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In many ways, DJ Black Low’s debut album, Uwami, shows the signs of an artist’s first offering in any musical genre. Showcasing fluency in a broad range of styles and stuffing a number of ideas to the record’s brim is the 20 year-old producer’s attempt to both introduce himself to a wide listenership and stamp a recognizable sound in their minds. In other ways, somewhat out of the young South African producer’s control, Uwami goes against the grain. The 11-track album released on the Awesome Tapes From Africa imprint comes at a time when South African electronic music is being fundamentally disrupted. Amapiano, the electronic music movement which first gained popularity with a small, core group of followers, now dominates the mainstream. Well-known and pervasive, amapiano borrows from a diverse palette of musical styles which are popular in South Africa’s largely Black townships- jazz, kwaito, dibacardi, deep and afro house among them. Instead of pandering to the seemingly insatiable local appetite and growing global penchant for amapiano though, on Uwami DJ Black Low seeks out the limits of the sound du jour and tries to stretch them. Asked how he generates ideas for his songs, Sam Austin Radebe said, “Usually when you make music from the heart, the ideas for making songs come easily. Ideas come from everywhere.” DJ Black Low mainly works in Fruity Loops, the production software, for his instrumentals. But the software doubles as a place for him. “Even when I am sitting and doing nothing,” he says, “I can go in there and be inspired…Some of the songs that I made were modified from old projects of mine.” On his solo productions, he uses the samples and compositional norms that make amapiano hits the bedrock on which to experiment and improvise. With collaborators, DJ Black Low improvises within the boundaries of listener-friendly grooves. He was discerning when choosing vocalists for the songs on the project. “I am more of a producer, lyrics come from the vocalists that I work with. I usually make a beat and then send it to people that I work with. They write something for the beat and I will decide which lyrics I use on which songs. If the vocals are sharp, I’ll include them.” Vocalists on the record use different South African languages including SePedi, Setswana and isiZulu. DJ Black Low has four completely solo productions on Uwami, “Downfall Revisit,” “Vula Vala,” “60 Days No Sleep” and “Stiwawa Quitter.” In “Downfall Revisit” he introduces the listener to the high-pitched keyboard melodies which are something of a signature. On the record’s last two tracks, “60 Days No Sleep” and "Stiwawa Quitter,” he is solo again. He is not veering from the amapiano realm, but exploring something distinctly new which for a brief moment exists simultaneously with amapiano. The sound he creates has foundations of what could easily have progressed into captivating amapiano songs on their own. But he uses improvised but structured electronic percussion and distortion sounds to drive the tracks in a particular direction. What remains is something like a deconstructed amapiano. “Vula Vala” borrows its title and refrain from popular amapiano producer Kabza De Small’s 2019 hit of the same name. DJ Black Low says that Kabza De Small’s success inspired him because they come from the same city, Hammanskraal, Pretoria. DJ Black Low showed an early interest in music, particularly in producing. “I’ve liked music a lot from a young age,” he says “I used to produce hip-hop and commercial house before I started producing amapiano. When I started out, I used to listen to a lot of commercial house. I used to DJ at places in my neighborhood, parties and weddings. I wasn’t getting big gigs.” For a young producer living in the townships of the greater Pitori area of South Africa’s Gauteng province, there were few avenues available for Radebe to pursue a career in music. His trajectory shows the vulnerability of this pursuit. “I had started producing in 2013 and it so happened that I lost my equipment in 2014. I couldn’t afford to buy equipment. In 2017, a friend of mine who had been making music found a job and decided to quit music. He gave me his equipment and I was able to start producing again. That’s when I started getting back to it. I tried to pick up where I had left off, with hip hop and commercial house but I found that amapiano was the popular music. I liked it, so I started producing it.” Solid for its ability to showcase DJ Black Low’s individual creativity and experimentation, Uwami is a promising debut. Most interesting , though is the producer’s ability to harness his improvisation and experimentation into compelling grooves when he collaborates with others, as he does so readily on this recording.

