MUSIC

The most important compilation in the history of electronic music "Artificial Intelligence" will be reissued on vinyl for the first time in 30 years! ! Includes valuable early recordings from Aphex Twin, Autechre, Richie Hawtin, Alex Peterson, and more! !

Many cutting-edge artists such as Aphex Twin, Autechre, Squarepusher, Boards of Canada, Flying Lotus, and Oneohtrix Point Never have been produced. A reissue of the legendary compilation "Artificial Intelligence" released 30 years ago by , a label that continues to make immeasurable achievements in history!
Released in 1992, this compilation features Aphex Twin's The Dice Man alias, Autecha and Richie Hawtin Up! (UP!), B12's Musicology, Alex Peterson (The Orb) and Jimmy Cauty (The KLF).
This work is the first work of the "Artificial Intelligence" series released from 1992 to 1994 by , and from the series, "Surfing On Sine Waves" under the name of Aphex Twin's Polygon Window, Black. Dog Productions' Bytes, B12's Electro-Soma, Richie Hawtin's F.U.S.E. Dimension Intrusion, Speedy J's Ginger, Outeka's Incunabula and Artificial Intelligence II were released. rice field.
The gatefold sleeves have been reimagined by The Designers Republic and cut in classic black wax by Beau Thomas of Ten Eight Seven Mastering.

＜Tracklist＞
01.The Dice Man - Polygon Window
02.Musicology - Telephone 529
03.Autechre - Crystal
04.I.A.O - The Clan
05.Speedy J - De-Orbit
06.Musicology - Premonition
07.UP! - Spiritual High
08.Autechre - The Egg
09.Dr Alex Paterson - Loving You Live

Roméo Poirier’s Off The Record (faitiche 39) transforms the overlooked detritus of recording sessions into intricate, surreal sound pieces. Across fourteen short works, Poirier builds from accidental studio captures — engineers’ instructions, idle chatter, mic checks, false starts — fragments never intended for release. Drawing on the visual art concept of “Accumulation” pioneered by Arman, Jean Tinguely and Daniel Spoerri, Poirier assembles more than a thousand found sounds from archival tapes. Voices from old shellac grooves meet digital snippets lifted from YouTube, warped and reconfigured into vivid, shifting collages. The result is a series of miniature worlds where the mundane mechanics of music-making become the raw material for new sonic narratives. By reframing the prelude to performance, Poirier crafts a universal story about creativity in the studio — one that’s at once playful, intimate, and strangely cinematic.

It has been twenty-five years since the seismic events of 2001—when twin towers collapsed under terrorist attack and Coventry's sonic insurgent Russell Haswell launched his inaugural salvo on the original Mego label with Live Salvage 1997–2000. The intervening era has delivered unrelenting turbulence: protracted wars, institutional corruption, a global pandemic, the resurgence of fascist currents, rampant media distortion, and omnipresent surveillance. For Haswell, a lifelong admirer of 1970s and 1980s dystopian cinema, the verdict is unequivocal: "Science Fiction is now!" In the face of this darkening reality, LET IT GO arrives as both acknowledgment and antidote. This new full length on Editions Mego extends an olive branch through defiant sonic diversity—an unpredictable mosaic that embraces everything from propulsive rhythms to radical abstraction and enveloping ambience. True to Haswell's core practice, the material draws from the same tactile, free-improvised electroacoustic framework that powers his live sets: immediate, powerful and unscripted. The album weaves reverent echoes of 1990s Detroit techno's hypnotic pulse and the abrasive, metallic edge of the Birmingham sound into fractured generative territories. Haswell returns to his computer-generated origins while integrating his recent modular-synthesis experiments. During a residency at the Bergen Centre for Electronic Arts (BEK) in Norway, he harnessed the latest GRM Tools suite to conjure the volatile, "rapidly fluctuating pitched sounds" that characterized Iannis Xenakis' late electronic works—resulting in pieces such as Fall 3 and Fall 2, where instability becomes a form of vitality. The tracks Exit Downwards and The Anxieties Of Our Time whilst reflecting the currents of the release also offer surprisingly melodic patterns over jagged rhythms. The wryly titled Thu 25 Dec 2025, (recorded in Glasgow after a solitary post-Christmas-lunch walk home) is a vast drone which evolves according to the random walk model—known more evocatively as the drunken walk—each sonic step veering unpredictably, mirroring the disoriented lens of contemporary existence. LET IT GO is liberation. Amid the cacophony of crumbling certainties, Haswell deploys a full arsenal of resistance: kinetic drive, disorienting rupture, quiet refuge, raw aggression, and tentative hope. In an age where dystopia has shifted from fiction to lived fact, this music asserts that possibility endures.

