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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.
Re-upping and expanding our 2020 sufi-flamenco grail on LP and tape format, adding 4 newly unearthed tracks to those previously thought to be Aziz Balouch's only recordings.
Aziz Balouch moved to the Iberian Peninsula from modern-day Pakistan in 1932 in search of work and music. After a childhood spent studying Islamic mysticism and devotional songs in the Sufi shrines of his native Sindh he soon fell in love with the 'deep song' of flamenco and was taken in as an apprentice to the great heterodox cantaor Pepe Marchena after a chance encounter. He dedicated the rest of his life to flamenco and developed an elaborate theory of the South Asian and Sufi origins of the art which he propagated through live performances and publications in London, Spain and Pakistan.
Decades before the arrival of the academic discipline of ethnomusicology or the invention of 'fusion' Aziz Balouch painstakingly immersed himself into a completely different musical tradition seeking connections and drawing inspiration to create a unique performance style which has tragically remained hidden and ignored. These 8 tracks are taken from Aziz Balouch's only surviving recordings, two 7" EPs released in Spain in 1962. On each track Balouch draws on his polyglottism to seamlessly merge Sufi poetry in Persian, Sindhi, Hindi and Arabic with various forms of Andalusian song in Spanish. Accompanied by a single guitar his voice pushes through into the profound depths of human experience to excavate the shared past of flamenco which had been submerged beneath the surface.
Many thanks to Stefan Williamson Fa.
A collection of outtakes from the First Blues sessions along with other tracks, live recordings & rehearsal cuts including Bob Dylan and/or Arthur Russell and a cameo by Don Cherry on kazoo.
Track 1 taken from rehearsal tapes December 9th 1975: Allen Ginsberg (Vocals) accompanied by the Blues/Sholle Band.
Tracks 2-4 taken from the Holy Soul Jelly Roll: Electric Music Poetry Improvised sessions.
Tracks 5-8 taken from the First Blues Hammond sessions.
Track 9-10: recorded live at Gerdes Folk City, June 16th 1984: Allen Ginsberg (Vocals), Don Cherry (Kazoo), Peter Orlovsky (Banjo + Lead Vocal on "Feed Them the Raspberries to Grow"), Steven Taylor (Guitar) & Mark Kramer (Bass).
Track 11: Session at Bob Dylan's Santa Monica Studio, February 23rd 1982: Allen Ginsberg (Vocals), Bob Dylan (Bass), David Mansfield (Mandolin, Guitar), Steven Taylor (Steel String Acoustic Guitar) & Arthur Rosato (Drums).
Issued under license from the Allen Ginsberg Estate. All songs written by Allen Ginsberg and published by May King Poetry Music administered in North America by Music of Virtual and for the Rest of the World by BMG Rights Mgt.
Out of press in its original form for years, controversial beat poet Allen Ginsberg's East Village love-in 'First Blues' - a vast double-album of collaborations with everyone from Arthur Russell to Bob Dylan and Don Cherry - is newly reissued via Death Is Not The End. It's hard to deny Ginsberg's impact; his poetry alone was enough to shift the course of US counter culture, and you can visualise his contributions to downtown punk and folk. But his music career isn't quite as intimately understood, which makes 'First Blues' a pretty vital artefact for anyone looking to investigate further. Ginsberg wrote and recorded the material between 1971 and 1983, taking the opportunity to leaf through his lengthy phonebook and call up anyone he admired or had collaborated with in the past. So Dylan - who Ginsberg had collaborated with before - shows up on the first few tracks, helping to balance out his friend's wobbly-voiced, country-fried recitations with tangled acoustic twangs. The money shots comes with the majority of the remaining tracks, produced and featuring cello by Arthur Russell, given free rein to rumble through folk, blues, jazz and gospel over Ginsberg’s sexcapades, Buddhist revelations and conspiracy theories with bare-faced joy. 'CIA Dope Calypso' is a bonkers highlight, a chirpy Harry Belafonte reinterpretation that lambasts the Central Intelligence Agency for its under-the-radar drug peddling, while 'Sickness Blues' uses Russell's bendy cello tones as a crash mat for Ginsberg's pained lamentations.
Out of press in its original form for years, controversial beat poet Allen Ginsberg's East Village love-in 'First Blues' - a vast double-album of collaborations with everyone from Arthur Russell to Bob Dylan and Don Cherry - is newly reissued via Death Is Not The End. It's hard to deny Ginsberg's impact; his poetry alone was enough to shift the course of US counter culture, and you can visualise his contributions to downtown punk and folk. But his music career isn't quite as intimately understood, which makes 'First Blues' a pretty vital artefact for anyone looking to investigate further. Ginsberg wrote and recorded the material between 1971 and 1983, taking the opportunity to leaf through his lengthy phonebook and call up anyone he admired or had collaborated with in the past. So Dylan - who Ginsberg had collaborated with before - shows up on the first few tracks, helping to balance out his friend's wobbly-voiced, country-fried recitations with tangled acoustic twangs. The money shots comes with the majority of the remaining tracks, produced and featuring cello by Arthur Russell, given free rein to rumble through folk, blues, jazz and gospel over Ginsberg’s sexcapades, Buddhist revelations and conspiracy theories with bare-faced joy. 'CIA Dope Calypso' is a bonkers highlight, a chirpy Harry Belafonte reinterpretation that lambasts the Central Intelligence Agency for its under-the-radar drug peddling, while 'Sickness Blues' uses Russell's bendy cello tones as a crash mat for Ginsberg's pained lamentations.