Originally released in 1996, DJ Shadow's Endtroducing..... remains one of electronic music's defining albums. Recognised by Guinness World Records as the first album created entirely from samples, it reshaped hip-hop, electronic music and modern production. This 30th Anniversary Edition celebrates the lasting impact of a record that continues to inspire artists and producers three decades on.
A key contributor to Wah Wah Wino’s KWALK, Sli Town Crier steps out solo with Auditions. Drawn from an extensive archive of recordings and assembled by Morgan Buckley, it’s a restless collision of raw chops, battered rhythms and heavily mangled beats. Unpredictable and rough around the edges, Auditions pulls its source material apart and stitches it back together into something gloriously unruly.
Swedish-Finnish sound artist Marja Ahti returns to Black Truffle alongside Iceland-based American clarinetist John McCowen, whose innovative polyphonic technique provides the direction for 'Errands', imprinted by Ahti's processed field recordings and sinewaves. 'Errands' opens with the perfect dupe: a snippet of a recorder performance of Messiaen's 'O sacrum convivium!' that lasts just a few seconds before the sounds are morphed with elongated, buzzing resonances. The framing is crucial: although Ahti and McCowen are both aware of expectations within the confines of often stuffy electroacoustic music, they were keen to approach it in their own way, following a traditional philosophy while taking in very different elemental components. The two met in Stockholm in 2024 when they performed at Edition Festival and recorded the set in Reykjavik, where Ahti gathered many of the album's incidental recordings. And she didn't record the puffins or the crashing tides, she wandered around the streets, capturing the humdrum ambiance that makes the city so particular. McCowan is best known for his approach to the clarinet, a usually monophonic instrument that, via an extended technique, he's been able to transform radically. And it's those wavering multiphonic moans that anchor 'Errands', integrated seamlessly with Ahti's similarly treated sine waves. 'Errands' isn't a drone record though; the two sound artists concoct a surprisingly action-packed narrative on 'Chorales', punctuating their elongated tones with piano and bringing the recorders back in the final act. On 'Physical Display', the duo's restrained drones metamorphose into high-pitched, kettle-boiling squeals that foreshadow the next movement, when the space opens up to capture a host of familiar sounds before simmering down to almost nothing. At its most peaceful, the piece reveals its most intimate elements: rainfall, distant engines, stifled breaths, plucked strings.

'Kiliae' is a collection of pieces that tell the story of a homecoming. It is a cohesive narrative that captures the feeling of what a home can be, drawing its inspiration from life in that place itself—life that has now become something different after having lived in foreign places for an extended period of time. Kiliae captures a certain atmosphere, a feeling that has built up during countless walks and bike commutes in and around the city of Kiel.

Music aged in time, resonating from the surface to the core through layers and sediments of stones — the strata. Four morning recording sessions with a separation between them of between three and ten months — a chronozone that will rest for a time and on which the next one will be added, thus forming the total of the six pieces of the album — becoming six strata. A slow-moving album that develops landscapes of subtle but continuous evolution, where we find layers of diverse nature created from different procedures, bathed in the calm waters of wabisabi, where melancholy, immensity, insignificance, the potential of the unemerged, coexistence and simplicity converge at the same time.

Baroque Sunburst is proud to present "Meliponica", the unique and unheard music of the interdisciplinary Brazilian artist João Machado, entirely created by electronically processing the recordings of stingless bees. Machado's work with field recordings of native bees form a sound library held in international collections such as the British Library and the Animal Sound Archive in Berlin, and his research into stingless bee communication has unfolded into experimental electronic music, finally finding its way on vinyl for the first time. Within its 40 minutes of never-stopping music, "Meliponica" reveals its unique sonic universe, flawlessly moving from complex percussive rhythms to melodies and soundscapes that seem to come as much from earth as from outer space. With an impressive ability to explore the potential of its original audio sources while pushing it to the limits, João Machado's idea of music never loses musicality and groove, even in its more intimate moments.
