MUSIC

"Take me, I’m yours" is the first collaboration album between Alan Abrahams and Jan Jelinek. Released through the latter’s faitiche, it builds upon multi-layered vocal sketches by the former. The Paris-based artist, primarily known for his work as Portable and Bodycode, supplied Jelinek with multi-layered song sketches that the German artist subjected to a rigorous process of manipulation, excavating the ambiguities of the original material and transforming its rhythms into subtle pulses. "Take me, I’m yours" is neither a typical Abrahams record nor a classic Jelinek album—it is something third, mediating between the physicality of the voice and the abstraction of electronic sound design. The two had crossed paths before really getting to know each other after Abrahams invited Jelinek to play at one of his Süd Electronic parties. The idea of a collaboration emerged slowly. “It started as an experiment, and over the past few years grew from a few tracks into this album,” says Abrahams. He describes recording the basic material as a “tantalizing” process, not knowing how Jelinek would transform his material, some of which was based on wordless chanting, while other tracks were working with lyrical content. However, their mutual trust allowed Jelinek to remove the harmonies, radically reduce the rhythms, and concentrate on Abrahams’ voice. Jelinek heard something “fragile” in this voice, “moments of doubt and dark premonitions.” He points to Forever as an example. “Alan’s original song reminded me of classic vocal house, but his voice seemed to almost break,” he says. “This contradiction made the piece even bigger, because we hear a singer in the moment of an awakening.” He further accentuated such tensions through arrhythmic synth modulations and time-stretching algorithms, while also adding concrete sounds from a variety of sources. With its dedication to both transforming and amplifying the emotional qualities hidden within Abrahams’ pieces, "Take me, I’m yours" functions as a dialogue between those two singular artists.

Music for movies by Václav Kadrnka "Absence of the loved one is a theme running through both films, but during the creative process we never discuss with the Havels the themes, symptoms or attributes of the characters. We do not specify any meanings. Our collaboration is intuitive, based on interconnectedness. We neither explain things to each other nor analyse. From the outset we have a common goal: to quieten the viewers’ perception, to attune them to certain vibrations by visual, musical and acoustic repetitions, thus enabling them to focus on every tiny detail, every subtle aesthetic quality, so that by the end of the film they have a sense of reconciliation. In fact it is a state similar to meditation or prayer. The aim is being shown Mercy. Each time, the linking of the filmed images with Irena and Vojtech’s music has uncovered a new quality that we have named: a commentary on eternity. Characters cease to be determined by their senses, psychological motivations, or the times they live in. They find liberation in the stream of eternal time." /Václav Kadrnka "We would like to thank all our friends, sound engineers and musicians. The main thanks goes to director Václav Kadrnka, his family and all his collaborators for the precious opportunity to assist them in creating both films. We have worked on our music for the film Saving One Who Was Dead for three years. We met with Václav, discussed the screenplay while it was being born and many other things. We have gradually prepared several working versions that included compositions for piano, Indonesian gamelan, gongs, Tibetan bowls, bells and mini-bells. Yet, step by step, we made it simpler and simpler and eventually only kept violas da gamba, organ and chanting. Everything else was redundant. We made most of the recordings of the compositions for viola da gamba in a church in Prague. The composition for organ was recorded in Milan where we performed a concert shortly before the pandemic arrived in December 2019. We tried to record it in various churches in Bohemia but it was not until the church in Milan that we found the best sounding organ. As for Little Crusader, we recorded the music for the film after it was completed. We had several versions and used the piano version for this album. Together with Václav, we searched for instruments that would work the best for this Medieval story. Eventually, we opted for harmonium with simple chanting which accompanies the character little boy Jenik. Violas da gamba intertwine, move close and then apart from each other the same way as paths of little boy Jenik and his father who is searching for him. Simple chanting and Tibetan bowl accompany scenes with little boy Jenik’s mother who awaits them at home. Trombone and saxophone are like metal swords and the knights’ armor. Violoncello and viola da gamba walk in the rhythm of horse’s hooves, in the rhythm of heartbeat of both the horse and his rider – a father searching for his lost son." / Irena and Vojtěch Havlovi

src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=2063437934/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless=""><a href="https://havlovi.bandcamp.com/album/saving-one-who-was-dead-little-crusader">Saving One Who Was Dead / Little Crusader The Havels / Irena &amp; Vojtech Havlovi</a>