“Produced in 1970 by the legendary Joe Boyd, Just Another Diamond Day has long been considered a holy grail for Brit-folk record collectors, with original copies of the album fetching over $1,000 at auction. It shouldn't take many listens to realize why it's so highly regarded; Just Another Diamond Day is, in its own humble way, nearly a thing of perfection.” PITCHFORK 9.0
Vashti Bunyan’s legendary debut album from 1970 finally gets a UK vinyl repressing. Produced by Joe Boyd for Witchseason Productions and originally released on Philips in 1970, the album features contributions from Fairport Convention’s Simon Nicol and Dave Swarbrick and The Incredible String Band’s Robin Williamson. The songs mostly concern the events that took place when Vashti and her lover travelled to the Hebrides in a horse and cart to join up with Donovan’s artistic community but by the tiime they got there that community had all left. This story has been brilliantly told in Kieran Evans’ rarely seen 2008 film Vashti Bunyan: From Here To Before.
Neon Castle hones in on a fleeting sub-genre of early to mid-’80s female fronted ambient folk. For a brief moment, glistening slide guitar, ethereal voices, fretless bass, drum machines and satin sounds all intertwined, conjuring a sound at once familiar and otherworldly—pop structures laced with strange visions. Some songs sway with the warmth of open ranch-land—originating from the same myths Stevie Nicks devoted herself to; others are shrouded with candlelit mysticism, crafted with the very staff Kate Bush might have wielded. Together, these pieces reveal a singular tapestry.
Compiled by Charles Bals—now in his third collaboration with Smiling C—Neon Castle affirms his rare gift for storytelling through sound. Each track unfolds like a scene from an imagined film: castles glowing with noble gas, kingdoms awash in purple haze, wild horses roaming free, hair cascading to the waist. The collection sketches a realm both new and 'upon a time', a world where fantasy takes shape through music. With Neon Castle, attentive listening becomes narrative.
“The silence is burning… ignited by a melody”
Going back to sleep… a lovingly gathered suite of windswept, heart-bursting DIY indie-pop and folk-indebted songs from an ensemble of contemporary luminaries. Centred around a node of antipodean artists predominantly recording and performing in intimate spaces, its ambition and sentiment extends to likeminded souls around the world.
The opening strum by Glenn Donaldson's The Reds, Pinks and Purples sets the breezy yet bittersweet atmosphere, its lavish tones and textures swirling beneath one of contemporary indie's most distinct voices. "There was a light in my head / wanted to die but I burned instead", he laments with a soaring baritone to revelatory effect. His Fruits and Flowers companions The Gabys, a low-key UK-based duo who first landed in our orbit with their self-titled cassette in 2021, follow with a burst of combustible energy. Despite being predominantly instrumental - untuned, overdriven riffage the order of the day - there lies an unshakable melodic impulse.
Devotees of Dutch group Lewsberg will recognise immediately the voice of frontman Arie Van Vliet, who appears here as new duo The Hobknobs with Yaël Dekker. The interplay between Van Vliet's and Dekker's voices works unexpectedly well, striking the perfect balance between heartfelt tenderness and the wry matter-of-factness that Lewsberg fans have come to love. New kids on the block Who Cares? were our most cherished discovery last year, their sound encapsulating a woozy pastoralism and their lyrics a sense of something deeply sinister yet darkly humorous: "you got your feet chopped and I’m here to stay, estranged, on this sunken rock..."
The Sprigs, Chateau, I Can I Can't and the Volcanic Tongue-backed Drunk Elk are evergreen exemplars of DIY primitivism and their songs are the fruits of impulsive budget recording. Act now, think later. From the uncanny gonzo-folk of 'Leagues of Marsh to Swallow Towers' and 'How Long on the Platform' to the reckless yet brutally tender 'Personal Favourite' - "recorded in the dark sometime around 2009" and released under a working title, for it was never meant to see the day - a sense of nervy sleep-deprivation and self-destructiveness emerges. Controlled chaos that culminates in the void-dwelling rush of 'Euros', a propulsive meditation on momentary hues and everlasting greys: "make it happy, make it sad / your gift is all I ever had".
The prolific David West returns under his Rat Columns guise with a ballad that feels like reconnecting with an old friend, a voice you've known your entire life. A balmy autumnal breeze that perfectly compliments the subdued elegance of The Lewers, who make their first appearance since their rapturous 518A debut, and who's lyrics perfectly capture the compilation's sentiment: "the wound that never heals / so deep but hard to reach". Time stands still with the arrival of Daily Toll, their bruised yet ultimately optimistic meditation on love and loss a weightless, atmospheric masterpiece. Lead Kata Szász-Komlós looks inward during a sublime instrumental section before a painful confession: "writing names across your neck / made it home but now I am a wreck".
