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On Revolutionary Pekinese Opera, Ground Zero - under the ferociously precise direction of Otomo Yoshihide - detonates a cut‑and‑splice orchestra where free improv, noise, opera and plunderphonics collide with undimmed urgency. With the blessing of Otomo Yoshihide himself, Revolutionary Pekinese Opera returns to vinyl as one of the defining artefacts of 1990s avant‑garde music, sounding less like a period piece than a live explosive smuggled into the present. Originally conceived as a hypercharged reimagining of revolutionary opera through the cracked lens of sampling culture, the album captures Ground Zero at the height of its powers: a band that refused to respect borders between genres, media or histories, instead treating them all as combustible material. Three decades on, these compositions still feel like they might slip the stylus off the groove through sheer centrifugal force. At the core of the record is Otomo’s role as a kind of Deus ex machina from Fukushima, orchestrating a dense, unruly melting pot of musicians, sounds and strategies. Turntables, guitars, horns, rhythm section and electronics are marshalled into a constantly shifting field where nothing is allowed to remain stable for long. Fragments of Peking opera collide with free jazz eruptions; abrupt cuts splice militant fanfares into stretches of near‑silence or sandblasted noise; cartoonish samples and solemn themes rub shoulders, unsettling each other. What could have been a mere collage becomes, in Otomo’s hands, a tightly argued montage, where each juxtaposition pushes the music into a new, volatile state. The album’s power lies in how it weaponises experimentation without losing a sense of structure. Ground Zero operate like a rogue theatre troupe and a demolition crew at once, pulling recognizable motifs out of the wreckage only to shred them again seconds later. Passages of almost symphonic weight flare up out of scratchy loops and feedback, while sudden drop‑outs expose tiny, nervous details - a stray cymbal brush, a voice buried in the mix, a tape wobble - before the full ensemble slams back in. The result is a music of permanent revolution in miniature, forever overthrowing its own premises, yet somehow coherent in its manic logic. What is striking today is how little of Revolutionary Pekinese Opera’s allure has faded. In an era when sampling, hybridity and “experimental” tags have been thoroughly domesticated, this record still feels genuinely disruptive, its raw drive undiluted by time. The vinyl reissue not only restores one of Ground Zero’s keystone statements to its proper physical scale - with all the crackle, impact and dynamic extremes that implies - it also reasserts the album’s place as a key node in the global avant‑garde of the 1990s. Heard now, these pieces continue to strike with the same force they had on first release: unruly, subversive, and rigorously constructed, a reminder of how dangerous a band can sound when the studio, the archive and the stage are treated as one continuous battlefield.

10 songs from No You - the debut, self-titled LP by Davy Kehoe (Wah Wah Wino, IE) and Diego Herrera (Suzanne Kraft, US). Sharing both vocal and instrumentation duties, D & D venture somewhat off of their respective musical paths - with the collab throwing up a big, small-studio sound. They are maybe at their most melodic on ‘Baby’ where their voices play off each other over bent feedback and crunching drum machine. There’s a real low slung swagger to ‘So Far Gone’ and ‘Miracle Mile’ met with a blown out and blasted approach on songs such as ‘Invisible’ and ‘Side Effect’. The song ‘Put Up A Dream’ exhibits the duo’s more unhinged side.
Japanese bamboo flute maestro and goat (JP) cohort Rai Tateishi makes an impressive debut statement with his holistic attempts to transcend the limits of ancient instruments to reveal gently delirious insights comparable with Jon Hassell, Phew, Bendik Giske, FUJI|||||||||||TA.
‘Presence’ is a triumph of improvised, elemental musicality that distills aspects of myriad folk traditions in pursuit of the artist’s own truth. For 40 minutes of singularly weird, locked-in performance, Rai Tateishi diverges his formative training in the shinobue (a bamboo flute) to applications for its elder sibling, the shakuhachi, and its distant relatives in the khene mouth organ of Northeastern Thailand and Laos, and even the Irish flute, with remarkable results returned from each.
Piece to piece, Tateishi adapts a spectra of unusual and extended instrumental experiments to articulate uniquely animist sound arrangements, with judicious use of a ring modulator and delay effects only subtly altering his sound in real-time, gelling the harmonics and smoothing off its contours. Some 15 years of studies and accreted knowledge of histories, timelines, and spirits are deftly tattered in the air and rebound in precisely complex ribbons that become all the more impressive by virtue of its in-the-moment recording.
Presented with no overdubs, the six works were recorded by label head and KAKUHAN/goat lynchpin Koshiro Hino across three days of adventurous improvisation capturing the breadth of Tateishi’s vision in a mix of succinct flights of fancy and one durational wonder where he really cuts loose. An opening piece of rapid percussive fingering and rasping sets the tone for increasingly intricate explorations of the shinobue, and bluesy cadence of a reedy Thai khene - antecedent of the shō - whipped into headier harmonic overtones, whilst his 5th piece for Irish flute best recalls Ka Baird or Michael O’Shea’s lysergic impishness, and a 13 minute closing piece most boldly fucks with folk and jazz traditions, in-depth and with the genre short-circuiting audacity of Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
Landing in the wake of prism-shaking works by Will Guthrie & Mark Fell, goat (jp) and Kakuhan; Tateishi’s ‘Presence’ more than lives up to NAKID’s impressive levels, unflinchingly operating by its wits with a verve and dare-to-differ moxie that gets at it from the first hit to the last, harnessing the kind of skill and ingenuity that’s distinctive but still strikingly minimal and overwhelmingly physical. It's a remarkable achievement.

