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Sink your mind into this trip of free floating compositions and loopy fragments, all the way from Copenhagen. Physical copy comes with silk-screen printed cover via Adagio for Things, recycled vinyl via Ramona Records and individual labels via Beatbude Vertrieb.

Indie Stock places itself in a context it adores and defies. Every wall is movable and no accident is an accident. Just as a song is made out to be one thing it reveals itself to have been the other all along. Make no mistake, there is something at the heart of it all, even though its pulse resonates from all directions at once. The listener becomes the toad, gladly boiled in a shimmering liquid until it is too late: The bass kicks in and cant be unheard. From 2, Amsterdams self-proclaimed troupe of folk mutants, take stock of it all on this record: hushed affect in tumultuous settings, a mole insurrection of epic proportions, the secret workings of pornography platforms and memory. One song might invite to dance, stumble or float, while another is what a ghost should sing. Above all, it is real. Palpably real in a way only the fabrications of true devotees might ever be. What is a consoculator, again?
“Lustful Expanse,” an early work from US underground visionary Evanora Unlimited, captures the rawest and most unrestrained form of their destructive pop aesthetic.


The second album by Norwegian folk synth dance music makers Naaljos Ljom. This new collection of tunes represents the next step in the direction paved out on their first album. With more severe singular tonalities mined from the archives the duo have been looking further into the nuances and details, exposing tissue samples of the modes, forms and progressions of Norwegian folk music, and thus gaining greater control over the format. Naaljos Ljom 2 opens with a statement from Norwegian composer and music-theorist Eivind Groven, taken from a radio program from 1966 entitled "In-tune or out-of-tune in our folk music - lecture by Eivind Groven with musical examples.” The statement aptly explains the album's point of departure: "Today, we shall listen to music that cannot be expressed on a regular organ or piano. This is folk music which contain pitches and intervals that are outside the regular tuning system." As elaborated upon in a text on the inner sleeve of the LP we get to hear adaptations of traditional tunes from various Norwegian villages. Naaljos' versions are inspired by a mix of archive recordings of performers such as Andres K. Rysstad, Torleiv H. Bjørgum, Ivar Fuglestad and Gunnar Austegard and the practice of active players such as Sigurd Brokke, Daniel Sandén-Warg, Anders E. Røine, Thov Wetterhus and Kenneth Lien. We also hear a “Halling” (dance style) inspired by master fiddler Trygve K. Vågen. The duo honors the aforementioned Eivind Groven on two tracks of the record and both "Tolvtalvisa" and "To visetoner etter Eivind Groven og Ola Brenno" are based on the melodic material from unique 1930s recordings by Groven and Brenno. Adding to their signature sound of synthesizers and folk instruments the album features more fiddle playing than before, with guest fiddler Rasmus Kjorstad contributing on one track and Naaljos’s Anders Hana playing the fiddle himself on 2 tunes. Next to their usual electric bounciness, some of the tracks go in the direction of sound collage, inspired by the archive recordings the duo uses to learn the original tunes and tunings, and in this way they bring us closer to the source material. The music is put in a context - the real world, past and present. Naaljos Ljom have played at an impressive list of festivals for "cutting edge" music: Rewire Festival in The Hague, Unsound Festival in Krakow, Fri Resonans in Trondheim, Elevate Festival in Graz, Sonic Protest in Paris, UH party in Budapest, Motvindfestivalen in Oslo, Tuvas Blodklubb at Riksscena, Wonderful World in Stavanger, Fanø Free Folk Festival, and Folkemusikkveka in Ål. And this release will surely bring them to many more places. Fiona Talkington wrote the following about the first record: "I was transported to secluded valleys where age-old traditions are the passionate expressions of a community, here re-energized by the chillingly sensitive electronic wizardry of Anders Hana and Morten Joh." And in Norway even the tabloid newspapers picked it up. VG reported on one track of the album: "Gorrlaus has the same intense and monotonously suggestive sound hunt as early Kraftwerk, at the time they played ‘Ruckzuck’".