Concluding the suite is Carla dal Forno's first single since Come Around (2022). An effortless, elegant reverie daubed with cautious desire, her voice soars over a delicate Foresteppe instrumental and was recorded during rehearsal sessions for her forthcoming album. A testament to chance and an unexpectedly beautiful moment during the songwriting process.
These songs capture a feeling of introspection that seems impossible to achieve when recording for anyone but yourself. We see it as a traversal through the now wonderfully diverse international pop underground, but more simply, a group of wide-eyed yet world-weary music makers performing on our imaginary stage.
Unfolding is Jessica Moss’s most meditative and plaintive solo album, and perhaps the first in the Montréal violinist/composer’s decade-spanning discography that could properly be called ambient. The ex-Silver Mt Zion member and Black Ox Orkestar co-founder draws from post-classical, drone, minimalism, industrial/metal, power electronics, Klezmer and other folkways: this is not abstract ambient music. Layers of violin melody, electroacoustic processing, intermittent voice, and percussion from The Necks drummer Tony Buck, yield deeply emotive genre-defying compositions, guided by a spirit of searching and summoning that unfolds in a prevailing atmosphere of incantation and mournful restraint. Working closely with producer Radwan Ghazi Moumneh (Jerusalem In My Heart), Moss notes "Unfolding was made slowly, over the last 12 months, the second full year of genocide in Palestine, in direct response to our collective witnessing, our collective grief, as a portal to collective mourning, as a searchlight through our internal weather systems, seeking one another out in the dark." The inseparability of the personal and political has wrung ever tighter for Moss these past two years, as for so many. She’s co-organized and played several benefit shows as a core member of the Montréal chapter of Musicians For Palestine, and she released the solo album For UNRWA in spring 2024 (garnering over 800 supporters and raising thousands of dollars). Moss’s music was already moving towards heightened fragility and deep listening, becoming increasingly durational and ceremonial. Despite the plummeting financial viability of touring, her devotion to holding space, conjuring entanglement, and connecting with intimate live audiences has become her creative lodestar, especially following lockdown. With her solo praxis shaped by committing to and communing in these rooms, recent political and personal upheavals have only intensified her ritualistic, reparative musical processes. The two longform tracks on Side One of Unfolding embody this sensibility. "Washing Machine" weaves layers of string drone and filigree, gently noised by distortion pedals and amplification, with indecipherably blown-out spoken voice intermittently enveloping the mix as fragmentary palimpsests of shrouded recitation and ineffable feeling. The piece traces its origins to a phone recording of a European laundry machine, captured by Moss as she sat next to it, heartbroken on the bathroom floor, finding solace by humming a melody along to the mechanical harmonics of the washer working through its cycles. Album centerpiece "One, Now" begins as a delicate invocation, with bass pulse, chimes and bells, plucked strings, and doleful lead violin lines influenced by Jewish and Arabic modes. Ambient noise, field recordings, and wordless vocals are added to the brew, as violin melodies layer and coalesce towards a mesmerizing dronescape: a semi-improvised living composition further vitalized by Tony Buck’s paintbrush drumming throughout, and Moumneh’s "yell into the void" at the end.. Side Two is a work in four parts titled "no one / no where / no one is free / until all are free" that moves through ambient noise, elegiac post-classical strings, and distorted harmonic drones, towards a denouement of liturgical organ, ritual bell, and shimmering electronic tracers that set the stage for the album’s closing song: the devastating choral composition "until all are free", a secular hymn comprised of Jessica’s multi-tracked vocals (but which she looks forward to singing with others in concert). Unfolding is dedicated to "a free Palestine in our lifetime." Thanks for listening.
"Kurayami" the newest single from Mei Semones features some of the mathiest riffs and one of the most bombastic musical climaxes of her career thus far. An exhilarating track to cap off a star-making year for Mei. Mei on the new songs: "Kurayami" means "darkness" in Japanese, and this song is about growing up in Michigan and reminiscing on what it was like hanging out with my friends. Being a kid was really fun and I was happy, but I remember there was a point where we started to lose our innocence and I think this song is about that feeling. It's one of the more technically difficult songs I've written, and it took some practice to get to the point where I could sing and play it at the same time. There's lots of fun tempo changes, odd meters, wide interval arpeggios, and fast licks, and I think the band arrangement is really creative too. Get used to it: "Get used to it" is about the beauty in solitude and being alone, how to move on from something that was important in your life but still leave space for it, and my love for the guitar and music. It's the second song I wrote on my nylon string, and the changes and melody are somewhat inspired by Thelonious Monk. The instrumentation is more minimal than our other songs -- just me (guitar & vox), upright bass, and drums. We were going for a live jazz trio sound, so there's not really any layers or anything. It's just a straightforward recording of the 3 of us playing the tune, and I think that was the best way to capture the feeling behind the song.