Finally, Kompakt issue a true GAS outlier on vinyl for the first time, recorded in 1989 and containing some of Wolfgang Voigt’s earliest and starkest recycling of magisterial Wagner loops, closest to the ends of The Caretaker, Philip Jeck, Kevin Drumm. One of those releases that has lurked on our shelves since 2008 as a book and CD, ‘November 89’ exists in the margins of Wolfgang Voigt’s GAS canon as its creepiest and most occluded evocation of long walks in the Bavarian forests. While other GAS classics ooze a sort of dappled warmth breaking thru the trees in their widescreen dub techno strolls, you can fully feel the light dying over the horizon and the forest drawing in on this particularly gloomy, hour-long suite. As the title suggests, it was mostly, remarkably, made in ’89, back when Voigt was finding his feet between techno, house and indie-pop, and nearly a decade before he co-founded Kompakt with Michael Mayer & Jürgen Paape - by which time he was a full-fledged rave dynamo as Love Inc. and myriad others notable projects. And, in that sense, it can be heard as his ‘Selected Ambient Works 89-95’ - or perhaps more pertinently with SAW II vibes - in his nascent attempt to chase the ambient dragon, which surely endures for its strangely nostalgic, unheimlich qualities. An educated guess leads us to think the first three were made in ’89, taking in the nightfall scenery of smudged symphonic strings and icy crackle to ‘Der Wald’, plus the muddied bass waltz and spectral pall of ‘Das Moor’, thru the self-evidently titled centrepiece ‘1989-11-01’, bristling with a digitally iridescent dread. ‘Tal 90’ and ‘Nah Und Fern’, which shares its title with the 2008 boxset, were most likely made a little later, and find the wintry doom thawing to the GAS-eous forms we’ve all come to deeply know and adore. A true evergreen for deep ambient techno connoisseurs, no less

Caterina Barbieri & Bendik Giske's At Source resounds music as wellspring, that which is essential and unknowable, and yet utterly primary. It finds two acclaimed composer-musicians building a world together in self-contained collaboration between analogue synthesis and an extended approach to the saxophone that conjures its own universe of sound. It is at once intimate and cosmic, drawing on the challenges and possibilities of their artistic exchange, tearing down technique to access all the expansive possibilities of their sonic meeting point. At Source is a document of the world of sound to be conjured when two artists strive for something together, discovering the expansions and limitations of performance by bodies and machines. It is not an exercise in assimilation, but in productive exchange and creative confrontation. It does not draw on outside energies or influences, but grapples with what there is to find in their respective playing. "It also reflects how natural the collaboration was," says Barbieri, "a meeting at the source which was spontaneous, graceful and natural". Barbieri and Giske first met and were enthralled by one another's performances at Kunsthaus Glarus in 2019, a meeting that spurred conversations on the power of transitions as a compositional force. Giske later contributed a rework of Fantas for Fantas Variations (Editions Mego, 2021), an ambitious undertaking to rescore Barbieri’s work for his saxophone and voice, a challenge Giske had started undertaking two years prior as an ongoing practice of transcription. “The request came as a proof of aligned ideas”, says Giske. Their new collaborative project then started during an artistic residency in Milan’s ICA in 2021, by invitation of swiss artist and curator Jan Vorisek, as the world was emerging from lockdown. This meeting, and the preceding closure of sites for cultural exchange, made their work together 'feel like springtime' says Barbieri. Giske, who was on the brink of releasing his sophomore album, Cracks, then joined Barbieri's light-years tour, which functioned as an inaugural incarnation of her newborn label and platform through a series of multi-artist curated shows with appearances of Lyra Pramuk, Nkisi, MFO, among other artists. Through the tour, they continued to develop material live, and this release, laid down in the studio, is true to that ever-evolving process of creation, where live feedback stays essential to the vitality of this collaborative effort. The tracks are each named with two evocative words that contain the two poles of their sound. Theirs is both abstract and cosmic, in the synth as machine undermined by Barbieri's naturalistic playing, and in Giske's continuous exploration of the symbiosis between his instrument, voice, and body. These binaries, of body and machine, posed various challenges, notably in how the stepped patterns Barbieri uses were near-impossible to translate for Giske's body to perform, and other times where mathematical resolutions were needed to sync their playing. Explains Giske: "It forced me to go to the core of what I am and what I have to offer”. Barbieri says that it "explores the liminality between the machine and the human, and the vulnerability in this process". On 'Intuition, Nimbus', the first track to be written, Giske's playing flutters and rises on Barbieri's synth, like a flock of birds lifted skywards on thermal columns, with clouds of pulsing tones fanning avian wings. 'Alignment, Orbit' settles into a steady torque, Giske's gentle percussions syncing with shifting loops, steadily building energy and conjuring solidity from breath and resistance. The extended 'Impatience, Magma' stretches glowing and languorous, honing in on and picking up a synth melody with whetted edge that cuts through the firmament, populating a broad cosmos of extended tones and replicating patterns in a piece that calls to mind Laurie Spiegel's extended works, and steps into transcendent duet with Giske's saxophone at its most keening and spiritual in tone and movement. 'Persistence, Buds' unfurls gracefully in sensuous sympatico, as saxophone caresses Barbieri's slowly twirling progressions, a tactile and meditative closer. At Source is testament to two divergent practices finding a whole cosmos in which to convene; music is crystalised and made utterly enveloping through the focused and critical work of two musicians working at their peak. The versions here are, temptingly, "just one of many versions" of this abundant source material Giske explains. Like the best collaborations, At Source is more than the sum of its parts – bringing more to the feast than the simple combination of two musicians, promising versions upon versions of the exquisite material captured here.

