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Grammy Award-winning producer Leon Michels of El Michels Affair's new album features Shintaro Sakamoto on lyrics and vocals for one track! The track, βIndifference,β will be released domestically on 7-inch vinyl by zelone records!
Leon Michels' main project, El Michels Affair's new album, β24 HR SPORTS,β will be released on September 5 by US label Big Crown Records.
Shingo Sakamoto has contributed lyrics and vocals to one track on the new album, and the 7-inch vinyl (Japan-exclusive edition) of the track βIndifferenceβ will be released on July 30 (Wed) via zelone records. The B-side features βClean The Line,β a track from the album that showcases the Suginami Children's Choir from Tokyo. The zelone 7-inch will feature a fold-out artwork design by Shitaro Sakamoto.

A cozy collection of botanical background sounds from Lullatone β an arrangement of atmospheric ambience that blossoms into a bouquet of meditative melodies.
What is the obsession with electronic musicians and houseplants? Is it because they are a captive crowd to watch composers create? Because photosynthesis kind of sounds like synthesizer? Because roots and vines like cables on a modular synth rig? Or is it just because ever since Erik Satie coined the term βFurniture Musicβ every person with a penchant for soundtracking canβt help but look for things in their immediate surroundings to turn into a muse?
From seedlings to sprouts, these melodies mature more like the life cycle of flowers than typical long-lasting houseplants. Living in Japan, Lullatone quickly learned that half of what makes a flower beautiful is knowing it wonβt be around for long. Every spring, phrases about fleeting beauty flood conversations as cherry blossoms saturate the sky. Even the flitting run time of some of the songs evokes the haiku-ish poetry of plucked petals falling away too soon.
Imagined also as a tribute to an avant-garde(ning) local flower shop in Nagoya, Japan called Tumbleweed, which hosts a special event called βFlower Listeningβ multiple times a year, this album plays a bit like a mixtape but with tracks made all by one person. Shawn, the songwriter / producer behind Lullatone often played at the event and found himself making more and more new songs to especially fit the space. But as time went by, he listened to them other places and noticed the impressionistic tone of the tracks translated to lots of other areas as well.
Whether you want to call it botanica / petalcore / pollinated pastoral / j-ambient / folktronica / floraltronica / compositional collage / environmental / kankyΕ ongaku / βambient for angiospermsβ or just plain instrumental, we hope these soft & serene synth sounds soundtrack anywhere you (and maybe some flowery friends) find yourself growing.

Under the right conditions, half-remembered dreams can meld seamlessly into hazy present moments. Time spent alone can be an emotional blank canvas, and an opportunity to deconstruct sense and feeling; a patchwork of snippets both rooted in memory and abstracted from reality. The title of βquilted lamentβ perfectly captures the way Gretchen Korsmo and claire rousayβs overlapping missions come together to do just this. Worn polaroid melodies and snatched everyday noises seem overheard through windows onto the street. They feel emotionally twinned, claire and Gretchen, itβs not always possible to tell where one ends and the other begins. Their musical thoughts and DNA are sewn together into a mini symphony of warmly embracing movements.
Built remotely between pre-existing friends in the underground music scene, the duo layered ideas onto audio files, and sent them back (and forth). And these luscious instrumentals truly do feel assembled by intuition, casually crafted with little need for guidance. βclaire and I are both emo,β explains Korsmo. βWe are both former texas-dwellers [too] and relate over both the woes and beauties of being in the American DIY experimental music scene.β Buoyant piano keys and hushed layer vocals tracks sit alongside a humming field-recorded scrapbook; a neighbour caught in a moment of private inspiration while street noise elevates; a private hymnal in the bathroom while the washing machine ends its cycle. Both artists take field sounds from a wealth of Zoom and Tascam recordings made in the last half-decade in Santa Fe, San Antonio, Los Angeles, Kamakura, Japan and elsewhere β from a baseball game announcer in Santa Fe, to the sound of a friend eating a juicy peach. At times, the bedroom walls seem to grow thin amid atmospheric creaks and disembodied whispers. Despite its very emo core, this is a recording engulfed in an intense sense of bliss, more at peace than weβve heard either artist before.
Re-issue of New York singer-songwriter Nina Nastasia's Steve Albini produced debut LP from 2000 - back in print after nearly two decades.
"In October of 1999, Nina Nastasia recorded the album that would finally document her well-seeded career as a local singer-songwriter in New York City. It was exemplary of Nastasiaβs style, delicate string arrangements, the restrained beauty of her live band, the deceptive simplicity of her voice, and poignant, life-wise lyrics. The following year, βDogsβ was released on CD by micro-indie label Socialist Records. By the end of 2000, the βDogsβ CD was out of print. But βDogsβ had a special grassroots effect on Nina Nastasiaβs music career, as fans of the record would correspond across internet message boards and zines, discussing songs and soliciting copies of the rare edition. The album would also mark the beginning of a lasting peer relationship with noted recording engineer Steve Albini. In 2004, Touch and Go Records reissued βDogsβ on CD and, for the first time, on vinyl. The vinyl quickly sold out and remained out of print for nearly two decadeβ¦ until now."

