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Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter shall release their first new album since 2011’s Marble Son, and the band’s fifth album since 2002. Forever, I’ve Been Being Born arrives on the 28th November on LP/CD/DL via Ideologic Organ in Europe/UK/Asia/South America. Southern Lord to release the album in North America and Australasia. Forever, I've Been Being Born is a suite of masterful, emotive songs from an open heart, dwelling in a brightness yet deep in the ethereal and melancholic, steeped in themes of magical thinking, emotional dislocation, death and transformation. In the making for ten years, the album centres around the power of Jesse's transcendent voice, which has never been more beautiful, evocative, and hauntingly intimate. Guitarist Phil Wandscher's playing masterfully frames these songs with classic and fractured tones, a duet of vulnerability and strength frequently on the edge. The album also features exquisite contributions from Marissa Nadler, who can be heard on the lead single, “Gentle Chaperone.” “O my gentle chaperone, this is where I stay, but this is not my home”—- J.Sykes This album is our attempt to create elegant folk and sometimes ragged, cosmic, heart rendered songs full of eulogies and laments. Our sound is still familiar enough, but unrecognisable at times—we’ve gotten older and wearier, the music more fragile… …When we started recording this album, I remember saying, “Play the songs as if the edge of a butterfly wing was brushing against your cheek in the dark while you’re holding a small child.” I wanted to connote tenderness and a state of grace in the wake of resolution—paying homage to the creeping knowledge of an emerging, menacing undertone forming in our collective psyche. In hindsight, the delay in releasing this record has been a bit of a blessing, as the lyrics seem more poignant now, transcending our own internal voices and psyches. As the world shares its collective crisis, so we too, share our songs. - J. Sykes On Forever, I’ve Been Being Born, Jesse Sykes And The Sweet Hereafter have crafted a work which feels “very much like a eulogy”, a collection of tracks which see Sykes exploring the idea of mortality with a calm acceptance. Whilst Sykes’ voice has already acted as a guiding light through dark times for others, for Jesse herself, that presence is felt in the form of a chaperone on this record. More specifically, Jesse’s childhood babysitter inspired a motif on the record, “She truly was the person who taught me love,” muses Jesse, “When I think of the moment of death, I often think that it would just be going to her” Recording a new album was delayed for years, in the wake of two band members unexpectedly leaving after Marble Son. “Losing our rhythm section was heartbreaking,” she reflects. “ It sounds cliche, but we had to grieve that loss, and in doing so, we had to separate ourselves from making music for a while, because dare I say, music was painful at the time. It reminded us of what we’d lost. Bands are like family and I’d lost my family. So yes, I had to give up music in order to fall in love with music again.” The album title, Forever I’ve Been Being Born, hints towards this sense of cyclical surrender - “I’ve felt I’m constantly being born and constantly having to die. Or constantly dying in order to be reborn.” We live in a time of collective mourning, and to Jesse, “the lyrics make more sense now than when I was writing them. I think there was some kind of premonition going on… juxtaposed to what’s happening in the country, the emotional climate - this music speaks to the times we are living through.” The emotional feeling of the record can be summed up in a single line from the title track - “Eternities, they will crumble.” A quiet sense of acceptance runs through the record like a stream meandering towards the sea. It is with great pleasure and humility that we bring you, Forever, I’ve Been Being Born. Listen in the dark. “It’s that ancient light that wanders, Rapt in the splendor of your form, And to this I will surrender, Forever, I’ve been being born, Beneath an overarching, Melody, so forlorn.”

Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter shall release their first new album since 2011’s Marble Son, and the band’s fifth album since 2002. Forever, I’ve Been Being Born arrives on the 28th November on LP/CD/DL via Ideologic Organ in Europe/UK/Asia/South America. Southern Lord to release the album in North America and Australasia. Forever, I've Been Being Born is a suite of masterful, emotive songs from an open heart, dwelling in a brightness yet deep in the ethereal and melancholic, steeped in themes of magical thinking, emotional dislocation, death and transformation. In the making for ten years, the album centres around the power of Jesse's transcendent voice, which has never been more beautiful, evocative, and hauntingly intimate. Guitarist Phil Wandscher's playing masterfully frames these songs with classic and fractured tones, a duet of vulnerability and strength frequently on the edge. The album also features exquisite contributions from Marissa Nadler, who can be heard on the lead single, “Gentle Chaperone.” “O my gentle chaperone, this is where I stay, but this is not my home”—- J.Sykes This album is our attempt to create elegant folk and sometimes ragged, cosmic, heart rendered songs full of eulogies and laments. Our sound is still familiar enough, but unrecognisable at times—we’ve gotten older and wearier, the music more fragile… …When we started recording this album, I remember saying, “Play the songs as if the edge of a butterfly wing was brushing against your cheek in the dark while you’re holding a small child.” I wanted to connote tenderness and a state of grace in the wake of resolution—paying homage to the creeping knowledge of an emerging, menacing undertone forming in our collective psyche. In hindsight, the delay in releasing this record has been a bit of a blessing, as the lyrics seem more poignant now, transcending our own internal voices and psyches. As the world shares its collective crisis, so we too, share our songs. - J. Sykes On Forever, I’ve Been Being Born, Jesse Sykes And The Sweet Hereafter have crafted a work which feels “very much like a eulogy”, a collection of tracks which see Sykes exploring the idea of mortality with a calm acceptance. Whilst Sykes’ voice has already acted as a guiding light through dark times for others, for Jesse herself, that presence is felt in the form of a chaperone on this record. More specifically, Jesse’s childhood babysitter inspired a motif on the record, “She truly was the person who taught me love,” muses Jesse, “When I think of the moment of death, I often think that it would just be going to her” Recording a new album was delayed for years, in the wake of two band members unexpectedly leaving after Marble Son. “Losing our rhythm section was heartbreaking,” she reflects. “ It sounds cliche, but we had to grieve that loss, and in doing so, we had to separate ourselves from making music for a while, because dare I say, music was painful at the time. It reminded us of what we’d lost. Bands are like family and I’d lost my family. So yes, I had to give up music in order to fall in love with music again.” The album title, Forever I’ve Been Being Born, hints towards this sense of cyclical surrender - “I’ve felt I’m constantly being born and constantly having to die. Or constantly dying in order to be reborn.” We live in a time of collective mourning, and to Jesse, “the lyrics make more sense now than when I was writing them. I think there was some kind of premonition going on… juxtaposed to what’s happening in the country, the emotional climate - this music speaks to the times we are living through.” The emotional feeling of the record can be summed up in a single line from the title track - “Eternities, they will crumble.” A quiet sense of acceptance runs through the record like a stream meandering towards the sea. It is with great pleasure and humility that we bring you, Forever, I’ve Been Being Born. Listen in the dark. “It’s that ancient light that wanders, Rapt in the splendor of your form, And to this I will surrender, Forever, I’ve been being born, Beneath an overarching, Melody, so forlorn.”
After forming in the mid `60s and gradually finding their sound, A Bolha carved out a unique spot in Brazil's underground scene with their mix of fuzzed-out riffs and a hard-hitting, soulful rhythm section. Sem Nada was released in 1971 during the era when Arnaldo Brandao was on bass, and when the band was at its heaviest and most trippy.

Punk Slime Recordings are proud to present the debut album from Gothenburg quintet Hollow Ship, the follow-up to the acclaimed debut 7” We Were Kings from late 2019. Due on April 3, Future Remains is a massive introduction from the band, showcasing their unique take on psychedelic rock which sounds like nothing else around, expertly produced by Hollow Ship together with Mattias Glavå (Dungen etc) on the majority of the album and working with Daniel Johansson on opening track “Take Off”.
A lot of new bands take their time in finding their feet; working their way slowly to the sound they want to project, and figuring out what it is they want to say gradually, as they go along. Not this one, though - both sonically and thematically, Future Remains sees them storm out of the gate with a crystal-clear mission statement. Somewhere in the space behind a well-worn eight-track recorder and the polish of present-day production, Hollow Ship have lift off.



