MUSIC

Since 1992, Robin Storey (founding member of the pioneering post-industrial band Zoviet*France) has been creating innovative and thought-provoking music under the Rapoon moniker. Drawing inspiration from his early days with Z*F, he continues to push the boundaries of ambient, industrial, and world music genres, earning him a dedicated following across the globe.

Originally available in 1994 as a limited-edition DAT tape through Staalplaat Records, Cidar was later included as a bonus CD in the reissue of another Rapoon classic, Fallen Gods. Now, after years of anticipation, fans can experience this mesmerizing work as a stand-alone release—remastered and expanded with three previously unreleased tracks from the original 1994 recording sessions.

Cidar showcases Robin’s signature sound - a seamless blend of Z*F-inspired drones and loops intertwined with vibrant African percussion and hauntingly beautiful Asian string instruments. This combination creates an immersive, trance-like atmosphere that transports listeners into a world of meditative sonic exploration.

With its enchanting rhythms and deeply textured layers, Cidar stands as a testament to Robin's unparalleled ability to craft music that defies genre boundaries while remaining instantly recognizable. Fans of both Zoviet*France and Rapoon will find themselves drawn into the hypnotic sounds of this timeless masterpiece.

The standalone release of Cidar marks an important milestone in the history of experimental music, offering audiences worldwide the opportunity to rediscover or experience for the first time one of Robin Storey's most influential works.

Since 1992, Robin Storey (founding member of the pioneering post-industrial band Zoviet*France) has been creating innovative and thought-provoking music under the Rapoon moniker. Drawing inspiration from his early days with Z*F, he continues to push the boundaries of ambient, industrial, and world music genres, earning him a dedicated following across the globe.

Originally available in 1994 as a limited-edition DAT tape through Staalplaat Records, Cidar was later included as a bonus CD in the reissue of another Rapoon classic, Fallen Gods. Now, after years of anticipation, fans can experience this mesmerizing work as a stand-alone release—remastered and expanded with three previously unreleased tracks from the original 1994 recording sessions.

Cidar showcases Robin’s signature sound - a seamless blend of Z*F-inspired drones and loops intertwined with vibrant African percussion and hauntingly beautiful Asian string instruments. This combination creates an immersive, trance-like atmosphere that transports listeners into a world of meditative sonic exploration.

With its enchanting rhythms and deeply textured layers, Cidar stands as a testament to Robin's unparalleled ability to craft music that defies genre boundaries while remaining instantly recognizable. Fans of both Zoviet*France and Rapoon will find themselves drawn into the hypnotic sounds of this timeless masterpiece.

The standalone release of Cidar marks an important milestone in the history of experimental music, offering audiences worldwide the opportunity to rediscover or experience for the first time one of Robin Storey's most influential works.

Edward Artemiev's re-recording of his score to Andrei Tarkovsky's classic 1972 film Солярис (Solaris), reissued on 180-gram vinyl. When Artemiev recorded this score in Moscow in 1989 and '90, there was no legitimately available releases of the original soundtrack. Artemiev chose to fill that void himself with this recording, released on Torso Kino in the Netherlands as part of a 1990 double-LP set also containing re-recordings of Artemiev's scores to Зеркало (Mirror) (1975) and Сталкер (Stalker) (1979). This set is now long out of print, and Mirumir is pleased to present the collection on two separate LP releases, remastered, with new artwork, and officially licensed by the artist himself.

Official remastered edition of COIL's 1998 drone/ambient masterpiece. “4 Tones to facilitate travel through time.” So begins the listeners’ journey into what has become one of the most treasured and revered pieces of COIL history ever released. Each of the four pieces on Time Machines is named after the chemical compound of the hallucinogenic drug that they were composed for, and the album was meticulously crafted to enable what John Balance referred to as "temporal slips" in time and space, allowing both the artist and audience to figuratively "dissolve time". Inspired by long form ceremonial music of Tibet and other religions, where the intent is to lose oneself in the music – to meditate or achieve a trance state – Time Machines became Drew McDowall, John Balance, and Peter Christopherson’s “electronic punk-primitive” answer to this tribal concept. Starting as a rough demo tape recorded solely by Coil member Drew McDowall, Time Machines started to take full form when McDowall enthusiastically delivered these demo recordings to Balance and Christopherson as sketches for a new Coil project with the primary goal of shifting Coil’s sound further into a more conceptually abstract direction. Largely recorded in 1997 using single takes with minimal post production, these four drones contain every intended fluctuation and tone, along with every glitch of the original – “Artifacts generated by your listening environment are an intrinsic part of the experience.”

As far as we know, or at least can discern from those letters and records published after his tragically early death at the age of 40, the author Franz Kafka had two great love affairs. The second, with journalist and translator Milena Jesenská, has been widely celebrated in the decades since the collected, one-sided Letters to Milena was compiled and published. In it, we see what must be the total store of his warmth and passion – everything lacking in his disorienting, menacing fictions. The Milena letters, strange and hot and highly questionable as they are, remain a source of fascination and inspiration for Kafka fanatics, erotomaniacs and historians alike.

