MUSIC

Honour’s debut album is a ligament stretching from Lagos to London and to New York, curling across the diaspora and brushing the darker hues of blues, hip-hop, free jazz, ambient, gospel with Christian mythology and Yoruba folklore. As cinematic as it is painterly, Àlàáfíà is a meditation on themes of life, death and love that pulls inspiration from the poetic profundity of God, remembered dreams, unexpected casual conversations, field recordings, literature, ephemera, and personal archives. The result is an impressionistic vision in Black and Blur that both exhausts and implicates language and that sublimates boundaries between everywhere and nowhere; history and the present; the individual and the universal.

On "SHAME", producer 2K88 (Przemysław Jankowiak, fka 1988) invokes the era and spirit of PL SOUND, a local genre inspired by British soundsystem music but infused with the social, urban, and sonic themes that developed during Poland’s post-communist transformation. "SHAME" is a progressive, bass-fueled transmission built from scraps of hip-hop’s past; it’s a cinematic vision of Y2K Polish rap that’s in constant flux, where every detail is just as important as the whole structure. Sampling the Polish canon of beats from the low-rent districts of the nineties, 2K88 plunders tracks already based on samples and channels the experiences of the generations that grew up with those sounds, struggling and celebrating with them. And just as he did with his previous projects Etamski and 1988, 2K88 draws out, processes, and ages his elements in an echo chamber, asking questions and formulating answers. Jankowiak works on the fringes of genre: traces of ambient, dub, rap and jungle flicker into low-lit urban rhythms, chunky nightclub basslines and paranoid production touches. This is in keeping with his new, futuristic handle, 2K88. Not for a second does he succumb to today’s omnipresent nostalgia, instead putting reconstruction before deconstruction — he finds whole worlds in his scraps, and in the long-gone turn-of-the-millennium period, whose liminal qualities feel like a precursor to the unease of the present moment. The end-of-the-20th-century paranoia has only intensified in the past 30 years, and paranoia, as Philo Gant once said in the 1995 sci-fi film "Strange Days", is “just reality on a finer scale”. By that logic, 2K88 offers a picture of the grittiest reality blown up to truly awe-inspiring proportions. ______________________________________________________________ 2K88— fka 1988, aka Przemysław Jankowiak — is a music producer, graphic designer, and audio director raised in the Poland of the 1990s and on the pioneering rap records of that time. The rawness, chunkiness, and paranoia he took from this period have always been an integral part of his music. They were there when he made his first homemade beats and stayed with him when, in the following years, he distanced himself from hip-hop, going deeper into the world of sampling experiments and the post-genre avant-garde. Later, he and Robert Piernikowski created the universe of the duo Syny - an irreal spectral/ontological phenomenon built out of memories, dreams, and bass, rap, dub, and smoke. Since the end of Syny, Jankowiak has let loose his beatmaker impulses on a collaborative record with Warsaw’s legendary MC Włodi, created the album Ruleta [Roulette] with over 30 featured guests, and struck up a dialogue with the electronic soundsystem work that’s fascinated him for years on the Ring the Alarm EP. He’s also created chart-topping avant-pop with Brodka and a mimetic soundtrack to “Splinter”, but it is SHAME that is the album we might call his sonic résumé.

One of UK Grime’s most shadowy figures comes of age with a killer full length debut released in collab between True Panther and DJ Python’s Worldwide Unlimited, brimming with an incandescent energy arcing from OG to contemporary eras. It's fully addictive gear, joining unexpected dots between hook-heavy pop and weirder modes, on a tip somewhere between Vegyn, Dean Blunt, Playboi Carti, Klein & Junior Boys - just v v good!!!! Previously appearing on these pages as a guest (alongside Charlotte Church!) on Klein’s stunning ‘Harmattan’ album, Jawnino has been actively issuing prime zingers since 2019’s cult self-release ‘It’s Cold Out’, building a robust rep for his effortless and unique takes on grime, drill, jungle, and rap. Noted for his animated style of “melancholic chaos”, Jawnino flows ambidextrous on whatever’s in front of him, and ’40' gives him a whole new playground in which to romp; spelling out his dare-to-differ slant on a colourful instrumental palette supplied by new hands - Woesum, HNRO, Brbko, 3o, and Cold - alongside more experienced guest features and remixers - James Massiah (aka Babyfather’s DJ Escrow), Bok Bok (remixing here as One Bok), Airhead, Evilgiane - with breezy fresh steez and classic storytelling that transcends eras. Blessed with a naturally uncompromising yet broad appeal, Jawnino’s music speaks to life in 2020’s London with an observantly perceptive quality, delivered behind a mask of anonymity. His music is also artfully aware, exhibiting an appetite for variation that sees him glyde equally well on ohrwurming choruses on ‘2trains’, as he does at soulful grime for the club in ‘Dance2’ - an update of his ‘Good Thing Bad Thing Who Knows’ EP nugget that we swear sounds like Junior Boys - while also finding a wry humour in broken Britain on the timelessly drizzly melancholy of ‘It’s Cold Out’, a new expansion of his debut cut produced by Poundshop, Oliver Twist and Cold - and that’s only the opening trio. Characteristic of his generation’s attraction to the most salient aspects of the preceding 20 odd years, Jawnino proves just as adept at jumping on tight D&B to tell tales of weekend excess (‘Lost My Brain’) as screwed boogie forging binds with US spar MIKE (’Short Stories’), or shuffling in the twilight of ‘90s R&B (‘Wind’). A particular standout of drill drama ‘Westfield’ characterises his ability to boost the energy by factors, and likewise dial it right down and draw us closer in on his description of popping percocet, molly and shrooms in ‘sentfromheaven’, also here in Bok Bok’s finely retuned version, nagging ’til the end beside Airhead’s piquant retweak of ‘Cant Be’. For anyone losing faith in rap soundalikes, Jawnino reaffirms a love for classic forms pronounced in new ways.