Henriette Eilertsen's solo debut from 2021, "Poems for flute", is regarded by many as one of the classics in the Motvind Records catalogue. Since then, many concertgoers have also been thrilled by the flautists fresh trio, with Joel Ring (cello & electronics) and Øystein Aarnes Vik (drums). Finally, we are all approaching the opportunity to dive deep into this warm, mysterious and alluring sonic bath. Henriette Eilertsen Trio's debut album "Mother" is characterized by captivating compositions, and balanced interaction that at the same time manages to be intimate and almost limitlessly expansive. The leader's unmistakable tone and improvisational excess are naturally a focal point, but there is no doubt that we are dealing with a proper band. Joel Ring and Øystein Aarnes Vik are masterfully light-footed and tight; calmly driving the music forward, filling it with color and texture. The music is acoustically anchored, refined with abstract electronic gestures and processing. Throughout the albums ten pieces, we are offered catchy tunes, chamber musical landscapes and open passages characterized by collective exploratory curiosity. Pianist and innovator Jon Balke contributes on the three tracks “Medieval + Moren”, “Raka Blakk” and “Kulturistisk ingang”, further expanding the music with his non-compromising and timeless tone. Eilertsen is simultaneously moving in several dimensions. The title “Moder” embraces the core of her musical agenda; a caring force that digs into both something mother-earthly, and something more abstract and over-arching. The flute functions as a narrator throughout the album; sometimes in the center of the plot, sometimes observing from a distance. One can easily imagine that "Moder" would have been a hit a thousand years ago, and that adventurous music lovers will experience it as a musical pot of gold a thousand years from now. It is often emphasized that Eilertsen was the first in Norway to be trained as a jazz flautist. However, it also feels relevant to point out that her education is of a far more wide-ranging and holistic nature than what specific genre designations can insinuate. The flute is almost omnipresent in the history of music. Both across cultures and continents, but also across classes; for both shepherds in the mountains, and nobility in castles and concert halls. For many, this historical ballast takes the form of a challenge. Where many seem to be engaged in a wrestling match with cannon, it seems as if Eilertsen meets it with a warm and understanding embrace. A gust of wind between the pasture and the wide-open cosmos, that elegantly and insistently carries the instrument's history into the future.

“A beautiful conceptual approach that is understandable and appreciated.” - Eric Therer, Jazzmania “But somehow, all pieces are strangely interconnected and cast a sensual, hypnotic rhythmic spell.” Jan Granlie, Salt Peanuts " a soundscape that is quite extraordinary, unconventional and vibrant." - Ivan Rod With Unit of Time, Hans Hulbækmo and Egil Kalman aim to show that we can experience the essence of time through rhythm. How can the perception of time—both for the listener and the performers—be turned completely on its head by rhythm? By zooming in on rhythms from traditional music from around the world, the hyper-focused interplay of free jazz, and the rhythmic structures of just-intoned drone music (which is essentially about resonant intervals built on polyrhythms), these gentlemen create a wholly unique rhythmic universe—a universe where both listeners and performers can lose themselves in a thicket of twisted branches. As you know, Motvind Records is much about filling out our own record collections, and it’s high time for a drum’n’bass record that you can enjoy on the couch at home. Piercing the Veil by William Parker and Hamid Drake is fantastic, but it’s 25 years old... Now, we finally have another album where the groove button is stuck in the "on" position, and creativity overflows. "The rhythm section" has long had a supporting role in rhythmic music like jazz, pop, and rock, often overshadowed by a brash saxophonist, lead guitarist, or singer dominating most of the