MUSIC

Amsterdam-based bass player and producer kotokid's music is a middle ground between alternative R&B and hip-hop, and 80s jazz fusion. Bringing together live drums and drum computers, sequenced analog synths and lush guitar chords and solos, and heavy synth basses alternated with pulsating bass guitar grooves. The result: a wall of sound, with the dynamics and energy of a live fusion band.

The temptation to mythologize Bill Fay can be overwhelming; Fay was, for decades, as prolific as he was under-appreciated. Fay’s unsung-hero status has changed slowly, steadily, on the order of almost twenty-five years. With each new album comes new hosannas and evangelizers — Jeff Tweedy, Kevin Morby, Adam Granduciel and Julia Jacklin, to name just a few. The Bill Fay Group, in particular, is Fay’s most significant collaborative work; he records as a member of a larger group here, and the result summons a grander sonic scale, an elegant counterweight to Fay’s instincts for the understated. Tomorrow Tomorrow and Tomorrow brings to bear the galactic qualities of early rock, the intricacy of jazz improv, and Fay’s earthy folk magic. Tomorrow Tomorrow and Tomorrow has a patchy release history: recorded between 1978 and 1981, it was not released until 2005, when it appeared on CD with limited streaming and no vinyl companion. A 2006 reissue brought the album onto vinyl but with a truncated sequence and nine songs missing. Now, finally, Tomorrow Tomorrow and Tomorrow arrives in full worldwide. Available on streaming services worldwide and pressed to a double-album vinyl edition, it features the album’s original 22 songs and includes rare and previously unseen photographs from Tomorrow Tomorrow and Tomorrow’s original recording session. In the words of Gary Smith and Rauf Galip, missing Bill Stratton, and abbreviated from the forthcoming album notes: We chose five songs to record as finished pieces: Life, Spiritual Mansions, Cosmic Boxer, Strange Stairway, Isles of Sleep, all recorded in two studio sessions. We sent them out to try and get a record deal. There were few really independent labels back then and Punk was in the record labels’ ears. No deal. And now, Dead Oceans who have a lot of faith in Bill’s music wants to re- release the ‘Tomorrow’ album. A double vinyl package. Is there any more unreleased music for the fourth side? Of course. So, we’ve been opening old boxes, finding CDRs, cassettes, a musical archaeological dig. This is our choice from all the music we found. Fly Like a Bird.

Pink Floyd Live at the Old Refectory 1969 captures the band in a transitional phase, blending their early psychedelic roots with the progressive sounds that defined their future. This rare performance showcases experimental improvisations and tracks that reflect their evolving musical identity.

Outstanding and limited compilation of Turkish Jazz-Funk rarities. The release explores what happened when Western music styles such as modal jazz, bossa nova, fusion and funk met Arabic folk music, tone scales and rhythm structures in the late sixties and seventies in Turkey and Egypt.

Second album from the japanese psych-prog band that started out as Far Out in 1973. The record is basically a concept: "The Cave" is arriving onto our planet, and the group is generally celebrating the beauties of nature. Heavily influenced by Floyd (Atom Heart Mother era), the group lays down some very credible ambiances that even Waters & Co. could've pulled off. This album will draw Klaus Schulze's attention and he will collaborate with FEFB on their next one.

If there’s one specific component that grounds “Sky Flesh”, it’s the focus. Italian musician and sound designer Marta De Pascalis flexed her technical muscle on 2020’s “Sonus Ruinae”, layering various sounds and processes in an attempt to touch the sublime. In contrast, “Sky Flesh” is a single thought, composed using just one instrument: the Yamaha CS-60. A slimmed-down sibling to the gargantuan CS-80 – the analog synthesizer used by Vangelis to create his iconic “Blade Runner” score – the CS-60 was released in 1977, a few years before the MIDI protocol was introduced to help standardize production methods. MIDI would change the electronic music landscape completely, offering a level of control that De Pascalis consciously relinquishes, preferring to highlight expressiveness and timbre, elements more readily associated with acoustic instruments. The album arrives as much of the wider experimental scene busies itself with algorithmic composition and AI-assisted modeling; De Pascalis chooses to work instead like an organologist, harnessing the CS-60’s mercurial magic to suggest deeper truths about our evolving relationship with machines. Currently based in Berlin, De Pascalis grew up in Rome, where she was surrounded by atrophied ruins that piqued her interest in decay and memory. Over her last three albums, she used tape loops and advanced synthesizer techniques to create a unique sound world that’s guided by her musical philosophy, rather than a specific aesthetic. As she’s developed her technique and confidence, her music has become even more idiosyncratic, and at this stage in her career, she’s stripped her sound down to its core elements, focusing on emotion, narrative, and mystery. Using timbres that recall a time when electronic music still waved towards the future, De Pascalis’ melodic content is rooted in early and Renaissance music, almost cleaving it from history entirely. Fittingly, “Sky Flesh” is released on acclaimed Italian composer Caterina Barbieri’s burgeoning light-years label, the ideal platform for her labyrinthine, cosmic vignettes. De Pascalis introduces us to the album with a triptych that establishes her sonic landscape immediately. On “voXCS60x”, “The Shapes We Buried” and “Blue to Blue”, she presents the CS-60 in all its malleable glory, running its serrated, ring-modulated oscillations through booming reverb and reducing them to vapors. Despite not working with MIDI sequencing, De Pascalis exerts a remarkable level of command, bending her compositions into abstract shapes without sacrificing their evocative earworms. It’s an almost ritualistic process that centers on a musician who’s not only in dialog with technology but with the cosmos itself, channeling its puzzles through her machines. This soul-searching is most evident in “Yueqin”, a dreamily ornate, moonlit composition that breathes through filigree melodic flourishes and triumphant fanfares, signaling a distant romance in the heavens. De Pascalis takes a brief detour on “Commas Light” and “Cut Off Horizon”, investigating tonality in miniature and coaxing expression out of her delirious runs of notes with uncommon ease. It makes the conclusion of “Làsciati” and “Equal to no Weight” hit that much harder, the former a dissonant dance into psychedelia and the latter an almost ten-minute cloud of obscured harmony. With all traces of the CS-60’s sound humbled by tides of noise, it’s an apt finale, climaxing with suggestive echoes that pointedly disappear into silence. With “Sky Flesh”, De Pascalis doesn’t freeze time, but expands its reach, offering a fresh perspective on cosmic music that’s steeped in riddles and wonder.