Editions Mego welcomes KMRU back to the fold. Kin is Nairobi born, Berlin based, sonic wizard Joseph Kamaru’s second release on Editions Mego, following on from the classic 2020 release Peel. Since the release and subsequent praise for Peel, the artist has been a staple on the electronic scene performing on numerous stages and festivals worldwide in tandem with a flood of media recognition. Kin could be construed as the second child following Peel. The project came out of initial discussions with Peter Rehberg about what a Peel sequel would sound like. Kamaru is quick to clarify that Kin is not that record; “I'll know when that record will come and when I'll make it. It's already happening... or maybe it lives within both of these Mego records”.

It is this deft ambiguity and vague tiptoeing around the concrete that encapsulates the ambiguous sound world of Kamaru’s vision.

Kin was started early 2021 in Nairobi with Kamaru exploring his noisier palette of sounds encompassing distortions reminiscent of the sounds he would muster from in his youth when playing guitar. He paused making this record for a year as soon as Peter died, then slowly returned to it through 2022 resulting in the immense new work we have here.

The charms within Kin lay as Easter eggs revealing the true identity behind the colourful sonics only after multiple deep listens. With Trees Where We Can See sets the tone by way of a warm swaying melody inviting the listener in for further investigation. In 2022 KMRU and Mego stalwart Fennesz toured the USA together resulting in a strong friendship and also, the second track here, Blurred. A neat Mego/Editions Mego loop as such. Blurred arranges twangy guitar strums alongside glistening glaciers of shimmering drones. They Are Here represents a darker hue as melancholic clouds of shadowy noir tap directly into the listener's nerve stream. Maybe takes a detour into a bristling euphoric electronic storm whilst We Are screeches in a pattern formation not unlike a highly abstracted Aphex Twin forcing its way out of a hard drive. By Absence concludes proceedings, operating as both exit music and a portal to further sonic investigation with acoustic bellowing residing amongst a kaleidoscopic backdrop.

Kin is a trip that rewards close repeated listens as all the colours and textures, nuance and narratives unveil themselves. This isn’t a record to be glossed over, magic rewards concentration.

Kin is a record to be Played slow and LOUD.

For Pita.

A pivotal force in the foundations of Noise music in Japan, Fumio Kosakai is half of The Incapacitants, and has recorded with other acts such as Hijokaidan, CCCC, and Club Skull. Originally released on cassette in an edition of fifty copies in 1993, "The Warm Garden" is a pinacle for collectors of 90s noise and the outer realms of Japanese psychadelia. The work steps away from the denshi zatsuon (electronic noise) of his other groups and instead comprises two pieces of minimal electronics, percussion, and treated violin. The result is engrossing, hypnotic gothic psychadelia and scorched earth cosmic sound. The cassette source was carefully remastered by Alex Nagle in consultation with Fumio Kosakai himself."

The Death Of Rave’s first vinyl release since 2022 is a long-in-the-making techgnostic fantasy by scene anomaly Mu, scrying ancient energies via archaic DAWs of perception in four addictive bops for aerobic mystics - RIYL Shakti, Enigma, Deep Forest, Young Druid, eL-Hortobāgyi Hortator, V/Vm. Chasing the label’s 2025 regeneration with Dale Cornish’s ‘Altruism’ and Nakul Krishnamurthy’s ‘Punaravartanam’, Mu reincarnate the spirits of Pythia, high priestess of the Temple Apollo at Delphi, with four precious cuts that livicate late ‘80s & early ‘90s dance-pop via anachronistic prisms, with ohrwurming vocals and microtonal melodies that, once heard, become indelibly etched on muscle memory and jig atavistic DNA. Hailing the civilisation of Lemuria - said to inhabit the sunken continent of Atlantis - Mu practise a mode of swaying dance-pop that sensually conjures sunken sites of worship in the Med to roadside clubs of Brabant and Lower Broughton in the 3rd millennium AD. Ageless stories of exile and romance are wrapped up in a particular palette of decades-old software to complicate uchronic timelines and lead “those who carry the wisdom of the sun & navigate the fallen realm through blood memory” to seldom felt sensations. The opening ‘Flesh’ is among our most rinsed songs of the past few years, adored for its DAWbell and monk chant motifs, where vocals incant like Enigma’s sexiest gear. And likewise the frisson of standout ‘Sacrifice’ has haunted our daydreams with a simply unforgettable new beat turn of phrase like some Shakti fantasy that also bleeds into the X-Files shimmy of ‘Kingdom,’ and the import-grade efficacy of the Arabesque ‘Underworld Quanta.’ It’s a whole vibe, certain to find its audience in club shamens and priestesses of this life and the next.