As Brian Eno told us last week, “Leenalchi has changed the way I think about music, dancing and Korea. I have never heard anything quite like this.” There’s so much to say to you about this amazing band—but what will get you to listen? Is it that they play addictive psych pop? Or that they sound like animals talking to each other over tripped out bass lines? They have a new single out today called HERE COMES THAT CROW, which, like all of Leenalchi’s songs, is a chopped and screwed version of a pansori tale (a traditional form of storytelling from the 17th century). Based on a story about the warlord Cao Cao, the song is an allegory about life’s precariousness. The band wrote a poem to explain: Doyung doyung goes the small boat floating down the river. Whether the chased or the chaser, no one can stop—just beneath the boards lies the underworld!

Newly remastered version of Oren Ambarchi’s long out-of-print classic Hubris originally released on Editions Mego in 2016. Expertly remastered by audio wizard Joe Talia who worked with the original mixes, highlighting the myriad details of the audio with forensic precision, previously unheard up until now. From the 2016 press release: Hubris continues the exploration of relentless, driving rhythms heard on Ambarchi’s Sagittarian Domain (2012) and Quixotism (2014). Where those records looked to Krautrock and techno for their starting points, the sidelong opening track here begins from the perhaps unlikely inspirations of disco and new wave, drawing particularly from Ambarchi’s love of Wang Chung’s soundtrack to William Friedkin’s To Live and Die in L.A. Leaving behind the song-forms of these reference points, Ambarchi weaves a sustained and pulsating web of layered palm-muted guitars from which individual voices rise up and recede, eventually setting the stage for some lush guitar synth from Jim O’Rourke. Arnold Dreyblatt collaborator Konrad Sprenger contributes overtone-rich motorized guitar, pushing the piece into a satisfying intersection of shimmering minimalism and rhythmic drive that smoothly builds up until the entrance of Mark Fell’s electronic percussion in its final section. After a short second part, in which Ambarchi, O’Rourke and crys cole pay tribute to the skewed harmonic sense of Albert Marcoeur with a track built from layered guitar figures and abstracted speech, the long final piece pushes the concept of the first side into darker and denser areas. Joined by electronics from Ricardo Villalobos and the twin drums of Will Guthrie and Joe Talia, the layered guitars of the first piece are transformed into a raw and tumbling fusion-funk groove that calls to mind early Weather Report or even the first Golden Palominos LP. As this stellar rhythm section rides a single repeated chord change into oblivion, a series of spectacular events emerge in the foreground: first, aleatoric synthesizer burbles from Keith Fullerton Whitman, then slashing skronk guitar from Arto Lindsay, until finally Ambarchi’s own fuzzed-out harmonics take center stage as the piece builds to an ecstatic frenzy. Few artists could hope to include such an incredible variety of collaborators on one record and still hope for it to have a unique identity, but Ambarchi manages to do just that, crafting three pieces that emerge directly out of his previous work while also pushing ahead into new dimensions. Players: Oren Ambarchi, crys cole, Mark Fell, Will Guthrie, Arto Lindsay, Jim O’Rourke, Konrad Sprenger, Joe Talia, Ricardo Villalobos, Keith Fullerton Whitman.

Initially conceived as a short-run cassette for Altered States Tapes, YL Hooi’s nameless collection of textural apparitions oscillate between icy DIY minimalism, FX-drenched atmospherics and nang chamber dub. A ghost-like transmission, Hooi's voice serves to anchor an array of sonic abstractions and impressionistic melodic motifs as a sense of purgatorial ambience dominates throughout. Co-produced with alleged fellow Kallista Kult member Tarquin Manek (LST, M. Quake), Untitled’s ultimate sensation is its halfway state, as if caught between worlds. The album's final form speaks of its origins, recorded intermittently over a two year period (2017-2019). The extended time passage seeps into the song structures, spiralling and mutating from the same centre - the elegiac pulse of opener 'Title' presages the hymnal lilt of 'Straight Thru', before birthing the inverted bossa nova of 'W/O Love'. The result is a constantly shifting tableaux of shared liminal spaces. These songs seemingly emerge in plumes of smoke, magician's tricks conjured from the ether. It's a vision that ossifies at Untitled's midpoint with a cover of Love Joys' 'Stranger', the lovers rock original morphed into the transportive intimacy of Hooi's own hazy inner space, a totem of the LP’s amorphous and ultimately sensuous qualities. The sound from both down under and way out there in subspace, Untitled is an inspired masterstroke of experimental mystics. This 2021 Efficient Space edition is remastered and robed in new artwork that honours the Melbourne-based earth dragon’s Chinese and Russian heritage.

