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Carpal Tunnel Syndrome – the bonkers sound collage / 2000 skratch odyssey from the musical genius that is Kid Koala – gets the 25th Anniversary reissue treatment from Ninja Tune. A true musical visionary, Eric San aka Kid Koala combined a sensei-like approach to his craft with wild humour, giving his art an utterly inimitable quality. A dedicated turntablist (“turntablism”: the art of using turntables as a musical instrument to create original sounds, mixes, and rhythms), San recorded Carpal Tunnel Syndrome entirely on turntables, hand-cutting vinyl records onto an eight-track recorder. The result is an eccentric, joyful romp through his uniquely warped and brilliant mind.

A surprising suite of new material from popular kankyō ongaku vanguard Yutaka Hirose, 'Voices' is a chaotic collage of field recordings, rickety beatbox loops, rough-textured samples and psychedelic synths - ambient it ain't. It's fascinating to hear 'Voices' because when you've not seen much new material emerge from an artist since their classic era, the expectation is that they've simply stopped producing. Hirose is best known for his 1986-released 'Nova' album, a record commissioned by the Misawa Home Corporation for use in their prefab houses and rediscovered online (like Midori Takada's 'Through the Looking Glass' or Hiroshi Yoshimura's 'Green') decades later. WRWTFWW Records already reissued that record, bundling it with almost an hour of extra material, and followed it up with an additional archive of Hirose's '80s recordings, but 'Voices' brings us right into the present. So it shouldn't be too surprising that the album is markedly different from its predecessors. You'll get a good idea of what to expect with the 12-minute opener 'Library', a track that sounds like Hirose is scrubbing through his archive of sounds, layering public transport ambiance with movie samples, off-hand vocal takes, radio chatter, jazz stems and squelchy back-room rhythms. Like Akira Umeda's similarly spannered 'Gueixa', it's a head-melting stream-of-consciousness experience, not really music so much as a vortex of sound. Hirose's four 'The Other Side' tracks are more straightforward balearic techno experiments offset by peculiar environmental recordings, and these are peppered through the album - no doubt to lighten the mood. Elsewhere, Hirose gets into grinding, ritualistic IDM on 'Uprising', and threads brittle beats and acidic synths through a dense fog of bird calls and chat on 'Mixture'. He's been busy.
“Although it’s not a UFO case, there are those who insist on interpreting it as such, creating narratives and situations that don’t correspond to reality.”
– Claudeir Covo, ufologist, during the 1st Brazilian Forum on Exobiologism and Holism, 1998.
Sensational Conversations is a phantasmatic dialogue between two people who have never met — a freewheeling exploration across different languages, geographies, and states of mind. An artifact that could be interpreted as an alien signal, but in fact, it is just the sound of two people trying to stay in motion.
Bruno Tonisi’s debut album began as a gesture of contact: reaching out to one of his longtime heroes, legendary New York rapper and producer Sensational. What followed wasn’t a conventional collaboration, but something far more peculiar — an exchange that feels like a coded message, picked up on a staticky radio frequency, halfway between two broken worlds.
The album deconstructs hip hop until it becomes something else entirely: at times, an abstract sound collage in a similar vein as GRM's; at others, a dirty, low-slung loop that could’ve emerged from some long-lost NYC basement tape. No matter how far it ventures into atmospheric or unearthly territory, there’s always a kind of tension anchoring it — a pulse, a streetwise roughness, a refusal to drift too far from lived experience.
With intense spectral processing, distorted beats, fractured voices and half-lit conversations, the album creates a terrain that constantly shifts underfoot. At first, it’s disorienting. But as you acclimatize yourself to its logic — its unstable rhythms, its errant signals, its sudden emotional clarity — the landscape begins to feel strangely navigable.
And through all of this, one thing remains clear: hustling creates connections. Beneath the abstractions and distortions one finds a shared drive — a low-key urgency in both Bruno and Sensational, each of whom find ways to keep on moving, keep on creating, keep on reaching out. Sensational Conversations may sound like science fiction, but its engine is deeply real.
What we’re hearing isn't necessarily what it seems — and it is precisely therein that some form of truth may lie.


Primitive Maxi Trial is a time-warped excavation from the archives of Emiliano Pennisi, the Palermo-based producer and underground fixture behind the Paradigma collective (DerFreitag, Algoritmo). Surfacing on the Heat Crimes imprint, this archival transmission feels less like a retrospective and more like a haunted artifact – a fragment of the pre-digital underground rendered in dusty, lo-fi hues.
Drawn from material produced between the late ’90s and mid-2000s, Primitive Maxi Trial occupies a blurred zone where early DAW fetishism meets pirate aesthetics and a scavenger’s ear for pop-cultural residue. Think cracked VSTs (Albino, SubBoomBass), MPC 1000 grit, and CD-ROM sample libraries ripped from Future Music and Computer Music cover discs—long-lost sonic ephemera unearthed like forgotten VHS tapes in the backroom of a failing electronics shop.
There’s an unmistakable hauntological hue here—not in the usual Ghost Box pastiche sense, but something rawer, more regionally specific. These tracks were forged under the looming shadow of the Mafia Maxi Trial, in a city fraught with paranoia, informal spaces, and cultural fragmentation. That tension bleeds into the music: compressed textures, iron-lung atmospheres, and bleakly humorous juxtapositions that wouldn’t feel out of place soundtracking a Mark Leckey installation.
But this isn’t mere nostalgia. Pennisi’s compositions slip between IDM’s jittery melancholy, no-fi techno, ambient detritus, and grotesque rave misfires with an almost outsider art sensibility. Surreal cuts appear like tape-warped memories of nights out you’re not sure really happened. In the best moments, Primitive Maxi Trial feels like music made not for release but for ritual—claustrophobic yet oddly liberating, deeply personal yet disarmingly tongue-in-cheek.