Flung is proud to present a major new work by cellist and composer Okkyung Lee with London’s Explore Ensemble: Signals dissolves boundaries between live performance, studio construction, and electroacoustic illusion. Following her 2025 minimalist/ambient album ‘just like any other day (어느날): background music for your mundane activities’ on Shelter Press, Okkyung Lee moves in another direction with London’s Explore Ensemble. Flung is proud to present Signals, a release that eludes categorisation while shifting between electronics, acoustic composition, and improvisation. It places Lee’s improvisational language in dialogue with the instrumentalists of Explore Ensemble’s sextet, whom together become enveloped by kaleidoscopic electronic sound, at times fiercely intense, at others weightless yet immense. As a meta-document of the ensemble’s commission for Lee, Signals takes recordings from live performances in Leuven, Huddersfield, and Luxembourg, restructuring them with additional layers created and edited in the studio. Lee’s hybrid approach blurs the line between real and imagined acoustics, where the listener’s sense of small and huge, near and far, dark and bright, all combine in seemingly impossible ways, restlessly morphing between materialisation and dissolution. The album unfolds in seven sections, one for each of Explore Ensemble’s musicians plus Lee’s own section ‘Wings / First Love’, which ends both sides of the LP (the second instance also called ‘Farewell’). Every section creates a distinct environment that tests the boundaries between instrument and performer — including Lee herself on cello sitting among the ensemble — from ultra close-mic string crackles, to woodwind multiphonic canyonscapes, melodies heard both near and far, and the piano turned inside out. Where Lee renews Signals for every performance by altering the sequence of these sections, on record she commits to a fixed constellation that reinforces both the particularities of the individual musicians and the work itself in a striking of live and studio composite version. A release that feels both self-interrogating and outward- looking, Signals folds Lee’s personal language together with collective form. Each performer’s presence — their sound and intuition — emerges clearly, while Lee’s voice remains central. As she writes: The main focus of making music has been to understand myself through the music. For me the audience is there to immerse themselves in that journey, and maybe discover something on their own. For the last seven years, the world seems to have split into two extreme ends, with no possibility of bridging the gap. Once I felt this sense of hopelessness, I also started to ponder upon the reason for this music's existence when it didn't seem to have any actual relevance to what was happening in the world. Not that the music should have "meaningful reasons for its existence" but how can I express my political stances and beliefs without lyrics or long explanatory texts? With this aspiration, I wanted to create a piece with signals that can generate multiple facets for the performers and the audience. — Okkyung Lee Signals is released by Flung as its first vinyl released in an edition of 300, with accompanying digital version.
The Caretaker returns with a long-in-the-making soundtrack to acclaimed filmmaker Grant Gee's documentary about German writer WG Sebald. 'Patience (After Sebald)' is a multi-layered film essay on landscape, art, history, life and loss - an exploration of the work and influence of German writer WG Sebald (1944-2001), told via a long walk through coastal East Anglia tracking his most famous book 'The Rings Of Saturn'. The source material for 'Patience' was sourced from Franz Schubert's 1827 piece 'Winterreise' and subjected to his perplexing processes, smudging and rubbing isolated fragments into a dust-caked haze of plangent keys, strangely resolved loops and de-pitched vocals which recede from view as eerily as they appear.