Tirez Tirez’s Story of the Year documents a key transitional period as bandleader Mikel Rouse moved from Kansas City’s underground scene to downtown New York. Formed in the mid-1970s, Tirez Tirez blended new wave, minimalism and experimental pop, earning early attention while opening for Talking Heads and gaining support from figures including David Byrne.Originally released on Les Disques du Crépuscule, Story of the Year combines earlier Tirez Tirez material with later sessions recorded in New York and Brussels. The album captures Rouse’s early system-based approach, using layered rhythms and phased repetition that would later inform his development of totalism. Positioned between post-punk and contemporary composition, it catches a band in transition and an artist on the verge of a new direction.

Ignatz, the long-running project of Belgian musician Bram Devens, has spent two decades refining a distinctive approach to songcraft—built on repetition, subtle shifts, and an ear for the uncanny. Across a steady stream of releases on labels including (K-RAA-K)³, Ultra Eczema and Fonal, his work remains instantly recognisable while continually evolving. I Don’t Know marks a striking departure. Following earlier recordings centred on guitar, Devens turns to piano, uncovering a new, more skeletal language. The instrument first entered his orbit in the mid-2010s, when he inherited a family piano and began exploring its possibilities as a self-taught player. Recorded at home in Landen, these pieces feel sparse and unsettled, carrying a raw intimacy that sets them apart from his previous work. The result is a haunted, deeply personal album that reframes Ignatz’s sound without losing its core identity.

“Elemental View” is a work in six movements by pioneering composer Ellen Fullman for her Long String Instrument and The Living Earth Show. The expansive installation inhabits an industrial sized space with 136 strings, precisely tuned and configured for this multi-movement piece. Listening to the music of Fullman’s singular creation is akin to standing inside a giant musical instrument. The result is a music at once ancient and utterly new, environmental, and folk-like yet orchestral; immersing the listener in a transportive glistening atmosphere. “Elemental View” invites the listener to discover, as if with a magnifying glass, the details of the physics of string vibration itself. Fullman bows the instrument lengthwise with her fingertips while walking, playing multiple strings at once. As she walks, upper partial tones unfold at different rates, in proportion to differences in string length, imparting an undulating wave of continually shifting overtones. The notation for the Long String Instrument contains both temporal indications and spatial choreography, as specific harmonies emerge at distinct locations along the string length. Invention and discovery are at the core of Fullman’s work. To produce percussive sounds on the otherwise drone-based instrument, Fullman designed and fabricated the box bow, shovelette, and shoveler, which play three, six, or nine strings at once. Varying techniques with these tools produce either open ringing tones or closed dampened ones. With their laser focused precision and virtuosic ensemble playing, The Living Earth Show brilliantly executes the rhythmic and harmonic complexity of Fullman’s composition. In the movements “Environmental Memory” and “Concentrated Merry-Go-Round”, Fullman incorporates Travis Andrew’s primary instrument, the guitar. Andy Meyerson and Fullman accompany the guitar in duo playing box bow and shoveler. For “Surface Narrative in Four Parts”, Meyerson also applies his percussion mastery to the santur, a Persian hammered dulcimer. The santur’s unique tuning is derived from the extended microtonal partials of the sequence played by Fullman on The Long String Instrument.

Rattly, stripped-to-the-bone IDM gear that harks back to simpler times, BOT1500's second proper album is simple and elegant, more concerned with the emotional weight of its melodies than the complexity of its beats. You might remember Shinichi Koboyashi's last BOT1500 album 'Surreal', that appeared back in 2022 on AD93's Lith Dolina sublabel. And since then he's been relentlessly prolific on his Bandcamp, issuing regular single track updates that chart his creative process. But 'The Black Sea' is his first longer set in a while, assembling a handful of tracks that highlight his recent interest in minimalism, emotion and dub production techniques. The familiar monosynth groans and dry, jazzy breaks on 'Abstract Springs' might resemble Squarepusher for a moment, but it's much chillier, sparser gear, with space around each element that softens the impact of the hyperactive edits. And on 'Shadows', that same mood pervades the track even when the beats have been silenced; Koboyashi gives just as much importance to his chiming analog synths, coaxing out fragile melodies that sound as if they've been plucked out of time. And there's a precision to his programming that's immediately impressive. On 'XB 1', his soft focus glitches and woody hits graze the post-dubstep landscape but subtly reframe it, setting the meticulous rhythms against echoing single note sine hits and melancholy pads. And the track's sequel 'XB 2' is an even harder punch to the gut, with exquisite melodies and knife-edge drums that shuttle us right back to 1996 for a moment, an underground dominated by Clear Records, Spymania and Rephlex.