frequency range. In jazz, much happened early on with drummers like Max Roach, Kenny Clarke, and Warren "Baby" Dodds, as well as bassists like Jimmy Blanton, Charles Mingus, and Scott LaFaro. In folk music traditions with strong rhythmic elements, such as those in Africa and Southeast Asia, these instruments have played a more prominent role in shaping the music. But all too often, especially in Norwegian folk music, these instruments have had a rather static function. In my own record collection, I even have an album where the accompanying musicians aren’t credited—it just says, "Ola Opheim, fiddle w/Rhythm." However, Hans Hulbækmo and Egil Kalman have long been a playful and creative rhythm section, with one foot in free jazz and the other in folk music. They’ve played together in the Marthe Lea Band and other projects, and since last year, they’ve delved into the folk music of Norway and Sweden—all set in an experimental duo format: drums and mouth harp (Hans) meet modular synth and double bass and mouth harp (Egil). They’ve now gone deeper into this, aiming to create an album they can take on tour. Both individually and together, they have explored folk music, jazz, and experimental electronic music. Their projects, such as Hulbækmo & Jacobsen Familieorkester, Skrekk & Guro, Camilla Hole Trio, and Reolô, showcase their diverse musical backgrounds. In this duo project, they draw from rhythmic details in folk music—small elements that form the basis for minimalist compositions full of improvisation. They have composed and improvised most of the material, including a traditional tune from Setesdal, Filleværen. The album is a good old-fashioned musical journey where all the tracks have distinct characteristics yet are strangely interconnected. The music is also highly visual. Once the record has spun through once, it’s tempting to flip it over again—once you get a taste for good music, it’s hard to stop. And they don’t let the groove dictate everything. Some melodies are interpreted more straightforwardly, but the unconventional instruments they use give the music a different kind of depth. Unusual timbres and sonic phenomena emerge, giving the music a hypnotic quality. Both the listener and the musicians themselves can get lost in the groove, immersed in a rhythmic cosmos.
Originally released in 2005, Out To Lunch by Otomo Yoshihide’s New Jazz Orchestra (ONJO) is a bold, track-by-track homage that reimagines Eric Dolphy’s legendary 1964 album of the same name. Bringing together the early members of ONJO, this record serves as the most vivid manifestation of Otomo’s "New Jazz" concept at the time—placing a jazz orchestra, free improvisation, and electronic textures on the exact same stage.
Experimental dark folk group Brannten Schnüre's 2016 album, 'Geträumt hab ich vom Martinszug' back in print. "Dich lieb ich, Erde! trauerst du doch mit mir! Und unsre Trauer wandelt wie Kinderschmerz In Schlummer sich und wie die Winde Flattern und flüstern im Saitenspiele The third stanza of Friedrich Hölderlin’s poem ‘Dem sonnengott’ evokes a narrator who is tortured by Spleen until slumber makes his childlike gloom disappear with music. Although today’s readers might judge these nineteenth century musings of the Imagination as mere stylistic platitudes, they also still speak beyond the grave as universal truths. A mere two hundred years later similar anxieties and hopes are still channeled through various art forms, with changing success and reverberation. Brannten Schnüre are one of those neo-romantic music experimentalists who add to a long tradition of celebrating folk tale and exoticism. Their meticulously crafted loops, hesitant melodies and heavily nostalgic lyricism could easily be translated to what the late philosopher and music critic Mark Fisher called ‘hauntology’, a postmodern longing for a lost future. To describe the beauty of ‘Geträumt hab’ ich vom Martinszug’, however, the term seems somewhat dissatisfying. Romanticism is a hard nut to crack in the Anthropocene, and Brannten Schnüre’s realms of the cerebral are too deeply ingrained in a German tradition of story telling to define them within popular paradigm. ‘Geträumt