Showcasing contemporary Algerian sounds led by the gasba, a traditional reeded flute, 'My Heart is Dust Before Him' is a collaboration between Hive Mind and Oran's Édition Ahlem imprint. In the Berber language, "gaspa" means "reed", and references the wind instrument that's central to some of the region's most gripping Bedouin folk and ceremonial music. On this 10-track anthology, Hive Mind plucks tracks from Édition Ahlem's recent catalogue; the label emerged in Oran from a record store and puts out cassettes since the early '90s. These selections are a little more contemporary and examine how the gasba forms have mutated and evolved in the last couple of decades, reacting to production changes while retaining the unique sound of the flute itself. There's plenty to explore here, from the dimly lit distortions of Cheikh Tahar Oueld Marhoum's 'Naachak Fiha Ou Magoulhach' and Cheba Negouane's rai-adjacent 'Ychafouni Maghbounat' to Cheikh El Waal's woozy organ-led 'El Galb Maamar' and Mohamed Ain Larbaa's unexpectedly funky 'Sratli Khatra Kheleft L3ahed'.
Loveland Music proudly presents Palle Mikkelborg "Light" Release date: January 30, 2026 on LP/CD/digital. “Maybe this is his last album. If that’s the case, the end couldn’t be more beautiful." (Politiken ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️) “Light will stand proudly amongst Palle Mikkelborg’s greatest achievements, whether he decides to go on performing music or not.” (Everything is Noise) “Palle Mikkelborg has made a masterpiece with Light” (GAFFA) “Light is the perfect distillation of Mikkelborg’s musical life – a cavalcade of the qualities that have always defined him as a musician: light, colour, life, mysticism, love.” (Seismograf) “Monumental and simple at the same time” (Jazznyt) Palle Mikkelborg (b. 1941) - a spiritual jazz legend, acclaimed composer, trumpet player and electronic music pioneer - is back in the studio recording his first solo album in more than 25 years. Working with him as a producer is Jakob Bro, with whom he has recorded the great ECM albums "Returnings" with Jon Christensen and Thomas Morgan, and "Strands" with Marilyn Mazur. "When Palle decided to stop touring and performing live, I suggested that we sit down together and listen through the many MiniDiscs and DAT tapes he had tucked away, hoping we might find a new direction for making music together. We went through everything — recordings of orchestras and choirs, soundscapes, and so on — material he had worked on throughout his career,” says Jakob Bro. “I can still remember the first time we said it out loud. Suddenly, it made perfect sense in my mind: a solo album. An album devoted entirely to Palle — his sound, his vision, his voice. It felt like something the world truly needed.” This final opus sees Palle Mikkelborg re-interpret and record his own orchestral works and two pieces by Per Nørgaard and Thomas Laub as 'meditations' on solo piano, trumpet and flugelhorn mixed with soundscapes and guest performances by longtime collaborators Helen Davis, Jakob Bro and Thomas Li. As a soloist his sound on trumpet and flugelhorn is both much loved and familiar after decades at the forefront of Nordic Music, but on “Light” one is struck by the weight Palle Mikkelborg has given his soundscapes and the grand piano. Forever curious on what's ahead, the album underlines his spiritual and ever-seeking approach to free improvisation, classical composition, choral works and experimental sound landcapes. Film by Andreas Koefoed Cinematography: Adam Jandrup & Andreas Koefoed Music: "Capricorn" composed and performed by Palle Mikkelborg.
Tearing apart the sound of the cello and zooming in to its atomic particles, Max Eilbacher and Lucy Railton muddle the real and the virtual on 'Indifferent Rocks...', dreaming up a mind-altering study of authenticity and isolation that constantly challenges aesthetic expectations. Originally commissioned by New York's ISSUE PROJECT back in 2022 for their "Distant Pairs" series, where the organisation matched two artists to consider the implications of isolation post-COVID, 'Indifferent Rocks are Rearranged into a Dam' uses the concept of distance to inspire almost every aspect of its construction. Railton and Eilbacher's separation is represented in the method itself, with mics placed in the middle of a quadraphonic setup; the gap between the acoustic source material and the preternatural result; the cello and the digitally re-synthesised simulation. Over almost half an hour, the duo engage in a surprisingly blithe deception, daring listeners to dissect the material and figure out what's actually going on. And for the first few minutes at least, that's not an easy task. Eilbacher's reduced, spectralised drones slowly reveal a familiar back-and-forth of a bow; might it be cello funnelled through some pedals, or a simulation? Or both? It doesn't get any easier to parse as the piece evolves, either. The sonic spectrum is enhanced with booming low-end and eardrum-piercing high end animations, but it remains cryptic, occasionally sounding like pure synthesis and occasionally close to Railton's bewitching last album 'Blue Veil'. Pattering rhythms materialise from the sidelines and in the stark middle section, raw staccato notes are spray-painted with digital gloss, then repeated, swallowed and regurgitated by unseen entities. Somehow, the process feels as mischievous, as rigorous and as texturally engaging as those vital early GRM experiments that posed the initial questions about electronic and acoustic music we're still attempting to answer. The aesthetic is very different, but the philosophy is the same - Railton and Eilbacher implore us to experience sound just like they do, not in one defined place or another, but in a third space where anything's possible.