"Silk is the fantastic third LP by Maxine Funke, a New Zealand musician whose first recordings were with the legendary $100 Band (Funke, Alastair Galbraith, and Mike Dooley!), whose music was drifting experimental dust of a very high order. Maxine's first two solo albums, Lace (2008) and Felt (2012) (originally released as CDR on Galbraith's Next Best Way and a lathe on Epic Sweep, respectively), were reissued by Time-Lag to great acclaim in 2016, securing her place in the upper echelons of contemporary folk inventors. With the release of Silk, Ms. Funke manages to create an album that merges both of these style threads. Many of the tracks are cast in an intimate mood congruent with artists like Sibylle Baier, Barbara Manning, Myriam Gendron, Joanne Robertson, and other women who have pulled sweetly dark sounds from pockets of deep emotion, abetted largely by acoustic guitar. On a few other tracks, electronic instrumentals hearken back to her work with transceivers in the $100 Band days. The balance between these posts is delicately intoxicating. A readymade classic from start to finish, Silk travels a brilliant series of spaceways with grace and assurance. We should all be so lucky."
Pullman is a studio-born acoustic supergroup that emerged from Chicago’s post-rock milieu in the late ’90s, uniting Ken “Bundy K.” Brown (Tortoise/Directions in Music), Curtis Harvey (Rex), Chris Brokaw (Come), and Doug McCombs (Tortoise/Eleventh Dream Day); drummer Tim Barnes later joined, solidifying the group’s core lineup. They debuted on Thrill Jockey with Turnstyles & Junkpiles (1998), a hushed, live-to-2-track collection of interwoven guitars that critics likened to John Fahey, Leo Kottke, and Gastr del Sol. Their follow-up, Viewfinder (2001), expanded the palette with percussion, subtle electric textures, and multi-track layering, while maintaining Pullman’s rustic, cinematic restraint. Across both albums, the band became a touchstone for acoustic, song-adjacent instrumental music: folk in spirit, post-rock in method, and timeless in tone.
Two decades later, Pullman return with III, an album forged in friendship and resilience. In 2021, Barnes went public with his diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s at age 54. Even as his condition progressed, he and Brown began working almost daily, often remotely, with a wide circle of collaborators from Barnes’s musical past. What began as a single contribution for a compilation gradually blossomed into a full Pullman record, completed between 2021 and 2023. Edited and mixed by Brown, with early input from Barnes, III carries forward the group’s signature intimacy and space while embodying the spirit of community that has always defined their work. Both a continuation of Pullman’s singular aesthetic and a testament to the sustaining power of music, III drifts with the quiet weight of memory, persistence, and grace.
Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter shall release their first new album since 2011’s Marble Son, and the band’s fifth album since 2002. Forever, I’ve Been Being Born arrives on the 28th November on LP/CD/DL via Ideologic Organ in Europe/UK/Asia/South America. Southern Lord to release the album in North America and Australasia. Forever, I've Been Being Born is a suite of masterful, emotive songs from an open heart, dwelling in a brightness yet deep in the ethereal and melancholic, steeped in themes of magical thinking, emotional dislocation, death and transformation. In the making for ten years, the album centres around the power of Jesse's transcendent voice, which has never been more beautiful, evocative, and hauntingly intimate. Guitarist Phil Wandscher's playing masterfully frames these songs with classic and fractured tones, a duet of vulnerability and strength frequently on the edge. The album also features exquisite contributions from Marissa Nadler, who can be heard on the lead single, “Gentle Chaperone.” “O my gentle chaperone, this is where I stay, but this is not my home”—- J.Sykes This album is our attempt to create elegant folk and sometimes ragged, cosmic, heart rendered songs full of eulogies and laments. Our sound is still familiar enough, but unrecognisable at times—we’ve gotten older and wearier, the music more fragile… …When we started recording this album, I remember saying, “Play the songs as if the edge of a butterfly wing was brushing against your cheek in the dark while you’re holding a small child.” I wanted to connote tenderness and a state of grace in the wake of resolution—paying homage to the creeping knowledge of an emerging, menacing undertone forming in our collective psyche. In hindsight, the delay in releasing this record has been a bit of a blessing, as the lyrics seem more poignant now, transcending our own internal voices and psyches. As the world shares its collective crisis, so we too, share our songs. - J. Sykes On Forever, I’ve Been Being Born, Jesse Sykes And The Sweet Hereafter have crafted a work which feels “very much like a eulogy”, a collection of tracks which see Sykes exploring the idea of mortality with a calm acceptance. Whilst Sykes’ voice has already acted as a guiding light through dark times for others, for Jesse herself, that presence is felt in the form of a chaperone on this record. More specifically, Jesse’s childhood babysitter inspired a motif on the record, “She truly was the person who taught me love,” muses Jesse, “When I think of the moment of death, I often think that it would just be going to her” Recording a new album was delayed for years, in the wake of two band members unexpectedly leaving after Marble Son. “Losing our rhythm section was heartbreaking,” she reflects. “ It sounds cliche, but we had to grieve that loss, and in doing so, we had to separate ourselves from making music for a while, because dare I say, music was painful at the time. It reminded us of what we’d lost. Bands are like family and I’d lost my family. So yes, I had to give up music in order to fall in love with music again.” The album title, Forever I’ve Been Being Born, hints towards this sense of cyclical surrender - “I’ve felt I’m constantly being born and constantly having to die. Or constantly dying in order to be reborn.” We live in a time of collective mourning, and to Jesse, “the lyrics make more sense now than when I was writing them. I think there was some kind of premonition going on… juxtaposed to what’s happening in the country, the emotional climate - this music speaks to the times we are living through.” The emotional feeling of the record can be summed up in a single line from the title track - “Eternities, they will crumble.” A quiet sense of acceptance runs through the record like a stream meandering towards the sea. It is with great pleasure and humility that we bring you, Forever, I’ve Been Being Born. Listen in the dark. “It’s that ancient light that wanders, Rapt in the splendor of your form, And to this I will surrender, Forever, I’ve been being born, Beneath an overarching, Melody, so forlorn.”
Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter shall release their first new album since 2011’s Marble Son, and the band’s fifth album since 2002. Forever, I’ve Been Being Born arrives on the 28th November on LP/CD/DL via Ideologic Organ in Europe/UK/Asia/South America. Southern Lord to release the album in North America and Australasia. Forever, I've Been Being Born is a suite of masterful, emotive songs from an open heart, dwelling in a brightness yet deep in the ethereal and melancholic, steeped in themes of magical thinking, emotional dislocation, death and transformation. In the making for ten years, the album centres around the power of Jesse's transcendent voice, which has never been more beautiful, evocative, and hauntingly intimate. Guitarist Phil Wandscher's playing masterfully frames these songs with classic and fractured tones, a duet of vulnerability and strength frequently on the edge. The album also features exquisite contributions from Marissa Nadler, who can be heard on the lead single, “Gentle Chaperone.” “O my gentle chaperone, this is where I stay, but this is not my home”—- J.Sykes This album is our attempt to create elegant folk and sometimes ragged, cosmic, heart rendered songs full of eulogies and laments. Our sound is still familiar enough, but unrecognisable at times—we’ve gotten older and wearier, the music more fragile… …When we started recording this album, I remember saying, “Play the songs as if the edge of a butterfly wing was brushing against your cheek in the dark while you’re holding a small child.” I wanted to connote tenderness and a state of grace in the wake of resolution—paying homage to the creeping knowledge of an emerging, menacing undertone forming in our collective psyche. In hindsight, the delay in releasing this record has been a bit of a blessing, as the lyrics seem more poignant now, transcending our own internal voices and psyches. As the world shares its collective crisis, so we too, share our songs. - J. Sykes On Forever, I’ve Been Being Born, Jesse Sykes And The Sweet Hereafter have crafted a work which feels “very much like a eulogy”, a collection of tracks which see Sykes exploring the idea of mortality with a calm acceptance. Whilst Sykes’ voice has already acted as a guiding light through dark times for others, for Jesse herself, that presence is felt in the form of a chaperone on this record. More specifically, Jesse’s childhood babysitter inspired a motif on the record, “She truly was the person who taught me love,” muses Jesse, “When I think of the moment of death, I often think that it would just be going to her” Recording a new album was delayed for years, in the wake of two band members unexpectedly leaving after Marble Son. “Losing our rhythm section was heartbreaking,” she reflects. “ It sounds cliche, but we had to grieve that loss, and in doing so, we had to separate ourselves from making music for a while, because dare I say, music was painful at the time. It reminded us of what we’d lost. Bands are like family and I’d lost my family. So yes, I had to give up music in order to fall in love with music again.” The album title, Forever I’ve Been Being Born, hints towards this sense of cyclical surrender - “I’ve felt I’m constantly being born and constantly having to die. Or constantly dying in order to be reborn.” We live in a time of collective mourning, and to Jesse, “the lyrics make more sense now than when I was writing them. I think there was some kind of premonition going on… juxtaposed to what’s happening in the country, the emotional climate - this music speaks to the times we are living through.” The emotional feeling of the record can be summed up in a single line from the title track - “Eternities, they will crumble.” A quiet sense of acceptance runs through the record like a stream meandering towards the sea. It is with great pleasure and humility that we bring you, Forever, I’ve Been Being Born. Listen in the dark. “It’s that ancient light that wanders, Rapt in the splendor of your form, And to this I will surrender, Forever, I’ve been being born, Beneath an overarching, Melody, so forlorn.”
Spanish mystic Dídac pipes up a debut spirit quest of uchronic folklore and imaginary ethnography bending Mediterranean - particularly Catalan & Castilian - tradition into new age ambient modernity via subtle subversions of his Catholic upbringing, arriving somewhere between Luis Delgado and Popol Vuh.
"In between the folds of ceremony and commonality lies a perennial spring of musical expression. A statement along the time continuum, or a testament to the resilient resourcefulness embedded in that truth, forms the philosophical approach of this album – the first outing of Dídac.
Studying an extensive archive of instruments, artifacts, and field recordings at the Musée d’ethnographie de Genève—a space steeped in folkloric gesture – Dídac encountered a cosmos of liturgical music and folk song. Anchored in reverance for tradition and transformation alike, this album navigates the old-world Mediterranean lore through a post-modern ambient lens, threading drone, gentle rhythm, electroacoustic textures and the crude tactility of archival material into one woven tapestry.
Under the guidance of Dr. Madeleine Leclair, Dídac was invited to work within one of the world’s most extensive ethno- musicological archives—L’AIMP. In the saturated basements and tape-lined backrooms of the museum, he submerged himself in the sounds of ritual and rural life: wax cylinders from the Eastern Mediterranean, tapes of liturgical hymn, the worn edges of communal song.