Roberto Cacciapaglia is an Italian composer and pianist who started out in the fertile Milan avant-garde scene of the 1970s, which included Franco Battiato, Giusto Pio, Lino Capra Vaccina, Francesco Messina, among others. After studying at the conservatory, he worked at RAI's Studio of Musical Phonology – an electronic music laboratory similar to NDR/WDR in Germany, GRM/IRCAM in France or BBC Radiophonic Workshop.

Originally released in 1979, Sei Note In Logica (Six Notes In Logic) is Cacciapaglia's second album. While his debut, Sonanze, offers a series of ambient mini-soundtracks, Sei Note presents a singular, sinuous piece. The composition is based on a finite set of musical notes, yet this limitation is the point of departure for a grand tour of possible combinations and enthralling timbres (marimbas, strings, reeds and human voice).

Like Steve Reich's Music For 18 Musicians, the joyous experiment of Sei Note is grounded in constant variation. Often doubled by multiple instruments, non-repeating patterns are exquisitely layered, while electro-acoustic signals transform and further refract through visceral effects. Within this conceptual framework, Cacciapaglia does not so much juxtapose rigid dichotomies – acoustic vs. electronic, melodic vs. dissonant, simple vs. complex – as fuse them into an expansive whole.

What started as an inspired study in Minimalism becomes a bold feat of 20th century music. Sei Note In Logica is deeply sincere and, at the same time, quite playful. With one foot firmly planted in the past and the other steeped in technology, Cacciapaglia's influence can be heard in the work of Jim O'Rourke, Fennesz and Ben Vida.

Roberto Cacciapaglia is an Italian composer and pianist who started out in the fertile Milan avant-garde scene of the 1970s, which included Franco Battiato, Giusto Pio, Lino Capra Vaccina, Francesco Messina, among others. After studying at the conservatory, he worked at RAI's Studio of Musical Phonology – an electronic music laboratory similar to NDR/WDR in Germany, GRM/IRCAM in France or BBC Radiophonic Workshop.

Sonanze (Sonatas) is Cacciapaglia's debut album, a monumental work that was recorded over a two-year period and released in 1975 via seminal German label Die Kosmischen Kuriere (Ohr). While a "sonata" is traditionally performed by easily distinguishable instrumentalists (often soloist and accompaniment) and with repeated structural themes, Cacciapaglia flips this hierarchical form on its head – blending harpsichord, strings, brass and analog synths to create ambient mini-soundtracks.

As the composer writes in the original sleeve notes, "I am aware, unfortunately, that I am a few millennia late in how I would like music to be understood, which today I find diluted in its primary powers, in an era that is destructive of essential values. Precisely for this reason, I want to search for it in depth and not on the surface, perhaps alternating the knob of a synthesizer with a marranzano (mouth harp)."

Mixed in quadrophonic surround-sound under the auspices of Rolf-Ulrich Kaiser (celebrated producer of Tangerine Dream and Ash Ra Tempel), Sonanze remains on the fringe of Kosmische realms. Each movement explores hypnotic rhythms, intuitive arrangements, musique concrète techniques and a pure psychedelic awakening.

More Japanese lysergic madness ! The 1972  soundtrack for Shuji Terayama's visionary movie of the same name contains all the elements necessary to reach composer & theatre producer J.A. Caesar's intended pleasure-centers. Disturbing, but in the end truly innovative, this soundtrack is as certified gateway to the underworld in the vein of classic by Faust, Cosmic Jokers or early Amon Düül.