Really feeling this trippy acid treat by a one-of-a-kind Lolina; her 10th solo album since the last Hype Williams drop with Dean Blunt in the early 2010s, and typically riddled with low-key mischievous slants on mutant dance-pop, as heard in her regular midweek club night at ace London venue, Spanners. Chasing up her trip-hop tinted LP ‘Unrecognisable’ (2024), and a mix CD as Balmainjeans repping her club night ‘Distressed’, Lolina plays to an ideally unpredictable form with a shift into acid pop on ‘Monopoly of Mistakes’; featuring eleven concentrated formulations of dry drum machines x tweakiest 303 gunk gilded with those vocals that keep us coming back. The combo of silver box x slanted vox finds the DIY prism-pusher bending timelines thru lo-fi indie-pop with sound system steppas, basement noise, cold wave and free party acid tekno, but never quite settling into any one style. Maintaining her mutable range of variations within a theme, Monopoly of Mistakes really catches our breath with the way Lolina turns a paucity of ingredients into a dead satisfying thing. Whether commanding the 303 to the beat-less abstraction ‘Border Beach’ or alloying with wooziest keys and steppas fizz on ‘The Mercenaries’, or going deep into the lushest wormhole on the titular, 7 minute standout, her min-to-max sense of economy is key to this LP’s appeal. It’s there in the piquant synth-pop of ‘Menace’ and ‘Everlasting’ - think Wee Papa Girl Rappers via Dave Ball at John T. Gast’s - and calling to mind a lost SOPHIE x EVOL gem in ’Stand Off’. But it’s also finely measured with an utterly gorgeous new age miniature harking to classic Hype Williams on ‘Welcome to the Drift of Whats Already Begun’, and of course the zinging closer ‘Penalty’, where zippiest ‘80s french cold wave meets AFXian harmony and a sort of Dopplereffektish science-lab engineering in a chef’s kiss demo of the extended melodic wooo that sets all her work apart. Best believe it’s fully distinctive, addictive gear.

Seoul’s Uman Thurman & Yetsuby, aka Salamanda, meditate on the inner life of a basil plant with a delicately flavoured suite of pottering pulses and harmonised warmth in a fine tradition of Far Eastern ambient electronica that chimes with label mates at GMT and the likes of E Ruscha V or Woo. “The album moves through a full day in the plant's life opening with ‘introduce my atom which is my favorite one’, an act of quiet self-declaration in morning light, before settling into the unhurried rhythmic pulse of ‘to to ki toki tok’- the drip of water, the tick of a clock, the slow beat of photosynthesis. ‘allez, pousse!’ - one of the standouts in this journey - carries the basil's gentle will to grow, to push, to tilt toward the sun, while ‘hungry snail’ captures a moment of creaturely encounter on the glass: an uninvited visitor, moving slowly, wanting. As the afternoon deepens, 'Basil's Ritual' traces the daily ceremony of light and warmth, repeated with calm devotion from root to leaf. Night falls across 'Basil's Dream', and in the stillness something like sleep arrives - the plant resting, imagining tomorrow's sun. The album closes with ‘the blue wine’, a final mysterious reverie in which the basil seems to contemplate its own fate, somewhere between acceptance and wonder.”

The third release in the early Dumb Type music series, following Every Dog Has His Day and Plan For Sleep.

This cassette release features live performance recordings from Suspense and Romance, Dumb Type’s first large-scale exhibition, held in 1987 at Tsukashin Hall in Amagasaki, Hyogo Prefecture.

This work marks the first time composer Toru Yamanaka created and produced all the music for a Dumb Type project. It documents a unique musical collaboration with saxophonist Harry Kitte.

Developed under the theme of “Suspence and Romance”, Yamanaka's compositions weave together the cinematic lyricism of jazz with abstract textures of post-minimalist sound. Layered with Kitte's evocative multi-tracked saxophone phrases, as well as sequencers, samplers, and PCM recordings, the soundscape formed during this period would go on to define the sonic identity of Dumb Type through later works such as S/N.

Also included is a 50+ page booklet featuring rare photos, drawings, and a roundtable discussion among members.