Unfortunately, their intellectually salacious reputation means those Letters far overshadow an earlier, thicker, darker volume penned by Franz K to his first great love and one-time fiancée, Felice Bauer, a relative of his lifelong editor Max Brod. While Kafka’s real-life story is one of brutal sexual failure and alienation before, during and after these two longer-term relationships, he managed a depth of written intimacy with both of these women most accurately described as harrowing. This tendency to expose himself most in moments of bitter melancholy is far more apparent and striking in the collected Letters to Felice.

This cold zoetrope, which conceals and reveals at accelerated frame-rates, eventually making a complex picture from an endless sequencing of small repetitive gestures, is the scaffold supporting Aris Kindt, the ongoing two-piece ‘post-structuralist pop’ project from Francis Harris and Gabe Hedrick. With Now Claims My Timid Heart, Harris and Hedrick continue the experiment started on Swann and Odette, crafting closed systems that promote a hushed correspondence between their sonic (Basic Channel, drone metal) and literary influences (Kafka, Sebald, Pynchon).

Their commitment to this insular, architectural thesis resolves itself yet again with a record that manages to be simultaneously alienating and deeply human. This is largely due to the novel and particular ways the band achieves its trademark sound: For Timid Heart (their first record since 2017 as well as their first release on NYC’s Quiet Time Tapes), Harris eliminated much of music’s normal dependence on physical space, instead creating hermetically sealed sonic ‘rooms’ where the songs can live by sending samples and loops through convolution reverb. Each of the eight tracks on Timid Heart is fundamentally, thus, a field recording from an inaccessible world.

Nowhere is this more apparent than on ‘Letters to Felice,’ which contains some of the album’s most Kafkaesque, dystopian atonality, as well as the most obvious influence of storied producer and engineer Phil Weinrobe (Adrienne Lenker, Big Thief), who oversaw mixing for the record. This is about as upbeat as Aris Kindt gets; listening closely and taking into consideration the Rembrandt painting that gave the band its name, one can only hear the ravings of the human heart in a biomechanical sense. Not the stuff of love letters, but the operating table; not throbbing with lust, but electricity. It is the sort of music that begs the listener to remain at a slight remove for their own safety, to avoid going out in the way that desire, once sated, also ceases to be.

Now Claims My Timid Heart is, in this way, both a continuation of and an advancement upon Swann’s speculative emotional landscape; it maintains the band’s mystic sense of intimacy while simultaneously moving it in a more interior, cautiously analytic direction. Like viewing the Aris Kindt of Rembrandt’s masterpiece, or the vulnerabilities of Kafka on the private page, Timid Heart feels at times like getting a peek into an autopsy in progress. Simultaneously raw and clinical, it pulses inside the listener, encouraging retreat – if only into oneself.

The self-titled debut album from Portuguese experimental sound unit Amuleto Apotropaico arrives on vinyl via the PERF label. The duo of percussionist António Feiteira and synth player Francisco Oliveira collect and rework two years of concert recordings into four pieces. Skittering live drum strikes intertwine with layers of cello and modular synth textures, creating an aural experience that blurs the lines between musique concrète and jazz. Balancing openness to experimentation with an organic sense of sound, the record conjures depth and immediacy alike—an album perfectly suited for the fringes of urban noise or those late-night hours when perception begins to dissolve.

Assembling a 'Kwaidan'-style anthology from chewed scraps of noir, horror and dystopian sci-fi movies, billy woods chronicles Black American angst on 'GOLLIWOG', running circles around his peers and arriving on the AOTY for fans of Ka, EARL, Aesop Rock, Westside Gunn or Cannibal Ox. Featuring production from El-P, The Alchemist, DJ Haram, Saint Abdullah, Shabaka Hutchings and others.

The English language is violence, I hotwired it woods coolly quips on 'Jumpscare', tossing out run-on cadences to juggle polyrhythms between beatless double-bass and vaudeville Pan Sonic-esque electrical interferences. Within a track, he fully establishes the concept for 'GOLLIWOG', an album that surveys the full spectrum of horror, splicing together creaking floorboards, ticking clocks, industrial clanks, Herrmann-esque stabs and detuned pianos, maniacal screams and blood-curdling laughs to accompany knotty tales of corporeal terror. It's horrorcore in a sense, cobbling together its scenery with the same congealed raw materials as Necro or Prince Paul, but woods uses the schlocky formula to lighten his death blows, landing some of the deepest lyrical lacerations of his lengthy career so far; 'Dead Body Disposal' it ain't. "Daddy longlegs stride your home like Cecil Rhodes," he nicks, equating the fear of (harmless) spiders with the terror of a real-life boogeyman - the coloniser of Zimbabwe (where woods' father was born), no less. And the track ends with a seemingly throwaway vocal sample: "a horrid sight, the blackest gnome." A description of the titular character from American author Florence Kate Upton's 19th century children's book 'The Adventures of Two Dutch Dolls and a Golliwogg', it's actually a clue to unpicking the album's title. What's fear, exactly, ponders woods, and what's merely ideology? And how does all of this become entertainment, let alone throwaway cutesy fodder for kids?

