MUSIC

Xexa is still undefined, gliding over her origins, influences and points of reference. Her music is informed by uploads from all that, processing heritage and future in much the same democratic way, sure of its (her!) path. Synthetic as it may sound, "Kissom" contains the very human element of Xexa's presence, not only through her instantly recognizable ethereal vocals but also manifest in the web of grooves stopping short of "dance". "Kizomba 003" is the closest she comes to the dancefloor, a reduced take on the popular style of kizomba, a low-key interpretation but with the vocals atypically high in the mix. A brief breath of nostalgia. "Kissom" (title track) prolongs the slow pace, almost as an extended mix of "Kizomba 003", stretching the sexy bounce for close to 4 extra delightful minutes.

Everything seems to dissolve into space, as if every track gently expires only to be reconfigured somewhere else, molecule by molecule, perhaps in a different location within our mind. The artist somehow corroborates the feeling, particularly regarding "Será", "Xtinti" and "Txe", which she says "finish exactly where i wanted. They all end with an EQ that mutes the frequencies until they cease to exist". Here, there, sparse beats, successive waves of ambience, half machine lips singing close to our ears, a blend of classic 4AD and a metallic environment warmly wrapping around the music. Extra long, "Quem és tu?" poses the question - Who are we? Who is she? And the title "Kissom" stems from another question Xexa often hears from people, "Ki som é este?" (What is this music?). The answer might well be the the artist's own paste of the words "kiss" and "som". Lovely.

The original cassette, which was limited to 100 copies, has been bootlegged many times, and the occasional original sold on the marketplace for no less than 100,000 yen (and once sold for over 1,000,000 yen). It is an extraordinary album that has made the dizzying world of vaporwave, the birth of a new concept, known to the world at large. This piece is a different kind of viewing experience, as if you are wandering in a different space where several time frames intersect. Ambient, new age, beat music, industrial, funk, experimental, and other unidentifiable sounds are all interspersed throughout the album. From the unique slow-motion voice that is screwed up to the raging sampling collage and the heavy beats that burst one after another, this is the ultimate in burrowing sensation!

Rob Mazurek’s 'Alternate Moon Cycles' was International Anthem's first release. The incredibly spare single-note-centered cornet, bass and organ chant was recorded to tape at pint-sized Chicago bar Curio as part of a performance series that predates any notion of our label’s existence. Documenting this performance – highly unique even within the depths of Mazurek’s vast catalog – stirred those notions, and soon talks began of releasing the recording on a fresh imprint.

Performed by Mazurek with Matthew Lux and Mikel Patrick Avery, the music unfolds glacially amongst the gentle creaks, clinks, whispers, and scuffles of the active room. It’s difficult to imagine a more honest rendering of the two sidelong pieces of organic minimal music, and nearly impossible to separate the sounds from their performance context.

Now this long-gone gem of supernatural frequency excavation is back in print, wrapped in our IARC 2025 obi strip, with a new 4-page insert booklet featuring additional session photos and fresh liner notes by Mikel Patrick Avery.

Atlas, the latest album from renowned electronic artist Laurel Halo, is a suite of sensual ambient jazz collages, designed to take the listener on a roadtrip through the subconscious. Blending both synthetic ambient textures and acoustic instrumentation, the album is a series of endlessly listenable maps, rife with hidden detail. “Belleville” - the first single on Atlas - is a disarming piano ballad, recorded in one take during the spring of 2021. It's embellished with undertows of processed vibraphone, as well as a sudden, gorgeous stack of vocal harmonies featuring Coby Sey.

Alabaster DePlume often asks a simple question: what do people need? In his work, at his shows, in his collaborations, the Mancunian singer-saxophonist and poet-philosopher poses this to the people around him. What are people looking for? In recent years, the same reply kept coming up: healing, healing, people need healing. But why, and what does it mean to heal, especially in a world where the very idea is often commodified and sold as a luxury? If people were coming to his music for something so mysterious, he ought to figure it out. Maybe he ought to try some healing himself.