In a makeshift studio on the fourth floor of the museum, he sifted through the hours of material he collected, gradually discovering that the archive was no static source – It did not dictate; rather, it served as a companion—offering not answers, but questions. Not a beaten track, but a cluster of sonic clues and riddles. Samples do appear occasionally, tenderly interwoven into the dialogue of the songs. In Dídac’s self-titled debut, the past is not worn as ornament or kitsch; it is listened to and responded to. The museum, its archives, and the visit to Geneva became a foundational culisse of sorts, igniting a myriad of rough cuts and improvisational outtakes.
Dídac, or Diego Ocejo Muñoz, was born in Madrid in 1994 to a family of both Catalan and Castilian origin.Brought up in a religious household, the influence of the Catholic Church innately shaped the social fabric, schooling and daily life. This lingering dominance led the adolescent Diego into a path of rejection of everything sacramental, promptly resorting to subversion in the shape of grafitti, skateboarding and underground music. Only later in life, after a rigorous venture as an acid and electro producer, the Church re-emerged before him in new light, invoking a deep fascination for its mysticism, iconography and choral tradition.
Spain in general and Catalonia in particular, has long served as a crossroads of the eastern–western Mediterranean continuum, with many of its cultures sharing aspects of way of life and ceremony. At the MEG, Diego found himself puzzled with this realization, resulting in a sonic amalgamation that reaches farther away from the rugged mountains of Catalonia than you might perceive at first encounter. The deeply embedded memory of rite and public ceremony, religious hymn and landscape—sieved through the undercurrent of personal re-emergence, forms the emotional topography of this album. The record does not trace this landscape; it inhabits it. Its repetitive mysticism and ambient, wide-eyed gaze could possibly evoke (perhaps redundant) comparisons to artists such as Dimitris Petsetakis, or Popol Vuh’s late 70’s cinema scores.
The delicate lines between the sacred and the secular – between memory and re-invention – serve as a cipher to understanding this album in its entirety. Titles like Malpàs Mines or Pantocrator’s Portal Outro nudge toward a folkloric and devotional bedrock—places where labor and spirituality coexist, where names preserve both dust and veneration. Nevertheless, this is far from mere nostalgia. It is a reclamation — singing alongside the spirits of the past, nurturing what still hums beneath the soil. It is an intimate reflection on tradition, rebellion, adolescence, ceremony and fantasy – a pastoral contemplation on what once was and what is to be."
Bringing together the elder statesman of the Zulu guitar Madala Kunene and internationally acclaimed Sibusile Xaba, kwaNTU pulls two generations of South African guitar mastery into a single point of focus. Under-represented on recordings outside of South Africa, Madala Kunene (b. 1951), the ‘King of the Zulu Guitar’, is revered as the greatest living master of the Zulu guitar tradition. Sibusile Xaba, whose collaboration with Mushroom Hour Half Hour reaches back to his first recording in 2017 (Open Letter To Adoniah/Unlearning), has garnered international acclaim for his unique voice and virtuoso guitar stylings, which bring together multiple South African guitar lineages in an original, spiritualised fusion. Collaborating with Mushroom Hour and New Soil for kwaNTU, the two players come together to weave a filigree sonic fabric which reaches down to the heartwood of Zulu guitar music but moves resolutely outward, building on the past to create a deeply rooted statement about present conditions and future travels. kwaNTU – which can be roughly translated ‘the place of the life-spirit’ – is also conclave of teacher and student, as Xaba has been taught by Kunene for the last decade. Meditative, rich and sonically sui generis, kwaNTU finds these two musicians linking up within the inimitable space of sound and spirit that they share through Kunene’s teaching.
The great masters of South African music have not all had equal exposure. For many years the generation of musicians who were exiled during apartheid took centre stage, as the regime made it very difficult for those at home to be heard. More recently, a new cohort of important voices, especially in jazz, has broken through to international consciousness. But for the generation of musicians in between – those who shone like beacons in the most difficult final years of apartheid and immediately afterward – international recognition has been slow in coming.
Madala Kunene, ‘the King of the Zulu Guitar’, is among this number. A revered figure for current generations of South African musicians, Kunene began his recording career in 1990, at the bitter end of apartheid, with a now classic self-titled LP for David Marks’ storied Third Ear imprint. Born in 1951 in Cato Manor, near Durban, he had determined to be a musician from early childhood, and by the time he first entered a recording studio he had already had a long career as a popular performer. His virtuoso absorption and transformation of the venerable Zulu maskanda guitar tradition and his richly spiritualised approach to music immediately marked him out as someone special, and in the years that followed, Kunene cemented his position as one of South Africa’s musical elders. He is without doubt the grand master of the Zulu guitar tradition, but his sound and sensibility ranges far beyond it into varied sonic terrain, and he has collaborated with a wide range of musicians both at home and abroad. Now in his mid-seventies, he remains a shining light for those that are making music in contemporary South Africa.
‘He is really an amazing person,’ says the guitarist Sibusile Xaba, who has been mentored by Kunene for over a decade, and now invites a collaboration with him on kwaNTU. ‘As a mentor, he's really powerful in showing us the way. For us to have this opportunity to make music together and have a project together is really a blessing to me.’