American horror as a genre has long broadcast the innermost fears of a nation who wears its ideology so boldly that it almost vanishes. Way back in the early 20th century, H.P. Lovecraft's racism manifested in stories of an ancient evil lurking beneath the New World's disturbed earth; later on, in the wake of the contraceptive pill and the subsequent free love movement, promiscuity was met with death and mutilation in an endless slew of slasher movies; and during peak neoliberalism, a taste for "torture porn" offset the stasis of safe liberal suburbia. woods accepts the history of horror, and proposes a true Black American Gothic archetype; just like Jordan Peele's 'Get Out' bolted together familiar tropes to signal how psychologically traumatic the Black experience can be within manicured white confines, woods bundles various cultural spikes to fabricate a more dangerous lyrical weapon. On 'BLK ZMBY', the ubiquitous zombie myth - a Haitian folkloric invention that was famously repurposed by George Romero in the '60s as a critique of American capitalism - is used as packaging for a barrage of knowledge that wraps references to Fela, Dune and Usual Suspects in thorny post-colonial theory. In Romero's 'Night of the Living Dead', the Black lead character spends 90 minutes fighting off zombies only to be shot in cold blood by beer chugging rednecks; now, woods' Black zombies have taken over the asylum, ignoring accountability and poisoning the water supply while the third world's corpse is sucked dry. "Zombies go home to platters of prawn and escargot," woods says, not letting Biggie off the hook. "New mothers struggle while the zombies suckle like baby goats."

DJ Haram handles the production on 'All These Worlds are Yours', dilating Shabaka Hutchings' transcendent improvisations with damaged '50s b-movie oscillations, rasping amp distortions and microtonal drones. "Today, I watched a man die in a hole from the comfort of my own home," woods recounts, accepting the day-to-day wartime horror-tainment we're fed on social media, 'Human Centipede'-style. "Trench fire, silent weapons, body horror, private booth," replies E L U C I D, woods' longtime Armand Hammer cohort. And woods coaxes out some of El-P's best production work in years on 'Corinthians', linking snippets of Lu Xun's 'Diary of a Madman' - that equates the Confucian ethical system with cannibalism - with the breakdown of late-stage Abrahamic morals that'll be closer to home for Anglophone listeners. "Best believe them crackers won't make it to Mars," he quips, double-underlining a verse that muddles St. Paul with Steven King, and Noah with the military industrial complex. By itemizing his own fears in a sequence of 'Cat's Eye'-style vignettes, woods launches hooks into the contemporary façade of terror-as-amusement, a fairground haunted house that's populated with very real demons. It's shockingly effective - the Pulitzer-ready rap album woods has been promising for aeons, and one of the very best things we've heard this year so far.

Kato Hideki’s Statement: “ The Walk is the first collaboration between me and my brother from another mother, Kramer. We started working together in the late summer in 2023, discussing the thematics and the sonic palette of the album. We shared strong connections with the writings by Robert Walser and Basho - both of them walked, dreamed, lived and died on the road. Ambient music was our natural plane for us to transduce the power of their literature into our music as signifiers. Neither of us imagined just to make “another ambient record”, nor a direct translation of their writings. My instinct was to use various modal colors with modulation - slow yet structured music that sounds deceivingly similar to ambient music. Kramer’s genius was apparent to me: his ability to elaborate the music as a composer / musician with his keen ears; to frame the album conceptually, sonically and musically as a producer. What you hear in this album is a true collaboration between two artists who trusted each other to let the music transcend. Here you have it, enjoy YOUR walk - dream, live and die well! ”Kato Hideki - Brooklyn, NY on April 3rd, 2024 Kramer’s Statement: “Sometime in the latter 20th Century, I became aware of the art of The Brothers Quay, two American animators living in London and making the most beautiful works of art I’d ever experienced in cinema.I noted that some of their work was inspired by… “the writings of Robert Walser”. Fast forward to 2024 and I have now read every word there was to read (translated into English) by this unique Swiss-German writer. I’d waited decades to find the right ‘environment’ in which to create music in dedication to this great prose writer and poet, and in 2023, I found that it was not ‘the right environment’ that I’d been waiting for, but rather, the right collaborator. Kato Hideki and his extraordinary work as composer for film, dance and just about every other creative discipline you can imagine, was equally as inspiring to me for this project as the words and worlds of Walser and Basho. Our journey in collaborative composition began all over the global map, but arrived at the same physical endpoint, and at the very same point in time. I’m not sure that I would even be interested in music at all, unless there were other artists to partner with as I worked. Working alone means Nothing to me. This months-long act of co-creation i have shared with Kato for “THE WALK” has made me as happy to be alive as Walser and Basho were so happy to be alive while on their walks, as evidenced by their extraordinary descriptive powers, knowing that the world around them - so simple yet so very complex - made life so wondrous, and so well worth the sometimes seemingly insurmountable struggles of finding a way to survive Today, so that we might try again Tomorrow.”-Kramer, April 9, 2024 (Asheville, NC)

Known as an early member of Napalm Death and later a pioneer of industrial and dub’s deepest realms with Scorn and Lull, Mick Harris returns with a long-awaited new album, issued on vinyl by U.S. stronghold L.I.E.S.—a bastion of industrial and raw techno. Across nine tracks, Harris sculpts an abyssal soundworld where cavernous bass pressure and grainy textures descend like a dive into the deep sea. Delay and reverb loop like chisels carving stone, layering dub’s decay with the grit of noise to construct shadow-filled spaces. Probing the very limits of lightless zones, this work stands as a weighty statement at the outermost edge of industrial dub.

