era BoC something that transcends the sum of its parts, yielding a real go-to album primed for wake ’n bake times or, conversely, the far ends of the night - basically liminal music for heavy lids, carefully sequenced in a way that quietly displays all his stripes and unfolds its function with uncanny efficacy. Feels like a spoiler to say, but the closing ‘Ghost’ piece of chopped ’n screwed Badalamenti vibes, slowing and dusting a snippet of ‘Twin Peaks’-type intrigue & stuff, is arguably his finest moment in 14 years of releases, and the perfectly memorable kiss-off or denouement to an album that remains lodged in mind long after it’s finished. No doubt, it’s one of the year’s great albums so far.

Treasured slow motion trance rustlers Full Circle rack up a decade of remixes for the likes of Vox Populi!, 10LEC6, Tapan, and Die Orangen, plus a trove of unreleased goodies, on this limited edition mixtape, further to their much-adored albums and mixes for Good Morning Tapes and Offen Music. The eternal sunrise of late ’80s / early ’90s Goa dance & European proto-trance guides Alexis Le Tan & Joakim’s cult duo on their by-now trademarked style of chopped & screwed x Mediterranean drug chug hypno-bullets, pulling a broad range of source material into their own world of hazed offbeat grooves and arps with a rare je ne sais quoi that’s made their catalogue a proper cult property, fulfilling a need for this type of aerobic mysticism on modern dancefloors. As with their slew of Good Morning Tapes mixes and LPs it’s all arranged with a slick, sick, effortless aerodynamic, glyding between the likes of their subcontinental-slanted rework of fellow French psych-o-nauts Vox Populi!, and the remix for Die Orangen that really placed them on the map back in 2019. It’s never hurried, always zoned-in, flowing with a careful attention to the good of your trip and heavy as you like. The frisson is real!

After slaying with her cold fusions of ’90s R&B, ’00s brukfunk and footwork on 2024’s ‘Concentrate’ EP and last year’s ‘Come Alive’ album, NZO returns with a deadly hyper-jiggy session for DDS - huge one FFO Various Production, Beatrice Dillon, Dolo Percussion, Rian Treanor, Akufen, El-B. Captured at Rotherham Minster (the finest perpendicular church in Yorkshire, don’t u know) for SoYo’s annual electronics music showdown, No Bounds, NZO’s custom-built results brim with an unusual grasp of the funk, prompting a uniquely jittery rush offset with a wicked refusal of rhythmic anticipation that does crazy things with your limbs. With the finest grasp of ghost snares and the confidence to slap and tickle drums where others wouldn’t, she deftly dances thru fresh routes of rhythmic pursuit. Low-key, this sort of experimental ingenuity betrays her background in the sciences, as much as a keen ear for offbeat and upfront dance musics - effortlessly joining and short-circuiting oblique dots between Timbaland x The Neptunes’ rugged nuance, El-B’s whipsmart torsion, RP Boo’s legwork and Beatrice Dillon’s precision-tooled arrangements, all gelled with daring confidence in her own thing. We can't tell you if NZO's a DJ or nah, but she approaches her set with a serious understanding of how to take control of your limbs, linking rhythms, samples and melodic phrases as if she's grandstanding on four CDJs. She rushes towards euphoria with truncated R&B coos that she expertly threads between dub stabs and garage-y organ vamps, keeping the jerky rhythms intact throughout. And just when you think you've tapped in, sugar-sweet vocals and brassy fanfares cut into a shudder of drums, an 'ANTI EP'-era AE bass whoosh comes out of nowhere to remind you where you are. NZO patches together an authentically Yorkshire-coded reaction to New York's post-GHE20G0TH1K evolution, the self-consciously p2p-driven movement that helped shape visionary DJs like Total Freedom and Juliana Huxtable. But she’s less conspicuously "deconstructed" than her predecessors and champions Sheffield's avant history, referencing Warp's early run, Mark Fell's continuous influence and the perpetual grind of heavy industry, blending these elements with her spectrum of influences from further afield. Freaky, hyper-articulated movers need to check it at the nearest opportunity, trust.

Glass Beams have announced their highly anticipated EP ‘Mahal’, out on March 22nd on their new label home Ninja Tune. Released alongside the news is the EP’s titular track “Mahal”.