"This mighty soundtrack for Shuji Terayama's nihilistic movie of the same name contains all the elements necessary to reach J.A. Caesar's intended pleasure-centers. Here, turmoil, mind-numbing repetition, abject misery and grisly partriarchs abound, and all orchestrated by Caesar's damaged proto-metal and choral-led psychedelic sound. Mind-infesting in the truest sense, this soundtrack played in the dark is as certified a Gateway to the Underworld as any acknowledged classic by Faust, Magma, the Cosmic Jokers, Ash Ra Tempel or early Amon Düül." --Julian Cope, Japrocksampler.</p><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0KGi-KJQkak?si=-GuIwoImAyG7euYw" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe>

Resolve acts in dialogue with the minimalist inspirations of the first Arnold Dreyblatt & The Orchestra of Excited Strings release, 1982’s Nodal Excitation – in effect, looking beneath the hood of several decades of progression to review and renew the revolutionary intent of their microntonal foundation credo. This new Orchestra – Oren Ambarchi, Konrad Sprenger and Joachim Schütz – combine effortlessly to explore new scalar dimensions. PLAY LOUD.

A trio of Moroccan brothers, coming together here with a very groovy sound – rock at the core, with some very trippy elements and harmonies on some of the best cuts – but also tinged with some slight traditional instrumentation as well – used to flavor the tunes and really make them stand out from more Anglo styles of the time! The songs are all original, and nicely different than other Mid-East pop work we know from the time – maybe a bit headier overall, on titles that include "Hey Di Dam Dam", "Leili Twil", "El Harib", "Sebar", and "Galouli Ensaha"

With his ongoing commitment to like-minded archivist label Finders Keepers Records, industrial music pioneer Steven Stapleton further entrusts us to lift the veil and expose “the right tracks” from his uber-legendary and oft misinterpreted psych/prog/punk peculiarity shopping list known as The Nurse With Wound List. Following the critically lauded first instalment and it’s exclusively French tracklisting both parties now combine their vinyl-vulturous penchants to bring you the next Strain Crack & Break edition which consists of twelve lesser-known German records that played a hugely important part in the initial foundations of the list which began to unfold when Stapleton was just thirteen-years-old. From the perspective of a schoolboy Amon Düül (ONE) victim, at the start of a journey that commenced before phrases like kosmische and the xeno-ignant Krautrock tag had become mag hack currency, this compendium is devoid of the tropes that united what many would accurately argue to be the greatest progressive pop bands in Europe (namely CAN, Neu! and Kraftwerk) and rather shatters the ingredients across a ground zero landscape for both inquisitive fans and socially rehabbing musos to begin to assemble a unique self-styled identity. If Krautrock was the music that journalist told us lurked behind schlager (German pop) in the 1970s, then this record includes the music that skulked behind Krautrock and perhaps refused to polish its backhanded name belt. Including lesser-known artists like the late Wolfgang Dauner whose career proceeded and outlived the kosmische movement while consistently informing and outsmarting ‘em whenever they got stuck in their metronomic ruts, or how about Fritz Müller, the man who was to Kraftwerk what Stuart Sutcliffe was to The Beatles but had more in common with Yoko and quite rightly couldn’t give a shit about the Fab Four’s Hamburg roots. Elsewhere we have a plethora of German bands made for German audiences as they try and shed second hand flower power Americanisms and feel the benefits of much harder drugs and the realisations of difficult second album budgets while Kommune 1 newsflashes wipe smiles from everybody’s faces and replace them with opioid chic or acid-sarcastic grins. Bonzo Cockettes show us their Big Muffs and drummers ask for extra mics while Conny Plank goes for parliamentary office and gives babies good firm hand shakes for the camera. Strain Crack & Break Volume Two is the sound of Steve Stapleton’s sponge-like mind and the dividends of anyone who was brave enough to even peek inside those brick-thick gatefold covers never mind drop the needle, with tracks by Mr. and Mrs. Fuchs (aka Anima-Sound) who played their instruments completely naked throughout their anti-career alongside previously unpressed tracks by the scene’s leading Detroit-born African American drummer Fred Braceful who’s band Exmagma officially had the coolest record sleeves and track titles of ALL TIME (Torpedo Tits? Yes Please!). From an era where it was embarrassing to go into your local record shop and hum the tune over the counter, well that young lad Steve Stapleton was braver than that, and besides, these tracks are unhummable and at times unutterable. Did somebody in the crowd shout out for Joel Vandroogenbroeck! Good luck with that one. Stapleton is sharing. Even Stevens.