Having defined a multi-dimensional sonic universe on their acclaimed eponymous debut album, composer/filmmaker Chris Hunt and Korn's James "Munky" Shaffer abandon the familiar and drift towards a kingdom of recursion on EXINFINITE, staring down a tangled mass of mirrored wormholes that hum with eldritch ambiguity. VENERA's sophomore full length is darker, heavier and more percussive than its predecessor, but there's something more intimate wired into its circuitry that's harder to define - something mystical, mysterious and melancholy. Songs materialize from the void only to be dissolved by acidic synths or pierced by Hunt's whetted beats, while Shaffer's dense, tortured riffs are offset by euphoric, time-dilated vocals from FKA twigs, Dis Fig and Chelsea Wolfe. Following their encounter with vastness, VENERA have peered inward, ruminating on the limits of existence and excavating their most deeply buried emotions.

VENERA emerged in 2022 when Hunt and Shaffer veered into their own musical territory after recording with Albanian artist Xhoana X. Improvising together and experimenting with cinematic, sci-fi-inspired sound design, the duo realized the collaboration had potential, so they began developing and evolving the sound further, bringing in assistance from former Mars Volta drummer Deantoni Parks, Queens of the Stone Age's Alain Johannes, post-punk duo VOWWS and LA noise rock legends HEALTH. And after their debut album appeared on Mike Patton's Ipecac imprint in 2023, VENERA kept deconstructing and rebuilding their approach to songwriting, swapping out ambient Eno-esque atmospheres for blown-

out beats and dense textures, and figuring out how to extend the narrative they'd opened up without retreading old ground.

On 'Tear', the duo's new direction can be heard clearly as Shaffer's primal guitar noises are reformed into eerie widescreen expositions that Hunt punctuates with pneumatic kick and snare cycles. Broken up by airlock hisses and luminous synths, the track proposes a backdrop that VENERA continuously transmute, reforging the concept as the album develops. Cult singer-songwriter Wolfe adds a gothic American flavor to the crepuscular 'All Midnights', crooning powerfully over VENERA's vacuum packed rhythms and gaseous synths, and Berlin-based noisemaker Dis Fig follows work with The Body and The Bug on 'End Uncovered' lending breathy, emotionally layered tones to Shaffer and Hunt's tape-damaged industrial pops and whirrs. They launch squelchy, decelerated techno into occult noise reflecting pools on the slithering 'Asteroxylon', and Hunt replies to Shaffer's reverberating plucks with foghorn groans on the ominous, pensive 'uuu773'.

'EXINFINITE' perpetually builds momentum until it hits 'Caroline', an intense collaboration with FKA twigs that isolates her most unearthly tones. Initially curling her words around ominous electrical distortions and mangled, ghostly voices, twigs launches into a charged operatic cry that Shaffer and Hunt meet with skittering cybernetic beats and dense walls of guitar noise. It's this track that fully cracks open VENERA's concept, merging the synthetic with the natural and prompting dysphoria, loss of self and infinite regress. So the blood-curdling noise and sinister ambiance of 'Decreation' acts like a dissociated coda. In the 'EXINFINITE', destruction and death are not overcome, they're intensified until they metamorphose completely.

Pianeti Sintetici presents AI-37, entitled ‘Space Opera’. Conceived by Italian artist Davide Perrone, the Pianeti Sintetici (“Synthetic Planets”) project hypothesises the creation of future synthetic worlds as told through sound. Although split across two parts, the album is a singular organism that narrates a journey of boundless cosmic exploration. A sonic tapestry woven of intergalactic atmospheres, Space Opera’s imaginative sound design contributes to a richly spatial and haptic experience. Taking place in the dimly lit crevices of deepest space, a swirling pool of chemical abstractions and extraterrestrial transmissions spumes out from the darkness. Elements weave through broad washes of drones and scintillating textures, contrasting a sparse backdrop with dense and multilayered passages. Composed with the use of modular synthesisers and intense audio manipulations, ‘Space Opera’ comes to life as an entity that transports the listener on an immersive journey into the mysteries of alien worlds.

AI-36 comes from Ear to Ear - the debut collaboration between label regular Samuel van Dijk (Multicast Dynamics) and Ukrainian artist Yevgen Chebotarenko. Taken from a series of live recording sessions, the album explores in four parts a markedly darker realm of soundscape music. A cornucopia of abstract morphing scenes and heady synesthesia, the album brims with rich sonic detail and evocative gestures. Deftly blending organic sound textures with an experimental austerity, ‘Live Recordings’ displays potent and accomplished storytelling. The album opens to a grey overcast vista, a natural landscape that slowly melts into a descending chasmic dysphoria. The mood transitions to a drone-based piece on the B-side, characterised by a more psychologically suspenseful framework and exotic blend of sound design. The atmosphere lightens, yet equally pensive as side C takes on a more elemental form, invoking water and its array of microbial and metabolic ecosystems. Brief cathartic moments in the final section pave the way for deeper wayfaring on the D-side. Stray signals and unknowable artefacts skitter across a vast subaqueous domain, a fathomless womb of potentialities that ebbs into eternity.

A name that breathes, a voice that whispers and howls in soliloquy. Collecting the echoes that follow—field recordings from Colombia, murmured poems, the spectral songs of birds—she stitches together a sonic diary, an audible thread between past and present. Like the shifting landscapes of Colombian magical realism, she bends nature as memory bends truth. From this alchemy arises Un Pensiero Intrusivo: seven folk incantations, captured live in Cagliari, Italy.