hab’ ich vom Martinszug’ was recorded in 2014 in Würzburg and functions as the autumn part of the band’s seasonal cycle quadrilogy (the other segments being ‘Aprilnacht’ (SicSic), ‘Sommer im Pfirsichhain’ (Aguirre) and ‘Durch unser zugedecktes Tal’ (Youdonthavetocallitmusic)). It deals with the Saint Martin’s parade, a mostly European tradition to celebrate the medieval spirit of Saint Martin of Tours, friend of children and patron of the poor. Around 11 November children come out on the streets with lanterns and sing ancient songs in exchange for sweets. It’s a period of snugness and expectation, of yearning and dreaming, and therefore a consummate subject for the duo to scrutinize. To the adult’s ear the dream of the Saint Martin’s parade isn’t all that consolatory. The dark and slow loops of Christian Schoppik rather sound like motifs for a welcome paralysis. Sometimes as a gentle backdrop for vocals by Katie Rich and Schoppik himself, the repetitive structures serve as tricksters that trade innocence for the uncanny. The dream becomes a fever dream which quickly absorbs the listener into a vacuum, an eternal post-panic attack semi-relief. Maybe that’s the amazing paradox of Brannten Schnüre. The space they occupy is never comforting – as if being locked up inside a Carl Grossberg painting – but it’s also a subliminal aural zone you do not want to leave. It’s music as being, as a stream, devoid of climax or catharsis. And because it is flux and being, and exists to be taken, it speaks in art’s purest form. ‘In place of a hermeneutics we need an erotics of art’ Susan Sontag famously concluded her essay ‘Against Interpretation’ with. Well, look no further …"
Brannten Schnüre, the experimental dark folk group out of Würzburg, Germany's 2015 album, 'Sommer Im Pfirsichhain' back in print. "Christian Schoppik composed and played all the music, Katie Rich whispers, recites and sings. Together they make astoundingly beautiful folk with a rich instrumentation leaning towards the atonal spectrum. Instrumental wanderings stand alongside Nico-esque poetry tales. Christian plays the accordeon and in some songs guitar and flute. Inspired by hierophants like Nový Svět and David Jackman, solemn song fragments (a lot of old greek rembetiko-recordings) are modified and looped, with additional instruments and voices being integrated later on. His music has been described as “surreal folkcollage” and “german hauntology”. With the emergence of Schoppik’s second project, a dada cabaret called Agnes Beil in 2010, Brannten Schnüre moved closer to the song structures of its frivolous sibling. The songs of Schoppik’s latest creation Sommer im Pfirsichhain are further accompanied by a female singing voice, lending the pieces the voluptuous quality of a stickily tense midsummer. Sommer Im Pfirschhain (Summer In The Peachgrove) is the second part of a quartet of releases. The first being Aprilnacht which got released on Sic Sic Tapes last year. Part three Geträumt hab' ich vom Martinszug and part four will follow later. Reference points are bands like Winter Family and Twinsistermoon. Music etched on folkloric, ritual elements transferred into the 21th century. Also worth mentioning is the hand-drawn artwork which is made by artist Gwénola Carrère."
Ignatz, the long-running project of Belgian musician Bram Devens, has spent two decades refining a distinctive approach to songcraft—built on repetition, subtle shifts, and an ear for the uncanny. Across a steady stream of releases on labels including (K-RAA-K)³, Ultra Eczema and Fonal, his work remains instantly recognisable while continually evolving. I Don’t Know marks a striking departure. Following earlier recordings centred on guitar, Devens turns to piano, uncovering a new, more skeletal language. The instrument first entered his orbit in the mid-2010s, when he inherited a family piano and began exploring its possibilities as a self-taught player. Recorded at home in Landen, these pieces feel sparse and unsettled, carrying a raw intimacy that sets them apart from his previous work. The result is a haunted, deeply personal album that reframes Ignatz’s sound without losing its core identity.