Released as a cassette book in a box set format, this edition was produced under the direction of the Early Dumb Type Archive Project, led by original members of the collective. It serves as a valuable archival document offering a multifaceted perspective on Dumb Type’s formative years.

From the depths of the most independent and revolutionary underground, a handful of tracks from the repertoires (often limited even to a single flexi disc) of some of the heroes who rode the wave, extracting from it—more for themselves and expressive necessity than for us—its most mystical and expressionist essence. New and No Wave, minimal and minimalist electronics, Avant Wave from the land where the sun still rises for now.

From the depths of the most independent and revolutionary underground, a handful of tracks from the repertoires (often limited even to a single flexi disc) of some of the heroes who rode the wave, extracting from it—more for themselves and expressive necessity than for us—its most mystical and expressionist essence. New and No Wave, minimal and minimalist electronics, Avant Wave from the land where the sun still rises for now.

Organic Music Society is an album by trumpeter Don Cherry. Many critics consider this album the one which gives a fuller picture of Cherry as ensemble leader, spiritualist and cultural synthesizer. Indeed, Organic Music Society is a bold exploration of global musical traditions, reflecting Cherry's vision of music as a universal. Here, Cherry makes a significant shift from his free jazz roots toward a more expansive, world music fusion. Recorded in Sweden, the album features a diverse ensemble blending Swedish, Turkish, Brazilian, and African musicians. Cherry himself contributes not only trumpet but also vocals, harmonium, flute, conch shell, and piano. The compositions include his own works, as well as interpretations of pieces by Terry Riley, Pharaoh Sanders, and Dollar Brand. The album's sound is eclectic and experimental, with tracks ranging from meditative chants like "North Brazilian Ceremonial Hymn" to the dynamic "Relativity Suite."

Thrill Jockey celebrate their 20th Anniversary with this new edition of the seminal first album from Totroise, finally available again on vinyl.

Martin Rev’s fifth solo album – Strangeworld – was released on the cusp of the new millennium. The label responsible was Puu, a Finnish imprint belonging to Tommi Grönlund and Mika Vainio’s Sähkö Recordings which came to fame in the 1990s on the strength of its uncompromising minimalist sound.
Four years earlier, in 1996, Rev had unleashed See Me Ridin, an album which surprised its listeners with keyboard melody sketches and distilled doo-wop compositions. It was also the first solo album to feature Martin Rev on vocals.
Strangeworld started where its predecessor left off. Melodic passages dissolved into a thicket of fragments and set pieces, coalescing in a celestial shimmer between rhythm loops and Rev’s voice, which assumed the role of an additional instrument rather than a standard singing part.

Following the passing of Ryuichi Sakamoto in early 2023, Richard Pike turned to the piano as a daily ritual of improvisation – or, as he frames it, real-time composition. The result is [album title], a suite of intimate pieces for piano and looping textures that explore cassette sound sources, minimalism, harmony, and the fragile acoustic artefacts that surface from the process. Pike’s method was simple and disciplined: gather tape loops and sonic beds in the studio each morning, then move to a 1950s Eavestaff Minipiano in the living room to record melodic responses over them. These performances were captured quickly and left largely unedited, allowing instinct, error, and texture to dictate shape and direction. The music reflects a fascination with earthy, worn sound worlds, drawing on influences such as Romeo Poirier, Deepchord and early musique concrète, as well as Pike’s own history with the tape-scarred aesthetics that informed his early work with Warp-affiliated band PVT. This is a quietly expressive record of repetition, decay and emergence – a document of daily practice finding form almost by accident.