On a class debut for Biscuit’s choice Good Morning Tapes label, Kyoto’s dub specialist G Version III runs signature fusions of digidub steppers, drill and holographic, minor key FM synths - big FFO Devon Rexi x John T. Gast, Equiknoxx, TNT Roots, Element. One up to her 12” for Riddim Chango last year (plus the ‘Scenery From Double Glazing’ tape for Digital Sting in ’24), G Version III’s ‘Chapter II’ most finely chisels her lucidly rugged definition of the late ‘80s / early ‘90s mystic steppers sound. The OG Caribbean spirit is heard filtered thru UK dances and shored up in Japan, where G tessellates its salient points with a palette of glassy Japanese synth tones and chamber music to exquisite effect. If Wendy Carlos was a soundgyal?! Across 6 cuts she builds the dance around digidub x drill waltz ‘Livin 4’ and a haunted dancehall special in the harpsichord/horn riff of ‘An Idyll’, impressing her prowess on the fusion of subcontinental scales with a drill-tipped skip in ‘Queen G Theme Chapter II,’ and tucking right into an aerodynamic, flying steppers mode shades away from Element in ‘Motherearth Guidance.’ At a slower, wider stride her ‘Higher Grade’ goes eyes-down on massive subs, and ‘Voice of Mystique Warriyah’ adapts the classic skooled sound like TNT Roots in Tokyo. Big!

This is just sublime: Stroom & Hessel Veldman illuminate 13 unreleased gems by a sacred figure of ‘80s DIY Dutch tape music, nestling deeply precious, noctilucent synth works for lovers of BoC, Eno & Harmonia, Vangelis, Tangerine Dream & Klaus Schulze, Dominique Lawalrée...

Trust the Lowlands standard bearers at Stroom to pluck this quietly breathtaking bouquet from behind the ear of DIY synth and ambient music history. Adding to prized reissues of Enno Velthuys’ work over the past decade - from albums to songs secreted on comps for LSD and Light in the Attic - ‘Music From the Other Side of the Fence’ helps fill gaps in the patchy knowledge of his cultish catalogue 1975-1990. While the label are being typically, poetically playful with background info, a crudely educated guess can assign pieces to recordings that made up his four cassettes issued 1982-1987, but it’s better taken as a lovingly sequenced overview of his harmonious short stories, each riddled with an exquisite atmospheric magick that tiles up to an adorable portrait of the troubled artist.

If memory serves, it was a pair of LSD comps that first anonymously seeded Velthuys’ ohrwurms ‘Blue Heron’ & ‘The Day After’ to our lugs, at least, and it wasn’t until a reissue of their motherships ‘Landscapes in Thin Air’ (1985) & ‘Different Places’ (1987) that things began to fall in place. A slightly broader picture now emerges via this new raft of signature, woozy arabesques and powdered ambient pads threaded with a feel for extended melody that ties it all off with a ribbon bow. A solitary, melancholic presence guides from the frosted carillon of ’Something Special’ thru the reedy romance of ‘Uplands (Unplugged Alt Version 2)’, sashaying to types of aerial waltz in ‘Underneath a Dark Sky’ and slowed, Vangelisian brass fanfare with ‘Moonlight Serenade’ that surely shiver nostalgic timbers with an evocative, tongue-tip timbre that tickles places others don’t reach.

100% no brainer for hopeless ambient synth romantics and introverts.