Shape of the Moon is the California based duo of Benjamin Burke and Bear Glass that explores existential headspaces beyond mundane frames of thought. Following streams of consciousness that contemplate the stardust that forms us to the very first human sound that reverberated through a cave, Shape of the Moon intertwines language and music into ambient dream-weaving narratives. When the land is laid bare forms a collection of recordings composed of Burke reciting his introspective poems and Glass improvising gripping modular synth and string patterns. Burke brings a wealth of experience working between an impressively vast range of written and visual mediums to Glass’s live electronics and acoustic instrumentation mirroring the spoken word. The pieces on the album consist of excerpts from live outdoor performances under the night sky in the Mojave desert as well as sessions in Glass’s off-grid solar powered studio. Burke drapes vivid vocal narration over deeply immersive textures and melodies conjured up by Glass on Buchla, bass and sitar, painting peaks and valleys that live score the storytelling. The duo tread their own path fusing poetry with undulating electroacoustic instrumentals, arriving at meditative and ASMR territories that draw inspiration from ambient and electronica. Often joined on stage by guest musicians playing anything from Rhodes, percussion, jaw harp and saxophone, the recordings edge towards blues and spiritual jazz. Benjamin Burke is a poet, writer, performer, and visual artist who spends his time lending a hand to unusual artistic expeditions around the world. Most recently, he helped to launch Dhun and Dhun School, a humanist eco-township and progressive education center on a 500 acre biopreserve in Rajasthan, India. He has written and performed countless unusual shows, experimenting widely and, through that, witnessing firsthand what makes ideas resonate for his audiences. This work evolved over time into an approach he refers to as Applied Poetics which he employs to help communities set intentions, scientists present their findings, and humanitarian organizations find their footing. Bear Glass is a sound artist, multi-instrumentalist, music teacher, live sound engineer, and founding member of Mobius Acoustics who build innovative sound systems and host events on the West Coast (utilizing a quadraphonic setup for live performances and immersive drone bath sessions). Glass is involved in various collaborative projects with a couple of releases under different pseudonyms as well as a solo tape featuring a track with prolific producer Carlos Niño. For most of the year, Glass lives sustainably off-grid with his family on a plot of land outside Joshua Tree, a mini utopia infamous for his well curated private campouts and artist residencies. Wide skies, magnificent climates, and being surrounded by the love of family and friends inform Bear’s musical output and artistic practice. Shape of the Moon present their debut album for Marionette’s 30th title, channeling an inquisitive yet playful state of mind that marvels at the mysteries of the universe.

A masterpiece that defined OPN's reputation, where digital sound and serene beauty coexist!


There are collaborations that feel engineered, and then there are those that feel like summer sun’s warmth on a Sunday. Helado Tropical, the debut collaborative album from Helado Negro and Reyna Tropical, belongs to the latter, channeling that easy, sun-drenched tenderness into sound. It didn’t begin with a plan so much as a meeting: two artists orbiting similar questions around language, identity, and music, finally landing in the same room. What followed was less a traditional writing process than a shared unfolding – an instinctive, immersive exchange that stretched across geographies, time zones, and states of being. The duo first met in June 2024 in North Carolina, brought together by a mutual friend and a loose invitation to spend time in the studio. What might have been a brief session turned into something closer to a three-day sleepover – equal parts conversation, curiosity, and creative risk. Reyna Tropical, who often works within intimate, long-standing collaborations, arrived unsure of what it would mean to open their process to someone new. Helado Negro, long known for expanding the sonic and emotional language of Latin music, entered with a similar openness: no expectations, just a willingness to see what might emerge. What emerged was immediate, rather than easing into collaboration, the two found themselves propelled forward by it – building songs in real time, responding to each other’s instincts without over-explaining them. There was no rigid division of roles. One would begin an idea, the other would answer. A melody would suggest a rhythm; a rhythm would reshape a lyric. “There was never a moment where we felt super stuck,” Helado Negro recalls. “It was just like ‘ok what’s next?’ and even within the songs, trying to create these micro worlds – we just felt excited about each moment.” That sense of momentum became foundational to Helado Tropical, a nine-song project that feels both weightless and deeply rooted. Built from guitars, drum machines, and synthesizers, the album resists clean categorization. It lives somewhere between ambient and rhythmic, intimate and expansive; essentially, a sonic language of its own making, shaped as much by feeling as by form. If there is a unifying thread, it’s movement. The album was written across multiple locations – North Carolina, Portland, and the midwest – with both artists continuing to shape the songs in between sessions, sending ideas back and forth in a kind of long-distance dialogue. At times, the process resembled a “postal service” exchange, each artist adding layers in solitude before returning to build together again. The result is music that carries a sense of travel within it – not just physical, but emotional and spiritual. For Reyna Tropical, that movement became central to the project’s meaning. “You can really lose yourself in where you are and you can miss a lot of processing,” they say. “But I think that this particular album really was able to ground me in what movement means