PRAED return to Discrepant, after their 2017’s entry Fabrication of Silver Dreams (CREP44).
Known for their signature blend of Egyptian Shaabi, free jazz and improvisation, the Lebanese duo behind PRAED - Raed Yassin and Paed Conca - now assemble a full orchestra for the second time taking the music to a deeper, rooted level.
Following their 2020 release Live in Sharjah, also under the PRAED Orchestra! moniker, the duo now revisit their unique blend of Arabic heritage and free jazz sensibilities with an album that keeps pushing further into strange and unexpected directions.
The Dictionary of Lost Meanings is just that, seven fully composed pieces and large-scale improvisations, performed by an expanded ensemble of musicians from across the globe. The result is dense and playful, unpredictable but familiar, a record where Arabic rhythms and microtonal melodies collide playfully against electronics, warped vocals and orchestral textures.
It’s less about genre than about memory — like tuning into a radio station broadcasting from somewhere between the past and the future.
PRAED continue to blur the line between popular culture and experimental music in ways that feel both grounded and completely their own.

Ten years. Ten years of listening, searching, digging, sharing. Ten years of putting out records we felt mattered—because they told a story. Of a place, a moment, an impulse. Ten years of believing that music, especially the kind that doesn’t fit into any box, deserves more than just attention: it deserves care, time, and deep listening.
Bongo Joe started in Geneva, in a shop that became a label, in a city far more complex than it first appears. Beneath its polished banking façade, Geneva is layered and unpredictable. Beneath the luxury storefronts, the UN buildings, and the watch boutiques, thrives a unique scene shaped by migration, cultural collisions, political struggle, and dissonant sound. It’s here that we learned to improvise, adapt, and stay independent.
This is where the label was born—above all, to put music back at the center, in a time when everything moves too fast, gets monetized, sliced up, and repackaged. In that landscape, we believe a label should remain a space for curation, for storytelling, for quiet resistance — a place where we suggest rather than impose.
Over the past ten years, we’ve built a singular catalogue — a mosaic of archival revivals, contemporary projects, and unexpected encounters. Three main threads have shaped it.
First, the compilation of music from the past. Not to claim it, but to keep it moving. To shed light on forgotten repertoires, marginal histories, musical legacies too rich to be overlooked. To help them exist again, with dignity, and reconnect with new listeners who might never have had access otherwise.
Second, international collaborations. From Geneva, we’ve woven bonds with artists from all over the world — groups from Istanbul, Buenos Aires, London, Baku, Bogotá, Lilongwe, Les Gonaïves, or Amsterdam. Records crafted with love and boldness, in collaboration with like-minded labels, passionate curators, and artists who share our spirit. That international dimension makes us proud — it proves that you can create, exchange, and share sound sincerely, even from a city not exactly known as a musical capital.
And then there’s our local scene. Geneva, always. Because it’s where we live, where we grew up, and where we still believe in a city with a unique voice — full of friction, contradictions, and underground energy. We’ve supported projects from experimental circuits, squats, and clubs. Through our sub-label Les Disques Magnétiques, we’ve expanded the spectrum without losing the thread: defending the margins, giving space to those who don’t fit anywhere else.
Bongo Joe is also a musician. The label takes its name from George “Bongo Joe” Coleman (1923–1999), a street percussionist from Texas who stayed true to his independence for over thirty years. Turning down the offers of formal venues, he chose instead to play in the streets — banging out rhythms on an oil drum with raw charisma. His only album, recorded in 1968 in San Antonio, remains one of our most cherished records. Reissued by our friends at Mississippi Records, it carries a DIY spirit, radical freedom, and lyrical boldness far ahead of its time — a guiding light that continues to inspire us.