Gilla Band Irelandβs favourite Avant-punk quartet has re-issued The Early Years EP, a collection of out of print 7β singles and covers originally released on Any Other City Records and The Quarter Inch Collective and then on Rough Trade Records in 2015. The re-issue features new artwork based on the original colour blocks plus The Cha Cha Cha has now been remastered alongside the rest of the tracks and is ready for the dancefloor once again.
Fan fave (and live setlist staple) featured on the collection is an eight-minute cover of post-dubstep mastermind Blawanβs absurdist banger and demented earworm βWhy They Hide Their Bodies Under My Garageβ that, simply put, is unlike anything youβve ever heard before or since.

Graham Jonson is drawn to the comforts of melody and noise. How the two conspire in tension, tonally and atonally, stirring up memory and mood. This quality animates the technicolor world of quickly, quickly, the psych-pop project that emanates from Kenton Sound, his basement studio in Portland, Oregon. “Everywhere your eye lands, there’s another curio to marvel over,” noted Pitchfork’s Philip Sherburne when he visited Jonson’s recording space for a Rising feature just after the release of his “strikingly original” 2021 debut LP, The Long and Short of It. Since then, Jonson formed a live band, released his Easy Listening EP in 2023, got into production projects (for Moses Sumney, Kid LAROI, and SahBabii), and navigated the up-and-downs of a young musician, the sustainability of tours and relationships. While shaped by personal bouts and fallouts, his highly-anticipated full-length follow-up finds Jonson making music that’s universal, open-ended, and rewarding, like great songwriters can do. He set out to make a folk album but couldn’t help coloring it in with noise; a confluence of lush instrumentation and unexpected sounds. Ambitious yet intimate, hi-fi yet homespun, the idiosyncratic songs on I Heard That Noise curve around the contours of everyday life with warmth, wit, and dissonance.
When asked to unpack the inputs of I Heard That Noise, Jonson cites the unpredictable vocal melodies and sound design of Phil Elverum (The Microphones, Mount Eerie), the raw emotion of Dijon, and the timeless cadence of Nick Drake. While drums were the focus of Easy Listening, he challenged himself to think outside of the beat with new material: “to see how much I could do with a song, specifically with production, without having a beat to it… there are moments with drums but it was more about the space in between.” Songs utilize visceral delay and distortion; sometimes, they melt out of frame before the peak or take sharp turns with sudden chord changes or sweeping jolts he likens to “jump scares” in film. “Experimenting with the idea of being comfortable, and then some crazy shit flies at you, takes you out of it for a second, and then maybe brings you back in.” What makes these non-linear choices effective is that Jonson remains a natural pop architect, knowing where to push and pull, add and subtract; and essentially, how to draw in and hold one’s attention.
Themes reach from recent experiences — a breakup followed by “periods of either being miserable or, like, living…trying to better myself” — to childhood memories. There’s a recurring low-frequency hum in his neighborhood; he and his friends have come to know it as the “Kenton Sound” (which gives his studio its name), and they’ve narrowed it down to some industrial testing site nearby. Every time it vibrates, he thinks of that time he heard “that noise” while skateboarding outside his mom’s house. Similar, but louder, scarier, a sky siren of sorts. “I remember all the dogs started barking in the neighborhood at the same time...a really weird, bizarre phenomenon.” The thought pattern, scattered with a cathartic headspace, led him to record the title track, where an abrasive intro dissipates into a sweet piano ballad about remembering and surrendering.
Jonson has a knack for interludes and outros, and he’s in full stride here; the opener’s ambient wobbles snap into the stomp of “Enything,” which at one point swelled with so much information he needed to get a new computer. Above bright and jagged guitar lines, harmonized with backing vocals from friend and past tourmate Julia Logue, Jonson playfully rattles through everything he’d do (“for you”). He’s quick to admit he often dreads the process of writing lyrics, yet the loose wordplay of “Enything” is proof his subconscious runs clever.
On “Take It From Me,” subtle sonic flourishes surround acoustic strums and tender keys as Jonson recalls the resignation of a night when a relationship’s end was imminent (“a great storm is coming over the hill.”). He explains, “I've always found peace in knowing that other people, even if I don't know their exact experience, may have the same feeling that I do.” The mantra-like reprise of “Take It from Me” carries that notion, a soft reassurance before the song washes away.
Kenton Sound’s ceiling can attest to the truth of “I Punched Through A Wall.” Jonson says in reality, the act emerged from a silly intrusive thought. The image (“The silhouette of myself”) lent a figurative scene to wrap real angst around. “I feel love like a cannon ball / I like being ripped apart,” he sings over one of the record’s sweetest, most pop-forward arrangements. As the chorus takes its final pass, a gentle piano phrase gets clipped by an outburst of power chords and feedback, repeating the lines twice as loud.
“Raven” crosses fable-like fiction with the sad story of a friend who lost his way; and just when the track’s innocent country twang settles in, he pulls the rug out with near-metal levels of heavy. The juxtaposition gets to the heart of I Heard That Noise. By excavating the extremes of his sound, Jonson not only brings the best out of himself but introduces myriad ways to engage with his music, which grows ever more inviting and boundless.
<p><iframe seamless="" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=824606394/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 472px;">I Heard That Noise quickly, quickly</iframe></p>
Taba, the new album from Japanese musician, songwriter and traveller Satomimagae, unfolds as a series of vignettes that document both the personal and the universal, seen and unseen. Observing and absorbing the fleeting scenes and sounds of life flowing outside of her home studio, Satomi sings beyond herself, in an orbit of souls and systems both in the present and in the strange flux of memory, leaving linear songwriting to rest for circuitous stories expanded and expansive in tone and texture.