to me and just different characters that the range of movement, travel… environment – sun, wind, and water – has the potential to bring out.” The songs reflect that duality: they drift, swell, and shift, yet remain tethered to something steady beneath the surface. That balance is perhaps most evident in “Sensación,” a song that explores intimacy outside of traditional frameworks. Rooted in curiosity, it opens up a more expansive understanding of closeness – one that, yes, can exist between people but also within oneself, and in fleeting shared moments. There is a softness to it, but also a charge: like a storm forming quietly in the distance. Elsewhere, “Fluye” captures a different kind of release – an almost suspended state of awe, inspired in part by Reyna Tropical’s experience watching a sunrise stretch endlessly across a long-haul flight. It’s a song about surrendering to flow, awakening, and recognizing continuity and connection – even in moments of disorientation. And then there is “Tocando,” one of the album’s most visceral recordings. Built from a pre-existing beat Helado Negro introduced during their sessions, the track took shape after more than a day without sleep. Reyna Tropical recalls pacing, waiting for the lyrics to arrive, before finally delivering them in what they describe as an almost essay-like outpouring. The result is a song that holds tension and tenderness simultaneously: a meditation on relationships that feels both fragile and fraught, intimate yet edged with warning. That duality of softness and sharpness, as well as openness and resistance, runs throughout the album. It’s there in “Soledad,” the final track recorded, which came together in a single late-night session after the project was technically complete. What began as an improvisation on keys turned into something magnetic, keeping both artists back into creation. “[We] couldn’t leave the room,” Reyna Tropical says. The finished song retains that energy between them, and sense of flow coupled with immediacy, unfolding with minimal alteration from its original form. Across Helado Tropical, there is a noticeable absence of constraint: not just musically, but conceptually. Both artists share a long-standing resistance to the expectations often placed on Latin music: what it should sound like, how it should feel, what stories it should tell. As they do individually, these two artists create space for something more fluid and personal on this project. That freedom extends to the album’s emotional perspective. While many of the songs explore intimacy, they rarely function as direct dialogues between the two voices. Instead, they exist within a shared world where each artist expresses something individual and collective. “It’s not about us speaking to each other,” Helado Negro explains. “It’s about us existing in the same feeling.” What makes Helado Tropical particularly resonant is the sense of trust that underpins it. Trust in each other, of course, but also trust in instinct, in process, and the idea that not everything needs to be fully understood in the moment it’s created. Much of the album was written through improvisation, with meaning revealing itself only later, as the artists listened back and reflected. In that way, the project functions as both creation and documentation: a record of a specific time, place, and connection. Reyna Tropical describes it as a form of archiving – capturing not just songs, but the emotional and relational context in which they were made. “It was a lot of processing, a lot of transition” they say about where they were at personally. Ultimately, it was about understanding that “this is supposed to be released so we could keep going. I really feel like this album does that personally, and hopefully is able to hold that for other people too.” That forward motion propelled by release is felt in every part of the album. It hums beneath the surface of even its quietest moments, carrying a sense of continuation, and of something still unfolding. Ultimately, Helado Tropical encapsulates a moment of two artists meeting at the right moment, with the right openness, allowing something larger than either of them to take shape. It is spontaneous yet intentional, grounded yet expansive, deeply personal yet invitingly universal. And this convergence of forces is just the beginning.

Psychedelic sorcerers Nuke Watch return with a definitive blast of improvised studio shenanigans on London’s Sagome, after celebrated turns with TTT, PPM, and patience. Proper outerzone madness, tipped FFO Pekka Airaksinen, Wolf Eyes, Marshall Allen, Sperm. Expanding from a duo to a trio with the addition of Zack Stafford on wind and electronics, Nuke Watch emulate the effects of some legit Lucy for a particularly skewiff and trippy session on their 8th studio album ‘Fusion’. The key to the LP is in the titular nod to psych jazz and rock hybrids of the ‘70s, where styles began to melt into one another via the extraordinary musical virtuosity of the likes of King Crimson, Tony Williams, and John McLaughlin. But rather than overly intricate key changes and showmanship, Nuke Watch distill a confluence of inspirations - contemporary urban beats, dub, trip metal, outernational trance, US basement noise, raga drone - with an alchemic, imaginative ingenuity they can safely call their own. The trio, plus the likes of Daryl Seaver on EWI MIDI and instrument, a la Marshall Allen or Wolf Eyes, giive it hot and sticky with a flow of intuitive ideas best representing a prolific creative practice of open-ended jams. But again, they deftly sidestep the more hoary connotations of psych with a freezer fresh zing and grasp of groove that, just about, lets us know it’s the 2020s, not the 1970s, or at least somewhere along that timeline. This uchronic approach, factored by extramusical prompts from psyops, eschatology, and contemporary political clusterfucks, yields a brace of hypnotic, hallucinatory projections in progression from the swingeing groove and smeared apparitions of the opener, thru the mutant raga of the ‘War Lock’ section, to a properly unbuckled ‘New American Psycho’ movement squirming in space between Sperm and Wolf Eyes’ trip metal.