Released in 1993 by Brooklyn, NY's regency hip-hop unit Black Moon, this is one of the most famous albums in hip-hop history, featuring tracks such as "Who Got Da Props?" and "How Many MC 's..." and "I Got Cha Opin," the album is now being reissued on cassette in a completely limited production run!　The album features 16 tracks in total, with bonus tracks added to the originals!

Following in the steps of last year's mysterious "Beyond the Garage" 12 inch, L.I.E.S. throws another curveball with a 30 track continuous LP from veteran West Coast producers, Vinny+Charlie. Each side running 20 minutes, this can best be described as a smoked out, haze filled afterparty beat tape on wax. Obscure samples, dusty sp-12 crushed beats, head nodding loops, sweet low rider soul..chopped, sped up, slowed down and ready to wreck your system. Limited edition white label housed in a lp jacket with custom art by LA artist SOB STORY. 300 copies worldwide.

MM..FOOD, a 2004 concept album "about what you find at a picnic or at a picnic table," released by underground rap's greatest voice MF DOOM on Rhymesayers, is back in analog form! The fifth studio album, which debuted at #17 on Billboard's Independent Albums chart, features guest appearances by Count Bass D, Angelika, 4ize, and Mr. Fantastik.

Honour’s debut album is a ligament stretching from Lagos to London and to New York, curling across the diaspora and brushing the darker hues of blues, hip-hop, free jazz, ambient, gospel with Christian mythology and Yoruba folklore. As cinematic as it is painterly, Àlàáfíà is a meditation on themes of life, death and love that pulls inspiration from the poetic profundity of God, remembered dreams, unexpected casual conversations, field recordings, literature, ephemera, and personal archives. The result is an impressionistic vision in Black and Blur that both exhausts and implicates language and that sublimates boundaries between everywhere and nowhere; history and the present; the individual and the universal.