The new avant-garde isn’t about creating something that doesn’t yet exist, it’s about abandoning and confusing rigid genres. I want to open up, in order to both abolish and reconstruct the musical past.» — Noémi Büchi Noémi Büchi’s album ‘Does It Still Matter’ completes a series of releases whose titles - ‘Matière’, ‘Matter’, and ‘Does It Still Matter’ - place the physicality of music in the center of attention. Büchi’s specific sound structures and aesthetic choices question the state of materiality in a world that is becoming more and more fluid and intangible. From ‘Matière’ to ‘Matter’, Büchi subtly transferred from a focus on substance to questioning the enigmatic core of being, passing from a noun to a verb, and from a single word to an inquiry. ‘Does It Still Matter’ weighs in on the importance of questioning. Her pieces juxtapose multi-layered analog synthesizer textures, crystal clear sounds and almost brutalistic noises, while they unfold in compositional structures akin to pop songs. Driven by an orchestra of myriad parts, her music creates transcendent intonations that resonate deeply with the listeners’ bodies. A daring blend of complexity and accessibility are molded into captivating sound sculptures that challenge and intrigue listeners alike. Deviating from conventional time divisions, ’Does It Still Matter’ immerses listeners in a discordant succession of elements, and guides them towards an eternal present that erases the past with each new revelation, while maintaining it through recurring themes that serve as intimate memories. Büchi’s electronic maximalism questions our linear perception of time, offering a glimpse into a world where the past, present, and future converge into a singular moment. Her avant-garde approach rejects predictability, inviting listeners to immerse themselves fully in the present. Everything starts anew at any given instant. Each musical idea exists for one precise moment, rendering the future unpredictable. ‘Does It Still Matter’ unfolds against a backdrop of collective disaster and biocidal urgency, challenging the very essence of time. Büchi explains: «The world appears to have gone mad. It’s all but impossible to reflect on the meaning of avant-garde in music, considering the future in this sepulchral kind of stability of the human condition.» Her compositions resonate like an infernal machine, questioning the instantaneous dissipation of everything. Finally, echoes and fragments of sounds remain, haunting memories like ghostly companions. ’Does It Still Matter’ is an immersive experience that invites listeners to contemplate the impermanence of our world and the enduring power of sound.

Legendary German post-rock band formed in 1971 by undisputed noise pioneer Uwe Nettelbeck, Faust garnered an immediate following due to its artistically extreme experimentations with music cut ups and other mixed sources hinging on cacophony and distortion. Don't miss their 1971 cult classic debut, now reissued with its original clear printed sleeve on 180 gram clear vinyl.

The founders of Cukor Bila Smert’ (Ukrainian: Цукор – Біла Смерть, English: Sugar – White Death) band were Svitlana Okhrimenko (a.k.a. Svitlana Nianio), Oleksandr Kohanovs’kyi, and Tamila Mazur, who studied at the Reinhold Glier Kyiv Academy of Music in 1984-1988. In the summer of 1988, they got acquainted with Eugene Taran, a young guitarist and artist. He joined the band and also became the ideologist of Sugar – White Death. Moreover, Eugene coined the name for the band: the irony towards the Yellow Press. The musicians gathered at Kohanovs’kyi’s house, where they spent their free time not only playing music but also listening to and discussing new records and thinking about the conception of their new project. For two years, the band recorded a few home-made albums, such as “Rhododendrons Coral Aspides” in 1988 (which is considered lost), where Kostyantyn Dovzhenko took part as a guitarist and sound engineer. He also replaced Taran during the recording session because Eugene was passing an exam at that time. The band also recorded another album – “Lilies and Amaralises,” in 1989, which is also considered lost. Eugene remembers that the band made a lot of recordings but did not pay so much attention to them. Sugar – White Death played live occasionally but spent more time creating their own sound, which was named by Oleksii Dekhtyar (a founder of “Ivanov Down”) as a “sugar calypso sound.” At that time, the music was mostly created by Oleksandr Kohanovs’kyi, and the lyrics were written by Svitlana Okhrimenko and Eugene Taran. In February 1990, a quartet came to the Scientists House Studio in Kyiv, where they had one studio session only, recorded by Valerii Papchenko. Musicians played live for about one take. This session was represented on the “Mannered Music” compilation by several blocks – “Venus with Long Neck,” “The New Sissies,” and “Rhododendrons Coral Aspides,” which was shortened to “Rhododendrons” on the cassette (two songs from which – “Summer Will Not Come” and “The Great Hen-Yuan’ River,” dedicated to Grigorii Khoroshylov, the sinologist from Kyiv). The compilation cover design was created by Eugene Taran. Later, this tape got to Vlodek Nakonechnyj, the founder of Koka Records, a young Polish label, who released “Mannered Music” on cassettes and made efforts to invite Sugar – White Death to play several gigs in Poland. In November 1990, Sugar – White Death played their last gig as a quartet in Kharkiv. They were invited by Sergii Myasoyedov, who curated the art association “Nova Scena” (The New Scene). The band played selected tracks from the albums “The New Sissies” and “The Shellfishes in Gold Wrappers” (the last one is also considered lost). Due to Sergii Myasoyedov's efforts, the performance was documented: he saved a lot of photos and fragments of soundboard recordings on reel-to-reel tape. Later, Oleksandr Kohanovs’kyi and Tamila Mazur left Sugar – White Death: Oleksandr founded his own project Pan Kifared, and Tamila became a bass player of Shake Hi-Fi (whose co-founder was Eugene Taran). Sugar became a duo of Svitlana and Eugene. They started to focus on their next work: “Antinoy Is Leaving” in late 1990. In 1992, they were also invited by Sergii Myasoyedov for a studio session in Kharkiv, where due to the efforts of Oleksandr Vakulenko, Sugar recorded the new album called “All Secrets Of A Poem”. Some tracks from the work (“Dead Ceremony,” “Vienna Is Sleeping,” and “Untitled”) were released on their next and last album, “Selo” (“The Village”). The rest compositions were published as a part of the compilation for the first time. In the autumn of 1992, the musicians went to Poland, where Vlodek Nakonech- nyj, who wanted Sugar to come to a “real” studio, organized their last recording session. Although the journey’s beginning was unsuccessful (Eugene’s guitar was taken away by a customs officer when crossing the border), the musicians worked fast during the session at the Arek Waś studio at Marki on an 8-track reel-to-reel machine. Boleslav Blazhchyk took part as a cellist, playing the parts created by Svitlana. The album was completed in three days – the musicians spent two days recording and one-day mixing, mostly done by Eugene Taran. In 1993, this work was released as “Selo” (“The Village”) album on cassette tapes by Koka Records (remastered by Tadeusz Sudnik). Later, Sugar – White Death was disbanded.