The story of Mar Vista begins in northern France, in Lille, in the early 1970s, with the meeting of two music enthusiasts: Claude Cuvelier and Jean Skowron. They connected through Claude’s brother. At that time, Jean was already standing out at blues concerts for his singular sonic approach: he placed microphones inside suitcases that he struck to produce raw, primitive sounds — an experimental process that immediately impressed Claude. Claude, shaped by the 1960s rock scene with his first band The Eaglestones, already had a solid musical background. After the group dissolved at the end of his military service, he explored folk and blues sounds as a solo artist, while discovering major new influences: Terry Riley, La Monte Young, Balinese music, as well as the emer- ging German scene — Kraftwerk, Popol Vuh, Tangerine Dream, Ash Ra Tempel, Neu!, Klaus Schulze. Jean, for his part, drew inspiration from Pink Floyd, Alan Parsons, and Tangerine Dream. A shared vision quickly took shape: to create repetitive, atmospheric music, freed from traditional formats. In 1973, they gave birth to Mar Vista, with the desire to compose long, immersive works, sometimes built around a single chord, in the spirit of Balinese music. The duo gradually equipped themselves: a Mini Korg in 1972, a Yamaha synthesizer, a Farfisa organ, and even a drum machine discovered by chance during a television appearance by Henri Salvador. The home studio became their creative sanctuary. Jean worked on a 4-track Teac tape recorder, Claude on a Philips model. Each freely composed their own side of the future album, while collaborating on each other’s ideas. Side A, led by Jean, is more rooted in the progressive electronic music of the time, influenced by Heldon, Amon Düül, and Soft Machine. Side B, bearing more of Claude’s imprint and his influences (Terry Riley, La Monte Young), is far more experimental and consists of a 22-minute trippy instrumental piece. On this record, Jean notably composed “Her Eyes Are Closed” (with his wife) and imagined the sound introduction using an alarm clock. The atmospheric transitions were created from white noise generated by a Yamaha synthesizer. In 1976, after facing rejections from several labels ((they dreamed of signing with the Düsseldorf label Brain — home of Neu! — but never dared to send their tracks), they self-produced “Visions of Sodal Ye,” a rare record pressed in only 150 copies by Le Kiosque d’Orphée. The sleeves were handmade. A photo was glued on each side of the cover, and the band name and album title were written with nail polish enhanced with silver glitter. Despite its confidential release at the time, the album is now consi- dered one of the most remarkable works of the genre ever released in France. A second album project inspired by the universe of H. P. Lovecraft was in progress, but family responsibilities slowed this creative momentum. As for concerts, the band performed live only rarely, mainly within the squat and anar- chist circuits of the time. Moreover, on this reissue you are holding, the second vinyl — composed of unreleased tracks — features improvised pieces without synthesizers, recorded live in August 1973 on a hill near Valence, in the garden of friends (Hervé and Martine). These rediscovered tracks had until then existed only on a cassette tape kept by a close acquaintance. The tracks Expedition and Crash73, meanwhile, date from 1975 and remained in demo form. As the years passed, the two musicians took different paths. Claude remained active in the music scene, through radio, record fairs, and fanzines such as L’Écho d’Hector and Le Poireau Gabardine. Jean’s passing deeply affected Claude, but did not prevent him from returning to music. Driven by nostalgia for Mar Vista, he powered up his synthesizers again, modernized his equipment, and resumed creating. Mar Vista never truly stopped. It survives like a discreet yet persistent pulse, much like its music: hypnotic, free, and resolutely off the beaten path. Sacha Sieff et Jean-Baptiste Guillot

Synergy Trilogy land with a self-titled debut, moving fluidly between dream pop, folk, spoken-word collage and gothic minimalism. Recorded in a home studio in Melbourne, the album assembles a sequence of songs and scenes threaded with poetry and dream logic, drawing together atmospheric synths, skeletal hooks, pulsating drum machines and intimate spoken-word exchanges – a world fully formed from the outset. Emerging from Melbourne's underground, the duo arrive with a first full-length effort that stands as its own singular, immersive environment. Songs dissolve into poems, spoken fragments into melody, leaving behind something that feels delicate and strangely immediate. Flitting between song and spoken-word storytelling, the album unfolds with an airy romanticism that manifests as part love letter, part spell. They join a seemingly ever burgeoning Melbourne scene, sitting alongside contemporaries Who Cares?, Dregs and Prophetic Justice Ministry. The album navigates a shifting landscape of darkness and light. Moments such as Dark Passenger, Whisper and Girl Over There draw from the stripped tension of minimal wave and gothic pop, while elsewhere the record opens into softer dream-folk territory on pieces like Something's Snapped and Sian. These movements are punctuated by passages that evoke the suspended atmosphere of 1980s psychological thriller soundtracks particularly on I Like To Watch – before giving way to the bright, melodic dream pop of Holo Law. For those looking to place it, the album's lineage runs through the fogged minimalism of From Nursery to Misery, the sparse emotional pull of Carla dal Forno, and the gothic candor of Rose McDowell's Sorrow project. At its more propulsive moments, it reaches for the kinetic drive of Nostalgie Éternelle – though the duo's approach feels instinctive rather than referential, shaped as much by friendship, mysticism and dream writing as by any recognisable forebears.