So excited and honored to finally release the vinyl document of my realization of JOHN CAGE’s ROZART MIX. Back in the extremely strange year of 2020, I was approached by Wave Farm and John Cage Trust to stage a performance of this seldomly performed piece that Cage wrote for Alvin Lucier. The piece is comprised of 88 tape loops (one for each key of a piano), spliced together with multiple non-musical sounds played back on 12 reel to reel machines.
In January of 2021 I spent a wonderful and intense week researching ROZART MIX at John Cage Trust at Bard College. It was the first place I had visited during the pandemic. On October 23, 2021, with the assistance of Rose Actor-Engel, Twig Harper, C. Lavender, Quintron, Robert Turman, and John Wiese, I presented a 6 hour performance of ROZART MIX at John Cage Trust. Six hours of 12 individually amplified reel to reel tape machines, placed around multiple floors of a house, playing 88 tape loops spliced together by 5 to 175 splices, created an overwhelming and joyous environment of cacophonous sound. The performance culminated with John Wiese touching a frog for the first time as the final sound croaked through the speakers. The frog contact was just one of many magical moments that occurred during the preparation and presentation of the piece. I hope you enjoy listening to it as much as we enjoyed performing it. Special thanks to Galen Joseph-Hunter of Wave Farm and Laura Kuhn & Emy Martin of John Cage Trust for trusting me with this material.


"This revelatory album positions John Tchicai’s large ensemble, Cadentia Nova Danica (CND), in the broad context of international new music activity. All previous releases by the group presented them as a free jazz unit. There were only three—their self-titled release on Polydor (1968); “Afrodisiaca” (MPS, 1969); and “Live at Jazzhus Montmartre” (Storyville), recorded in 1967 but not released until 2016. They are all on jazz labels, so the bias is perhaps understandable.
CND was a great free jazz group, to be sure. But the band and its leader were willing to experiment with a wide range of musical developments outside of jazz and incorporate them into their music. This LP encompasses a collaboration with classical composer Svend Erik Werner, an experiment with taped sound collage, and a remarkable sui generis composition by Tchicai. With the addition of this album to CND’s discography, a broader and deeper portrait of the band’s courageous spirit begins to emerge.
Tchicai formed the group just after returning to his native Denmark in 1966 after four highly productive years in New York. Upon his return to Copenhagen he immediately sought out musicians with whom he could form a band. He was soon working with an ensemble that included trumpeter Hugh Steinmetz and altoist Karsten Vogel. By late 1966 they became Cadentia Nova Danica (New Danish Cadence). They made their Danish debut at Café Montmartre and quickly developed a reputation as one of the most creative bands in Europe. They remained together until 1971, when Tchicai entered the ashram of Swami Narayanananda for an extended period of meditation during which he didn’t publicly perform.
Tchicai was absorbing new ideas from all directions. Even in New York, he drew inspiration from other art forms. Ayler’s “New York Eye and Ear Control”, in which he took part, was improvised to a film by Michael Snow. Some concerts had a theatrical aspect with Tchicai appearing in face paint or costume. He also composed and performed “Scandinavian Discoveries”, an extended composition for jazz quartet and string quartet that used both standard and graphic notation. The return to Europe gave him access to influences from classical and non-Western musics that would have been unavailable to him in the US. In Denmark, Tchicai crossed paths with other musicians, photographers, filmmakers, and artists willing to exchange ideas and work together. As a result, performances by CND began to reflect influences from other media and other cultures. Tchicai for example absorbed African influences directly from the African musicians living in Europe and made them a permanent part of CND.
To a greater extent than in the U.S., classical composers and improvising musicians in Europe took an interest in each other’s work, and CND sometimes collaborated with classical composers who were looking for experimental settings to explore. One situation found them performing in a subway station where the chimes that signaled the train doors were closing were used as cues to play a line of the composition. They once performed on a spinning carousel at a fairground, where the music was captured getting louder and softer as the musicians passed by fixed mics. There was also a noteworthy collaboration with the improvising composers of Musica Electronica Viva.
The cryptically, if absurdly, titled “Mc Gub Gub, (I–VIII)” is a stunning example of the creative ways Tchicai used ostinatos to structure his compositions and provide a supporting trellis for improvisation. Recorded during a Danish Avantgarde Jazz concert that also included the Contemporary Jazz Quintet, the piece opens with the band loosely repeating a phrase. There’s a constant interchange between composition and improvisation. The written passages also function as transitions between improvised sections, in one case setting up a piano solo whose fluidity contrasts starkly with the angular writing. Many of the transitions are abrupt jump cuts. But in one case the written phrase gradually dissolves as more and more players abandon it to begin improvising. Tchicai and his ensemble explore many relationships between written and improvised on a piece that’s both urgent and playful.
Danish composer Svend Erik Werner, the producer of CND broadcasts during the band’s extended residency at the Danish Broadcasting Corporation in 1969 and 1970, was among those who took an interest in writing for the group. “Ode to St. John” is contemporary in form and outlook but based on methods taken from Gregorian music. It also makes room for improvisation from members of Cadentia Nova Danica. Although vividly contrasting, the two modes of musicmaking speak to one another. The alto saxophone and trumpet duet has a songlike, vocal quality in keeping with the spirit, if not the form, of Gregorian music. It’s a rewarding meeting—and sometimes clash—between ancient and modern.
“Pladepip,” Tchicai’s foray into musique concréte, another modern classical genre, is unlike anything else in Tchicai’s recorded canon. Two full-band improvisations bookend a remarkable audio tape created by Tchicai. At the time, he was a collector of 78s and he took several of them and gouged their surfaces so they would skip and create repeated phrases, much like the ostinatos in his improvising and composing. He then assembled the patterns into a sound collage. The tape is jittery and discontinuous, all hard angles and abrupt phrases. The group improvisations, on the other hand, are soft-edged clouds of sound that develop with a slow pulsing flow. The extreme contrast between sections creates the piece’s surreal drama.
The wide-open borders between musics, the band’s palpable joy in exploration, and their bon homie make this an important addition to Cadentia Nova Danica’s recorded legacy. "