Brast Burn's Debon -- a classic of Japanese Kraut obscurity originally released in 1975 on Voice Records, now digitally-remastered. Brast Burn are often linked with Karuna Khayal, with many aficionados concluding that they were actually the same band. Whether this is true or not remains an unsolved mystery, but one thing is for sure: Brast Burn's one and only recorded outing left an indelible stamp on those who were to follow. Nurse With Wound's Steve Stapleton thought highly of Debon and included it on his "legendary list" that appeared on the sleeve of his band's 1979 debut album. Featuring orchestrated fuzz guitar, echo-drenched percussion, reverbed bass, zithers, assorted taped sounds and vocals that are simply inspired, Debon is an album that's a must for headphones and for devotees of the likes of Faust and Can. A rare musical experience and a vital addition to any record collection.

Like a winding system of trails and paths cutting through a digital forest-scape, M. Sage’s Paradise Crick is shaped by time. Full of wonder and charm, designed patiently and from a rich, curious mulch of synthesized and acoustic sound, the versatile American artist and magic realist’s new suite of music is an imaginary destination and a pastoral fantasy that envisions the natural and fabricated worlds as one. Matthew Sage is a musician, intermedia artist, recording engineer and producer, publisher, teacher, partner, and parent. Assembling a sprawling and idiosyncratic catalog of experimental studio music between Colorado and Chicago since the early 2010s, recent highlights include The Wind of Things (Geographic North, 2021), an ensemble-recorded expression of bow-splashed nostalgia, and the four seasonal albums of Fuubutsushi, the improvisatory ambient jazz quartet he formed with friends from afar in 2020. Sage renders projects with nuanced velocity and a completist sensibility — when it’s finished, it’s done — which is what makes Paradise Crick, his debut for RVNG Intl., a compelling outlier. Sage first staked his tent in Crick’s conceptual campground five years ago from his home studio in Chicago (he’s since returned to Colorado, home to the mountains and prairies often personified in his work). He had just read Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America, a kaleidoscopic reflection of pastoral America’s shifting identity by way of magical fishing sojourns. Inspired by that feeling, of getting lost but finding oneself in through the outdoors, he amassed over seventy demos documenting a fictional soundtrack for camping. Pull up to this park, and the sign might read, “Welcome to Paradise Crick. Fire Danger Is Low.” The sequence, pruned down to thirteen tracks, courses the dewy mornings, afternoon hikes, and firelit nights of a weekend expedition. While Sage is not a filmmaker, he views the method of making this album as a similar form of world-building via structure, narrative, formal elements, and editorial refinement. Contrasted with his collaborative craft, here he is a sole auteur reclined in total autonomy, able to improvise scenes and implement special effects at will. A parallel precedent for such unchecked imagination in the M. Sage canon is A Singular Continent, his 2014 album that tilted its compass to a faraway land. Where Continent built its world layering samples as composition, Paradise Crick deploys a balance of accessible song structures with experimental instrumentation and sound design. Speckled with harmonica, autoharp, chimes, penny whistle, voice, hand percussion, and other mysteries, Crick’s texture is treated as a sensorial adventure; the swamps gurgle, the lakes glisten, and the valleys breathe in robust HD. The rhythms are loose and buoyant, bursting with a few ‘kick and snare’ moments shaped by Sage’s lifelong love for drumming and headphone prone electronic music. Crick bumps more than most anything he’s done before; crackling static pulses and lush vibrations reveal an intrinsic groove, a hidden beat map. In the landscapes of Paradise Crick, science and magic co-exist, 5k boulders and midi frogs share the frame with real-life memories of Midwest camping trips and the desire to feel extra human in a digitized space. Sage strived for “nature in the holodeck” but couldn’t help leaving fingerprints in the simulation, and it’s these traces of spirit and character that give Paradise Crick its strange allure. The album’s bubbling sense of play, melody, and timbre takes cues from left-field electronic lineage; synth pioneers like Tomita and Raymond Scott up through the more expressive pop tendencies of Woo, Stereolab and the Cocteau Twins, and into contemporary composers like Sam Prekop. The album’s vocabulary is uncomplicated; the gestures are sweet and inviting, intended to lull the listener. As much as Sage continues to be an experimentalist by nature in his work, with Paradise Crick, he spins a narrative. Not necessarily a concept album, but rather an invitation to take off for a weekend. That’s the modus operandi down here in the Crick, we stretch out.