A new genre, steeped in something unnameable—a haunted flamenco, spectral invocations, a piano unmoored from time. The air thickens, the horizon tilts. A slow descent into vertical tropics, where distant sensibilities collapse into a single, hypnotic pulse.

Throbbing Gristle revisits TGCD1, long out of print, now available on vinyl for the first time ever via Mute. This release includes the original sleeve notes by all the members of the band, uncovering the story and ethos behind TG’s independent record label, Industrial Records. Formed in 1975, Throbbing Gristle, aka Chris Carter, Peter “Sleazy” Christopherson (1955-2010), Cosey Fanni Tutti, and Genesis Breyer P-Orridge (1950- 2020), fully delivered on punk’s failed promise to explore extreme culture as a way of sabotaging systems of control. Their impact on music, culture, and the arts has been immeasurable and still felt today. Originally released on Mute’s imprint, The Grey Area, in 1986, TGCD1 comprises forty-two minutes of studio recordingscaptured at their own Industrial Records Studio on a TEAC 8-Track in 1979. Initially serving as an exclusive piece of unreleased material for TG’s first-ever CD release, the record’ dark and harsh droning sound stands as a significant chapter in their discography, showcasing the band during, arguably, their most formative era. TGCD1 is reissued alongside The Third Mind Movements - both vital additions for dedicated Throbbing Gristle and industrial music fans.

Veteran avant-garde artist Little Annie teams up with South Florida producer Richard Vergez’s project Night Foundation for Inertia, a 7-inch release on Noir Age. A distinctive dark ambient single where their sensibilities subtly intersect, the A-side layers smooth bass and sustained tones with Annie’s restrained vocals, evoking an urban desolation, while the B-side offers a dub-inflected counterpart, steeped in reverb and spatial treatments that extend the track’s afterglow. Mastered by none other than KRAMER, famed for his work with Daniel Johnston, the release is further elevated by its visual and physical presentation: limited art editions, silkscreen packaging, and inserts that merge sound and image into a singular experience. Strictly limited to 300 copies.

Indonesian duo KUNTARI make music that's so distinctive, they had to devise their own genre: primal-core. On 'MUTU BETON', multi-instrumentalist Tesla Manaf and percussionist Rio Abror dialog with both history and their tropical surroundings in Bandung, West Java's mountainous capital. Using the cornet and hulusi, a free reed instrument made from a bottle gourd and bamboo pipes, Manaf echoes the bellows of local elephants, orangutans and rhinos, grazing Abror's ancestral Indonesian rhythms with potent overdriven riffs and evocative microtonal chimes. It's music that's profoundly atmospheric and simultaneously raw, recorded live to fully encapsulate the dynamic and deeply human interaction between the two seasoned players. There are elements of sludge metal, noise and post-hardcore, references to traditional folk music and jazz, and gestures towards sound art, 20th century minimalism and dark ambient, but what KUNTARI do is completely idiosyncratic - it's hardly surprising it needed a similarly unique categorization.

Manaf started KUNTARI as a solo project, debuting in 2020 with 'Black Shirt Attracts More Feather' and animating his nimble instrumental improvisations with bold electronic processes and booming synthetic drums. And by the time he recorded 2022's acclaimed 'Last Boy Picked', his approach had evolved significantly; prioritizing organic sounds, he played prepared cornet and piano, bringing in additional percussionists to help devise a ritualistic rhythm section. Abror was one of those performers, and ended up sticking around, playing on 2023's furious 'LARYNX/STRIDULA', the stylistic precursor for 'MUTU BETON'. At this stage, the duo have racked up a litany of accolades and collaborated with a spectrum of like-minded artists, from noise deity Keiji Haino to fellow Indonesian free-thinker Rully Shabara, who's best known for his work with Senyawa and avant-garde supergroup OSMIUM. 'MUTU BETON' plays like a lap of honor, showcasing their most kinetic and most feral recordings to date.

On 'Parai', a two-part composition made for Singapore-based artist Priyageetha Dia's multimedia installation LAMENT H.E.A.T, KUNTARI surround loose, rattling polyrhythms with blood-curdling, animalistic calls and industrial strength chugs from Manaf's prepared guitar. The artwork honors indentured laborers forced to extract rubber in Southeast Asia, and KUNTARI's response is an incisive critique of colonialism, celebrating the region's ancient rhythmic forms and sharpening their edges as they barrel into the future. Upsetting the logic of academic American minimalism, KUNTARI disrupt winding Reichian xylophone, glockenspiel and marimba repetitions on 'Kerak Terusi', wielding swinging ceremonial thuds from Manaf's Rebana, a cow skin drum that often accompanies Indonesian Islamic rituals.