Bongo Joe is also a collective story. It’s about people. A team that grew over the years: from Cyril and Vincent at the helm to a tight-knit crew — Juliette, Quentin, Margot, Laurent, Baptiste. Together, we’ve kept this strange, handmade machine running. We’ve hand-stamped sleeves, lost test pressings, pressed the wrong masters on CD, found test pressings again, chased down funding, hauled stacks of records to the post office by bike, crossed our fingers for pressings to arrive on time, cursed at customs delays, botched digital releases, and felt a thrill watching “our” bands play on the stages of major festivals and the most forward-thinking clubs. We’ve been through chaos and joy. Together, we’ve made it this far. And with nearly 150 records in the catalogue, we look back on the road travelled with a mix of pride and disbelief.
This compilation isn’t a summary. It’s not a best of. It’s a trace. A selection among many possible ones. A snapshot of what we’ve tried to do since 2015: believe in music as connection, as memory, as compass. Thank you to everyone who’s supported, followed, or inspired us. Thanks to the institutions who’ve backed us. Thanks to our longtime partners: bookers, fellow labels, record stores, publicists, distributors, printers, engravers, pressing plants, sound engineers, photographers, designers. And most of all, thank you to the artists — without whom none of this would mean anything.
Ten years is a little, and a lot. We’re not done yet.



Today, Big Dada welcomes beloved producer and singer-songwriter Helado Negro (Roberto Carlos Lange) to the pioneering label’s storied roster. Known for crafting compassionate, atmospheric and experimental pop music, Lange ushers in a new chapter with the announcement of his new EP ‘The Last Sound On Earth’, set for release on November 7th.
Initially inspired by the question – what will the last sound I hear before I die will be? – the EP unfolds as a collection of songs embedded with ominous, often frenetic energy. This unease is amplified by Lange’s heavy use of electronics, echo and distortion, which lend a dazed, shell-shocked quality to his words – emphasising the intense feelings of dread and uncertainty that underscore his deep contemplation of a planet in crisis.
“When I wake up in the morning, I can listen to my ears tuning-in to the world around me. It feels like a blanket being pulled off my eardrums,” explains Lange. “I was watching Michael Snow’s - Wavelength (in increments 😅) while working on these songs and the room for interpretation of what I saw and heard felt large. Every time I watched it carved a new emotion out of me. Despair, hope and inspiration. I wanted to ask more of listeners, to want to take time — not just pause, but ask yourself can you untangle all of the mess and try again”
The EP’s lead-single and opening track “More” captures the soul-crushing pressure and isolation we can feel in a hyperconnected world, where despite being so well connected, we can all feel more alone than ever. “It’s about the day-to-day push and pull that can lead to being overwhelmed with more of everything,” says Lange.
The single is accompanied by a lyric video from renowned animator and filmmaker Annapurna Kumar, who is known for her blending of hand-drawn animation, stop-motion, CGI and 16mm filmmaking techniques, and has previously worked with the likes of Bon Iver and Beach House. She explains that: “The central metaphor of this video, the origami heart, represents a person processing their emotions. By focusing on a simple physical task like folding, the inner mind is freed to meditate subconsciously. I wanted to depict the mindset of someone who is a little bit overwhelmed by fleeting thoughts, but working to channel them into something positive.”
Elsewhere on ‘The Last Sound On Earth’, Lange examines systemic power structures, as on “Sender Receiver”, which contemplates the inherent violence and imbalance built into our technical terminology. or “Protector” – built around a classic jungle break – where he offers a cynical reflection on the broken notion that those in power are truly acting in our best interests and protection.
Despite the often heavy themes, the music itself finds Lange in uptempo territory, and closing tracks “Zenith” (the other side of nadir, the balance of the something and nothing) and "Don't Give It Up Now" (a song about holding on and fighting for change) attempt to transform Lange’s feelings into something positive and forward-looking. Though, as Lange puts it: “The doom is real, and the gloom is unfortunate; I'm not sure how to make this any lighter,” he has found relief through music and movement. “How can I dance to this grief?” he wonders. “It almost seems counterintuitive… but when I perform, I dance. I've found a way of moving my body on stage that gives me a direct, freeing feeling with the music.”