“For a long time, I've always tried to give responsibility for my value to someone else,” DePlume told me on a recent phone call. It seemed he’d become so caught up in the work of forging connections, and thinking about the effects of his work on others, that he’d lost a sense of himself. “I was working on that,” he explained.

This experiment in healing included slowing down, reading, reflecting, and even taking up the practice of jiu-jitsu. DePlume wrote poetry, too, including the book 'Looking for my value: prologue to a blade', seventy pages of verse rooted in its title’s great search, in finding strength of self within a community, alongside meditations on the paradox of the blade. “The blade, that divides, is whole,” he writes in the introduction. “Healing is the forming of a whole, and a whole is singular, more itself, as in more one, as in more alone.” A blade could be used to attack, to shave, to sever, but it could also be used to cut oneself loose—in the process of getting free.

“What's the opposite of sleep? It’s trying to sleep,” he told me. “And so what's the opposite of looking for my value? It is knowing my value. It simply is there. My dignity is there. I don't need anyone else to know my dignity, or me, to know it. I know it first. I can't seek it from another. I stand for it.”

Selections from the poetry book ultimately became the lyrics across half of the tracks on 'A Blade Because A Blade Is Whole', DePlume’s latest full-length work for the reliably great International Anthem label: eleven songs of agency and survival and presence; of confronting life’s pains rather than trying to avoid them; of banishing escapism. In sum, it documents his learning of the fact that dignity and self-determination are prerequisites for becoming whole, which is to say, for healing. If a blade were broken it would not serve its purpose; it must be unbroken, it must be whole, to be of use.

In the Alabaster DePlume songbook, the celestial ease of his instrumental tracks can sometimes feel like a trojan horse for a voice that is disarmingly honest about the heaviness of existence. Opener “Oh My Actual Days” is true to form in that sense, with DePlume’s tenor sax and Macie Stewart’s ghostly strings playing together like a slow march towards an inner reckoning, one that’s beautiful because it is true. The punchy and contemplative “Thank You My Pain” makes a rhythmic refrain from his titular lyric, inspired by the Vietnamese monk and peace activist Thích Nhất Hạnh, who urged the importance of listening to one’s own pain. “Hello my little pain, I know you are here,” Nhất Hạnh would say. “I am home to take care of you. I do not want to cover you up with consumption anymore.” While writing A Blade, DePlume “watched loads of him on YouTube.”

Then there’s the gorgeous swell of “Invincibility,” an ode to self-respect that feels a bit like a choir of angels led by a trickster, a group contemplating: how do we live with the forces that seek to destroy us? The whole song feels like a heavy exhale, or like the feeling of reaching the surface after a long while underwater. “If I meet with my feelings, they cannot destroy me,” he told me. “When I allow myself to embody them, physically, then I live through that feeling and I meet with it and I make peace with it and I find that my feeling is me, and I welcome it. It is a sense that I cannot be destroyed by my feeling. I am invincible.”

“Form a V” is the closest DePlume comes to a monologue, and also his song most indebted to his jiu-jitsu practice. “I’ve only been doing it for the past two or three years,” he told me. “But now I don’t know how you get by without it.” The song takes inspiration from a tradition where a whole dojo will stand in the shape of a V, facing just one lone individual, who is then attacked quickly and repeatedly by each of the others. “The title is a challenge to the world,” DePlume explained. “Go on, form a v—I am ready.”

Across the first half of the record, when the sax comes in short phrases, it feels like a highlighter over lines in DePlume’s poetry book. Other times, it plays out like an extension of his voice. “Playing the saxophone feels like singing,” he said. A transfixing run of instrumentals on the second half of the record includes “Prayer for My Sovereign Dignity,” an anthem for self-possession. “Believing in yourself feels ridiculous,” he says. “It's ridiculous, but that's what it takes. That's what's required. To stand for yourself is absurd. Let us do the absurd that is standing for ourselves. There is this prayer going on in the background—you can't quite tell what the words are, but it's basically, I'm praying for my sovereign dignity but I don't need to pray for it. It's not going to be given to me. I already have it.”