The music of LA-based Sudanese-American artist Dua Saleh (they/them) explores the inner self and the world at large. With their long-awaited full-length debut, a collection of R&B-infused electronic indie-pop songs titled I SHOULD CALL THEM, they portray the spiritual power, resilience, and joy of love. Equal parts imaginative and lived-through, it's a statement record only Saleh could make. Across three EPs since 2019, heralded by The New York Times ("commanding"), NPR ("visionary"), and Pitchfork ("ambitious and riveting") — alongside their breakout role in the Netflix series Sex Education — Saleh has deftly fused and inverted genre conventions with a socially conscious style driven by melody, grit, and bravado. Saleh’s foundation as first a skilled poet and their close ties to the indigenous roots have enriched their music with incredible depth. In 2023, they signed with Ghostly International with the punk-leaning standalone single “daylight falls” and took the cover of GAY TIMES as their Rising Star in Music honour recipient. Now squarely at the helm of their first LP — guests include Ambré, Gallant, serpentwithfeet, and Sid Sriram — Saleh shapes their most vulnerable work to date, an apocalyptic narrative informed by environmental anxieties and their experiences as a lover, holding personal truth and hope amidst chaos. Sonically, the album ushers in a new era for the artist whose boundless sound continues to expand. "It's important for me to heal by being fully myself," says Saleh, referring to the outsized role identity and gender expression play in their process. "I am being honest with myself with this record, this is my story." They see queer love as an act of defiance, be it figuratively, in the album's storyline, which follows two lovers at the end-of-times, or literally, in the many oppressed cultures around the world. They reference inspirations in popular culture with trans and queer representation such as Japanese manga and various memes like the one the album’s title winks at. They credit Minnesota, where Saleh came of age, for its inclusivity and catalyzing encouragement, and pay homage to the Midwest with the pulsing opening track "chi girl," which details the playful pursuit of a crush in Chicago. Saleh finds a kindred spirit in serpentwithfeet, who duets with them on the striking, string-backed "unruly." "Something about his voice is so captivating," says Saleh. "I think our connection musically is queerness, being able to have that against-all-odds connection with somebody where we may have had to resist our identity initially when we were younger. There's a power that queerness holds for both of us." The song pairs otherworldly atmospherics with a tangible bounce. serpentwithfeet rings questions into the night ("how'd I get so unruly") as Saleh trails with hushed hooks and sly verses. Throughout I SHOULD CALL THEM, Saleh is elastic in how they use their voice and tune the scenery to love's sweetness and the moments that challenge it. "want" uses straightforward R&B rock elements to underscore feelings of betrayal and resignation. "pussy suicide" is pure jealousy. Flanked by a looping guitar riff and moody trap beat, Saleh's delivery adopts different pitches, from low, morphing drawls to high-register raps. They go tender on the Sid Sriram-featuring "time & time again." Saleh says the song reflects someone who "could have been the forever person but we weren't meant to be in this time. We still have this deep bond and, maybe this happens more in queer relationships, we still look out for each other." It embodies the softness required to survive. On the smooth, surrealist back half highlight "television," they harmonize with Ambré. "I feel a spiritual rush when I listen to the music that comes out of New Orleans, and I feel it in my gut with Ambré’s," says Saleh. Gallant guests on "coast," playing the classic R&B counterpart to Saleh's hyper-pop-inspired vocal take. Album closer "2excited" finds the characters in Saleh's story embracing a rapturous love realized as the world crumbles — signaled by a 'Black Metal R&B' blowout of ascending percussion and guitar, saxophone sighs, and guttural cries. It is ecstasy and dread personified, catharsis for modern times, and a thrilling example of an artist unafraid and thriving.