Mark Fell follows Nite Closures with Servitude In Context, another set of fiercely unconventional computer music built for movement. Drawing on decades spent exploring electronic dance music, Fell works with clashing tempos, asymmetric rhythms and tightly controlled digital percussion. ‘Actutations #1 (extended)’ plays with acceleration and deceleration, while ‘time-slur’ and ‘Taut manifold’ push into fractured rhythmic territory. ‘Low energy mantra’ brings hints of gamelan and footwork before ‘anode’ and the 12-minute ‘3 lost contours (pts 1-5)’ send things into increasingly wild, restless motion.

PRE-ORDERSep 18, 2026 (EST) LP - Black SS083lp 6669454152402 $13.00 3 TOTAL 3 Teranga, the final album in the Wau Wau Collectif trilogy, the dreamy cross-cultural collaboration across cultures, finds the band finally coming together. Taking its name from the Wolof word “teranga” is used to express a welcomeness, a hospitality to others, and something loosely as a shared meeting - an apt title for the album that is an expression of a meeting. The project began in the village of Toubab Dialaw in 2018, where two musicians Arouna Kane and Karl-Jonas Winquist first conceived of the idea. Over the subsequent years, the project evolved, with the two producers trading files back and forth over WhatsApp, incorporating their network of friends and colleagues into what would become a the Wau Wau Collectif, culminating in their first album “Yaral Sa Doom” (2021) and "Mariage” (2022). Their latest album, Teranga, is the third entry and final entry in this trilogy, finalized and mixed during the the band's first live tour - a five week sprawling journey across Europe with "three swedes, three Senegalaise, and a french driver, a lovely mess of languages”, Karl-Jonas explains. At the heart at the heart of Wau Wau Collective is a strong musical foundation, borne not just by the wide cultural swath from which the collective draws inspiration but from the deftly talented musicians - composed and performed with a staggering 26 different songwriters and musicians, playing an impressive array of instrumentation, from balfon, ngoni, calabasse, violin, cello, saxophone, and omnicord. The resulting sound is complicated to place, but sonically has certainly found its place in Teranga. At times, dreamy and meditative, but imbued with an organic soul, a wholly unique sound that is both anachronistic and future facing. “Oh, Africa” could be at home on a classic reissue, with an almost Turkish guitar riff, where 100 ans (their first live studio recording) reminiscent of early 2000s Amadou et Mariam.With roots in avant garde (Karl-Jonas has cited Barney Wilen's Moshi as an inspiration) while Wau Wau draws inspirations from these experiments, though diverging in their dedication to the collaborative spirit - a project enabled by cellphones, WhatsApp, and mp3s zipping around the internet - slightly ironic considering how acoustic and grounded and human it feels. As we close the chapter on the trilogy, Karl-Jonas insists that this may well be just the beginning: “we have barely started in some ways” he says, with plans shaping in the next year for getting the whole band together, and more tours on the horizon, more hope, more humanity, and more coming together.


William Basinski's epochal four-album box of slowly decomposing memories gets its long-overdue deluxe reissue, with liner notes from Laurie Anderson and a fresh mastering job from Josh Bonati.