Where DePlume’s previous material was drawn from collective sessions, improvisation, and editing, A Blade was tightly composed, arranged and produced by DePlume himself. From there, he brought his compositions to a cast of players and co-arrangers, including Macie Stewart (strings), Donna Thompson (backing vocals), and Momoko Gill (strings and backing vocals), for sessions at the collective arts space Total Refreshment Centre, where he has long been involved.

Born Gus Fairbairn, DePlume is a man of many past lives. He played “rock band type music” as a teenager, and started playing improvised music around 2008. He is compelled by how improvising allows him to “put faith in others.” He taught himself the saxophone around the time that he became employed as a support worker assisting men with mental disabilities; he once called playing music with them “one of the best breakthroughs for me as an artist.” His debut as Alabaster DePlume came in May 2012, while he was still living in Manchester. He moved to London in 2015 and took up residency at Total Refreshment Centre, where he was encouraged to put on a monthly concert, leading to the series Peach, releasing a namesake album that year, too. His music, from the start, has been imbued with his politics and values; he was maybe arrested once during a protest with the environmental group Extinction Rebellion. His proper international breakthrough came in 2020 with 'To Cy & Lee: Instrumentals Vol. 1', after nearly a decade of steadily releasing records.

On a phone call in the fall of 2024, we barely speak about any of this though. For at least an hour, we mostly just speak about his recent trip to Palestine, and how could we not? DePlume had traveled to Bethlehem in the spring for a conference hosted by a local Lutheran pastor, before meeting up with musicians from a community arts space, the Wonder Cabinet, and the independent radio station, Radio Alhara. “Palestine is a place where people make records,” he says. “I want to normalize the dignity of that. It's not like, oh, I'm going to make a thing about Palestine. I am just there, and I'm making a thing.”

At the end of 2024, DePlume prefaced A Blade with a collection of recent works: the poetry book and a three-track EP partially recorded in Bethlehem, and in collaboration with Palestinian musicians. There’s “Honeycomb” and “Cremisan,” both recorded during his “Sounds of Places” residency at Wonder Cabinet; “Cremisan” documents the conclusion of a daylong performance presented by Wonder Cabinet and Radio alHara, June 1, 2024, described as “a cry from the Cremisan Valley (Bethlehem, Palestine) to Rafah (Gaza).” The EP’s final recording, “Gifts of Olive,” references the soul-wrenching poem “If I Must Die” by Refaat Alareer, professor of English literature at the Islamic University in Gaza, who was killed by an Israeli airstrike in 2023.

To suggest that dignity is a human right we are all entitled to is to say: by nature of being alive, every human life has worth. Contemplating the very concept of human dignity also raises the daily indignities that are so normalized in a world of suffering. The lack of access to clean water, air, housing, healthcare. Without the basic necessities of life, we cannot know dignity. And how can people know dignity if they are living under a constant state of military attack, if they are living as the target of a genocide?

“The album was written before the genocide started, but I had Palestine on my mind all the time,” DePlume explains. “This question of dignity, sovereignty, and the work of healing. It has a relevance in what's being perpetrated there by the Israeli state, and taking responsibility for my place in that. I pay my taxes here in the United Kingdom—I am contributing to, as a white Englishman, the country that brought the Balfour Declaration, that brought the Sykes-Picot Agreement, that supports and enables the colonization and the settler-colonial project in Palestine. It is my issue, and I have a position where I can speak about it.”

“Dignity” has roots in the Latin dignitatem: worthiness. And instilling the plain truth of every human life’s worth has been a recurring commitment in DePlume’s work. “They can’t use us on one another if we don’t forget we’re precious,” he sang in 2022, summing the emotional core of his 2022 album 'GOLD', concerns of shared humanity that play out into the new works as well.

“We make stories in our lives,” DePlume says. “Oh, I need my story. Oh, something bad happened, and I need to heal upon that. Then I will be healed and all will be good, happily ever after. But no, it is work that needs doing all the time. We all are wounded in our many different ways. And there are degrees of healed, or wounded. Basically, we are either doing one thing or we're doing the other. How do I know I am not destroying myself? I only know that when I am working on healing.” 