Never less than brimming with complex layers of emotion, ‘The Last Sound On Earth’ is the sound of an artist reckoning with the changing world around them and tentatively searching for a path forward. In doing so, he ultimately finds an answer to his own question:
“What is the last sound on earth? The last sound is love…That’s the sound I hope to hear.”

The second volume of Invisible Inc’s 10-year anniversary celebrations has landed, hot on the heels of the scorching first volume.
Where Volume 1 focussed on the dub-style, electronic and ambient side of the label’s output, the second volume leans towards the ‘psych’ side of the label.
As has been a consistent pattern with the label in its decade of existence is its ethos of releasing new and exclusive tracks as well as releasing on vinyl pre-existing tracks that only ever saw the light of day in the digital realm. This compilation is no different. Alongside exclusive new material from Anna vs June, E Ruscha V, Banda Magnética, Exotic Gardens, Kanot and a Coyote remix of Sordid Sound System we also have for the first time on vinyl two tracks by Hena and Futurum that went somewhat under the radar first time round and really deserved to be shared with the wider world.

Emotional Response is delighted to present Aaron Coyes (Peaking Lights / Leisure Connection) new project, as Exotic Gardens. An additional music universe as his love of dub expands to include new wave, goth and acid psychedelics across 5 catchy, bass heavy songs.
While the continuing journey of his duo band, Peaking Lights, with his wife Indra, earns plaudits and fans alike, his early years as a one-man lysergic music polymath that saw his youth in punk and hardcore bands, expanded during a mid-90s burst of “living in San Francisco” creative expansion, devouring music, genres, and influences for life.
Started as a sub-project to Peaking Lights and his personal dub excursions, Exotic Gardens pollinates a rich tapestry. Recording through the pandemic in their then home in Amsterdam, before being archived, assembled, and completed following the move back ‘home’ to the West Coast, California.
Re-embracing that love of his inner goth, the analogue warmth is all there, now featuring Coyes’ dub-languidity of stripped drum machines, widescreen bass, haunting guitar lines and an almost idle voice to peddle true, raw songs.
Combined, the pop layer of hooks and tight grooves instantly catch you. Opener and EP title, Drugs & TV is the perfect anthem for the Exotic Gardens sound, before the “dubwave” of Last Of The Light and Tonite shimmer that yearning melancholy of youth.
In the almost 10 minute dub house opus Organize Your Movement an appreciation and understanding of the psychoactive properties of the Roland 303 and 909, they also hark to a love of Industrial / Noise bands, a lineage from the death pulse of his cult project Rahdunes through to Sound Design and Sound System culture to the pop-dub psychedelics with Indra, now melded here to include a dark assault, whispering invocations and pulsing pads.
To close, Turn It On is a roaming multi-genre evocation, an exotic end from this constant troubadour, cassette junkie, record dealer, sound system builder, always looking to get back on the road, to live to roam.
“I turn it on, you lose your mind’.
Rat Heart’s debut album for Modern Love finds Tom Boogizm blurring genres with instinct and grit. Joined by Adam Sinclaire, Cansu Kandemir, Tha Payne, Ruby Conner and Juan Camilo, he weaves torch songs, DIY blues and cracked pop into something raw and compelling.
Opener ‘I H T’ sets the tone with its weary refrain and spectral flute, grounding the album’s mix of tenderness and unease. Kandemir’s smoky vocals glide through the ghostly shuffle of ‘Not 2Nite’ and ‘Senle’, while Ruby Conner’s spoken word adds bite to the funked-out ‘Real Hardcore Pleasure’. By the time Juan Camilo’s Spanish narration drifts through closer ‘IGOTDRONESINMYBONES’, the record has folded dream pop, post-punk and dub into a single, bruised vision.
A vivid, unclassifiable portrait of Northern soul, noise and nocturnal romance.