Undoubtedly one of the greatest "ambient" albums of our era, 'The Disintegration Loops' is an enduring aesthetic touchstone. It didn't exist in a vacuum when it appeared in the early '00s, as the dust settled after 9/11, but Basinski's prescient meditation on decay in the wake of tragedy felt like a musical mark in the sand - a body of work that changed the way we think about repetition and tape saturation. The story goes that the composer, who'd been recording loop-based, minimalist experiments since the '70s, inspired by Brian Eno's 'Discreet Music' and Steve Reich's 'It's Gonna Rain', was going through his archive of reel-to-reel tapes when he realized the ferrite was flaking away from the plastic. Not willing to give up on the material, he recorded the output, letting the tape head destroy his pieces irreparably and adding reverb to the output.
Now, this would have been good enough without the additional context, but Basinski finished 'Disintegration Loops' on the morning of September 11, 2001, and played the first piece to his friends as they sat on the roof of his apartment block, watching agape as events unfolded. He used the footage he shot at the time for the covers of each disc, and the suite's solemn, thoughtful decline served as the unofficial soundtrack of our collective grief, an unfussy reminder of tragedy that plays out its haunted remnants of the past until they die, quite literally. There's been plenty of music that's aped Basinski's method since, and we don't doubt there'll be plenty more, but there's nothing quite like the original, and this latest remaster is the definitive version.

Super Tip! Kali Malone and Drew McDowall have orbited each other's work for over a decade, their individual explorations of sustained tones and harmonic space suggesting an inevitable collaboration. When they finally entered McDowall's Brooklyn studio together, what emerged on Magnetism transcends mere musical compatibility. Malone has spent recent years extending the legacy of Éliane Radigue, redefining what electronic minimalism can accomplish through pipe organ and synthesizer. Her compositions stretch single chords into cathedral-sized architectures of sound, tracing harmonic territories that Radigue first mapped in her pioneering electronic works. McDowall brings a different lineage: as a veteran of Coil, he approaches synthesis with the patience of an alchemist, crafting electronic textures that breathe with unsettling life. Magnetism resolves this apparent contradiction through sonic diplomacy. Malone's melodic sensibilities—those long, searching lines that seem to trace the curvature of space itself—find new expression through McDowall's textural arsenal. Where Malone typically builds with mathematical precision inherited from the Radigue tradition, McDowall introduces the controlled chaos he perfected with Coil: digital distortion that pulses like organic matter, synthesis algorithms that decay at the speed of memory. The album's foundation reveals their shared fascination with the spaces between notes. Karplus-Strong synthesis becomes their primary tool, combined with just intonation tuning systems that allow Magnetism to inhabit frequencies conventional instruments cannot reach. But technique serves expression here, not the reverse. Across four extended movements, repetition becomes meditation, saturation a means of transcendence. There's something ritualistic about how these pieces unfold, their harmonic cycles suggesting ancient ceremonies filtered through electronic consciousness. This is music that operates on geological time while pulsing with digital immediacy. The collaboration marks significant evolution for both artists. Malone embraces the productive friction of working with another creative mind, while McDowall discovers in her melodic clarity a redemptive light reminiscent of Coil's more transcendent moments. Together, they've created something that feels both ancient and urgently contemporary—proof that experimental music's most profound statements emerge when distinct artistic visions recognize themselves in each other.

In the mid-1970s, a force of nature swept across the continental United States, cutting across all strata of race and class, rooting in our minds, our homes, our culture. It wasn’t The Exorcist, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, or even bell-bottoms, but instead a book called The Secret Life of Plants. The work of occultist/former OSS agent Peter Tompkins and former CIA agent/dowsing enthusiast Christopher Bird, the books shot up the bestseller charts and spread like kudzu across the landscape, becoming a phenomenon. Seemingly overnight, the indoor plant business was in full bloom and photosynthetic eukaryotes of every genus were hanging off walls, lording over bookshelves, and basking on sunny window ledges. The science behind Secret Life was specious: plants can hear our prayers, they’re lie detectors, they’re telepathic, able to predict natural disasters and receive signals from distant galaxies. But that didn’t stop millions from buying and nurturing their new plants.