Xaba himself grew up in Newcastle, KwaZulu-Natal, where his mother had been in a band and his father sang in a church choir, and from early childhood Xaba played homemade tin guitars. He only later realised that music was his calling. ‘I just loved music. I was fortunate. My parents loved music. And when it was time for me to leave home and go to study outside Newcastle, I knew that music was what I wanted to do. There was no second option. It was just music.’ Moving to Pretoria to study music formally, Xaba committed himself to his craft, developing a unique style that draws on both US jazz masters such as Wes Montgomery and Jim Hall, and the rich and varied heritage of the South African guitar, from inspirational jazz players such as Allen Kwela and Enoch Mthalane, to the music of the Malombo groups and Dr. Philip Tabane (Xaba has previously collaborated with Dr. Tabane’s late son, Thabang), and the Zulu guitar tradition embodied by Kunene.
‘I was really in love with the jazz guitar, I really admired it, and I was digging a lot in that direction,’ says Xaba, recalling his first encounter with Kunene’s music, over a decade ago. ‘And then one day on my timeline, Kunene popped up, and I was like – “What's this sound?” I was so connected to it. It really touched me deep. I started checking out his records, and then I found out he's from the same region as I am, which is Zululand.’ After Kunene played a show at the Afrikan Freedom Station in Johannesburg, Xaba make contact with him, and visited him at home in Durban. They struck up a friendship, and Xaba became the elder’s student, as Kunene began to pass on his knowledge and his inimitable way of playing.
kwaNTU is a tribute to this relationship and the deep learning that has defined it. The album was recorded in Zululand in the town of Utrecht, at a cultural centre called Kwantu Village, which gives its name to the album. ‘It's such a broad word,’ Xaba says, ‘but the elders teach us that Ntu is basically an energy, almost chi, an energy, a force that all living beings have within them. It's a living energy, so kwaNTU is like, almost the place of this energy.’ The two men sequestered themselves for five days of jamming, improvising and planning, and then the session was recorded in one take over a single night, with Gontse Makhene joining on percussion and backing vocals and Fakazile on vocals. Other voices and overdubs were later added in the studio in Johannesburg.
The result is a rich and meditative recording that finds two generations in a deeply engaged dialogue. Teaching and passing on his knowledge, the elder Kunene has brought Xaba into a space of sound and knowledge that they now share; Xaba’s own practice of deep communion with nature and his dedication to his musical craft make him the perfect interlocutor for Kunene. The result is an album that foregrounds the two musicians engaged at the highest levels of responsive listening, sympathetic unity, and collaborative concentration. Bringing an elder statesman of South African music to an international listening audience for the first time in decades by pairing him with one of South Africa’s most important new voices, kwaNTU is a meeting of generations and a powerful demonstration of musical lineage and continuity.
‘Before music, there is sound,’ Xaba observes, speaking of Kunene’s unique approach to music. ‘And sound is like a common compartment…it's not restricted to particular people or particular geographic places, you know what I mean? It's sound. Everybody can hear it. So when he constructs that sound into music, I think everybody resonates with the energy behind his construction of sound into song. Here at home, we really love him for preserving our history through the guitar, through his stories as well the music, the songs that he writes. We really, really admire him.’
We at EM Records love to transport our listeners to new worlds, other worlds; “Pantilde”, this magical new album from Cornish avant-folk performance artist The Worm (they/them), is indeed an ethereal new world: otherworldly, but somehow rooted; an imaginary oral and musical story of everyday village life in an alternative Celtic landscape. The music here is strange yet familiar, fantastical and enchanting while remaining simultaneously attached to the earth. Amy Lawrence (they/them), aka The Worm, plays cello, harp, recorders and percussion, accompanying and framing her rich voice, which is often overdubbed into lovely homespun vocal ensembles; they tell song-stories of mythical and mystical village life, of nature and the human relationship with the natural world. The Worm can be considered part of a lineage which includes The Incredible String Band, Shovel Dance Collective, Bridget St John, Dorothy Carter, Vashti Bunyan, Jessica Pratt, Cathrine Howe, Mary Lattimore, Tristwch Y Fenywod and of course many others. “Pantilde”, a time-trip to a dreamlike, pastoral world that nevertheless feels distinctly realized, is a remarkable avant-folk fantasia, co-released with Prah Recordings. Available on 12-inch LP & CD, with English and Japanese liner notes and lyrics. The CD format also feature a Yama Warashi remix bonus track.
Now available for the first time on Vinyl, Sittin' By The Road Captures Blaze Foley on his earliest known recordings. Simple, straightforward and strong, the album contains a dozen tracks recorded during Blaze's 'treehouse' days in Georgia. Recorded in the mid-1970s on a home reel-to-reel machine, these songs showcase Blaze's talent in early form. Includes many of Foley's classic tunes plus three songs that did not appear on previous albums.
"A wobbly loop of found sound. Almost inaudible speech from an unidentified documentary. Lapping waves of folk guitar created at the edges of the player’s ability. A haunted melodica. Mumbled vocals that reinvent the singer’s uncertainties as a deliciously glum pose. Layer these up in the recording software of your choice. Labour in a back bedroom overlooking the railway line to summon ghosts.