‘BMB x OBI II’ sees the continuation of the much sought after collaboration between Minnesota’s afro-psych powerhouse, Black Market Brass, and the young, visionary talent that is Obi Original. Black Market Brass follows the initial release of this partnership, ‘Battle Ready,’ as hard-hitting as they’ve started it. Both sides highlight and deliver the raw, tenacious attitudes that the two artists are known for individually with a song selection that spans a wider spectrum than the first installment. Drawing a direct line between the godfather of soul and the father of afrobeat, Obi Original wields the raucous 10-piece ensemble in a way that evokes the stage of Zaire ‘74. These tracks hit hard, stay heavy, and make no apologies.
The A-side, ‘If I Do My Own,’ is funk. Heavy on the one, this track showcases Obi’s band leadership, à la James Brown; if only you could see him dancing in the vocal booth. Stacked horns, a leader barking orders, and a rhythm section that won’t quit leads listeners to the land of the get-down. The energy stays high as Obi calls forward soloists, even picking up the guitar himself to show us how “he does his own.” ‘If I Do My Own’ is a track slated to make the dance hall shake, with horn and vocal hooks that will live rent free in your head well after last-call.
The B-side, ‘I No Be (Colonizer)’, in no way lets its foot off the gas as dance music is concerned. This song, however, sees BMB returning to their polyrhythmic roots, creating a multi-varied weave of time feels, meter construction, and rhythmic emphasis. That challenge is met and answered by Obi’s Ebo infused lyrics and horn melodies that wind around the vocal rather than merely serving as background. Halfway through the song, BMB’s three-member percussion section rips into a soli. Powerful, unembellished, and raw, the trio doesn’t pull any punches when delivering this rhythm break which propels the song into an unrelenting four-on-the-floor vamp featuring a guitar solo turned up to 11 that will dance you right out of your shoes.

The latest by iconic slowburn Australian duo HTRK is an elegant nine song suite of windswept emotion and heartbreak noir, crafted in skeletal arrangements of guitar, voice, metronomes, and FX. Inspired by a recent infatuation with “eerie and gothic country music,” Rhinestones moves from whispered lament to acoustic eulogy to downtempo vignettes, tracing muted embers of loss and lust through haunted city streets. Taking cues from the economy and brevity of western folk but skewed through a narcotic, nocturnal lens, the album maps enigmatic badlands of strung out beauty and lengthening shadows.
Nigel Yang cites friendship as a central muse, “particularly the forging of it, and its potential for new feelings of telepathy and trust.” Jonnine Standish’s wounded, alluring vocals echo similar mysteries of connection and unknown crossroads, poetic but direct, dream diaries faded with age and rain. The rhinestones of the title evoke the glittering plastic of cowboy glamor, yet “made precious somehow;” Standish cites as an example a baby blue star brooch from Texas, gifted to her “from a stoned friend on New Year’s Eve 10 years ago in Brighton – cheap keepsakes can be more valuable than diamonds.”
Even for a group as enduringly versatile as HTRK, Rhinestones is a revelation, condensing their lyrical alchemy to its simmering, magnetic essence. “Sunlight Feels Like Bee Stings,” “Reverse Déjà vu,” and “Gilbert and George” in particular are masterpieces of drama, delivery, and distillation, dried flowers clouded by smoke, the candle’s flame flickering but unforgotten: “Some things are not like the others / Some friends are not like the others / did I ever say / did I ever say / did I ever say thank you?”

Instrumental four-piece Yuuf return with a new EP ‘Mt. Sava’, out on Ninja Tune imprint Technicolour. The release follows their earlier 2025 EP ‘Alma’s Cove’, a six-track journey through natural soundscapes and quiet introspection.
Described by the band as the “spiritual sister to ‘Alma’s Cove’”, ‘Mt. Sava’ shifts the setting from lush coastal tranquility to the awe-inspiring scale of mountainous desert terrain - one that “lets the listener both explore the serenity of a night sky filled with stars far removed from human life and the brutality and fierceness of life in the desert” the band comment. “The name Mt. Sava comes from the place where we shot a Live Session of the full EP. It’s a breath-taking and canyon-like gorge that is often referred to as St. Sava Canyon”.