Perhaps the craziest claim of the book was that plants also dug music. And whether you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you from Mother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattress from Sears), you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especially for them. Subtitled “warm earth music for plants…and the people that love them,” it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientific tunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog. Plants date back from the dawn of time, but apparently they loved the Moog, never mind that the synthesizer had been on the market for just a few years. Most of all, the plants loved the ditties made by composer Mort Garson.
Few characters in early electronic music can be both fearless pioneers and cheesy trend-chasers, but Garson embraced both extremes, and has been unheralded as a result. When one writer rhetorically asked: “How was Garson’s music so ubiquitous while the man remained so under the radar?” the answer was simple. Well before Brian Eno did it, Garson was making discreet music, both the man and his music as inconspicuous as a Chlorophytum comosum. Julliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote lounge hits, scored plush arrangements for Doris Day, and garlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” He could render the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel alike into easy listening and also dreamed up his own ditties. “An idear” as Garson himself would drawl it out. “I live with it, I walk it, I sing it.”
But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: “When my dad found the synthesizer, he realized he didn’t want to do pop music anymore.” Garson encountered Robert Moog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society’s West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device. With the Moog, those idears could be transformed. “He constantly had a song he was humming,” Darmet says. “At the table he was constantly tapping.” Which is to say that Mort pulled his melodies out of thin air, just like any household plant would.
The Plantae kingdom grew to its height by 1976, from DC Comics’ mossy superhero Swamp Thing to Stevie Wonder’s own herbal meditation, Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. Nefarious manifestations of human-plant interaction also abounded, be it the grotesque pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers or the pothead paranoia of the US Government spraying Mexican marijuana fields with the herbicide paraquat (which led to the rise in homegrown pot by the 1980s). And then there’s the warm, leafy embrace of Plantasia itself.
“My mom had a lot of plants,” Darmet says. “She didn’t believe in organized religion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatever created us was incredible.” And she also knew when her husband had a good song, shouting from another room when she heard him humming a good idear. Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.
Garson may have given the album away to new plant and bed owners, but a decade later a new generation could hear his music in another surreptitious way. Millions of kids bought The Legend of Zelda for their Nintendo Entertainment System back in 1986 and one distinct 8-bit tune bears more than a passing resemblance to album highlight “Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos.” Garson was never properly credited for it, but he nevertheless subliminally slipped into a new generations’ head, helping kids and plants alike grow.
Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the green thumb that made everything flower around him. “My dad would be totally pleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had no popularity at the time,” Darmet says of Plantasia’s new renaissance. “He would be fascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating this part of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then.” Garson seems to be everywhere again, even if he’s not really noticed, just like a houseplant.
-Andy Beta




Madelyn Byrd draws on teenage years spent in the Sonoran Desert for Night Rider, a dreamlike meeting of poetry, electronics, ambient music and experimental pop. Cicadas, engines, clattering percussion and processed vocals evoke the desert after dark, while Patrick Shiroishi’s sax cuts through the electronic haze. There are echoes of Robert Ashley and Harold Budd in Byrd’s mix of spoken narrative, choral passages and abstract sound design, but Night Rider follows its own road, moving from the insect-like crunch of ‘Imprint’ to the woozy pop pull of ‘What Is, What Was’.
Techno, Mondo, Lo-Fi - they anticipated the entire universe of these genres in 1978.
Recorded on a 4-channel tape recorder before their debut and released as a CD in 1996 to great acclaim, the legendary sound collection "1978" is finally being released as an LP for the first time after 30 years. It includes three previously unreleased tracks, including "Confusion," which had a different version on a fan club-exclusive flexi-disc.
A year before releasing their debut album from Toshiba EMI, Hikashu was already creating their own fascinating music. In a house off a narrow alley leading to the train tracks from the intersection at 6-chome, Toyotamakita, Tokyo, with the shutters closed and blankets hung, they reverberated sounds to intense rhythm machines. —Koichi Makigami


(Limited quantity / Japanese Obi included / Booklet included) Richard D. James, aka Aphex Twin. At a young age, he earned the title of “Techno Mozart” and is widely recognized as the pinnacle of electronic music and the flagship artist of WARP RECORDS. This legendary album, released under the name Polygon Window and which changed the history of electronic music, is finally being reissued on LP with Obi.