Multi-instrumentalist Jack Wyllie (Portico Quartet/Szun Waves) presents his new project Paradise Cinema. It was recorded in Dakar, Senegal in collaboration with mbalax percussionists Khadim Mbaye (saba drums) and Tons Sambe (tama drums). The impressionistic and dream-like quality of ‘Paradise Cinema’ is a stunningly effective realisation of Wyllie’s experience, in a hypnagogic state of aural consciousness: “I had a lot of nights in Dakar, when the music around the city would go on until 6am. I could hear this from my bed at night and it all blended together, in what felt like an early version of the record.” Atmospherically ‘Paradise Cinema’ is vaporous and enigmatic, but also percussive; existing in a paradoxical sound-space that’s amorphous, yet still purposeful, serene, but propulsive and aesthetically sharp. Khadim Mbaye and Tons Sambe, provide the rhythmic backbone of the record. There are traditional elements of mbalax rhythm, but it is often deconstructed or played at tempos outside of the tradition, so while it hints at a location it occupies a space outside of any specific region. ‘Paradise Cinema’ is also informed by notions of hauntology – a philosophical concept originating in the work of French philosopher Jacques Derrida – on possible futures that were never realised and how directions taken in the past can haunt the present. On the album’s title Wyllie comments, “there are a handful of old cinemas in Dakar – these big modernist buildings dotted around the city built around independence. They’re old and derelict now, but feel to me like monuments to that period, when the city was flooded with utopian ideas about its potential futures.” As such it sits closely to 4th world music – situated in an imagined culture and time that never came to pass. And while it contains rhythmic references to Senegal it combines these elements with ambient and minimalist music to produce a sound that sits outside of any tradition. Setting the tone for the long-player’s themes is the optimism-driven, balmy beauty of ‘Possible Futures’, where rich-toned drums throb and levitate in a stratospheric ether. Like a time-lapse video of plants in bloom, ‘It Will Be Summer Soon’ is the sound of anticipation and growth. Rhythmically it flickers and flutters, evoking rainfall, or the blurred wings of a bird in in flight. Casamance moves through field recordings drifting in and out of focus, beats pitched-down low and unfurling saxophone, whilst the ambient ‘Utopia’ was made mainly with processed saxophone and suggests a longing for a perfect world. Galloping percussion juxtaposes with a wistful mood on ‘Liberté’ – a title that references a derelict modernist cinema in Dakar of the same name – a hauntological landmark, made more poignant by the its name being part of the French national motto. Tying into the cover artwork, Jack explains, “the ‘Digital Palm is a telecommunications mast disguised as a palm tree in central Dakar. As a modern piece of technology that on first glance looks natural, it mirrors the combination of modern and acoustic elements.” Perhaps eliciting a time that never came, or maybe still in hope of it yet to come, ‘Eternal Spring’ concludes the LP’s otherworldly beauty with hypnotic drums powering a subtly-building, sparkling and powerful crescendo. Jack Wyllie is a musician, composer, electronic producer who draws on influences of jazz, ambient, and the trance-inducing repetition of minimalism. Wyllie performs and records in Portico Quartet, Szun Waves (with Luke Abbott and Laurence Pike) and Xoros. He has also collaborated with Charles Hayward, Adrian Corker and Chris Sharkey and released on Ninja Tune, Babel, Leaf, Real World and Gondwana. Khadim Mbaye and Toms Sambe play in various mbalax groups in Dakar. Khadim has also toured internationally with Cheikh Lo.

"Eau" is the lovely new album from aus, the solo project of Tokyo-born composer and producer Yasuhiko Fukuzono, who has gained attention, in Japan and overseas, for his thoughtfully paced and sensitively skillful music as well as his intriguing sound design for exhibitions and experimental cinema. Having worked primarily with keyboards and electronic sound up to this point, "Eau" is a slight yet fascinating shift for aus; the album, while still primarily an electronic work, revolves around the sonic world of a stringed acoustic sound source, the koto, that most characteristically Japanese of musical instruments. The very accomplished Eden Okuno provides the delicate-yet-rich koto sounds on offer here; Fukuzono, in the liner notes, acknowledges the importance of Okuno’s artistry to the project.