When Straight Ahead hit the shelves in 1974, it marked another bold chapter for Brian Auger’s Oblivion Express. The band—Steve Ferrone on drums, Barry Dean on bass, Jack Mills on guitar, and Lennox Langton on congas—was firing on all cylinders, pushing jazz fusion into fresh, uncharted territory.
Critics took notice, with Billboard praising the album as “excellent in development and inventiveness,” and it found its way onto multiple charts at once.
The journey begins with “Beginning Again,” a lively opener built on Langton’s congas and Ferrone’s muscular groove. Auger’s electric piano sparkles here, immediately setting the album’s adventurous tone. Then comes their take on Wes Montgomery’s “Bumpin’ On Sunset.” Darker in mood and drenched in atmosphere, Auger stretches out into improvisation while still honoring Montgomery’s spirit. The interpretation struck such a chord that, years later, Wes’s widow wrote to Auger to tell him it was her husband’s favorite version of his much-loved tune.
The title track, “Straight Ahead,” shifts gears into funk, showcasing the group’s ability to slide effortlessly between genres. “Change” pushes further, blending rock’s raw energy with jazz’s improvisational freedom, driven by Auger’s command of the Hammond organ. To close “You’ll Stay in My Heart” brings the tempo down with a tender, soulful ballad—an intimate ending to an album full of bold explorations.
At the time, reviewers hailed the record as a gem. One called it “a minor masterpiece of incredibly engaging and melodic keyboard-centric jazz rock fusion. ” Another singled out “Bumpin’ On Sunset” as “the best reason to own this recording.”
Half a century later, Straight Ahead still resonates. It captures that fertile moment in the 1970s when jazz, rock, and funk were colliding, and artists like Auger were busy redrawing the map. To this day, it stands as proof of Auger’s fearless curiosity and his knack for breaking boundaries—music that looked forward then, and still feels ahead of its time now.

Recorded during that unique period in the late ‘60s when jazz, blues and rock musicians found common ground in London’s vibrant subterranean clubs, 1968s Definitely What! was the second of the run of the four ground-breaking Trinity albums. Showcasing Auger's open-minded approach and his masterful organ & piano skills, the album whips up a rich blend of jazz, R&B, psychedelic touches and soulful grooves, complemented by the tight, dynamic rhythm section of Dave Ambrose (bass) and Clive Thacker (drums).
After the previous year’s Open (1967) with its 'Summer of Love' feel and its melting pot of Mod R&B, cover versions of US soul hits led by Julie Driscoll’s inimitable vocals, Auger considered Definitely What! as his first solo album, and so he travelled deeper into jazz territory, balancing original pieces with audacious covers. Tracks include versions of Mose
Allison's 'If You Live' and of Wes Montgomery’s ‘Bumpin’ On Sunset’.
“I got a letter from Wes's wife,” recalls Auger, “saying that it was Wes' favourite version. Can you believe that, Wes's wife wrote to me!
Elsewhere, we find a dramatic re-arrangement of The Beatles’ ‘A Day In The Life’ complete with orchestral strings and a punchy horn section, alongside a supercharged version of Booker T & The MGs’ ‘Red Beans & Rice’.'George Bruno Money' was dedicated to Auger's drinking pal of the era, Zoot Money, and 'John Browns Body' both combine prime Hammond jazz with the very British surrealist humour that was in vogue at the time. The title track goes further “out” in a sprawling instrumental piece rooted in experimentation. Brian himself specifically states in his sleeve notes that his concept “lies along a straight line drawn between pop and jazz and aims at the 'fusion' of both elements” - ‘fusion’ at that time was not even a recognised musical term, further reinforcing Auger’s credentials as an innovator.