The genesis for the Melbourne-based trio, which formed around founding member Rajan Silva, was through the rekindling of childhood memories relating to his father, who emigrated to Melbourne from India in the late 1970's. Silva recalled watching a DVD on repeat with his father; ‘Concert for George’, a star-studded tribute to late Beatles member George Harrison performed at London's Royal Albert Hall in 2002, featuring legendary Indian sitar player Ravi Shankar with daughter Anoushka, alongside Western icons Eric Clapton, Paul McCartney and ELO’s Jeff Lynne. This intersection of musical styles was reflected in the record collection of Silva's father, where the sounds of iconic Bollywood vocalists Asha Bhosle and the Mangeshkar lineage sat alongside music from blues legends like B.B. King and Muddy Waters. In particular, Silva was drawn to the fusion of Western musical styles and traditional Indian music; a concept pioneered by Indian artists like R.D. Burman, Ananda Shankar, and fraternal duo Kalyanji-Anandji.

This cross-pollination of East and West, of old and new, is a sentiment that the band have sought to capture in their self produced works. Across their output, Glass Beams presents a timeless fusion of cultures and sounds beamed through a prism of live instrumentation and DIY electronica, all wrapped up inside a mesmerizing and mystical visual world of their own making.

Their debut EP ‘Mirage’, released in 2021 catapulted them into the collective consciousness of new followers who came to discover their serpentine, psychedelic-tinged tracks through social media, streaming services and word of mouth, with the vinyl copies selling-out as quickly as it could be pressed via grassroots record store support.

In the wake of the unexpected success of their debut release and an abundance of festival invitations, Glass Beams were amplified around the globe performing hypnotic renditions of the 'Mirage' EP alongside an additional 20 minutes of unreleased music. Early clips of these “unreleased tracks” quickly began circulating online garnering millions of views and a fast-growing and ever-hungry following. As 2023 drew to a close and the dust settled after a whirlwind of touring, Glass Beams retreated to their home studio to record this much anticipated 20 minutes of music. They have named the record 'Mahal'. 

Blood Blood Song continues East of the Valley Blues’ streak of sublime, future-forward acoustic fantasias. For years, the Toronto-based duo, comprised of brothers Kevin and Patrick Cahill, has excelled at an earthy and pensive brand of instrumental music inspired by notions of folk music as a global, rather than regional, idiom. While the duo’s elegant and unassuming virtuosity easily distinguishes East of the Valley Blues from its contemporaries of would-be Bashos and fledgling Faheys, it is the group’s telepathic improv that provides the certain x-factor that ultimately sets it apart from its peers. Throughout Blood Blood Song, Kevin Cahill’s percussive, prepared nylon string guitar---occasionally evoking the sound of a begena—remains in constant conversation with his brother Patrick’s nimble steel string abstractions. Though the stereo separation places the brothers on opposite corners of the stereo field—Kevin mostly on the right and Patrick mostly on the left—the two guitars often create the illusion of appearing to meet in the middle, where they blend into a single, dynamic sound. Blood Blood Song is an album of uncommon intimacy and grace. Of music that doesn’t so much develop as unspool. Music that blooms. - James Toth / Wooden Wand

A collection of spellbinding, melismatic vocal improvisations taken from 78s cut between the mid 1920s to mid '30s - a period defined by the aftermath of the Ottoman Empire’s partition, the Greco-Turkish War and the compulsory population exchange that followed. This same period also represented a time of intense efforts, following the establishment of the Republic, to westernise the new nation's music - coupled with a ban on traditional music education in schools, and later a complete ban on broadcasting Ottoman-Turkish classical music on the radio. As such these performances seem shrouded in an even more distant past, and feel quite intimately connected with forms of Greek amanes and rebetiko - having stemmed from the same Ottoman makam system, both with a subject-matter focussed on heartbreak, yearning, and pain.

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

Ethio Rock'n'Roll. Orchestras & Rhythm, Fuzz and Wahwah Guitar in Ethiopia & Eritrea, 70s & 80s. Selected by: DJ Mitmitta2nd pressing. C60 cassette comes in a silkscreened cardboard box. Edition of 50.

Recorded in Villa Sarkia (Sysmä, Finland) and Kisustudio, Vallila (Helsinki,Finland) during the years 2017-2020.