Spirits arrive from West Yorkshire, from Glasgow and Dunedin, from the suburban Midwest. Rising from squats and university accommodation past, from damp rooms filled with old paperbacks, stale hash smoke and abandoned mugs of tea.
Even as you listen to this collection of home recordings, made over the last few years by South London duo Jemima and collated for the store's own in-house label, these ghosts crowd around. Born in the Seventies to chase the tape experiments and gentle strumming of the Sixties they crane their necks and edge closer to the laptop. When something this perfect comes along, even the most tranquillised must stir their stumps.
It’s lonely music created around a wine bottle with a candle in it, made too late to appear via Xpressway or Cordelia. Don’t imagine though, that it has no home in the now. These spectres remain close because they know they are still wanted. We need them as much as they need us.
We've been totally spellbound by these recordings for the best part of a year, Jemima's debut LP is a window into a half-lit world on a deeper plane of consciousness. "
Following years of memorable turns in collab with Dean Blunt and on her own solo recordings, ‘Blurrr’ is likely the moment Joanne Robertson ooozes into much wider acclaim and recognition - a stunning album of sparse heartbreakers recorded in the company of Oliver Coates and landing at an irresistibly fragile spot somewhere between classic Grouper, Cat Power and Arthur Russell’s ‘World of Echo’. A real delicate, special album - one of the year’s finest.
In pursuit of last year’s ‘Backstage Raver’ duo with longtime spar Dean Blunt, Manchester born, Blackpool-rooted, Glasgow-based Joanne Robertson casts her strongest spell yet on ‘Blurrr’, cementing her status as a master of timeless songcraft. On nine new songs, every strum and murmured lyric exposes a patient beauty and rare intimacy that transcends the sum of its parts. It includes a trio of co-productions with Oliver Coates - noted collaborator with everyone from Malibu and Mica Levi to Laurel Halo - lending an extra frisson of flesh-tingling substance to accentuate the sensuality of Robertson’s voice.
In solo mode, she has us by a thread on the album’s longest piece ‘Friendly’ where we're treated to harmonies and hooks that pull from Nick Drake through Sarah Records and the blissed Americana of Hope Sandoval, lilting into a filigree coda somehow comparable to Vini Reilly’s sun-kissed, balearic glissandi. Her blissed coos on ‘Peaceful’ set our arm hairs on end, and the languorous opener 'Ghost' is like Robertson's answer to Grouper's timeless 'Heavy Water’, while ‘Why Me’ feels like the Nirvana Unplugged x Cat Power hookup of our dreams; there's nothing heavy handed or overdone - just bare expressions - like a blast of cool air on a humid afternoon.
Coates elevates three of the album's most striking tracks. His emotive string flourishes are remarkably subtle, there's a trace of the cinematic wonder that elevated his work with Laurel Halo on 'Raw Silk Uncut Wood' and with Malibu on the now classic 'One Life', but Coates is careful not to overpower Robertson's songs, enhancing her harmonies without ever obscuring their faultlines. On 'Gown' we’re reminded of Arthur Russell's timeless 'World of Echo', and that connection deepens further on 'Doubt', where Coates' fluttering low-end reverberates below Robertson's cool-headed voice. The killer for us, though, is 'Always Were', a glittering masterpiece that sounds like Robertson’s voice has been recorded to a half-broken mic, then dubbed to worn tape, magnifying its emotional resonance as it cracks alongside Coates' heaving strings, snowballing into a dense mass of harmony and echo.
Originally released in 1987 on a private cassette - this is the first vinyl release of the absolute gem. Comes with obi strip.
Masahiro Sugaya is a Japanese composer with a prolific career in music for film, television, and the performing arts. Renowned for crafting soundscapes that invite deep contemplation, his music blends synthesizers, field recordings, and traditional Japanese instruments, achieving a delicate balance between minimalism, ambient, and folk influences.
In addition to his experimental compositions, Sugaya has been a pivotal figure in Japanese television and cinema. He collaborated with NHK, Japan’s national broadcaster, creating soundtracks for documentaries and educational programs that explored both the everyday and the extraordinary. His ability to translate emotions and landscapes into sound has made him stand out in projects that connect the visual and the musical.
In cinema, Sugaya worked as an arranger for GONTITI, the iconic Japanese guitar duo, and contributed to soundtracks for renowned directors such as Hirokazu Koreeda. His work captures the stillness and subtleties of everyday life, resonating deeply with audiences.
The Pocket of Fever, originally conceived in 1987 as a soundtrack for Pappa Tarahumara’s avant-garde dance company, merges traditional Japanese elements with modern compositional techniques, reflecting the fluid and dreamlike choreography. The album shifts between nostalgia, as in Green of the Future, and the poetic hypnosis of Conversation with the Wind. These pieces invite the listener to explore deeply evocative and intimate sonic landscapes.
Now available for the first time on vinyl, this album was originally released solely on cassette and has been carefully remastered to preserve its delicate textures and vibrant sound. Presented in a limited edition, The Pocket of Fever remains essential for fans of ambient and experimental music. Inspired by figures such as Hiroshi Yoshimura, Midori Takada, and Brian Eno, this timeless masterpiece invites introspection and the appreciation of its serene beauty.