The singular musical spirit Joseph Deenmamode aka Mo Kolours presents an exciting new body of work. A catalog of critically acclaimed records, including his self-titled debut (2014), ‘Texture Like Like Sun’ (2015), 2018 album ‘Inner Symbols’ and three companion EPs, established Deenmamode as a prodigious musician and vocalist. Pitchfork extolled his “hypnotic, tribal-infused dance grooves”, DJ Mag appreciated the “colourful celebration of soundsystem culture”, and Resident Advisor advocated that “no one sounds quite like Mo Kolours”. Musical analogies were drawn by The Guardian as “The best album Curtis Mayfield never made with A Tribe Called Quest and Lee Perry” and Mojo as “like Marvin Gaye produced by J Dilla”. Five years ago, Deenmamode moved to the Japanese countryside. Far away from familiarity, he contemplated his place and further questioned his identity. “I had none of my ‘own’ people around. I had time to really find what makes me tick musically. Japan has helped me go back to those subconscious leanings, really go deep, and reflect the aspects that make up my story”. The tracks on ‘Original Flow’ have been constructed from sessions, improvisations and soundbites captured around the world during this time; collecting contributions from musicians including Deenamode’s brothers Reginald Omas Mamode and Jeen Bassa plus Andrew Ashong, Charles Bullen, Dwaye Kilvington, Eddie Hick, Stefan Asanovic, Myele Manzanza, Ross Hughes, and Tom Dreissler. Deenamode says “I’m proud of this album’s creative process. Coming from a tradition of scouring through hours of records, I wanted to create my own samples, to find that perfect loop that no other producer could put their hands on. I decided to invite a group of friends and acquaintances, who also happen to be incredible musicians, to a studio in Crystal Palace to improvise based on some loose ideas I had. We spent all day, and recorded everything”. ‘Original Flow’ is an album of UK street-soul nouveau, future indigenous jazz fusion, Rasta Segga, Nyahbinghi jazz, Malagasy Hebrew hip hop. While retaining a spirit of exploration and improvisation, it sees Deenmamode grow and flex beyond beat tape brevity, expanding composition and stretching his musical muscle to play live with other musicians. Themes of empowerment, overcoming adversity, and mental liberation coexist with notes from ancient history, futurism, and science, as well as musings on family and togetherness. ‘Magik Momentum’ springs from a discussion that features at the start of the song, an inspiring mentor answering a question from Deenmamode about improvisation and what role it plays in life when planning and manifesting the future. ‘Rockets to Mars’ questions the lack of care for the billions of people with nothing, while governments plan to explore space. “This sparked a comparison in my mind to a Sonny Okuson song that I would reference when performing. Okuson’s song talked of the lack of resources in many communities in the world, while governments go to the moon”. He says the music behind ‘The News These Days’ is “possibly my favourite on the album”. Looped like he would a late sixty jazz-fusion sample, there was nothing added and the track was complete within a matter of minutes. “It was the first and best moment from the entire Crystal Palace session”, he adds. The album’s contrasting title track with minimal instrumentation played solo by Deenamode. While frustratingly searching for gems in past recordings, he thought in a burst of ego, “I don’t need no-one else to make a dope beat!” picked up his ravanne, (the traditional frame drum of his fathers home-land of Mauritius), pressed record, and started to play. He says, “In my thoughts were the rhythms of the Nubians in Upper-Egypt and Sudan, the swing of the huge drums played by Mauritanian women, of-course the Sega beat of Mauritius, and the ever inspiring beat of James Yancey”. Driven by UK broken beat, Cuban congas, Nigerian and Mauritian inflections, ‘Love Vibration’ follows the concept that all emotions carry a vibratory frequency and pays homage to the frequency of creation and the power of love. The two part ‘Tatamaka’ tells of the history of Deenmamode’s ancestors, the maroons of Mauritius. “We are people who managed to run from our oppressors and find refuge in a corner of the island called ‘Le Morne’ where they could not reach us. One bloody day they came in numbers to re-capture, to revenge. Many of us chose to jump to our deaths, rather than be taken back into subjugation. The poem by Creole Richard Sedley Assonne says; “there were hundreds of them, but my people, the maroons chose the kiss of death over the chains of slavery”. Tatamaka was the name of a famed maroon leader who was murdered for claiming his, and our people’s freedom. The song is the imagined journey of escape and freedom by an ancestor of the maroons of Le Morne”. Born in the west midlands and raised on the traditional sega music of his father’s Indian Ocean homeland of Mauritius alongside records by the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Santana and Michael Jackson; his influences expanded with late 90s jungle and drum and bass nights in Bristol, experiments at art college in Camberwell, and the rich culture of Peckham, “at the time we called it the Afro Quarters of London” says Deenmamode, adding hip hop, dub, soul and soundsystem styles to his individual sound. He explains, “I love drum music, from hand-drums to 808s. I love music from the ancient past, heritage music, indigenous music, traditional music passed down from the beginning of time. Music from the body, hand claps, grunts and foot stomps. Music with audible depth, busy, bustling, highly charged. Music from the soul, the music from beyond. I love music from the islands and the mountains. The music of the streets, hustle music, alleyway beats. Club music”. He describes the creative process as thinking in images. “The visual world and the world of sound seem to intermingle in my thought process. When I play the drum with my eyes closed, a world of imagery dances and moves with beat. Improvised drumming feels like I am listening to what I want to hear, rather than trying to play what I want to hear. Following the rhythm and finding new pathways to walk within the patterns is what I experience. In this way I often feel I am just a listener, instead of the player”.