kishun is a duo: ISHIKAWA Ko, player of the shō (mouth-organ), and NAKAMURA Kahoru, player of the gaku-biwa (Japanese court lute). Since 2015 they have used only shō and biwa. Their idea is to bring out the hidden sound in what they call “gagaku without melody.”
Gagaku is the ancient court music of Japan. It is more than a thousand years old. In the Heian period, nobles gathered old songs and dances from Japan and pieces that had come from Korea and China between the 5th and 9th centuries, and shaped them into one art. As gagaku took root in Japan, it was arranged and rebuilt. The form we hear today is unique to Japan. By the Heian era, it was already close to its present shape. Gagaku lives in two worlds: as court music at the Imperial Palace, and as sacred music for rites and festivals at temples and shrines. Because of this history, it was kept by nobles and professional musicians, away from the taste of ordinary people. Its instruments and dances are very different from most other Japanese traditions.
Gagaku has four main kinds: bugaku (dances, including those from the continent), kangen (an instrumental ensemble), kuniburi-no-utamai (old songs and dances from Japan), and utamono (vocal music from the Heian period). Among these, kangen is rare in Japan: it is a full orchestra made only of instruments. Most other Japanese music centers on singing. When there is instrumental playing, it is often in small groups or as support for theater and dance. Kangen stands apart.
The kangen ensemble is called “three winds, two strings, three drums.” The winds are shō, hichiriki (double-reed), and ryūteki (transverse flute). The strings are biwa and so (zither). The drums are kakko, taiko, and shōko (gong). The hichiriki and ryūteki carry the melody. The shō wraps them in chords. The string parts frame the rhythm. Kishun plays only shō and biwa, both in classic pieces and in improvisation.
The shō is a free-reed mouth organ with 17 bamboo pipes of different lengths and pitches. Each pipe has a small metal reed. In the classic style, players do not use tonguing. They shape phrases with breath. The shō is not loud. In ensemble it plays long, steady chords called aitake. These chords color the melody and show the center of the mode (scale).
The gaku-biwa is a lute. Today it has four strings and four frets, and is played with a plectrum. Its back is flat and the body is shallow. Its sound is strong at the start, then fades quickly, with almost no ring. For this reason, the biwa speaks more in rhythm than in harmony.
kishun leaves out the melody instruments of kangen. They focus on the shō, which builds a field of sound through aitake chords, and the biwa, which draws the rhythm. This is their experiment: to bring forward the voices that hide behind the melody. With the skill of two masters, they reach this goal. Sounds that the full gagaku ensemble often covers without notice step into the foreground and speak to us in a fresh, striking way.
(*1) ISHIKAWA Ko — Studied shō and gagaku song with MIYATA Mayumi, BUNNO Hideaki, and SHIBA Sukeyasu. He began performing in 1990. He plays classic and new works with Reigakusha, a well-known gagaku group, and also performs as a soloist. He has taken part in many projects with artists such as SAKAMOTO Ryuichi and Evan Parker. He is also active in free improvisation.