A sunrise is a return, yet each day dawns but once. Emergent sounds are born from nothingness and everythingness; the hand touches the drum, breath vibrates the reed, fingers caress the ivory. Echoes of Paleolithic music vibrate into each moment, each musical gesture. Each a return, each a new dawn. — AR
“Eero : Eesu” is a spiritual and experimental sound‑art work by Adey Omotade, a Lagos‑born artist whose experiences across Paris, Johannesburg, Berlin, Côte d’Ivoire, and other places inform his unique fusion of Yoruba traditions with contemporary sonic practices.

The album will be released on February 13, 2026
Strut proudly presents the debut album from producer, songwriter and multiinstrumentalist, Momoko Gill. Fresh from her critically acclaimed collaboration Clay recorded with cult electronic artist Matthew Herbert, Momoko steps forward in her own right for the first time with her remarkable debut solo album.
Momoko has long been one of the UK electronic and jazz scene’s best-kept secrets. A self-taught drummer, producer, songwriter, and vocalist, she has brought her unique touch to collaborations with Alabaster DePlume, Matthew Herbert, Coby Sey, Tirzah, and Nadeem Din-Gabisi (her musical foil in An Alien Called Harmony). Extensive touring behind the drum kit, at the keys and in front of the mic have honed her compositional and production instincts.
With Momoko, Gill emerges into the spotlight with an album that is entirely her own. Throughout, you can hear the stylistic flavours of jazz musicians as much as singer-songwriters, experimental artists and electronic producers. Though Gill rejects imitation, sculpting her sound through feel and expression rather than tradition. Based in London and having grown up in Japan and the US, Gill channels her breadth of perspective through her musical ideas and storytelling, with a unique voice developed through instinct, collaboration and solitary study.
The album’s eleven tracks take in a wide spectrum with the jazz-infused groove of ‘No Others’ and harmony-drenched, reflective ‘Heavy’ contrasting with the dark, confrontational sound of 'Shadowboxing' leading into an eerie left-field instrumental beat, ‘Test A Small Area' and the impressive 50-person choir on ‘When Palestine Is Free’ (which includes heavyweights Shabaka Hutchings, Soweto Kinch, Alabaster DePlume, Coby Sey, Marysia Osu and more). It is a deeply personal and poetic recording and showcases the full uncompromising range of Momoko’s vison, presented in her own voice.
Momoko was produced by Momoko Gill, recorded at Total Refreshment
Centre, mixed by Matthew Herbert and mastered by Alex Gordon at Abbey Road Studios.
Think about Can as performed by a shaman commune ! Two long LP-side size compositions, focusing on tribal rhythms (without real drummer), heavy-folk and electronic samples and loops. Takahashi Yoshihiro (Brast Burn) was the man behind this cultish project originally released in 1974. Buried deep in time, this obscure artifact is something of a revelation. No group information was ever given, and no production date or location is indicated, however, it would seem that this record and the "Brast Burn" LP (also reissued by Paradigm) are both by the same group of Japanese nutters and that they were both recorded in the mid seventies in Japan. But all you really need to know is that it is stone cold fantastic, a wild and manic trip full to the brim with hypnotic jams constructed from all manner of eclectic instruments.
The tribal blues sound is augmented with fascinating tape experiments, electronics, environmental sounds, moaned (howled) vocals and a host of musical delicacies, as dangerous as they are delicious. The influence of German bands such as Can, Faust and Guru Guru is evident throughout, so too is the influence of the good Captain (Beefheart that is) whose gut wrenching blues dirges find compadres in this unearthed swamp. Deranged psychedelic music for anyone with a passing interest in Kraut rock, the new Japanese psychedelic scene (most of whom owe these pioneers a great debt) or great music from the edge of the solar system. Recommended.<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6kWuJcXCYCM?si=qzWOtQkBPaAemmZ5" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe>

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.
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.
Originally released in 1981, this is MIZUTAMA SHŌBŌDAN’s legendary debut album. A wild theatrical mix of avant-post-punk material worked out by one of the most uncompromising women’s brigades ever. An outstanding document from “another” Japan! MIZUTAMA SHŌBŌDAN were a force of nature – powerful and original and unapologetic. I saw them live before I heard the first record and was very impressed. I liked the way the group interacted, it was a very good atmosphere between everybody. I really liked the contrasting sounds and styles of Kamura and Tenko, two very different kinds of voices that really worked well together.
‘Fred Frith’
CONTAINS PRINTED INNER SLEEVE AND 4-PAGE FOLD-OUT INSERT
Viva is the second album by the German band La Düsseldorf, realized in 1978 and it is considered its most successful release. Indeed, the album contains both the singles "Rheinita", which was their most successful single, and "Cha Cha 2000"; an expansive and utopian piece that mixes repetition, piano passages, chants, and electronic textures into a kind of dreamlike manifesto for a more ideal society. Probably the band’s most famous song. The album represents a combination of modern electronic textures, pop clarity, and krautrock experimentation which has secured Viva a lasting place in the history of German experimental rock. This vinyl reissue is the first after fifteen years.