Jagjaguwar is proud to release the long lost Julie Doiron album 'Broken Girl', expanded to include her first two 7"s. It was originally released in 1996 by Doiron after her band--the psychedelic folk group Eric's Trip--had crumbled around her, under the temporary moniker "Broken Girl". The name did nothing to hide her feelings regarding the breakup of her band and the relationships that she shared with its members; neither did the songs on the record. The twelve songs from the original album come across like an epitaph for a departed lover. 'Broken Girl' was indeed a new beginning for Doiron, both as a solo artist as well as a record label executive. The first two Broken Girl 7"s (both included on this reissue), as well as the self-titled full-length were released on her own label Sappy Records, a label which went on to release her Juno Award-winning 'Julie Doiron & the Wooden Stars' full-length as well as releases by Moonsocket, Orange Glass, Snailhouse, and Elevator to Hell.
'Broken Girl' was a watershed for Doiron, showing her to be the sort of songwriter and performer that Eric's Trip only hinted at. Achingly beautiful and showcasing her vocal style and personality as a songwriter, the reviews immediately put her in the same class as Leonard Cohen in terms of importance as a Canadian solo artist. The album was self-recorded in the same home-y manner as the classic Eric's Trip albums which helped--along with albums by peers Sebadoh, East River Pipe and Smog--define the bedroom aesthetic of the early '90s. While some rock scribes would call it lo-fi, the fidelity of the recordings that Doiron and her Eric's Trip mates employed in the first half of the '90s was clearly the most appropriate medium. The close-mic'ing of everything from the vocals to the swirling guitars and peaking drums created a sense of real intimacy (while avoiding a lot of the awkward pitfalls that so many confessional songwriters run into) and suburban claustrophobia. It is very easy to see the four-piece as a Nick Drake-like entity who had been raised on the far East Coast of Canada in Moncton, New Brunswick on the SST catalog (Eric's Trip took their name from the Sonic Youth song from Daydream Nation) and whose nucleus was a four-fold of independently-minded co-dependents with no need for a producer or other intermediary to the recording process which might break the spell for even a moment.
Initially released in a scant edition of 1,000, 'Broken Girl' went immediately out of print and has become a highly sought-after collector's piece.
"Fellow Canadian songwriter Leonard Cohen once titled an album Songs From A Room. Montreal-based Julie Doiron apparently took up residence there and removed whatever furniture was left behind."--Rob O'Connor, Rolling Stone
Moin follow their EOY-topping 'You Never End' with a pithy jazz-pilled appendix, bringing back poet Sophia Al-Maria and adding Ben Vince's circuitous horns to offset Valentina Magaletti's gummiest live rhythms. Next level biz, obvs - crucial listening whether you're into Slint, Tara Clerkin Trio, Mica Levi/Spresso, Bark Psychosis or Still House Plants.
Not exactly a continuation, 'Belly Up' is a fresh bite cooked from similar ingredients. Moin bent out the tabs last year on their third album, emulsifying the post-punk and hardcore oils that smeared their early plates with modish funk and disintegrated, industrial-strength noize. Joe Andrews, Tom Halstead and Valentina Magaletti cogitate over the same themes here, but train their senses on jazz, assembling brittle and mutable modernist shapes around impeccably springy live syncopations.
Raw, direct opener 'See' is a case in point; Qatari-American artist, writer and filmmaker Al-Maria's droll non sequiturs helped cement the aesthetic of 'You Never End' and make a welcome return, now inserted between Magaletti's sluggish marching band extemporisations and prolific collaborator Ben Vince's transcendent sax loops. Andrews and Halstead keep it restrained, tagging on deadened hardcore tangs and a nasal keyboard vamps that maps the London topography between 4Hero and Tirzah. Vince appears again on 'I'm Really Flagging (or I Trusted U)'; what sounds like a clip from the same ad-libbed workout surges next to flimsy synths and cheeky samples. It plays like a sequel, still rallying around Magaletti's exaggerated, tom-heavy patter, suggesting alternate routes to the finale.
The boxy, no-wave curdled funk that characterized 'You Never End' is reheated on 'X.U.Y.' and evaporated into a quiescent mantra, but Moin's most ambrosian moments appear when they reduce the heat. 'You Leave Me Breathless' sounds as if it's a loose, unplanned rehearsal, with AutoTuned crows melting over a long, limber patchwork of paradiddles from Magaletti. And the trio don't completely ignore the rave backroom, banging together grungy Akai-coruscated samples and 808 State synths on the greyscale 'I Don't Know Where To Look'. As always, they don't exactly boot us back to the '90s - Moin make us wonder what it might have sounded like if there was access to a different array of technology.