The Glitch hype was a rather short one. But it brought together different scenes; minimal techno, sound art and electronic minimalism. Then it hit a dead end and dissolved. In the centre of Glitch we found labels like Mille Plateaux (who released the formative ”Clicks + Cuts”) and raster-noton who especially with their static series formed a sound. The first release (2000) was by a young Andreas Tilliander who under his new moniker MOKIRA released the ”CLIPHOP” album. He had done synth and techno for years and then got his hands on an early COH CD on raster-noton in some Stockholm record shop and decided to send a demo to Carsten Nicolai and crew. They luckily decided to release it. I got my copy in the Wave record shop in Paris, as I knew Tilliander’s earlier techno and synth stuff. But this blew my mind. Sharp, funky (yes), static and it sounded like pure electricity. It still sounds great, and rather alien to me. I am proud to reissue this on iDEAL, and to dive even deeper into "CLIPHOP" - check out Johan Jacobsson Franzén's book on the album.

Joachim Nordwall, Gothenburg 29.10.2025.

Cut it up. Stick it back together wrong. This is Magazzini Criminali at their most deliriously inventive - a Florence-based theater collective that understood William Burroughs's cut-up method as an operational principle for sound itself. Released in 1983, Notti Senza Fine is their second LP, a document where theater becomes indistinguishable from electronic collage, where the stage disappears into tape loops and reassembled vocal fragments. Federico Tiezzi (director, electronics), Sandro Lombardi (text, voice), and Marion d'Amburgo (voice) weren't making songs. They were assembling something else entirely. Unlike Crollo Nervoso three years earlier, Notti Senza Fine cuts loose from theater - the cut-up accelerates into something almost vertiginous, fragments layering so densely you can barely trace their origins. The screams of Antonin Artaud collide with voices and instrumental shards from everywhere - tribal percussion that sounds like field recordings, sax, synthesizers - meshing and fading into each other without resolution. What the jazz critic and cultural theorist Franco Bolelli called "planetary music" emerges: no stage, no narrative, just Lombardi, Tiezzi, d'Amburgo, and Julia Anzilotti moving through a constantly shifting sonic terrain. Like Henri Chopin's sound poetry pushed through the entire world's radio frequencies at once, voices become texture rather than meaning. The track titles - Tangeri 400 Km. Nord, Honolulu Vento Solare, Kabul-Febbre, Al Hoceima 1943 - map locations that barely hold shape in the sound. The album itself becomes an "object-significant" - distinguished not just as a vehicle for music but as a physical thing. Jon Hassell's processed Fourth World trumpet runs through the mix like a ghost signal you're always about to recognize - his voice sampled and appropriated, transformed beyond recognition into the general chaos. Three years later, fresh from winning an Ubu Award for scoring Magazzini Criminali's Sulla Strada at the Venice Biennale, Hassell would become a direct compositional collaborator - commissioned to write the music, not sampled from. But here in 1983, on Notti Senza Fine, his presence is something more spectral: stolen, recombined, cut into material that refuses to cohere. There's an ironic swagger to it, a specifically Italian 80s irreverence toward the very idea of "proper" experimental music. The samples don't announce themselves solemnly. They arrive like overheard conversations in a crowded room, fragments refusing to cohere into meaning. Sudden jolts. Radio noise. Voice becoming pure texture. What results isn't theater music or electronic composition - it's something closer to sonic gossip, art half-amused by its own pretensions. The original Riviera Records pressing (RVR-4) has been nearly impossible to find for decades. Originally destined for the Cramps label, the album eventually emerged on this small Roman independent - Riviera Records, founded just the year before by Amedeo Sorrentino, Federica Roà, and jazz musician Maurizio Giammarco. Mario Schifano handled the cover design, his graphic work bringing visual weight to what might otherwise remain theater ephemera. This is collage as genuine refusal. Not quotation, not homage - transformation. The practice that would eventually feed into everything from industrial noise to contemporary sample culture, but arriving here as something stranger: theater that understood cutting and pasting weren't metaphors but literal sonic tactics.

The strength of the Akira soundtrack lies in its unique blend of traditional Japanese instruments and futuristic electronic sounds. Shoji Yamashiro weaves together an eclectic mix of influences, creating a sonic landscape that mirrors the dystopian and cyberpunk themes of the movie. The use of traditional chants, taiko drums, and Shakuhachi flutes alongside electronic synthesizers and orchestral elements generates a hauntingly mesmerizing atmosphere that perfectly complements the visuals on screen. The composer also drew from the chants of Noh, traditional Japanese theater. Combined with polyrhythmic drum machine beats and synths tuned to gamelan microtonal scales, these styles give a sense of ritualistic tension to the dystopian world of Akira.