WRWTFWW Records is wonderfully proud to announce the long anticipated official reissue of Chrysalide (1978), the sole album from French multi-instrumentalist and enigmatic genius Michel Moulinié. The krautrock/ambient/minimalism paragon is available as a limited edition LP with one never-heard bonus track. It is sourced from the original reels and housed in a heavy 350gsm sleeve. Originally released in 1978 on Ange and Jean-Claude Pognant's mythical prog rock label Crypto, Chrysalide is a fusion of minimalist meditations, cosmic soundscapes, and ambient with a human warmth, carried by a profoundly beautiful and unique use of twelve-string guitar, bass, and violin. Ideal for an introspective listening experience, the hypnotic Kosmische Musik of Michel Moulinié belongs to the same psychedelic family as Manuel Göttsching’s Inventions For Electric Guitar, Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells, early Tangerine Dream, and Steve Hillage’s innovative guitar mastery. WRWTFWW listeners might also be reminded of the label’s seminal French release, Dominique Guiot's L'Univers de la Mer, which makes a great spiritual pairing with Chrysalide.

For fans of: Sessa, Caetano, Veloso, Alabaster DePlume, Bala Desejo London has a bright new Brazilian talent in town, who goes by the name of MOMO. Not so new, actually. One of the recent generation of artists influenced by the Brazilian classics, from 1970s tropicália, Os Mutantes and Milton Nascimento. MOMO. releases his 7th album Gira, on Batov Records bringing together some very special musicians and guests from London’s bustling and hustling jazz community, with fellow Brazilian artists, recorded and cut to tape at East London’s Total Refreshment Center. A journeying collaboration which effortlessly swings, guided by Marcelo Frota’s soft yet reassuringly familiar vocal, with ruminative and explorative brass twists, Gira was recorded with friends and guests including Alabaster DePlume on tenor sax (in whose band Marcelo toured), Jessica Lauren on keys, Tamar Osborn on baritone sax, Nick ‘Emanative’ Woodmansey on drums, Carwyn Ellis of Rio 18 fame on piano, Magnus Mehta from Penya on percussion and Caetano Malta on bass. Gira is MOMO.’s eighth album yet his first recorded in London. After a musical odyssey that took him from his home of Rio de Janeiro to Angola, Michigan, Chicago, Spain and Lisbon, MOMO. now calls London his home, where he lives with his young family, and whose creative spirit has inspired him for the last three years. Unsurprisingly, therefore, the new album marks a real departure. His debut from 2006, A Estética do Rabisco was named one of the best albums of the year by the Chicago Reader and set Marcelo’s musical path in motion. His singer-songwriting talents have already earned him plaudits from royalty like Patti Smith and David Byrne and he was invited to participate in A Tribute to Caetano to mark the 70th birthday of Brazilian musical legend, Caetano Veloso. Inspired by seeing his young daughter breaking out in dance to some music at home, MOMO. thought, "I would love to make an album that she could dance to" and Gira was conceived. In recruiting his new London friends as collaborators, MOMO. rekindled the fun and feel of his earliest recordings in Rio, when he would invite people over to his studio and "just see what happened." And the best way to capture such spontaneous energy was to record Gira live. In this case, at London’s Total Refreshment Centre, a creative hub that is also a concert space, artist workshop and studio which has become a beacon for jazz music since its ‘warehouse’ inception in 2012 by promoter Lex Blondin. The title Gira means to move. "It made sense to start with the grooves, the patterns, then start filling in the melodies,” MOMO. explains. So drummer Nick Woodmansey, leader of the genre-melting jazz collective Emanative, along with co-founder of Penya, percussionist Magnus Mehta, and fellow Brazilian immigrant and bassist Caetano Malta, combine to anchor the resulting effortless grooves, while other contributors then spark the little touches of magic in its wake. Alabaster DePlume's saxophone adds an exotic touch to Oqueeei. Francesca Ter-Berg's cello adds a startling dimension to two of the longer improvisations, the superb opener Pára and A Walk in the Park. Rosie Turton's brash, brittle trombone embellishes Summer Interlude and the first single, Jão. Inspired by the early work of Tim Maia, the album's shortest song pictures a guy in a gafieira (where people go to dance to samba in couples), MOMO. explains, "just dancing and having fun." Fun is a hallmark of Gira. "You come, you play, we have fun," MOMO. told his collaborators. You can hear it so clearly on that simmering eight-minute-plus opener Pára, chosen as the second single: the way MOMO. savours its memorable vocal refrain like a tasty morsel while Jessica Lauren's keyboard vamp takes root and Tamar Osborn's deliciously resonant baritone sax echoes Ronnie Cuber’s trademark work for Eddie Palmieri on Harlem River Drive. Fun, too, is what MOMO. had in collaborating with his old friend Wado on the lyrics to six of the album's 10 songs. The third and final single Rio, for example, is a tribute to the city where MOMO. grew up and first learned to play the guitar. Appropriately, Carwyn Ellis of Rio 18 fame was invited to play electric piano and add his touch to the song. The album’s finale, the focus and title track, is ”like folkloric music, like a baião but with a London vibe.” Gira is a new departure for MOMO. While previous albums have always started with guitar and voice, Gira begins with the groove – yet succeeds sublimely in balancing this new emphasis on spontaneous improvisation and songwriting. “Life brought me to London and I think I’ve made my lightest album; it could only have been created here." When Brazil meets London, you can't help but move to the groove.