The compositions on the album are designed to balance the sound of the koto, with its subtly variable attack and flickering resonance, with the timbre of other instruments. The delicate decay and metrical flexibility of the koto is enveloped by sustained synthesizer sounds and contrapuntally constructed piano melodies, creating a flowing ambience with absorbing undercurrents, a languid and liquid quality that reveals the suitability of the title.

Avid fans of contemporary Japanese music might hear the influence of pioneering works such as the the 1979 Hiroshi Yoshimura composition “Clouds for Alma", realized by koto player Tadao Sawai, and the 1993 album "Koto Vortex I: Works by Hiroshi Yoshimura" which featured performances of Yoshimura's works by the Japanese koto quartet Koto Vortex. These works attempted to remove the koto from its traditional context and place it within the context of ambient and techno. "Eau" is available on CD/LP/cassette/digital, with E/J liner notes by aus. "Eau" is the first collaborative release by EM Records and FLAU, the label run by Yasuhiko Fukuzono (aus).

originally released on Main Street Records in 1998, and repressed in 2025.

unification of techno and dub reggae. An outstanding universal masterpiece of sound dub/minimal techno released in 1993 by Mark Ernestus & Moritz von Oswald's Basic Channel, repressed in 2025.

A miraculous union of techno and dub reggae. The outstanding universal masterpiece of acoustic dub / techno released only on CD in 1995 by the Basic Channel of German Mark Ernestus & Moritz von Oswald is vinylized with a full-length version longer than the original cut.

Kraftwerk’s landmark album Autobahn presented a vision of future pop music in 1974, at a time when electronic sound was still largely experimental, using synthesizers and minimalist repetitive structures to break new ground.

In a daring, hypnotic tribute to Detroit’s primal avant-rock roots, drummer Larry Mullins (aka Toby Dammit) and legendary bassist Mike Watt stretch The Stooges’ haunting mantra “We Will Fall” into a sprawling near 40-minute ritual of repetition, restraint, and raw atmosphere. Mullins and Watt channel the eerie pulse and narcotic drone of the original 1969 track, pushing its trance-inducing core into uncharted territory. Mullins, known for his work with Iggy Pop, Swans, and Nick Cave, builds a minimalist landscape with his shruti box, Moog electronics, tabla, and gongs. Watt’s signature low-end thrum mutates from subtle heartbeat to full-body hallucination. What emerges is not a cover but an extended invocation. Part séance, part dirge, part free-form exploration of mood and mind. It’s a slow burn of sonic devotion, honoring the spirit of The Stooges while opening the door to something entirely new: a deep-listening descent into the sacred and strange. This meditative and menacing piece is split into two full sides for a 12” vinyl pressing, available exclusively for RSD Black Friday 2025. Half of the pressing comes on gold vinyl and half on black, selected at random.

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.

A gum gnashing 60 minute ride of all unreleased James Pants beats & demos .. old fashioned mixtape business. BIG TIP!Spliced together by TBZ and Pissflaps.

Holiday resort entertainer Tooper Keps takes a break from entertaining the professional leisure class, and reflects their own world back at them with an EP of otherworldly synths and eerie carnivalesque chansons.

Tooper Keps has fired up his trusty Yamaha PSR-11 and PSS-360 to write his first (and probably last) EP, condensing his favourite chord changes from years of distracting the retired and affluent. The result is a collection of floating song structures that revolve like fairground waltzes, punctuated by modulated effects, cowbells and Tooper’s own bitter tenor. Tapping into his inner goblin, he tackles themes such as property (as theft), Drexler’s gray goo problem, and the ‘merits’ of complaining about a system while also benefiting from it - a typical parasite’s paradox.