Underwater Electronic Orchestra is a captivating blend of electronic experimentation and avant-garde aesthetics. Labat’s intricate compositions, characterized by layered synth textures and unconventional rhythms, create a sonic landscape that is both immersive and thought-provoking. Released in 1976, the album challenges traditional musical boundaries, offering listeners a glimpse into Labat’s innovative approach to electronic music.

Kaethe Hostetter is a classically trained American violinist who embedded herself in Ethiopian musical life for 12 years, absorbed its melodic systems and spiritual weight, and re-emerged with a solo, psychedelic, loop-based violin ritual that refracts Ethiopian classics through dub, psych rock, and avant improvisation. This is a collection of musical vignettes by American violinist and composer Kaethe Hostetter. Sourcing from her 11 years living in Addis Ababa, she transports you to the bustling streets of the East African metropolis, evoking the crackling sounds of a saxophone blaring out of a barbershop radio, a shepherd's flute melody turned dub reggae, the fervent dancing on packed dirt floors of a rural honey-wine bar, and the big band sounds of Ethiopia's "Golden Era".

Twelve years in the making, a new record by Portland's idiosyncratic master of ultra modern folk music Dragging An Ox Through Water. Old school electronic oscillations and blips meet solid guitar playing and singing. The lyrics alone are worth the price of admission. Nothing obvious is ever said and every word gleans with layers of meaning. Dragging An Ox Through Water is Brian Mumfords' cult long running art music project. Beloved in Portland. Willfully underground. The real stuff. A modern masterpiece.

“Time Code,” the 1983 album by German electronic duo YOU. Drawing from the Berlin School tradition and echoing the analog‑synth textures of Tangerine Dream and Kraftwerk, this is a hidden gem of early‑80s progressive electronic music.

Sought after two-tracker, Ricardo Villalobos releasing under his moniker “Richard Wolfsdorf” in his early years, remastered, new cut

September 23rd is the first release in William Basinski’s new Arcadia Archive series. Recorded in September 1982 in his first loft in the pre-gentrified DUMBO neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York, September 23rd is a recently unearthed early entry in what has become a hugely inspirational and influential catalog. Built from a piano piece that Basinski composed in high school in the mid-1970s, September 23rd quickly evolved into a vastly different work. As Basinski explains: “The original piano recordings were made on on a piano belonging to my downstairs neighbor, John Epperson – later known more famously as world-renowned drag artist, Lypsinka – at 351 Jay Street aka Casa Degli Artisti, our first loft in New York. It was recoded with a little portable (probably Radio Shack) cassette deck sitting on the piano as I improvised a piece I had been working on since high school. It was pretty terrible, but when I did the John Giorno/William Burroughs cut-up technique, suddenly I had something to put through the Frippertronics loop and feedback loop tape delay system – and boy did I get results. A very prolific time for a young, wacked-out queen in NYC.”

Shutting Down Here is a special work. Symbolically, it covers a period of thirty years, between two visits by Jim O'Rourke to the GRM, the first, as a young man fascinated by the institution and his repertoire, the second, as an accomplished musician, influential and imbued with an aura of mystery. Shutting Down Here is a piece shaped like an universe, a heterogeneous world in which collides the multiple musical facets of Jim O'Rourke: instrumental writing, field recordings, electronic textures and cybernetic becomings, dynamic spaces, harmonic spaces, silent spans . This variety of approach, strangely, does not in any way weaken the coherence of the whole and this is the talent of Jim O'Rourke, a talent, properly speaking, of composition, where all the sound elements compete and participate to stakes that exceed them and of a common destiny, that is to say of an apparition.

Divine Comedy stands as a magnum opus crafted by two of the foremost composers of their era, boasting a musical ambition akin to Dante’s poem and its visual interpretation by Sandro Botticelli or Gustave Doré. For a long time, this triptych was presented as a two-sided work in which Bernard Parmegiani’s Hell and François Bayle’s Purgatory responded to and extended each other, guided by Michel Hermon’s voice through the listener’s imagination. Because Paradise, a mixed piece co-composed and performed live, had never been released on record before. Indeed, fifty years after its premiere, Paradise is unveiled to our ears, thereby rounding off the very first complete edition of the Divine Comedy.