Ricky V runs wild on Mohammad Reza Mortazavi’s Persian tombak hand drum actions, expanding a 4 min kernel of inspiration into 24 minutes of mesmerising polyrhythmic traction. From an original 'Swamp' piece that practically recalls Ricardo’s style of slinky minimal techno sorcery to begin with, the Chilean-German maverick derives a more driving tract of rough hewn rhythmic grit bound to hypnotise dancefloors for the duration. Accentuating the undulating bass and dialling up the volume whilst retaining the frictional grind of the original, Villalobos gets right inside the groove with typically obsessive tekkerz, plucking out additional string motifs and tempering the flow with signature, taut but sinuous, loosey goosey flex that cross-pollinates cultures and gets right under the skin of the thing. Mohammad Reza Mortazavi (b. 1979, Iran) is a virtuoso percussionist known for his groundbreaking work with the tombak and daf, traditional Persian drums that he has radically redefined through new playing techniques and extended vocabulary. Mortazavi began playing the tombak at the age of six. By nine, he had already outpaced his teacher and won Iran’s national tombak competition — a distinction he would earn six more times. By his early twenties, he was widely regarded as one of the foremost players of the instruments. Since then, his music has continued to evolve, embracing new forms and vocabularies beyond tradition. Ricardo Villalobos (b. 1970, Chile) is a pioneering figure in minimal techno, celebrated for his hypnotic approach to rhythm. Raised in Germany after his family fled Pinochet’s regime, Villalobos was drawn early to percussion — he began playing congas and bongos at eleven, developing a tactile relationship to rhythm that would later inform his distinctive production style. Immersed in both Latin American folk traditions and the emerging house and techno scenes of late-80s Europe, he began DJing and producing in the early 1990s, quickly achieving cult status within global club culture. Swamp originally appears on the album Nexus, released in 2025 via Latency.
Tangerine Dream’s 1970 debut, Electronic Meditation. Standing in stark contrast to their later synth-driven ambient works, this is the chaotic ground zero of Krautrock and experimental rock. A primal, avant-garde departure that captures the raw energy of the Berlin underground.

Recorded in 1996 and released without any identifying credits in an essentially private cassette edition, Bibiotheca Hermetica’s sole release, One, was only the second by the Japanese La Musica label and remains one of its more obscure and enigmatic entries. The group works in spaces adjacent to contemporaneous outfits like Nijiumu and Toho Sara though its non-idiomatic improvisations and decentred, free sound explorations call back to seminal collectives such as the Taj Mahal Travellers and the East Bionic Symphonia. The music constantly shuffles and sifts filled with hypnotic clatter and clamour, rattling percussion, toughly scraped strings, gurgling bass tonalities and pirouetting winds. An anonymous transmission from a spectral, dead-of-night mystery zone. “A group that deconstructs and liberates the chance nature of contemporary classical and noise music to such an extent that their boundaries blur. Their policy of fucking up musical relationships both acknowledges and ignores tradition and is totally different from previous strictly organised methods of composition. A work tonally constructed of foreboding musical vibrations.” - from the original La Musica cassette release Available for the first time on LP or any physical form aside from a small run of hand assembled cassettes on the Japanese La Musica label in mid ‘90s (LA-002). Housed in a custom die-cut, "Uni-Pak" style gatefold with metallic ink, spot finishes and matching La Musica inner sleeve.
"I'm sitting in a different room than you are now. I'm recording my own voice. By the resonant frequency of the room strengthening itself, my voice is excluding only the rhythmic elements. Repeat recording and playback until completely destroyed. At that point what you hear is the very natural resonance frequency of the room expressed by my voice. I have this movement in my voice. I think of it as a way to smooth out band irregularities, and I'm not conscious of revealing this phenomenon itself. "
A repress of the classic "I'm Sitting in a Room (1969)" by contemporary musician Alvin Lucier (1931-), originally released in 1981.
By repeatedly recording and playing back the sound of voices echoing in a particular space until the voices become indistinct, the work explores the acoustical engineering of the space to reveal its specific frequencies. It is a work that can only be realized by actually being there, and although it can be perceived as a mere acoustic work just by listening to the recorded sound source, its original purpose is a groundbreaking content that allows the listener to embody a vast and infinite space.
“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

