MUSIC
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Estonia’s reliable club freqs at Porridge Bullet bypass expectations with two cuts of raw black metal heck by a pair of artists moonlighting from usual styles As black metal is practically pop in the Baltic and Scandi regions (well, kinda), Tapetud Rott’s furnace blasts of detuned guitars, gloom-ridden vibes and scorched vox aren’t totally out of place, yet still make a strong sore thumb on a label best known for its odd funk and dub. Perhaps closest to the likes of Ratkiller on the label (Tapetud Rott translates to killed rat), the duo of Mikk Madisson & Robert Nikolajev fully commit to the BM sound on both counts, going sludgy, slow and bloodthirsty on ‘See mees’, and full bore with the blast beats and throttled axes of ‘Lähme õue’, sealed with helldog vox.
The music on Horse Lords’ Demand to Be Taken to Heaven Alive! feels both impossibly detailed and eminently human. The album’s twelve pieces are layered and interwoven, tonally and rhythmically complex––moiré-like patterns of interaction and tessellation that play out for both mind and body, full of sonic warrens with an inescapable groove. An electrifying leap forward for the band’s shared language, Demand to Be Taken to Heaven Alive! aims to liberate the listener into a spiritual, ecstatic, and utopic dimension of sound.
New from Escho - 'Pusher' OST composer Peter Schneidermann (aka Peter Peter) taps his mates Majke Voss and Ice Age's Elias Rønnenfelt for his proper Bleeder debut, covering Lydia Lunch's 'Boy/Girl' and Fifty Foot Hose's 'If Not This Time' in the process. Schneidermann is a familiar face on the Copenhagen scene, working closely with Nicolas Winding Refn on the 'Valhalla Rising' score as well as the scores for each of the 'Pusher' films. And he's been a member of the Escho family for years, so it was surely only a matter of time until he collaborated with Rønnenfelt. The band rush for the '90s on 'Marble Station', layering wall-of-sound guitars with deadpan vocals, while on 'Here Comes the Dead', they sound more like Black Country heroes Slade. The band's version of 'Boy/Girl' is stronger, led by rattling hi-hats and sleazy, Suicide-style guitars and they show off their range with their surprisingly tender version of 'If Not This Time'. It's all a bit knowing, sure, but it's Copenhagen, innit.
“Perfect Answer,” the latest release from US underground innovator Evanora Unlimited, is a singular pop record where destruction and lyricism coexist. Featuring striking guest appearances from Maria M, RockangelZ, She Diamond, and Taraneh, each track takes on its own distinct personality, giving the album a depth and dimensionality that grows with every listen.
Based in California, Marjorie W.C. Sinclair’s multi-disciplinary project, Evanora Unlimited, weaves together goth, industrial, bedroom pop, and post-punk through a uniquely dark lens. Their latest release, Portraits from Memory, is a deeply personal and conceptual self-released album.
“IV Of Cups” by Thought Leadership is a sinking, immersive work built on heavy layers of guitar and deep 808 bass, where the shadows of post‑punk intersect with the soft, hazy glow of dream‑pop.
The music on Horse Lords’ Demand to Be Taken to Heaven Alive! feels both impossibly detailed and eminently human. The album’s twelve pieces are layered and interwoven, tonally and rhythmically complex––moiré-like patterns of interaction and tessellation that play out for both mind and body, full of sonic warrens with an inescapable groove. An electrifying leap forward for the band’s shared language, Demand to Be Taken to Heaven Alive! aims to liberate the listener into a spiritual, ecstatic, and utopic dimension of sound.
“Lustful Expanse,” an early work from US underground visionary Evanora Unlimited, captures the rawest and most unrestrained form of their destructive pop aesthetic.
Lena Willikens X Elena Colombi live at Lux Fragil, Lisbon 2026 Cover art + design by Alicia Carrera Mastered by Lottie Lou Poulet at Wysyng Arts Centre Manufactured at Tapeline, UK Limited edition cassette tape NO repress 💚 Once they're gone they're gone...