Hole Erth, Chaz Bear’s eighth full-length studio record as Toro y Moi, is the genre shapeshifter’s most unexpected and bold move to date, with Bear diving headlong into rap-rock, Soundcloud rap and Y2K emo. The album blitzes anthemic pop-punk next to autotuned, melancholic rap – two genres that inform one another now more than ever before — and packs in the most features ever on a Toro y Moi album. We get Don Toliver’s moody crooning on the anti-love song “Madonna.” We get Kevin Abstract and Lev’s breathy reflections on “Heaven.” We get emo king Benjamin Gibbard, the beating heart of millennial indie for crying out loud. Recorded in the span of a few months across late 2023 and early 2024, Hole Erth’s features built naturally over that short span, with Bear simply reaching out to long-time friends. The sum of Hole Erth’s parts is massive, and demonstrates Bear’s deft abilities as a producer, especially in hip-hop; his role in the culture has long been solidified from previous collaborations with some of rap's biggest trailblazers. It’s a daring left turn for Bear, but the feel is effortless, the make-it-look-easy of a master at work. All told, Bear pushes himself into new sonic ground for the TyM oeuvre while embracing the project’s celebrated, well-known electronic beginnings. Hole Erth is brand new, but somehow perfectly at home. The album’s title is an homage to Whole Earth, Stewart Brand’s DIY periodical from the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, the central purpose of which was to empower people to be holistically self-sufficient. From product reviews of carpentry tools, to how-to guides for growing your own food, to techno-optimistic analyses that’d go on to inspire Silicon Valley startup culture, parallels of the catalog’s DIY ethos can be found all throughout Hole Erth. Bear cites gorpcore, a new-age fashion trend of functional, outdoorsy outerwear worn as streetwear, as influencing the album’s aesthetic. This also ties back to Brand’s influential counterculture catalog. Bear notes: “Things have gone in a more gorp-y direction. Humans are tapping into this more tribal, earthier aesthetic. The Whole Earth catalog is this encyclopedic, self-sustaining guide. With the album title alone, that’s something I wanted to spark as a conversation. We can be off the grid, and also be on the internet, and try out all of these different lifestyles at the same time.” This sense of duality exists within Hole Erth: it’s seeped in the technological world while embracing real-world human connection. The sounds that make up Hole Erth might feel like new territory for Bear, but in reality it’s a return to form for Toro y Moi – a project that has always orbited electronic music. “Toro is not a rock band,” Bear assures. “To me, my folk records and psych rock records are the side quests. What I fell in love with with the Toro project were the electronic productions – the samples. There’s always more to be done in the electronic world.” His experimentation with electronic production is most obvious on tracks like album opener “Walking In The Rain,” an immediate immersion into the brooding pulse of Hole Erth. Given Bear’s work with some of modern rap’s most influential acts, it’s no surprise that his autotuned cadence and cheeky play-on-words calls to mind the moody braggadocio of today’s popular hip-hop. “Hollywood,” featuring Benjamin Gibbard of Death Cab for Cutie and The Postal Service fame, places warped vocals and ephemeral sound bites of internet dial-up beneath watery ruminations on celebrity and the delusions prevalent in Tinseltown. The track’s nostalgic nods in combination with Bear’s genre fluidity is a Toro y Moi trademark that can be heard throughout his discography. From the twangy, laidback reflections that comprised his most recent Sandhills EP, to the retro-futuristic grooves of 2019’s Outer Peace, Bear is no stranger to flexing his muscles as a forward-thinking musical chameleon, while still managing to make music that feels eternally familiar yet compelling. A sense of nostalgia sneaks its way into almost every Toro y Moi release, but angst is an emotion that Bear has never intentionally explored the way he does here. Tracks like “Tuesday'' channel a specific, yet forever-relatable sense of adolescent unease. A distorted guitar riff leads into a repeating chorus that conjures misunderstood teenagers singing aloud, maybe too loud, while riding bikes through American suburbs. This foreboding can also be heard on “HOV,” though not without poking some fun with lines like “Romance is so cold / My advice? To bring a coat.” A sense of playful ambition and experimentation sits at the core of Hole Erth. Bear has the energy, but is acutely aware that his energy isn’t forever. At a time when the internet is blending multiple genres into one at an increasingly rapid pace, Bear accomplishes the rare feat of keeping up with the contemporary alternative listener. Constantly changing, evolving and experimenting is the heart

Originally made as a contribution to the Blowing Up The Workshop mix series, subsequently given a cassette release in 2019, now finally receiving a limited vinyl LP pressing. "A trip across the frequencies of Bristol's pirate radio stations via cut-ups of broadcasts, taken from the late 1980s to the early 2000s ~ also a love-letter to my childhood, an audio document of the years I spent growing up in the city."

Underneath his mysterious metal mask, MF DOOM hides the cachet underground legends are made of. After his first group KMD’s sophomore album Black Bastards was shelved by Elektra in 1994, and his blood brother Subroc — one half of the sibling rap duo — passed away, surviving frontman Zev Love X slowly mutated into the supervillain MC known as MF DOOM, and the rap world is better for it.The 1999 release of Operation: Doomsday marked MF DOOM’s official debut, reintroducing a mysterious figure who would soon become one of underground rap’s greatest voices. Within its 19 tracks, Operation: Doomsday reveals the confluence of DOOM’s tragic past, personal interests and daring creativity. His clever rhymes and remarkable schemes stood out against the landscape, and every sound he touched — from cartoon theme songs, to ‘80s soul, to rap classics and more — got reinterpreted into something brand new and surreal.Decades later, MF DOOM is still celebrated for all facets of his work and influence. In the face of tragedy, DOOM re-infiltrated the rap game on his own terms, and crafted an instant cult classic. Operation: Doomsday stands as a testament to the power of betting on yourself against all odds.

 (Clear vinyl with Japanese obi) While the previous album was a huge success as a work representing the year 2021, this album, "NO THANK YOU," shows that Little Sims, aka Simbiatu Azikawo, now 28 years old, does not care about such success and sticks to his own convictions. This is a demonstration of his attitude. The songs are glossy, straightforward, and powerful, and are truly punk, giving the middle finger to the fame and expectations that come with success, the conformity required, and all the limitations that come with it. Working with Inflow again, this is Little Sims' most free, bold, and spontaneous work to date.