They confront local sonorities even more directly on 'Miamch', a commission the duo made for Yogyakarta's Festival Kebudayaan, dueling on saron, a single-octave metallophone, and a Javanese gamelan set, and don't just follow the expected path. The familiarity is soon replaced with eccentricity as eerie resonances and reverberations sweep across the rhythmelodic patterns. Rough-edged technoid patterns are bent into new shapes on the abrasive 'Paniscus', and on 'Bessing', KUNTARI do their best to recreate the singular atmosphere of a local trance ritual, interrupting howling spirit voices and jangling chimes with blackened, grindcore-inspired riffs. KUNTARI surpass even their own high standards with 'MUTU BETON', folding history and geography in on itself and suggesting a trailblazing Indonesian cultural movement that's not restricted by highbrow Western conventions. It's not just automation and technology that drives progression, it's interaction and observation. And there's nothing more primal, or revolutionary, than that.

On her moonlit second solo album, Hungarian Transylvanian vocalist, composer and performer Réka Csiszér composes an uncanny and chilling soundtrack that muddles the physical and spiritual realms, balancing crumbling realities with confident self-actualization. 'Danse des Larmes' is based on sketches commissioned for a theater production, and Csiszér widens the original concept of "Eastern European melancholy" by painting dreamlike memories from her childhood - of alienation, unconscious trauma and distress - into a hypnotic sequence of soundscapes that hum with tension, mystery and transcendence. She pulls from industrial music, dark ambient, Eastern European folk music and vintage horror soundtracks, smudging sludgy drones, dense electro-acoustic textures and her own breathtaking choral vocals until the roots vanish almost completely, leaving only ghostly traces behind.

The album follows Csiszér's acclaimed VÍZ debut 'Veils', a bold seven part audiovisual "body horror soundtrack" that spiraled out from her long-held interests in theater, cinema and opera. Those elements are still present on 'Danse des Larmes', but by examining her past, Csiszér is able to reach into the future, amalgamating gothic horror and speculative science-fiction. This is never more evident than on the album's eerie opening track 'Eden X', that juxtaposes wheezing synthesizer textures with soul-stirring choral echoes that liquefy into Csiszér's oily ambience. As the track washes to a close, Csiszér suspends her sounds in the silence, letting the obscured harmonies and rusted noise peer beyond the veil, setting the scene perfectly for the vastly different title track. Here, the influence of folk music bubbles to the surface, with distorted, eerily familiar vocal rotations that crack over woody environmental sounds. "I dreamt a dream tonight, that dreamers often lie," a processed voice speaks into the phantasmal forest. "In lovers arms they fade and die, I talk of dreams, I talk of lies, I dream of you, I dream of I."

Csiszér's voice is clearer still on the giallo-influenced 'Hyperálom', calling confidently across hymnal rhythms and woozy analog throbs, and on 'Angel's Throat', it's thrust into a parallel universe, reverberating wordlessly before Csiszér dexterously sculpts it into terrifying ferric shrieks and gaseous vapors. Elsewhere, she pays tribute to iconic Hungarian composer Mihály Víg on 'Vali 2.0', offering her own interpretation of 'Kész az egész', a piece featured in Béla Tarr’s 1987 film 'Kárhozat'. In Csiszér's hands, Víg's sardonic original is lifted into the clouds, obscured by celestial pads that drape around Csiszér's sensual, Julee Cruise-like vocals. It's a cunning way for Csiszér to trigger a memory and immediately obfuscate it, leaving a sense compelling disorientation in its wake. And that sense of terror and awe swirls throughout the album, questioning the horror of childhood trauma and the confusing echoes of the past and replacing it with something beautiful, and something new.

Cindytalk is the mercurial, expressionist outlet of Scottish artist Cinder. An evolution of her early 1980's Edinburgh-based punk band The Freeze, she launched the project upon moving to London, inspired by the crossroads of exploratory UK post-punk and early European industrial. Her work thrives on chance and transformation, collaging elements of noise, balladry, soundtrack, catharsis, and improvisation. After a series of celebrated albums for the Midnight Music label as well as collaborations with This Mortal Coil and Cocteau Twins, Cinder migrated to the United States, becoming involved with various underground techno collectives around the Midwest and West Coast. Subsequent relocations to Hong Kong and Japan further expanded Cindytalk's horizons, resulting in a fruitful partnership with Viennese experimental institution Editions Mego, for whom she released five full-lengths of swooning, granular atmosphere. 2021 finds her as engaged as ever, at the precipice of long-awaited back catalog reissues alongside multiple new works, guided by her lasting love of discovery and deviation: “new pathways always being uncovered.”

The 3rd album by Scottish industrial enigma Cinder aka Cindytalk began life as the soundtrack to an experimental film by English director Ivan Unnwin entitled Eclipse (The Amateur Enthusiast's Guide To Virus Deployment), and was originally slated for release via Factory Records' video division, Ikon. Inspired heavily by Alan Splet's eerily disembodied sound design in David Lynch's Eraserhead, the collection's 15 pieces seethe between field recordings, wistful piano vignettes, and lurking metallic haze – a hybrid palette Cinder characterized at the time as “ambi-dustrial.” Unfortunately Ikon collapsed on the eve of the project's completion so the film was never distributed, but the Midnight Music imprint repackaged Cindytalk's score as an LP in 1990 under the name The Wind Is Strong... (full title: The Wind Is Strong - A Sparrow Dances, Piercing Holes in Our Sky).