« Labyrinthe ! » (2003), 56’41 Premiered on March 29th 2003, salle Olivier Messiaen de Radio France, Paris. Commissioned by Radio France. An expedition in sound in 10 sequences: Enfoncement [Deep Sink], Gouffre circulaire [Circular Abyss], Noyau secret [Secret Core], Apesanteur [Weightlessness], Entrailles [Entrails], Four solaire [Solar Furnace], Fissures [Cracks], Mer intérieure [Inner Sea], Éruption [Eruption], Remontée [Ascension]. Labyrinthe ! is not only a very unique piece in Pierre Henry’s masterful repertoire, but also a remarkable demonstration of his compositional skills and musical singularity. Indeed, for this piece, Pierre Henry was deprived of his own, otherwise essential, sonic material. Here, the sounds, provided by GRM collaborators at the time, carry their own distinct stories, sensitivities and qualities. Yet, despite this discrepancy, Pierre Henry’s voice, the breath and dynamics of his own music, quickly appear. Through this sonic maze, a music arises, utterly focused on sounds, their development and their use, which Pierre Henry applies with extraordinary clarity and determination.

On her sophomore album "Germ in a Population of Buildings”, upsammy moves through her surroundings with the curiosity of a place-bending landscape architect. The album is rooted in her interest for ambiguous environments in constant shift, and the feeling of discovering strange patterns in different ecosystems. Often, the Amsterdam-based artist finds herself zooming in and out beyond a place's most recognizable surface features to inhabit the microscopic and gigantic. Gathering field recordings and evocative environmental sounds, she shapes this source material into vibrating electro-acoustic rhythms and unstable, psychedelic textures. upsammy's debut album, 2020's critically-acclaimed "Zoom", was praised for its careful reimagining of IDM, evolving vignettes that nodded towards the dancefloor without being shackled to its rigid set of rules. On "Germ in a Population of Buildings" her process has evolved considerably; the skeletal trace of IDM is still present but it's been trapped in amber, allowing her unique sonic landscape to develop organically. 'Being is a Stone' is a proof of concept in many ways, layering upsammy's contorted voice in rickety patterns beneath a lattice of fragile rhythms and faintly melancholy synths. It's never immediately obvious where the sounds are coming from - a hiccuping beat might be glass cracking underfoot, and larger pulses could be wet concrete, rusted iron or bent plastic. As the sounds develop they morph into each other, demolishing what came before and building on top of the ornamental wreckage. On the dynamic 'Constructing', upsammy's sound design fluxes through hyperactive bass music structures, abstracting expectations at every turn. Often her sounds are whisper quiet, rattling and vibrating until heavier masonry drops and disrupts the structure. And when discernible rhythms subside into the background, like on the album's eerie title track, they become almost illusory, morphing between the real world and the electronic. upsammy's processed voice works like a bridge between these realms, snaking between stark, whimsical melodies on 'Patterning', arching from AutoTuned detachment into cooing, dreamy intimacy. By considering the harmonies between each location she's visited, upsammy has been able to build a unique topology that's an uncanny digital amalgam of her lived experience. It's a thoughtful alternative in an era more concerned with flatting the landscape than crumpling it and examining its peaks and troughs.

Ghanaian hiplife phenom Yaw Atta-Owusu presents charming results of his first studio session since 1994’s sleeper hit ‘Obaa Sima’, which found an overdue, cult audience via the blogosphere as one of Awesome Tapes From Africa’s earliest and greatest drops in 2015. If you weren’t snagged on the ohrwurming keys, vox, and groove of the title tune to Ata Kak’s ‘Obaa Sima’ in 2015, you probably weren’t going to the right clubs and checking the right sites. 10 years later it still kills and is set to be joined by this fresh haul from the Bishop Beatz recording studio in Kumasi, Ghana, where Ata Kak laid down ‘Batakari’, his 1st recordings in three decades, recapturing the moxie of his original sound on six cuts that betray time and space travelled within more ambitious arrangements of signature fast chat factored by layered harmonies and rhythmic variegation. “Honed in studios around Kumasi over the last several years, the songs feature the rapper-singer’s acrobatic rap, signature scatting, dramatic drums and even traditional Akan harp. The compositions are more ambitious than his earlier work, with more complex arrangements and layered harmonies. Ata Kak’s new songs are also the natural expression of a restless artist—he is a prolific poet and author of a half-dozen books, as well as an active gardener and busy painter. Born in Ghana in 1960, Ata Kak wasn’t always involved in music. But his travels and openness to the world lead him into the music industry. While living in Germany, he was invited to play drums in a reggae band and subsequently played in highlife bands in Ontario after moving to the Toronto area. He recorded “Obaa Sima” there at his home studio and released it in Ghana in 1994. He didn’t participate in music much in the intervening years until “Obaa Sima” was reissued in 2015. He started performing his song live with the help of a brilliant cast of London-based musicians and has toured three continents and played to thousands of fans in venues of all kinds.”