Also available is "On Stage Off Stage," a 40-minute documentary on the band's latest tour! The film is a spectacular film that includes not only the live performance, but also off-shot footage of Little Sims enjoying tennis on their days off, interviews with the staff who support Little Sims' activities, and the moment "NO THANK YOU" was released without notice.

Brooklyn's illbient cult Sensational meets Kyoto's composer unbuilt.

Fresh off of their 2020 offering Adult Themes, El Michels Affair is back with a new full-length release. Titled Yeti Season, this newest album has everything we've come to expect from EMA’s patented cinematic style of instrumental soul music. Where Adult Themes inspired a soundtrack to an imaginary film, Yeti Season brings us to a different place in time—with new inspirations. Taken with Turkish-styled funk and an almost Mumbai-esque take on soul, El Michels Affair offers us a different kind of drama and imagination with Yeti Season. If you've been following along, this shouldn't be viewed as too far a departure for El Michels Affair. The first single off of Yeti Season showed their hand back in 2018. A double-sided banger, that release brought the musical textures to the fore that dominate this record. The first song, titled "Unathi," is fully realized with the beautifully haunting-yet-hopeful vocals of Piya Malik, formerly of 79.5. Singing in Hindi, Piya's ethereal voice is telling us to work and strive together toward progress. Even if you don't understand her language, you can still hear the urgency of purpose, creating a lasting vibe that sits on top of it all. Leon Michels explains that Piya had a vital influence on this record: "When Piya started singing in Hindi, she had a different voice, a different tone. I knew we had to do something together." And so Piya appears on three other songs on Yeti Season: "Zaharila," "Murkit Gem," and "Dhuaan." Each providing particular signatures to the album. "Zaharila" is a building and changing love song punctuated by blaring trumpets, driving drums, and Piya's pleading lyrics. While the more upbeat "Murkit Gem" opens with a fuzzed out, Wu-Tang-esque baseline that buoys Piya's stylings. The psychedelic guitar and Piya's changing tones and textures singing about an all-consuming love are what pushed "Dhuaan" on to the second single from Yeti Season. There is also a vocal appearance from Shannon Wise of The Shacks, yet another Big Crown artist. Her song called "Sha Na Na," lies more in the familiar EMA vein: melodic, hypnotic, soulfully visual. But between Shannon's airy singing, the jumpy baseline, moody vibes, the active drum lines, it sounds like a pensive walk home after a strangely dramatic night. So what is Yeti Season? It could be more of a feeling than an actual place or time of year. It's a heavy album—as evidenced by the signature musicianship and dramatic vocal expressions. But it's also a hopeful record, with phrasings, textures, and chord changes that hint at something better—or fuller—coming our way. You hear it in songs like "Ala Vida," with its stabby, pulsing chords laying a bedrock for EMA's bright, atmospheric horn lines. Or even in "Fazed Out," which leaves you with a feeling of determination, a striving for resolution even though the driving, march-like song structure should accompany some conquering army. This persistence has to come from the fact that Leon Michels and company finished this record during the lockdown. It was a tough and troublesome time. But look at what has come of it: Yeti Season—a record of high and heavy drama, but also one of hope and promise. It may take a year like 2020 behind us to find hope in a winter big footed creature like a Yeti, but that's where we are.

A brief EP released mainly as an attack on Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, Live by Yo Rep is an interesting if hard-to-find relic of Three 6 Mafia's early years. Its release followed that of Mystic Stylez, and a couple group members get solo showcases: Koopsta Knicca and Killa Klan Kaze. There's nothing all that essential here, granted, but Live by Yo Rep is nonetheless a worthwhile novelty for fans of this era of the group. ~ Jason Birchmeier

MM..FOOD, a 2004 concept album "about what you find at a picnic or at a picnic table," released by underground rap's greatest voice MF DOOM on Rhymesayers, is back in analog form! The fifth studio album, which debuted at #17 on Billboard's Independent Albums chart, features guest appearances by Count Bass D, Angelika, 4ize, and Mr. Fantastik.

Brooklyn's illbient cult Sensational meets Kyoto's composer unbuilt.

Coby Sey is a highly rated experimental musician, producer, vocalist and DJ from Lewisham, South London. Sey is known for recording lo-fi piano instrumentals and leftfield club music. However, debut album ‘Conduit’ sees him creating slow, soulful grooves underpinned by heavy bass, and topped by vocals which moves between speech and rap. The production retains the fuzzy lo-fi quality.