Over the past several years, the recorded output of Carl Stone has been turned on its head. In previous decades, Stone perennially toured new work but kept a harboring gulf of time between the live performances and their recorded release. This not only reflected the careful consideration of the pieces and technical innovations that went into the music but also the largely academic-minded audience that was themselves invested in the history and context of the work. The time span of Stone's recorded output in both sheer musical duration and year range was generously expansive. Following multiple historical overviews of Stone's work on Unseen Worlds and a re-connection with a wider audience, the time between Stone's new work in concert and on record has grown shorter and shorter until there is now almost no distance at all. Stone's work has often at its core explored new potential within popular cultural musics, simultaneously unspooling and satisfying a pop craving. On Stolen Car, the forms of Carl Stone's pieces have also become more compact, making for a progressive new stage in Stone's career where he is not only creating out of pop forms but challenging them.
Stolen Car is the gleeful, heart racing sound of hijack, hotwire, and escape. Stone carries the easy smirk and confidence of a car thief just out of the can, a magician in a new town setting up a game of balls and cups. With each track he reaches under the steering wheel and yanks a fistful of wires. Boom, the engine roars to life, the car speeds off into the sunset, the cups are tipped over, the balls, like the car, are gone.
"These tracks were all made in late 2019 and 2020, much of when I was in pandemic isolation about 5000 miles from my home base of Tokyo. All are made using my favorite programming language MAX. However distinct these two groupings might be they share some common and long-held musical concerns. I seek to explore the inner workings of the music we listen to using techniques of magnification, dissection, granulation,, anagramization, and others. I like to hijack the surface values of commercial music and re-purpose them offer a newer, different meaning, via irony and subversion." - Carl Stone, Los Angeles, September 2020


Christian Schoppik aka Läuten der Seele brings his “Water” trilogy to a close with his new album ‘Die Reise zur Monsalwäsche’ (The Journey to Monsalwäsche) following up ‘Die Mariengrotte als Trinkwasseraufbereitungsanlage’ (2022, Hands in the Dark) and ‘Ertrunken im seichtesten Gewässer’ (2023, World of Echo).
This final instalment takes the listener on a sacred odyssey searching for the fulfilment of one's (or is it their own?) spiritual destiny, from beginning (‘Entschluss, Abschied & Aufbruch’ / ‘Decision, Farewell & Departure’) to end (‘Verirrung, Ankunft & Erlösung’ / ‘Losing Way, Arrival & Salvation’).
While the compositional technique of this opus still relies primarily on samples and altered audio-collages, each chapter of the trilogy was intentionally created from very different sources. The present collection is arguably less "experimental" than some of Läuten der Seele's previous works, as classical music takes center stage this time. However the mastery in crafting such magnificent and intriguing narratives sees the simplicity and emotional depth of these sonic mariages become the beauty of it all.
Schoppik remains consistent as ever in his creative explorations, and this release feels very much like a culmination of his past projects. “Die Reise zur Monsalwäsche” will probably come to be known as a standout entry in the German artist's music catalog, showcasing a new facet of his talent.