Long out of print, the album remains one of the most elusive and adventurous in the Cindytalk discography, a mix of musique concréte, haunted reverie, and desolate beauty. Even unaccompanied by their intended visuals, this is overtly cinematic music, conjuring forests at dusk and shadowed corridors, equal parts remote and reflective. Cinder cites a belief that “all sound is music,” which fully manifests here, utilizing tape hiss, ticking clocks, flicking flames, and distant whispers as evocative accents in tapestries of luminous negative space.

Although Cinder included the subtitle “A Cindytalk diversion” in the sleeve notes, The Wind Is Strong... is crucial to the project's canon, demonstrating the depth and versatility of her unique ear and intuition. She describes each album as a direct response to the previous one, and in that sense The Wind marks a bold break from the coiled song-oriented post-punk of 1988's In This World, venturing into unknown, unnamed terrain, and finding foreboding new futures to call her own.

Eager Buyers is an observation of longing, of memory, of attempted connection, of lost innocence, and irreconcilable dreams. It’s the sound of broken promises for a bright future, where rose-tinted glasses have lost their clarity, dirtied with disaffection over time. Spanish-born, Berlin-based artist JASSS, presents her third LP, Eager Buyers. It’s the inaugural release on her own new platform called AWOS, which also encompasses musical, AV and art collaborations, live events, and a radio show.

Across this sultry, smoky, cinematic epic, JASSS attempts to process mixed feelings amidst the modern malaise. Alluringly atmospheric and cerebral, but bold and direct, with high-spec sound design, JASSS spaces each element with expert definition. Searing swathes of noise nestle with crisp breakbeats, billowing bass, dark ambience, prepared piano, phosphorescent electronics and calibrated percussion.

“Whether you buy into the dream of capitalism or not, on a subconscious level, many people that lived through the 90s and 2000s had capitalist hope from the 80s and 90s drummed into them. It was a promise of something that never came true. We put our faith in a mirage, and now we’re left in an existential void, struggling with a very real

collapse.” - JASSS

A sort of anti-nostalgia, the record lives in a contemporary purgatory of oblique moods which hover in the psyche, somewhere between uncertainty, foreboding, and guarded anticipation. The raw metal of bass guitar strings plays a key part too, ranging from ornate melodic phrases, shoegazy drones, and attitude-riven hard twangs. Vocals come from JASSS herself, plus James K and Alias Error on the track “It’s A Hole”.

The heavy, hauntological atmospherics are in part due to the addition of field recordings – the discreet, but spiritually-loaded incidental sounds of a place which can capture its history, with the acoustics somehow retaining an emotional imprint of lives long gone. If pressed for descriptive reference points, ‘masterfully-produced-post-punk-post-rock- baroque-gothy-dubby-trip-hop’ might be a starting point, but that doesn’t do it justice. Equally spectral in their dream-like quality are the musical signposts, where genre elements are familiar, but somehow also unplaceable, untethered from context, and beautifully strange in their new composite. At points there’s an air of strangely dazed calm too – a kind of frazzled cool in the face of desolation, and even tender, lighter moments, which glint through the cracks.

Official remastered edition of COIL's 1998 drone/ambient masterpiece. “4 Tones to facilitate travel through time.” So begins the listeners’ journey into what has become one of the most treasured and revered pieces of COIL history ever released. Each of the four pieces on Time Machines is named after the chemical compound of the hallucinogenic drug that they were composed for, and the album was meticulously crafted to enable what John Balance referred to as "temporal slips" in time and space, allowing both the artist and audience to figuratively "dissolve time". Inspired by long form ceremonial music of Tibet and other religions, where the intent is to lose oneself in the music – to meditate or achieve a trance state – Time Machines became Drew McDowall, John Balance, and Peter Christopherson’s “electronic punk-primitive” answer to this tribal concept. Starting as a rough demo tape recorded solely by Coil member Drew McDowall, Time Machines started to take full form when McDowall enthusiastically delivered these demo recordings to Balance and Christopherson as sketches for a new Coil project with the primary goal of shifting Coil’s sound further into a more conceptually abstract direction. Largely recorded in 1997 using single takes with minimal post production, these four drones contain every intended fluctuation and tone, along with every glitch of the original – “Artifacts generated by your listening environment are an intrinsic part of the experience.”

One of contemporary Ambient’s preeminent figures lands on its leading label, enacting a transition into a new phase of rhythmic noise and tonal shadowplay laced with peculiar sensitivities, wrangling Dilloway-influenced tape noise thru ASMR ambience, fritzed Dub Techno, layered vocal drone and ritualistic mantras - big tip IYI Grouper, Porter Ricks, Pharmakon, Civilistjävel!

Perila steps up solo with a heavily satisfying debut for West Mineral, investigating negative space and states of subconsciousness. The shift in tone feeds forward into arcane realms of resonant dark ambient and dream-pop, harnessed in amorphous structures using dub-as-method. It’s wholly immersive stuff in a way that’s long been Perlia’s calling card, but here more careful in its command of personalised, atmospheric physics from the Coil-esque ‘cheerleader’, thru the deeply smudged and sexy trip hop of ‘lava’, and the oozing, sloshing OOBE-like spectres of ‘give it all’.