"Every day, the skies of New York City fill up with unseen clouds of radio signals spreading over immigrant neighborhoods. These culturally charged clouds of radio energy burst with a flow of content that continually shifts and transforms, following the lifecycle and rhythm of the streets. In Brooklyn, the signals alight on Flatbush Avenue, blasting from radios in dollar vans, bakeries, churches and on street corners and kitchen tables. By accessing an analog technology that (outside of the radio itself) is essentially free for the listener, economically marginalized communities avoid the subscription and data fees built in to the conveniences of the digital life. Listeners, often the elders of the community, extend metal antennas and position the radios just so, trying to catch the elusive vibrations of crucial music, news and information that are seldom felt in New York City’s legal and mostly corporate owned media soundscape. In Flatbush, stations broadcast primarily to Haitians, Jamaicans, Trinidadians, Grenadians and Orthodox Jews. The Haitian stations are particularly active in East Flatbush with just under a dozen broadcasting daily in Kreyol to the large Haitian community. “I came across it at a very young age. There was this really popular station back in the late 80s, Radio Guinee, and it was based in Brooklyn.” says Joan Martinez, a young Haitian-American born in the US and a former program host on some of the unlicensed Kreyol language stations. “Nobody knows where it was, there are suspicions. But all I know is from Friday night all the way to Sunday night, you would just hear a series of these stations every weekend and it would be the place where you could listen to the latest in Haitian pop music, rap music. It was also the news, my parents and their friends would all sit around the radio and they would just be politicking in the living room getting really loud, you know, dancing, singing along that sort of thing. It was just like a meeting ground and the radio was guiding it.” This phase of New York City pirate radio rose from the ashes of a previous scene dating to the late sixties: a dozen or so stations sporadically run mostly by white teenagers: a mix of hippies, radicals and electronically inclined misfits. By 1987, this loose collective of friends and rivals devolved into infighting after a short-lived attempt to broadcast from international waters off Jones Beach. This created room for new pirate radio voices from diverse communities that were increasingly being pushed off the legal airwaves by high costs, format consolidation, and “the low power desert”, an FCC-led phaseout of small community broadcasters. The local pirates joined a growing national wave of progressive pirate radio activity taking advantage of a new generation of cheap FM transmitters imported from China or home-brewed in makeshift workshops by free radio activists. By the early 90’s, immigrant community-focused broadcasters In New York City flipped the unspoken rules of the earlier pirates who broadcast mainly late at night on a few pre-determined “safe” frequencies, instead filling the FM dial from bottom to top, day and night. In 2000, under pressure from a nationwide increase in pirate radio activity, the FCC introduced a new license class: Low Power FM (LPFM) but opposition from National Public Radio and the National Association of Broadcasters shut down the issuing of new licenses. That severely limited LPFM’s availability in major urban markets due to rules requiring LPFM’s to be “three click aways” from existing stations. Local pirates felt they had no alternative but to continue broadcasting and some stations in Flatbush have been on the air for decades. Despite the passage of the Local Community Radio Act in 2011, opening a new licensing window with relaxed spacing requirements, few new frequencies were available in NYC due to an already crowded dial. The continued pirate presence is enabled by a sort of safety in numbers, an FCC enforcement team hampered by a low budget and a bureaucratic process of enforcement. Interference aside, FCC commissioners and staff publicly fume at the pirates for a range of potential public safety violations, some more theoretical than others and claim they are somehow harming their own communities, and wonder finally, why don’t they just stream on the internet. By viewing radio piracy purely from a legal perspective, critics miss the cultural and historic forces driving the Haitian pirates. During the Duvalier dictatorship (1957-1986) Haitians had access to only two stations broadcasting in Kreyol, rather than French, the language of the elite. One was Radio Lumiere, a religious station and the other Radio Haiti-Inter, a fiercely independent voice whose director Jean Dominque was assassinated in 1999. “The peasant in Haiti, while he’s working on his farm you know he had a transistor.” Says Dr. Jean Eddy St. Paul, Director of the Haitian Studies Institute at the City University of New York. ‘And many peasants, they don’t have money to buy tobacco to smoke, but they will have money to buy the battery to put in the transistor. The first generation of migration, in the US, was during the 1960s and for many of those people the culture of transistor was part of their everyday life, so they’re still maintaining the culture of transistor. For them, having a radio station is very important.’ In July 2019, on a side street in East Flatbush, I met a man calling himself “Joseph” aka “Haitian” (“because I’m a pure Haitian!”), part of a group that keeps Radio Comedy FM on the air. “There’s no owners and committee. It’s a bunch of young guys”. Joseph says, “We have to do something positive for our community. Right now the Marines are in Haiti and we don’t know what’s next! CNN don’t show you this! BBC don’t show you this! So what we do, we have people in Haiti that call us and tell us what’s going on and will send us pictures. This is how we get our information. And bring it to the people…. I have family over there, my mother’s still there. So I have to know what’s going on. At this point in the digital age, it’s an open question how long these analog pirate stations will remain relevant, as their audiences age, neighborhoods gentrify and younger listeners gravitate to social media platforms. The answer seems to lie with their elderly and impoverished listeners. “They don’t have enough money to buy the newspapers understand?.” Joseph says.” For him that makes it worth it to keep Radio Comedy on the air despite a crackdown from the FCC backed by the PIRATE Act signed into law in 2020 that increases fines to $100,000 a day up to $2 million. But the legislation lacks funding to enforce the new regulations. With a federal statute still in place reducing fines down to the ability to pay, it’s unclear whether the PIRATE Act will be anything more than another in an escalating series of scare tactics. Though the FCC has recently suggested the possibility of a new round of LPFM licenses in the future, the already crowded nature of NYC’s FM band makes it unlikely that new frequencies will be made available to the current pirate stations. In addition the FCC doesn’t want to be seen as rewarding illegal activity by granting a license to former pirate broadcasters, which was a prohibition in LPFM’s earlier licensing periods. And for the moment, Joseph, who’s been running unlicensed stations since 1991 (‘it’s an addiction’) is equally unlikely to cede the airwaves. He sees Radio Comedy as not just a radio station, but a community lifeline. “You know many children we save? There was a bunch of guys…Jamaican, Trinidadian, Haitian trying to form a gang. We talked to them, bring them to the station. Most of them have a diploma now. Without the radio, most of them probably get locked up or dead.” Even with the PIRATE act on the books, the number of stations on the air in Brooklyn has remained steady with an average of about 25 per day and the advent of the Coronavirus pandemic has only sharpened their mission. In March 2020 as the spread of Covid-19 lead to NYC’s lockdown, the unlicensed Haitian broadcasters and the other West Indian stations in Brooklyn took a step closer to their listeners, increasing their air time and enhancing their formats to deliver information about the virus both in New York and in their countries of origin amid the heavy toll it took on the community."