</p><iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 373px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1786378255/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="https://armlock.bandcamp.com/album/trust">Trust by Armlock</a></iframe><iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 373px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1786378255/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="https://armlock.bandcamp.com/album/trust">Trust by Armlock</a></iframe>

Funded by Capitol, tracked in 14 studios, issued by Tiger Style, and lost in the Y2K shuffle, Ida’s fourth album captures a band caught between Brooklyn and Woodstock, temping and adulting, burying a parent and birthing a child. A tireless compendium and ode to sleep, sex, all-night talking, and other bed-ridden activities, Will You Find Me‘s 14-songs are pillowed with 34 outtakes, alternate mixes, 4-track demos, and covers from the band’s extensive vault, unfolding thematically across four LPs. The accompanying 24-page booklet documents Ida’s major label album that never was in both stunning photographs and Douglas Wolk’s blow-by-blow essay. Who were you then?
In the discourse around new albums from singular, world-building artists, the phrase “a big step forward” can often be a blinking red warning sign. You know you’re about to be pulled somewhere new against your will. Inertia is a hell of a thing. It’s nice here.
Surely, the party’s not over yet? JJULIUS’ Vol. 3 album is a big step forward, or a step up, out of the murky basement of the preceding two volumes. There’s no time to acclimate. A spindly violin grabs you by the hand and pulls you into the pastoral bounce of “Brinna ut,” which, in spite of its meaning (“Burn out”), creates the kind of blind positivity and warm stomach feeling less cynical people might find in self-help seminars. For us, we have records like this. And, inertia be damned, Vol. 3 has charm like a balm.
JJULIUS records have always arrived like meteors from another planet, an impression hammered home by the fact that they’re titled like compendiums of artifacts. And while Vols. 1 and 2 carried that notable tinge of darkness, Vol. 3 has (almost!) cast that shadow, adding elements of disco (“Dödsdisco”) and
dream-pop (“Etopisk hallucination”) to his forever favorites Arthur Russell, African Head Charge, and The Fall.
Some of that new car smell could be attributed to a change in process. Each song was written over beats played by Tor Sjödén of the wild-eyed Stockholm group Viagra Boys, beats that were themselves inspired by tracks from the likes of Patrick Cowley, CAN, Count Ossie, Black Devil Disco Club and others that Julius would send to him as inspiration.
Unless you’re Mark E. Smith, fervor fades. Eventually we all crave a lie down in some nice grass, a few minutes to gaze at the sky and wonder if everything is actually all that bad. Vol. 3 gives you 35 of those respiting minutes. “No looking back, no misery, no talking trash, no enemies.”
<iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 208px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1295288989/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="https://mammasmysteriskajukebox.bandcamp.com/album/jjulius-vol-3">JJULIUS-VOL.3 by JJULIUS</a></iframe>


release date June 7th. Formed in 2018 by Takujuro Iwade, film director and drummer Kaya Koike and Mayumi Sakurai with the theme of " Lovers Rock from the other side," Love Wonderland performs reggae with a unique interpretation influenced by psychedelia and synth-pop.
The Best Twilights LP compiles tracks from three demos released between 2019 and 2024 and reflects their full spectrum from electronic dub to pop tinted reinterpretation of their peers.
Considered as the best kept secret of the Japanese dub scene, they continue to grow at each live performance with faith and passion.
Love Wonderland's main aspiration is to keep their motto alive.
Mastered by Krikor Kouchain and limited to 400 copies.