On revelations of divine love, jason calhoun’s fifth release for Dear Life Records, Calhoun has assembled an especially potent album of work that whirrs, hums, and glows. Unlike his recent output centered around extended, hypnotic compositions, the fourteen tracks here immediately request your attention and curiosity. Their concision only underscores one of his greatest strengths: the ability to capture an evaporating, fleeting moment, and hold it close. The title is a nod to British Anchoress Julian of Norwich, whose collected writing of the same title is the earliest of any woman written in English. Here it serves as a unifying theme for Calhoun's particular palette of restless textures and tentative melodies. This is personal music, to be sure, but it also feels tactile, almost taffy-like in its presentation—and with such a potent combination, it is hard to resist a smile while listening. Like when the insistent pulse grounding 'last one' suddenly changes color as yawning tones reveal themselves, or how 'eye dilation' tiptoes into the room with each note sounding like a carefully chosen step. Though never precious or fussy, the album remains resolutely intimate. Calhoun puts it plainly: “Julian of Norwich says “‘All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well’. These days, I’ve been having my doubts that this is true. As no solution to the issue at hand, I look for the revelations of divine love in my life, and I find them--in my partner asleep on the floor in our studio, my survival of a social interaction with a stranger, being bad at chess. Don't ask me what they mean-I'm still figuring that out myself. Maybe we can figure it out together.” It is from this place of doubt, searching, and openness that the album finds its footing. When asked about the origin of the album's cover art, Calhoun explained, "I see this spot all the time on my commute home from work". A true statement of how the mundane and meaningful are interwoven, from someone who celebrates that union better than most. Unlike Julian of Norwich, Calhoun is no hermetic mystic himself-but in his daily life he works at an oncology center, doing routine but necessary work to provide treatment for those in need of it. While he might resist any analogizing, it is sincerely easy to say that Calhoun's body of work, which is only fortified by revelations of divine love, also offers care and company.

To be an attentive listener to the world as it stands is to be saturated with language. Speech resounds through nearly every space that features human beings, whether unwanted or desired, mundane or profound. Words sit on the page and in the ear, proliferating endlessly. This superabundance has long been a point of fascination for composer and musician Ben Vida, but over the past several years it has led to a new method of music making that simultaneously exalts and interrogates the primacy of language in our sonic and cultural environments. Gently, playfully, Vida breaks down language’s hierarchy of meaning and sound until they exist in egalitarian harmony. Oblivion Seekers is Vida’s newest album in this mode of composition, following 2023’s collaboration with new music ensemble Yarn/Wire The Beat My Head Hit. Like its predecessor, the music’s focus is on coordinated duets of spoken word in a neutral tone, the variable cadences of the words in motion creating complex internal rhythmic structures. He is joined by the voices of Nina Dante, Christina Vantzou, John Also Bennett, and Félicia Atkinson, creating a singular tone that is neither theirs nor his, fluid in its gender presentation, accent, and diction. The instrumental compositions that form the album’s understory have the casual flow of dialogue, conversational but subdued, rarely the agent of change. Here, Vida likewise called upon an accomplished community of players to accompany him: Dante on harp, Bennett on bass flute, Matt Bauder and Will Epstein on saxophones, Henry Fraser on bass, Cleek Schrey on violin, and Booker Stardrum on percussion. These elements form lattice-like structures that the text darts in and around, often adhering to downbeats but otherwise moving freely within each lilting phrase. A tranquil, focused temperament persists, enhanced by the reserved cadence of the voices that makes it feel as if the music is one long mantra that never quite reaches back to its genesis point. The effect is entrancing, equally soporific and gripping, implying repetition without ever moving exactly the same way twice. The instrumentation on each of the album’s four pieces varies; “Be Yr Own Abyss” is defined by the wave-like counterpoint of saxophones, while the ambiguous chime of vibraphone floats over “Oblivion Seekers” and Fraser’s swelling bass provides the album’s sole dramatic entrance. The music shifts in the ear as the text constantly redefines and recontextualizes the composition’s form and movement, even as it remains consistent in its otherworldly glow. The text is often drawn from snippets of language that Vida encountered throughout his life as he was composing: overheard mumblings from the supermarket line, impactful phrases from a novel he was reading, impressions of the music that wouldn’t leave his turntable. Small details, otherwise insignificant, accumulate not to form a narrative, but an impression of the complex meaning-making process that happens as one lives day to day. Characters and scenes flicker in and out of the frame, and phrases that beg to be unpacked are allowed to glide by. In “Be Yr Own Abyss” something like a thesis appears without fanfare: “Her tongue was out to kill her / all hail this mental space / constructing ambiguity / and the endless stream.” On two separate occasions the listener is told that waves are heading our way. There are many predecessors to these types of novel confluences of music and speech. Vida’s love of Robert Ashley is well documented, but perhaps even more significant are Mark E. Smith and The Fall, Neil Tennant and the Pet Shop Boys’ spoken verses, the entire history of hip hop, Meredith Monk. The way the words are delivered matters just as much as the words themselves, revealing an intentionality and directness that Vida highlights and subverts with the text’s abstract construction patterns. On Oblivion Seekers, the omnidirectional din is the marble Vida chips away at to illuminate the way we process the vast strangeness of the world. Its triumph is that we lose none of the beautiful mystery of how these signs bridge our external and internal worlds.