If there’s one specific component that grounds “Sky Flesh”, it’s the focus. Italian musician and sound designer Marta De Pascalis flexed her technical muscle on 2020’s “Sonus Ruinae”, layering various sounds and processes in an attempt to touch the sublime. In contrast, “Sky Flesh” is a single thought, composed using just one instrument: the Yamaha CS-60. A slimmed-down sibling to the gargantuan CS-80 – the analog synthesizer used by Vangelis to create his iconic “Blade Runner” score – the CS-60 was released in 1977, a few years before the MIDI protocol was introduced to help standardize production methods. MIDI would change the electronic music landscape completely, offering a level of control that De Pascalis consciously relinquishes, preferring to highlight expressiveness and timbre, elements more readily associated with acoustic instruments. The album arrives as much of the wider experimental scene busies itself with algorithmic composition and AI-assisted modeling; De Pascalis chooses to work instead like an organologist, harnessing the CS-60’s mercurial magic to suggest deeper truths about our evolving relationship with machines. Currently based in Berlin, De Pascalis grew up in Rome, where she was surrounded by atrophied ruins that piqued her interest in decay and memory. Over her last three albums, she used tape loops and advanced synthesizer techniques to create a unique sound world that’s guided by her musical philosophy, rather than a specific aesthetic. As she’s developed her technique and confidence, her music has become even more idiosyncratic, and at this stage in her career, she’s stripped her sound down to its core elements, focusing on emotion, narrative, and mystery. Using timbres that recall a time when electronic music still waved towards the future, De Pascalis’ melodic content is rooted in early and Renaissance music, almost cleaving it from history entirely. Fittingly, “Sky Flesh” is released on acclaimed Italian composer Caterina Barbieri’s burgeoning light-years label, the ideal platform for her labyrinthine, cosmic vignettes. De Pascalis introduces us to the album with a triptych that establishes her sonic landscape immediately. On “voXCS60x”, “The Shapes We Buried” and “Blue to Blue”, she presents the CS-60 in all its malleable glory, running its serrated, ring-modulated oscillations through booming reverb and reducing them to vapors. Despite not working with MIDI sequencing, De Pascalis exerts a remarkable level of command, bending her compositions into abstract shapes without sacrificing their evocative earworms. It’s an almost ritualistic process that centers on a musician who’s not only in dialog with technology but with the cosmos itself, channeling its puzzles through her machines. This soul-searching is most evident in “Yueqin”, a dreamily ornate, moonlit composition that breathes through filigree melodic flourishes and triumphant fanfares, signaling a distant romance in the heavens. De Pascalis takes a brief detour on “Commas Light” and “Cut Off Horizon”, investigating tonality in miniature and coaxing expression out of her delirious runs of notes with uncommon ease. It makes the conclusion of “Làsciati” and “Equal to no Weight” hit that much harder, the former a dissonant dance into psychedelia and the latter an almost ten-minute cloud of obscured harmony. With all traces of the CS-60’s sound humbled by tides of noise, it’s an apt finale, climaxing with suggestive echoes that pointedly disappear into silence. With “Sky Flesh”, De Pascalis doesn’t freeze time, but expands its reach, offering a fresh perspective on cosmic music that’s steeped in riddles and wonder.