It may be tempting to reduce Convocations into a longform ambient anomaly within Sufjan Stevens’ vast catalogue. It is, however, neither an anomaly nor entirely ambient. This is not a side project. From his numerous dance scores for New York City Ballet to instrumental albums such as Enjoy Your Rabbit, Aporia, and The BQE, Stevens spends at least half his working life making largely instrumental music, as he has for decades. And though the first ten pieces, dubbed “Meditations,” unfurl as gorgeous states of reflective new-age grace, this is by no means an ambient enterprise. Stevens invokes the lessons of Morton Subotnick, Maryanne Amacher, Christian Fennesz, Brian Eno, and Wolfgang Voigt here. As musically erudite as it is emotionally experienced, Convocations can be dissonant, vertiginous, rhythmic, repetitive, urgent, or calm—that is, all the things we undergo when we inevitably live through loss, isolation, and anxiety. Indeed, Convocations moves like a two-and-a-half-hour requiem mass for our present times of difficulty, its 49 tracks allowing for all these feelings to be felt. The album is divided into five sonic cycles, each replicating a different stage of mourning. Convocations occasionally soothes and sometimes hurts; when it’s done, you’re left with a renewed sense of wonder for being here at all. In fact, Stevens made Convocations in response to (and as an homage to) the life and death of his biological father, who died in September last year, two days following the release of The Ascension. It is, then, ultimately an album about loss, and an album that reflects a year in which we have all lost so much. One could easily compare this project to Stevens’ album Carrie & Lowell, which he wrote following his mother’s death. But this is something entirely different. A new time, a new season, a new life lost, a new reckoning, a new kind of isolation, grief, despair, frustration, confusion, and the search for happiness and hope for the future. This is not a personal record, but a universal one. Convocations is built on a shared experience that seeks to be honest about how complicated grief can be in these difficult times—the pain, the anxiety, the unknown, the absolute joy of memory. This is also an album made in lockdown, when we were all cloistered in whatever space we had. So long as the science and statistics hold, Convocations arrives just as we begin to emerge from a year whose losses we will calculate for a lifetime. It is, then, right on time, as we begin to process our grief and try to carry on with it. —Grayson Haver Currin

Duori is an imaginary word. It combines the ideas “dentro” (inside) and “fuori (outside) invoking a place between. Heith and Tarawangsawelas met in Bandung in 2017, since then their collaboration has been evolving, both in person and remotely. The result is ‘Duori’ an album of 5th world music in low data mode that travelled inside lost and found portable recorders, on defunct hard drives and expired e-sim cards. Recording and arranging songs over a long period of time and across a vast geographical distance has lent their practice a distinct character. This distance allows the possibility to see things from different perspectives and creates music that hovers both inside the Sundanese Land, and outside of it, both on the European continent and not. This record carries compositions from one side of the globe to the other, catching spirits and energies from different places, societies and rituals. Their first sketches were influenced while witnessing the Reak ceremonies in Bandung and they were recorded at Tesla Manaf (Kuntari) studio in Bandung. They found inspiration on nights spent at the jaipong clubs, smoking cigarettes and talking about ghosts. The songs then developed while on tours around Europe, playing separately and together. Their song titles are in Indonesian, Italian and English, underling the linguistic shapeshifting of the project, and showing how any linguistic barrier was surpassed by a strong spiritual connection between them as artists. This record is also the story of a friendship, a spiritual bond that goes beyond the differences in their backgrounds and practices. A bond that redefines geographies and creates new psycho-geographies.