“1000 Guest Rooms” finds itself on location in luxury homes, cruise ships and holiday resorts, soaked in Tooper’s own self-loathing while casting a critical eye over the state of the world. While we hurtle towards a future that no one wants, “1000 Guest Rooms” is perhaps the best soundtrack we could hope for.

45 Pounds is the debut studio album from the exciting noise rock newcomers YHWH Nailgun. Spearheaded by the minute-and-a-half frontal lobe blast of lead single ‘Sickle Walk’, it finds Rich Smith and Zack Borzone laying down dizzying assaults on the senses that sound like math rock being electrocuted. For fans of Death Grips or Black Midi.

A growling, distinctive set of loose-limbed, groove-fwd art rock inversions, Alpha Maid's debut album has been well worth the wait, augmenting post-punk, noise rock and free improv structures with sui generis studio fog and an unparalleled level of no-fucks-given eccentricity. RIYL Dome, Silver Apples, Moin, Klein, Mica Levi, Loop, Still House Plants.

Leisha Thomas has been working almost entirely without fanfare, imagining a sound that's part Black Dice, part Slint and part Klein. 2021's 'CHUCKLE', released on Olan Monk's c.a.n.v.a.s. label, felt sketchy, anarchic and unhinged - at the time, we compared it with Dean Blunt, This Heat, La Timpa and Slint - and 'Is this a queue' plays to Thomas's keenest instincts, darkening idiosyncratic pencil strokes with confident, intentional gestures. In a year where seemingly everyone's attempting the rock-pop pivot, Thomas refines and focuses ideas that have coursed through not just their solo work, but their spresso-branded collaborations with Mica Levi, for years. This is Thomas's record, for sure, and its quirks are only strengthened by collaborations with their wider community of like-minded operatives: Ben Vince, Coby Sey, Valentina Megaletti and Leo Hermitt. Nothing feels cheap or rattled off for clout - if there's an artist featured, you'd better know there's a damn good reason.

Opener '6-9' is irresistibly incongruous, a cheeky false start that de-platforms Thomas's signature guitar sound, fudging crusty environmental recordings and weightless drones into a modish take on Bruce Gilbert and Graham Lewis's subterranean rhythmic experiments. We're on more familiar territory with '2 Numbers', but what starts as a tempo-fluxing slowcore slog is coolly stirred by background whispers and plasticky stabs that sound as if they've been wrenched from Kelis's Neptunes-produced first LP. It's hard to know exactly what Manchester-based Hermitt has contributed to this one, but the track's as poppy as Thomas allows themself to get, nearing the tape-dubbed, lo-fi preciousness of last year's 'Underground Love'. Elsewhere, even when Thomas forms what might be mistaken for a song, it's inevitably deconstructed or skewered; on 'Guarded', their wailed ad libs and chants drift in-and-out of step with grumbly strums and boxy, staggered drums.

"It's been a minute," they echo thru distortion and a heaping spoonful of reverb. And by 'GOAT Rosetta' there's almost nothing left, just feedback, growling distortion and barely discernible words sung into the cavernous expanse. Even the genius 'WHY WE HAVE TO MOVE', that centres Valentina Mageletti's most Danny Taylor turn behind the kit, sounds as if it's about to fray at the edges, with its lysergic, xenharmonic guitar whirrs swamping Thomas's mumbled words and angular improvisations. They melt 'Washing Machine'-era Sonic Youth strums and boss-tuned twangs with similarly skewed AutoTuned moans on the simmering, brilliant 'On Smoke', and on the album's sobering finale 'Palimpsest', Thomas's purposed splatter of guitar noises and lurching beats fall into step with Coby Sey's alert annunciations and Ben Vince's inventive sax drones, forming a ruff outline of London's most fertile nook.

If you've been as bored by this year's "experimental" rock offerings as we have, let 'Is this a queue' restore your faith - it's that good.

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.”

Prajñāghoṣa's debut ambient album on Into The Deep Treasury is a narrative, a musical poem, an attempt to share the story of a transformative odyssey — an outer and inner journey marked by higher aspirations, spiritual growth, and a profound connection with the world.