(*2) NAKAMURA Kahoru — While at university, she met the revival of Bankaso (the oldest known biwa score, reconstructed by SHIBA Sukeyasu) and began to study gagaku. She studied ryūteki with Shiba Sukeyasu, and gaku-biwa and umai (right-dance, a style with roots in the Korean peninsula and northeast China) with YAMADA Kiyohiko. A member of Reigakusha, she has performed since 1990 at festivals in Japan and abroad, and as a soloist. She also works to bring lost classic pieces back to li

Yara Asmar’s new album, “everyone I love is sleeping and I love them so so much”, presents 11 pieces recorded over the past year between the small town of Alfred in upstate New York and Beirut. These sometimes fragile and tentative sound sketches reflect the times as Yara steps out, as if onto ice, into a new life on a new continent. She works with unfamiliar instruments, new materials and new sounds to build on her intimate style; homemade mechanical music boxes and a personal archive of family recordings form the backbone of its delicate textures. Asmar explores the peculiar resonance of the metallophone and her collection of deconstructed toy pianos, and guides her music into ever more surreal territories. The result is a work that is dreamlike, fragmentary and strangely timeless.
It all started in 2018 when experimental musician Raquel Bell released a solo record and was invited by Mike Watt to be interviewed on his radio show - The Watt From Pedro Show. Raquel and Jared Marshall (Primary Mystical Experience) just happened to be in Los Angeles at the time. It was the early days of Galecstasy on the road, and they were somewhat living out of the tour van. Raquel and Jared played experimental music and free jazz together after both of them had played in bands and as solo musicians for many years. Raquel asked Mike Watt if they could do his radio show in person at his house, worried that they might not find a good internet connection while bopping from place to place in the tour van. Watt said yes! Galecstasy then drove out to Watt’s hometown of San Pedro, home of the largest port in North America and the birthplace of The Minutemen.
All three musicians sat on Watt’s carpeted living room floor surrounded by incredible records and mementos of music history. Before the live interview began, Watt reached over and held up D. Boon’s guitar and handed it to Raquel. Tears filled her eyes as she strummed, feeling the presence of one of her musical heroes. The Minutemen had influenced most every musician that came across their sound and had immortalized their lead singer, D. Boon as well as their now legendary bassist, Mike Watt. It was in this context that the three of them, Bell, Marshall, and Watt, got to know each other on-air.
Soon after this, in early 2019, Watt brought his Secondmen Trio to play Galecstasy’s music residency at The Grand Star Jazz Club in historic Chinatown, Los Angeles. It was an appropriate second meeting place as the plaza at Sun Mun Way had been the scene of some of the first punk and jazz music in Los Angeles many years before. After the show the three of them agreed to get together again and make a record some day.
They set the date for April 2020 for Watt to travel to Galecstasy’s recording studio in Joshua Tree, California. Nobody knew at the time that the pandemic was coming! Naturally everyone was quite disappointed that the recording had to be rescheduled. But it simply meant that when it did happen it was going to be truly special.
The day finally came In June 2022 and Watt and Galecstasy went into the studio. Primary Mystical Experience had spent time in preparation deciding on which microphones to use, where to place the mics and amps, which compressors, everything was perfectly set in anticipation of the recording session. Raquel Bell had been concocting which synthesizer sounds she wanted for the leads, making detailed notes and settings. The idea was to play completely free - no direction - no bandleader - no songs - nothing decided in advance - just to play in one room together for the first time and see what each musician would bring to the sound. The result of this experimental session is what you hear on “Wattzotica”. Very late that same night the three of them listened back to what they had recorded and a celebration under the desert night sky ensued.
The next morning Raquel awoke and discovered a young rattle snake in a perfect coil taking a nap a few feet away from Watt in the doorway. In that moment she knew that the record was going to be a success. They performed live as a trio for the first time out in the desert at the old Firehouse Outpost later that night.
The music from the recording session was then cut into tracks and mixed by drummer/producer Primary Mystical Experience. Once the record was finally ready it was mastered by Grammy-nominated Joe Lambert Mastering in New York City.

Sooj — a collaborative project between members of Duster and Dirty Art Club. Picking up where their 2024 two-sider Anhedonia II b/w Ecstasy Cowgirl left off, Crusher sees Duster’s slowcore drift dissolve into Dirty Art Club’s sample-heavy, collage-minded production. The result is neither band, nor side project, but something more elusive — a third space built from tape hiss, chopped memory, and late-night signal bleed. Across its runtime, the album avoids the gravitational pull of nostalgia. Instead, it hovers in a liminal present — part collaboration, part escape route.