Taco weaponise the very idea of “tako” - octopus, kite, bunion, drunk, bald head - into a mutating post‑punk organism, a rotating guerrilla cell whose songs behave like incidents rather than compositions. “Tako” is one of those Japanese words that refuses to sit still. It can mean octopus, kite, bunion; it’s also slang for bald men, shaved heads, red‑faced drunks staggering home. The term slips between bodies, objects and insults, picking up grime and humour as it goes. In the early 1980s it became something else again: the name of a loose music and performance collective whose shows felt less like concerts than controlled disturbances. Taco emerged at the start of the decade as part of Japan’s post‑punk alternative wave, a shifting network of players orbiting Harumi Yamazaki, ex‑member of Gaseneta and the group’s volatile core. Around her gathered friends, acquaintances and fellow travellers from the Tokyo underground, forming a band that refused fixed membership, fixed genre, fixed anything. From the outset, Taco behaved more like a guerrilla unit than a conventional group. Personnel connected, collected, interrupted, scattered; line‑ups changed from gig to gig, and sometimes from piece to piece. Sound and image were treated as transient weapons to be deployed and discarded. Performances could happen with or without Harumi - reinforcing the sense that Taco was as much an anonymous mercenary outfit as it was a band, a name that could mask any number of combinations and intentions. What remained constant was the drive to send out music and noise that felt like it existed only for that night, that room, that confrontation, and then evaporated. In 1983 Taco released its first album, an anomalous, collaborative document that detonated across Japan’s underground as something both of and against its moment. The record functioned as a kind of local all‑stars compilation: key figures from the scene dropping in to contribute, while Harumi supplied the lyrics that stitched the whole together. Each track sounded like the reverberation of a particular cluster of people and circumstances - a conglomeration of voices, instruments, mistakes and impulses. Yet running through all of them were Harumi’s words, delivered with a force that turned scattered pieces into a single, bristling wave. The album didn’t simply collect songs; it spawned an “incident,” a disturbance that spread by word of mouth, tape dub and rumour. Then, as suddenly, it was pulled back: a separate scandal over some of the lyrics led to the records being recalled, ensuring that only a small number of copies ever made it into private hands. A second release followed in 1984: a 12" EP built around a live recording from the end of 1982. If the debut was a collage of sessions and personalities, this document caught Taco as a unit on stage, and what it revealed was an unexpectedly coherent musical engine beneath the chaos. For a band of indeterminate membership that specialised in one‑off performances, the playing here feels locked in without being smoothed out - grooves, fractures and eruptions held in tense balance. The record captures the power of Taco’s legendary live shows, but it’s Harumi Yamazaki’s presence that sears itself into memory: inflammatory, sensational, masochistic. Her muttered phrases and sudden screams ride over, and often wilfully against, the beat, treating rhythm as something to be taunted rather than obeyed. The effect is of a voice confronting the audience like a groundswell, an undertow that doesn’t care whether or not you keep your footing. One of Taco’s members once described the project as “an alternative counter organization”: a setup in which indeterminate participants fan each other’s heightened desires for personal revenge and retribution. In their words, Taco is “an ecosystem of tangible and intangible mouldy slime which accumulates in order for emotions to be acted out, both indoors in the studio, or outdoors on stage. That’s why the avenger can often end up being the victim.” It’s a metaphor that fits the music: thick, unstable, mutating, made from residues and leftovers as much as from polished ideas. Emotions congeal, are performed, and then rebound on those who unleashed them. The “alternative counter organization” is not a party or a platform; it’s a fragile, dangerous zone where sound becomes a way to test how far you can go before your own force turns back on you. The Alternative Counter Organization brings this history into focus not by tidying it up, but by acknowledging Taco’s refusal to be pinned down. It honours a group whose performances really were “like nothing before or since,” born from a word that already meant too many things and happy to add a few more.
Back in print ! What exactly happened in the Italian underground / post punk scene 30 years ago, is not entirely clear. Therefore, this collection of 13 incredible tunes helps track down the feeling and focuses on the blurry images of a period that was mixing influences from the UK/USA scenes with a more national' approach to new music developments. The damage began in 1977 when a series of urban / suburban musical agitators, whether skilled or complete amateurs, decided to embrace instruments as weapons for a war against sonic stereotypes. Here's the result: a multiform sonic attack that marks the history of a movement that may have remained local in most cases but whose echo reflected the amazing creativity of a generation.
At Our Best! were one of the greatest and most influential bands to emerge in the early 1980s as part of a new wave of independent acts. DJ John Peel championed them, playing their singles repeatedly and inviting them to record a session for his programme. Wry vocalist Judy Evans and brutal yet melodic guitarist James Alan who’d met at art college in Leeds fronted Girls At Our Best!, the proto-Indie band that formed from the ashes of Alan’s 1977 punk band SOS! Pleasure, the sole album, reached number two in the Indie Chart. It was an album so different from the rest of the post-punk indie pack that you can still play it now and completely baffle new listeners. As John Peel said about Roxy Music, it just doesn’t seem to relate to anything else.