Coming with a 8 pages booklet

This was his first studio album in four years since his last album, "Endless Talking", and the first release since moving to EPIC/SONY RECORDS. This work was the result of sessions and collaborations with Arabian musicians, with an inclination towards the 'world music' that was gaining attention at the time. Deployed often in pop culture as punchline, Hosono takes such sight-seeing and transforms it into a metaphor for sample-heavy electronic music, drawing from various cultures and weaving them together into a new holistic vision. Omni Sight Seeing is the clearest iteration of this concept, as he alights on Algerian raï, Martin Denny exotica, and acid house, too. It’s one part Jon Hassell-esque Fourth World, one part Duke Ellington “jungle music,” with Hosono’s singular outlook running through it all.

Since his debut in 2001 on Chain Reaction — the sublabel of the legendary Basic Channel — electronic music producer Shinichi Atobe has fascinated not only dub techno and minimal club audiences but also devoted music lovers around the world. After more than a decade of silence, he began releasing consistently from Manchester’s DDS (Demdike Stare’s label) in 2014, reaffirming his unique presence in contemporary electronic music.

In July of this year, Atobe suddenly launched his own private label, Plastic & Sounds, and now announces its second release, “A1. SynthScale / A2. Disappear | AA. Between Thoughts”, available as a 12-inch (45RPM / limited press) vinyl and in digital formats.

Opening track, elevation synth dub tech “SynthScale” intertwines ascending and descending synth lines with a driving rhythm, revealing hints of progressive rock within its elevation of synth-driven dub techno. “Disappear” follows with floating high tones, an unexpected piano motif, and bursts of tightly struck drums that create a surging momentum. The over ten-minute-long “Between Thoughts” centers on a deep, weighty bassline, interwoven with subtle voice samples, unfolding softly and gracefully into a long-form minimal house piece in Atobe’s unmistakable style.

Mastering and vinyl cutting were handled by Rashad Becker in Berlin, who has worked extensively on Atobe’s previous releases.

After more than 10 years of silence since his debut in 2001 on Chain Reaction subsidiary of Basic Channel, he has been consistently releasing music since 2014 on DDS label in Manchester, UK, attracting not only the club audience of dub techno / minimal but also the enthudieatic music fans around the world. Electronic musician Shinichi Atobe has established his own private label Plastic & Sounds.

The first release on Plastic & Sounds includes two tracks: ‘Whispers into the Void’, which gradually and ascetically develops from minimal synths and rhythms with the introduction of a flowing piano refrain, and the floor use ‘Fleeting_637’, which develops immersive minimal dub techno at around 125 BPM. Mastering / record cutting was done by Rashad Becker in Berlin, who has worked on many of Shinichi Atobe's productions.

Much of the Collide's sound is derived from an old Aria Pro II electric guitar from Leif’s childhood, scratched up with damaged and unpredictable electrics.

The record leans into this sense of things being broken or damaged - and how sometimes things need to break in order for us to make sense of them- revelling in, rather than resisting, unpredictability.

Lush textures traverse us across unexpected terrains.

Four digital dancehall scorchers with two accompanying 8-bit versions meticulously crafted with the soundsystem session in mind!

Tapes has been spreading wonky saturated riddim goodness since his ground breaking “Hissing Theatricals” EP in 2009. Now, after a brief hibernation in the northern spawning pools, he’s spinning up his reels once again to present a new killer set of amphibian friendly, nintendo-fied sound system depth charges!

The “Photos of My Frog EP” is croaking off with its oddly addictive namesake: a surefire pond party starter – Ribbit! Hopping along, the adorable but tuff “Cleat Skank” and its gameboy driven pollywog follow, swinging their 8bit melody lasso till the cows come home. Yeehaw!

“Ramp Up” on B is a dense and raw FM synth digi banger, sure to fry any nearby circuits, so best beware! “Back Cramp Riddim” then turns up the low end even more and swirls its drums and synths into the next delay vortex, warping into a pixelated 8bit conclusion.

Whatever your taste in insects there’s something on this record for any lover of vintage dancehall and amphibious wild life alike!