In fact, Organisation was the first iteration of Kraftwerk and if the band had managed to overrule its record label, RCA, Tone Float would have been credited as such. But given that the album was to be released only in the United Kingdom, the label opted for the more Anglicized name, "Organisation". Tone Float is the only album produced under this name and is a seminal example of the genre. Audiences in West Germany were fortunate enough to watch and listen to the whole album, played live for German television station, EDF, and it is this broadcast featured here.

The sophomore effort from Gray/Smith refines their petroleum-based, hard-lullaby sound with a decidedly dusty precision. To call this pair’s brand of country-rock détournement “cosmic” would be too breezy: L. Gray and Rob Smith prefer to stare into sunken depths, channeling their recondite affections for lay-by mauve zones and red-dirt guitar wanderings. Formed in the outer-edges of Kings and Richmond counties circa 2020, Gray/Smith is something of an East-Coast involution. L. Gray (guitar and vocals) and Rob Smith (drums, guitar and vocals) are both trusty veterans of “band’s bands” like Pigeons (Soft Abuse), No-Neck Blues Band (Revenant, Locust), Rhyton (Thrill Jockey), and The Suntanama (Drag City), freewheeling groups known for mining from polyglot sources: rough-hewn folk and the spiritual avant-garde, bargain-bin hard rock and and collector’s-choice psychedelia alike. On their first, self-released LP Gray/Smith, serendipitously recorded at Gary’s Electric at the top of 2021, the pair trained their assured chops onto the great American song-form, honing a murky but tight approach that variously cribs “urban cowboy” and finger-picked primitivism. A string of cryptic appearances soon followed, including a short-lived residency at a now-shuttered vodka dive; a micro-tour with Coloradan songstress Josephine Foster; and a series of backyard and barroom gigs sharing stages with compatriots like Stella Kola, Blues Ambush, Samara Lubelski, and Wednesday Knudsen. Heels in the Aisle is the slipshod, burnt-out, mid-’70s unter-prog comedown to their debut’s backwoods, bushy-tailed, early-’70s, country-rock meanderings—expect more unrestrained riffs, artful studio wizardry, and worn-down introspection. Joining the ranks of bloodshot-eyed, blues-rock medleys à la Canned Heat’s “Parthenogenesis” and Grand Funk’s “Into The Sun,” “The SDSPS” is the nearly side-length opening cut, an expanded song-cycle condensing and riffing on the themes of their debut. “Help Me” ventriloquizes Pomona College outlaw Kris Kristofferson’s slow-roaring ballad of libidinal woe. On the flip side, “Verrazano Tile” and the title track pay heed to lower bays of Staten Island, while their arrangement of the traditional Zimbabwean tune “Guabi Guabi” is a bright Dead/Feat-like jaunt with blissed-out wah-wah pay-off. “Gaslight Boulevard” is lean, mean, and eight-beers-in space rock, and the closing track “Kekule’s Ring” is a slack-jawed, wistful crash back down to earth. All this, packaged in a luxe, expertly-printed sleeve photographed by downtown artist Lary 7 and designed by Eric Wrenn (Sophie’s Oil of Every Pearl's Un-Insides). For fans of Meat Puppets, Ronnie Milsap, Traffic’s John Barleycorn Must Die, the oceanic ebullience of the sacred, and the salty tang of the profane.

Carl Stone continues his late career prolific renaissance with a new album of sculpted, tuneful MAX/MSP fantasias. Stone “plays” his source material the way Terry Riley’s In C “plays” an ensemble – with a loose, freewheeling charm connected to the ancient human impulse to make sound, melody, and rhythm from anything. Stone’s unique technique simultaneously focuses and sprays sound like a symphony of uncapped fire hydrants. Is this techno, avant-garde, sound art? It’s simply (or rather fantastically messily) Carl Stone.

Mammal Hands fifth album ‘Gift from the Trees’ offers a fresh perspective on the unique trio’s singular music. The first to be recorded in a residential studio, the band enjoyed the opportunity to go late into the night searching for a deeper, more organic experience, closer to both their writing process but also their trance-like live performances. While some of the music was pre-composed and had even been performed live, the band also enjoyed the opportunity to improvise ideas in the studio. There was also a conscious decision to move away from the sound and ambiance of the recording studio, with the band opting to engineer the record with their go-to live engineer Benjamin Capp before mixing the sessions with Greg Freeman in Berlin. The idea was to try and capture more of the energy of the band’s captivating shows. The Welsh environment outside the studio doors seeped into the music presented on Gift from the Trees, with two recording sessions (one in winter and one in the spring) bringing different moods: one bleak and wintery, the other more hopeful and bright – an energy that permeates through tracks such as Kernel and Dimu.