Originally made as a contribution to the Blowing Up The Workshop mix series, subsequently given a cassette release in 2019, now finally receiving a limited vinyl LP pressing. "A trip across the frequencies of Bristol's pirate radio stations via cut-ups of broadcasts, taken from the late 1980s to the early 2000s ~ also a love-letter to my childhood, an audio document of the years I spent growing up in the city."

On his full-length drink sum wtr debut, Standing on Giant Shoulders, Sam splits the difference between Snoop Dogg and D' Angelo, Curren$y and David Ruffin. The songs reveal a forward-thinking sensibility rooted in ancestral soul. He creates spiritual hymns for the streets that tap into universal ideals and irrepressible groove. In an era plagued by short-term thinking, his ambitions reveal a crate-digging depth of music history and a meticulous ear for detail.

We're excited to bring you this collaboration between Spanish Producer Nueen and Manc vocalist / rapper Iceboy Violet, who has previously sprinkled their magic dust across Hyperdub releases from aya and Loraine James. The album traces the arc of a four year relationship, In Iceboy's words - 'fondly memorialising its highs and documenting its lows, trying to process and reflect positively and then ending with the ecstatic but ominous spark of new love.' Between them they've made an album that's magical, intimate and heartfelt, sometimes anguished but ultimately re-enchanting.

Iceboy and Nueen mutually admired their like-minded approach to making ambient music on recent solo releases and started swapping ideas for collaboration. Nueen sent beats at an almost overwhelming rate, which matched the speed and sharpness of Iceboy's emotions while they processed the end of the aforementioned relationship, creating songs which helped them process and navigate through the mental fog. The tracks were finished with Iceboy zooming in and chiselling the details, all finished in 3 months.

Nueen's music responds with foggy, but richly detailed grainy production. There are Smudgy, drill-laced beats contrasting with curdled, spiralling chords and at times he seems to isolate elements from Burial's palette and intensifies them, like SM FID's fire-like crackles. At other times, he draws out a malevolent ambience which feels elemental and troubling like on Cement Skin. Friends and collaborators switched up some of these songs, with artist Harriet Morley as the first voice on the album and Dawuna adding their rugged silky background vocals around Still's descriptions of black hair braiding and lives intimately intertwined. The album's final track, Kiss Me Again is blessed with young Manchester singer Bennettiscoming as a softening foil to Iceboy's coarse rapture.
You Said You'd Hold My Hand Through The Fire is an immensely affecting and lucid album, powerfully wrought and ultimately hopeful. 

mess/age is the music of Kyoto-based friends Khan Brown and Ohhki.
 Formed in 2021, their unique sound was developed by chance with a circuit bent karaoke machine. Now combine that with logic beats, familiar breaks, Casio tones and their signature echo poetry, and you have songs that will be stuck in your head for a lifetime. We have warned you about "Hi Wo Kaou."!