On Minimalistic ethio 80’s and 90’s from audiotapes የሐር ሽረሪት, DJ Mitmitta threads together lo‑fi synth jams and cassette‑era instrumentals from unsung Ethiopian bands, where battered Casios and drum machines sketch hypnotic, pastel‑toned echoes of wedding halls and roadside bars.Minimalistic ethio 80’s and 90’s from audiotapes የሐር ሽረሪት is a love letter to a very specific corner of Ethiopian music history: the moments on old cassettes when the singer leaves the room and the backing band just keeps going. Curated by DJ Mitmitta, the compilation gathers a “lovely bunch” of mostly instrumental cuts from various groups working in the 1980s and early ’90s, all of them leaning on Casio keyboards, drum‑machines and cheap synthesized timbres to stretch a mood across the standard 60‑minute tape. Some of these tracks began life as filler - end‑of‑album jams laid down to round out running time - yet heard together they reveal a parallel universe of minimal, hypnotic ethio‑electronics that was hiding in plain sight on the B‑sides and fade‑outs of the cassette era.The focus is squarely on groove and atmosphere rather than virtuoso display. Simple pentatonic keyboard lines snake over rigid drum‑machine patterns; bass figures loop with small variations until they become a kind of trance; cheap synth brass and organ sounds approximate the colours of traditional ensembles in an unmistakably 80s palette. What might have been background in its original context moves to the foreground here, letting the listener hear how these bands translated classic Ethiopian modal language into a bare‑bones, garage‑electronic idiom. There’s a homespun futurism to it all: you can feel the constraints of the machines and the tape, but also the pleasure of musicians pushing those limits just enough to make the dancefloor—or the living room—sway.Mitmitta’s selection highlights a cast of names that deserve to be said out loud. Among the players whose tapes are tapped here are ይስሃቅ ባንጃው (Yishak Banjaw), ዘሪሁን ወዳጆ (Zerihun Wdajo), እልፍነሽ ቀኖ (Elfenesh Kano), ቴዎድሮስ መኮንን (Tewodros Mekonnen), ወሰንየለህ መብራቱ (Wesneylehe Meberatu), ስፈልግ አያሌው (Seflege Ayalew) and ታደሰ ላቀው (Tadsse Lakew) - artists better known, if at all, for vocal releases, but whose bands clearly relished the chance to stretch out when the mic was off. Here, their anonymous interludes become the main feature, revealing shared aesthetic threads: unhurried tempos, gently melancholic melodies, a fondness for repetition that never quite tips into monotony.The physical edition underlines the project’s tactile, cassette‑culture roots. Cover art comes from Skinny Digital, given grain and texture through risoprinting by If By Magic in Helsinki, Finland, while each copy is dubbed onto recycled tapes by Jouni “Kasettijeesus” Kontulainen. That choice isn’t just a retro affectation; it echoes the very conditions that produced the music in the first place, when blank cassettes were precious, nothing was wasted, and “extra” minutes became a playground for minimal synth experiments in an Ethiopian idiom. Spooling through these tracks now, you hear not only a treasure‑trove of lo‑fi ethio grooves, but the sound of time itself stretching and fraying on magnetic tape - a small, crackling portal back to another listening culture.

"Remnants" is an album marked by the ambiguity of presence and absence. The pieces, recorded using minimal equipment in what Suzuki describes as a ritual-like atmosphere, began as a way of processing the loss of her father in 2019. But beyond this, they also come to speak to the ways in which loss changes our relationship with someone, and our experiences of the world. Indeed, the experience of loss is not marked merely by a single event, but is instead a process that unfolds over time. Despite the other's absence, a particular location, the smell of a certain brand of tobacco, a look on a friend's face - traces such as these are enough to bring about a renewed presence. It is through these subtle traces and remnants, encountered over time, that we come to understand loss as not only the acceptance of absence, but the recognition of a continued presence. As Suzuki says, "this is not a solo album." Its creation was instead shaped by an ongoing dialogue, the continued elaboration of a complex and ambivalent relationship. At once melancholic, warm, and embracing, it is this ambiguity, these subtle traces, that Suzuki’s compositions speak to. These are not merely the sounds of mourning, but instead have been shaped by the evolving dialectic of presence and absence into something far more subtle and haunting. (Zefan Sramek, 2026)