The title of the album is a reference to Carl Jung’s phrase "all haste is of the devil” which informs Perila’s writing process here; she slows down in an attempt to feel more and tap into her shadow self. Album opener 'cheerbleeder' is a doomed, tremolo-heavy mass of ghost notes, while the rattling chains and strangulated voices on ‘metal snax' sounds like they belong on a Wolf Eyes tape. 'grain levy tep dusk' strikes closer to recently unearthed industrial plates from Tolerance and Mentocome, with rusted clangs threaded into deflated, half-speed pulses. The album keeps growing from there, shifting and expanding as Perila exhales and absorbs her cognitive blind spots. She credits "trance states" for helping her let go, and we broadly get to experience that on the mantra-like 'thunder me' and the blurry all-vocal highlight 'hold my leg', which sounds like it could have been snatched from Grouper's 'Way Their Crept' sessions.

As with all of Alexandra Zakharenko’s work under various aliases - Aseptic Stir, Baby Bong, Wedontneedwords, Perila - her allure is self-evident to lovers of textured, diffuse electronics, and never more so than on this lip-bitingly potent suite of delicacies and primordial urges, perfectly balancing ancient and techngnostic aspects with an x-amount of seductive strangeness left in the margins.

Demdike Stare & Cherrystones unveil a long-in-the-making darkside fantasy weaving atmospheric and loose-limbed cuts recorded at labs in London and Manchester, brilliantly shaking a bush of ghostly trig points ranging from the Mars rehearsal tapes to Minimal Man, Randy Greif’s cut-ups, Conrad Schnitzler’s industrial prototypes and ‘70s ECM sides - with vocal contributions from Ssabae’s mesmerising Laura Lippie.

In dazed pursuit of styles heard on Cherrystones’ DDS tape ‘Peregrinations in SHQ (Super High Quality)’, the renowned London digger properly hexes sonic leylines with his label bosses on 10 wickedly grubby and hazed sound experiments. They tumble down the rabbit hole like some sixth sense-guided call-and-response, resulting in an exquisite unfolding of psychoacoustic spaces familiar to their mutually spirited sounds.

Honestly it's some of the dirtiest and most esoteric gear we've heard from Demdike; you can sense a lifetime of incessant digging drip through every loop and crack; grotty no-wave, industrial noise, DIY psych, proto-techno and gnarled concrète, further bolstered by Cherrystones’ perpendicular, equally insatiable and fathoms-deep areas of interest. With a focus on scrappy, feral cuts and hastily recorded edits, the trio roughly re-draw wordless chants and hyper-compressed knocks over a vortex of found sounds that curdle in rhythmic heat. Never staying sill for long, the trio get drowned by watery ambience, then shredded loops, Technoid shrapnel and electric bass prangs dancing into the aether.

The crankiest spirit perfuses the whole thing, evoking states of unravel and psychic distress as they pit a near-peerless collective knowledge into the void. Laura Lippie acts as human ligature to sanity, a fleeting constant found smudged into the hip hop chops of ‘Familiar Unfamiliarity’, spectral incantations of ‘Prophet in View’, or a channelling of Ozzy in ‘Thee Oath’, among more deranged tongues on ‘Observing the Crux’.

It’s the missing link between ECM, Earth and Dilloway we didn’t know we needed - up there with some of the most satisfyingly deep and frazzled gear this century.

Properly deep and mysterious future-primitivism on the debut recordings from a reclusive artist about whom we know almost nothing except that they hail from the Mesolongi region of western Greece. Uncanny ambient chamber spectres are the order of the day, with a sound that could have been conjured decades or just weeks ago - who knows - giving something like The Caretaker processing crates of rebetika instead of the usual ballroom dirges.

Aeson Zervas is yet another enigma to emerge from a country that, in recent times, has gifted us the inventive spirits of Christos Chondropoulos’ and Nikolas Rafael Hadjilaskaris’ nebula of projects spanning Live Adult Entertainment, Christian Love Forum and ElHellEll - not to mention Jay Glass Dubs - and which has made Athens a magnet for the Euro avant garde and experimental in-betweeners.

Zervas’ music exists in a space out of time, manifesting a more discreet sound than any of his compatriots, but sharing a feel for displaced, etheric space and timeless, nostalgic romance. His eight-part debut album summons the ghosts of Greek folk and classical music in slow moving arrangements set in eerily iridescent plasma. Uncredited voices and instrumentation are wreathed in hypnotic, noumenal plumes that settle on the mind like smoke caught by moonlight.

He clearly shares the hypnagogic allure and sozzled sensuality of The Caretaker, as though James Kirby was reminiscing on a past life or spirit quest in Greece, but he also somehow reminds us of the solemn beauty of Dominique Lawalrée’s Belgian attic meditations, distinguished by subtle flourishes of near black metal dungeon gloom and arcane synth flickers that jolt the mind into unusual states of curious delight.

Unmissable, if you know what’s good.

Edward Artemiev's re-recording of his scores to Andrei Tarkovsky's classic films Зеркало (Mirror) (1975) and Сталкер (Stalker) (1979), reissued on 180-gram vinyl. When Artemiev recorded these scores in Moscow in 1989 and '90, there were no legitimately available releases of the original soundtracks. Artemiev chose to fill that void himself with these recordings, released on Torso Kino in the Netherlands as part of a 1990 double-LP set also containing re-recordings of Artemiev's score to Солярис (Solaris) (1972). This set is now long out of print, and Mirumir is pleased to present the collection on two separate LP releases, remastered, with new artwork, and officially licensed by the artist himself.