The fantastic disco/world music project from Bremen, Germany that was never meant to be. Formed by Bremen DJ Ralf Behrendt in 1982, Saâda Bonaire was a unique concept band centered around two sultry female vocalists (Stefanie Lange and Claudia Hossfeld) as well as dozens of local musicians culled from the local immigration center. Originally signed to EMI in 1982, their first and only single, “You Could Be More As You Are” was produced by legendary Matumbi, Slits and Pop Group producer Dennis Bovell in Kraftwerk’s studio in Cologne. Its fusion of husky female vocals, Eastern instruments, dub and African music aesthetics, drum computers and synthesizers remains unique to this day.
Saâda Bonaire compiles two songs from the original EMI single along with eleven previously unreleased songs recorded between 1982 and 1985. Also included are never before published photos, in depth interviews with band members, and a full gate fold cover for dedicated vinyl buyers. These lost recordings from the early eighties still sound fresh on today’s dance floor.
“All possible processes. All channels open. Twenty-four hour alert." This Heat’s eponymous debut album, also known by fans as the 'blue and yellow', is a masterpiece of experimentation. This Heat's exploratory practice was based on extended collective improvisation that incorporated not just guitar and drums, but also viola, melodica, organ, household objects, and broken toys. They used tape machines to stretch the fabric of time and creative mic placement to warp space. They were fuelled not just by formal restlessness but also by rage at consumer society. Although widely considered to be Post-Punk’s finest, This Heat had actually begun performing at the start of London’s punk era. They developed new strange and volatile strains of avant-garde music that time has proved to be hugely influential, a blueprint for much that would follow. Featuring material recorded as early as their first public performance on 13th February 1976 and compositions that appear on the 1977 BBC Peel Sessions, their debut album was finally released in 1979.
As trans-Atlantic alchemists pulling from a shared dialectic that somehow encompassed both postmodern deconstructionist tendencies and a delightfully subversive sense of poptimism, it’s easy to see how David Cunningham and Peter Gordon immediately hit it off upon initially meeting each other back in the late-1970s at the height of their youthful transgressions. Having initially worked together on the second Flying Lizards’ LP fourth wall, with its ingenious fusion of dismantled rhythms and rearranged melodies juxtaposed against the slyly sultry singing of Snatch’s Patti Palladin— with Gordon adding a few sprinkles of mischievous sax in the mix— it’s no wonder the collaboration would lead to further musical adventures.
Which leads us directly to the genesis of The Yellow Box. Embarking on a collaborative exercise in the structural repurposing of music as untethered puzzle pieces in need of rearrangement with no predetermined outcomes, the duo gave birth to a project that would see them move through both time and recording studios across Europe, taking nearly two years from 1981-1983 to complete. Enlisting the great Anton Fier on drums from The Feelies/Lounge Lizards nexus and John Greaves on bass from Henry Cow/Soft Heap lore to round out their dueling creative counterparts, the album would be something of a lost treasure until its eventual release on Cunningham’s Piano imprint in 1996.
Cinematic in scope, and filled with drifting drones, beautiful counter-melodies, eery minimalism, Kraftwerkian synthesizers, looped voices, skronky interludes, and other shifting undercurrents of sound, it was an album that utilized both a diverse array of expressive languages, as well as early sampling techniques and prepared instruments, well before most people were thinking in such expansive, integrated terms at the dawn of the 80’s. But such is life at the vanguard of new music. And one of the reasons that it likely sat on the shelf for so long before finally being released well over a decade later. Like a sparser, less groove-oriented version of My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, or a more radical take on the experimental work of Can’s Holger Czukay, The Yellow Box stands at the crossroads of time and technology, fusing multiple strands of musical thought and compositional techniques into a disjointed whole that somehow still comes off as a conceptually complete record.
Now, here it is again, over 40 years later, with perhaps even more historical resonance than it had before, remade and remodeled just waiting to be rediscovered again.
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.
Through the dense blend of Japanese New-Wave, between moldy kimonos and punctured paper screens, along the rails of a sonic bullet train, this mini-LP reaches us, overflowing with purebred Punk-Funk, splinters of Soul and shredded Jazz. A gold nugget in a sea of sadness. Scattered energy trapped in a handful of vinyl grooves.
10 songs from No You - the debut, self-titled LP by Davy Kehoe (Wah Wah Wino, IE) and Diego Herrera (Suzanne Kraft, US). Sharing both vocal and instrumentation duties, D & D venture somewhat off of their respective musical paths - with the collab throwing up a big, small-studio sound. They are maybe at their most melodic on ‘Baby’ where their voices play off each other over bent feedback and crunching drum machine. There’s a real low slung swagger to ‘So Far Gone’ and ‘Miracle Mile’ met with a blown out and blasted approach on songs such as ‘Invisible’ and ‘Side Effect’. The song ‘Put Up A Dream’ exhibits the duo’s more unhinged side.