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CLEAR VORTEX CHAMBER charts a new period of exploration and discovery for Alexander Tucker both as musician and producer. After discarding a year’s worth of material, Tucker sought the advice of Downwards Records label boss Karl O’Connor aka Regis who advised him on production techniques and approach. Along with further support form Freddy Lomas of Kinn and Emptyset’s James Ginzburg, Tucker got to work on a new set of material with a heightened sense of clarity and density. Tucker explains “Making this album really tested me, it was the outcome of a long period of hard lessons and harsh realities, but I had some good friends to guide me along the way and pull me out of the mire.”
At the core of MICROCORPS is Tucker’s complex modular systems, knitted into the tracks are triggered samples of his own cello and bass guitar playing, which meld into the electronic fabric of each track. Tucker expands “I wanted the album to sit somewhere between machine technology with something primitive, where synthetic and acoustic sources become intertwined. I like the idea of different dimensions phasing in and out of one another, creating new areas where I can explore sound, structures and imaginary spaces”
These imaginary spaces play a key role in the construction of CLEAR VORTEX CHAMBER. Tucker’s background in fine art and his current work with experimental comics bleeds into the unspoken landscapes of his music. “I want to trigger parts of the brain that can dream up imagery whilst at the same time focus of the sonic structure of the music itself, I guess I’m still obsessed with trying to create some sort of psychoactive environment” The architecture of each track presents itself in the form of massive kicks, sonar clicks and kinetic percussive rhythms, supported by pulsing bass drones. Cello and bass guitar samples initially bowed, plucked and hit by mallets are triggered creating dense wooden timbres that punctuate the electronic field. Voices and vocals both treated and untreated weave throughout the album in the form of cryptic dialogues and unspooling wordless singing, adding to the cross pollination of something human, machine and a space in-between.
Collaboration is a key element to MICROCORPS. Justin K Broadrick’s heavy spidery guitar lines and processed screaming rip wormholes in ‘FEDBCK’, Regis lends his distinct vocal work to ‘ZONA’, Japanese artist Phew injects organ drones, vocals and fried electronics throughout ‘SANSU’. On penultimate track ‘FEBCK 2’, Karl D’Silva’s droning saxophone joins Broadrick’s feed backing guitar noise and improvising lyricist, producer and sound artist Elvin Brandhi spits out cut up diatribes across final track ‘MALLETS’. Throughout the album Tucker’s own processed voice sits alongside singer JJOWDY’s eerily gentle laments
Kunsthaus Bregenz presents Wish You Were Gay, a major exhibition by Anne Imhof that gathers new sculpture, painting, sound and six video works never before shown. The show reflects on the artist’s formative years while extending themes that have defined her practice from the beginning.
Imhof revisits early recordings from 2001–03, a period when her life and work overlapped to the point of being inseparable. Using handheld camcorders – then a new technology that allowed the screen to flip – she performed directly to the lens, testing gestures, movements, and songs with guitars, amps, and her close circle of friends and collaborators. These raw documents, urgent and improvised, form the foundation of her later explorations of presence, absence, chance, and fate.
Across the exhibition, Imhof transforms this material into a language of repetition, doubling, and variation, situating the body as a central medium. Figures slow into moments of suspended tension, or erupt with sudden force, echoing her distinctive performance works. Biographical in tone and steeped in the realities of queer community and chosen family, Wish You Were Gay is both intimate and expansive, drawing threads from past to present in a charged meditation on life, art, and endurance.





XTCLVR’s debut album for Sferic conjures a vivid, disoriented blur of ambient trap and dub techno, shaped under the strain of Ukraine’s wartime curfews and shelling. Written during long nights of uncertainty, these ten tracks navigate a fractured sonic landscape—lush yet anxious, synthetic but emotionally charged.
Unintelligible vocals drift through fogged beats and smeared textures, evoking both the disarray of conflict and the dream logic of post-party comedowns. Tracks like ‘Perspective’ diffuse vocoder lines into gauzy clouds, while ‘Allergen’ and ‘Storm Shadow’ crackle with nervous energy, recalling the destabilised rhythms of Nazar’s Hyperdub output. Guest contributions deepen the haze: BSW948 threads bars through the warped pulse of ‘Night Shift Cut’, OB3TH shimmers through ‘The Wise Mystical Tree’, and Indy appears on the ambient drill-laced ‘Acid Flavour’. Final track ‘Dead Smoke’ sinks into submerged dread, a murky metaphor for psychic fallout.
Fans of Topdown Dialectic, False Aralia, and Sa Pa will find themselves pulled into this blurred and flickering world—part escapism, part document of a brutal reality.
Special Guest DJ — also known as Shy — has spent the better part of a decade quietly reshaping the experimental electronic underground. Operating from Berlin under aliases like Caveman LSD and uon, their work weaves between dubwise ambient, smeared club textures, and lo-fi dream states.
On Our Fantasy Complex, they channel that tangled web into a 40-minute suite of fogged-out mood music: sensual, angry, dreamlike. There are trace elements of shoegaze, dub techno and quasi-speed D&B, but it’s more hex than genre exercise — a lucid tangle of textures shaped by peers like Ben Bondy, mu tate, and Arad Acid add an extra dimension.
This isn’t ambient in the blissed-out sense, but a darker, dirtier kind of psychedelia — music that melts the line between introspection and club detritus. From the looming bass pressure of ‘How Long Can I Burn?’ to the dissociative haze of ‘Yoro (pt I & II)’, and finally the crystalline closer ‘Dream’, it’s a record that lingers like smoke.
“Labège, released on Good Morning Tapes, emerged from a residency in the town of the same name in Occitanie, where NEXCYIA, mu tate, and Exzald S lived and worked under one roof. Immersed in the slow rhythms of southern French life, the trio embraced live improvisation, intuitive sampling, and a freeform process shaped by their domestic surroundings. The result is a collection of gentle, drifting compositions—sonic postcards capturing a fleeting moment in time.
The trio brings a distinct yet complementary voice. Working with abstraction, sound mangling tools, field recordings, and fragmented rhythms to sculpt tactile, evolving environments. All leaning into softness and restraint, weaving filtered harmonics and spacious reverb into floating atmospheres anchored by deep sub-bass and hushed vocals.
Their methods intertwine seamlessly, allowing improvisation and chance to guide the music’s form. The result is both expansive and intimate—suspended somewhere between memory and the present.”

RIYL: The Focus Group, AFX, Mica Levi, Coil
Collaged from juddery electroacoustic rhythms, analog synth squelches, environmental recordings, text-to-speech poems and what Akira Umeda calls “ghost sounds”, ‘Clube da Mariposa Mórbida’ is a transcultural voyage into pure sonic fantasy. The São Paulo-based DIY maverick and former historian trades impressions and delusions with Nyege regular Metal Preyers, aka Jesse Hackett, imagining gory VR avatars, lovestruck arachnids, supermassive black holes and the titular morbid moth club, absurd iconography that stains their warped, mutable soundscapes. Hackett initially contacted Umeda after hearing last year’s sprawling ‘Gueixa’, an hour-long postmodern mixtape made from 202 fragments of the artist’s seemingly bottomless library of experiments. Spotting a similarity in the way they were both driven by collage and curation, Hackett embarked on four whirlwind months of exchange, sending Umeda audio snippets and concepts that the Brazilian eccentric would decode with Google translate. Umeda’s contribution was more uncanny; listening to the sketches on repeat until the sounds created “evasive impressions” in his mind, he used analog instruments and text-to-speech software to recreate these phantom occurrences. “Specters are never clear and always shifting, so the experience of synthesizing them is similar to clay modeling,” he explains. “To record these synthetic ghost sounds is like firing ceramic pots.”
And the hybrid nature of their collaboration doesn’t begin and end there. Both Hackett and Umeda work within visual art: Umeda has made films, ceramics and illustrations, while Hackett works on jewelry and sculpture with his father Bill, the proto-punk jeweler best known for creating Keith Richards’ iconic skull ring. Two of Bill’s artworks are featured on the album art and shadow the record’s themes, both carved in wood that’s stained with a shellac dye made from old 78rpm records. Umeda and Hackett’s music is similarly recycled, as if they’re dousing fresh art with long forgotten colors. On the opening track ‘One Eyed Weasel’, decelerated Brazilian funk syncopations are twisted with weightless voices, orchestral flourishes and canned screams before being lowered into eerie beds of unplaceable white noise. Even at the best of times, it’s difficult to pry apart what’s real and what’s synthesized; cyborg voices in different languages stutter around tangled, colorful musical threads: tablas, overdriven psych guitars, cryptic santur chimes and microtonal reed echoes. But Umeda and Hackett’s music isn’t an accompaniment to some post-Hassell Fourth World concept, it’s a projection into parallel future where our patchwork of cultures, digital and otherwise, has been reduced to hazy memories.
On ‘Boi de Piranha’, defective temple bells punctuate blown-out spiraling beats and unsettling backmasked chatter, and ruffled, featherlight rhythms and mbira-like repeating sequences quiver through sleazy 4/4 architectures on ‘Cut Throat Mickey’. Unfolding like a hypnagogic soundtrack to an unwritten queer, post-apocalyptic noir, ‘Clube da Mariposa Mórbida’ retches and heaves in the glamor of decay; slithering electro-plated music box earworms burrow into ‘Hora Do Slime’, while on ‘Olhos De Facão’ humid synth sequences chew on bone-rattling acoustic percussion and dissociated traces of humanity. It’s Hackett’s most bizarre offering yet, a few paces beyond ‘Shadow Swamps’ murking shadows towards Umeda’s kaleidoscopic concrète jungle.

Narciso has been running parallel to most of his contemporaries, staying close to the main lane but researching in his own distinctive way. He takes pride in "being free from limitations and conventions. To me, music doesn't follow fixed rules; it is a field for experimentation, where any sound can be transformed into something pleasing to the ear". Depending on what one considers "pleasing", this is a pretty challenging set of tracks. The artist never loses the balance, though, mindful of a certain "dance" context in which this music thrives, but it is also that same context that is being constantly twisted and reshaped into other forms. Some of those provide fresh ground for others to follow; some are of such individuality that no one else dares disturbance; some quickly return to a safer way of communication.
"Diferenciado" does communicate, but like words can be changed to sound different and still mean the same, such are music and sound with Narciso. It's not about alienation of the listener nor alienation of the self from the surrounding areas. "I believe music is present in everything around us." And if anyone can say her/his/their music "reflects vision, experience and perception", you know the end result is not often surprising or even that different from previous examples. Well, we stand by "Diferenciado" in its obvious distinctiveness, and if all the blurb so far may read like a nervous justification it's just because of the excitement in helping put this out into the world.
As a founding element of RS Produções, where Nuno Beats, DJ Lima, DJ Nulo and Farucox are also found, Narciso has been contributing to a spiritual and creative atmosphere that permeates the environs of Lisbon where that golden, inspired air has to fight for space with many kinds of instability. The beauty and drama of opening tracks "Ziu Ziu" and "Cabelinho" (this one with mate Farucox) should be able to touch any sensitive soul that appreciates the quirkiness often attached to pure expression. As in "Pipipi" too, for example, where melody and rhythm gently and moodily lead you into a brief but sudden interruption feeling like a change into another state of being. Do not shy away. Narciso steps up as himself, not as representative of whatever or whoever.