That forward-thinking approach was developed in Open and Definitely What! would come to fruition a year later with the release of Streetnoise (1969) featuring the Trinity and Julie Driscoll. At the time, the move to bring together jazz, rhythm & blues, folk, gospel and pop into a progressive new sound may have annoyed the purists and confused the less open- minded, but these albums stand today as a testament to Auger’s unique position within British music, foreshadowing his future 1970s explorations with the Oblivion Express and beyond. Definitely What! remains a fascinating snapshot of 1960s musical experimentation - raw, eclectic, and unapologetically Auger!
This new Strut reissue is curated by Impressive Collective’s Greg Boraman in partnership with Brian and Karma Auger. The album is remastered by Cosmic Audio from the original tapes, and is packaged in Brian's favourite version of the 3 different sleeves the album was originally issued in.

Chicago Underground Duo is the long-running collaborative project of composer/trumpeter/electronicist Rob Mazurek (Exploding Star Orchestra, Isotope 217, New Future City Radio with Damon Locks) and composer/drummer/mbiraist Chad Taylor (jaimie branch’s Fly or Die, Marshall Allen’s Ghost Horizons, Luke Stewart’s Silt Trio). Hyperglyph is their first album in 11 years, and 8th in the absolute cabinet of wonders that is the Chicago Underground Duo.
The pair have played music together in a multitude of formations over nearly three decades, including their ongoing partnership in Mazurek’s large-format-skyward-expressionism vehicle Exploding Star Orchestra, in the expanded Chicago Underground Trio & Quartet (with guitarist Jeff Parker), and in a plethora of other assemblages. The early albums by the Duo have proven to be embryonic blueprints for the avant-jazz / electronic / indie rock hybridizations of the time, making them majorly important moments in the articulation of the “jazz” dimensionality of the then-burgeoning "post rock" sound. That sound, of course, was being transmitted far and wide due to the success of these groups as well as Mazurek’s Isotope 217 project with Jeff Parker, and the Chicago Underground’s frequent collaborators in Tortoise.
But the sounds being created by this extended family are and were far from static. Just as most of the still-working artists born of that Chicago era have evolved, reconfigured, and grown, Chicago Underground Duo has undergone a number of musical moltings, with the project always in the background of disparate individual aural investigations — always an option, always an outlet. As the project drops off and picks back up, the concurrent personal evolutions of Mazurek and Taylor make the Duo a true reflection of their own lives and friendship.
“Rob is my longest collaborator and also one of my best friends,” says Taylor, who first performed with Mazurek at a club in Chicago in 1988, aged 15.
“When it feels right we do it,” says Mazurek of the gaps in duo activity. “We have worked together and have been friends for a long time. This creates a kind of continuity not only in the music, but in our lives.”
Musically, there are certainly internalized nods here to AACM composers like Wadada Leo Smith, or albums like Don Cherry & Ed Blackwell’s “Mu” and El Corazon, but the songs of Hyperglyph exemplify Mazurek and Taylor’s individualities while also addressing another longtime influence on the Chicago Underground Duo sound — the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost of extreme studio editing in jazz-adjacent music, Miles Davis and Teo Macero’s Bitches Brew, In A Silent Way, and Get Up With It.
“Post production has always been a big part of our process,” says Taylor.
“Sometimes it just flows and we one-take a thing,” Mazurek elaborates. “Other things take time to ferment. We hit those hard in the post production.”
International Anthem engineer Dave Vettraino was indispensable as part of this process, recording and mixing the entire album at IARC HQ in Chicago. “We are very open and free in the studio,” says Mazurek. “Working with Dave is a joy because he is so intuitive and open with his approach as well. We can try anything with him. In this way it is more like a trio than a duo.”
Couple this trio’s take on the now classic cut-and-recut production techniques of Davis/Macero with Mazurek and Taylor’s longtime interest in deep electronic sounds (think Bernard Parmegiani, Morton Subotnick, Xenakis, Eliane Radigue, Plux Quba), transformative processing (think Autechre, King Tubby, Mouse On Mars, Carl Craig) and we can finally get close to understanding just where the duo lands in this lineage — this ongoing narrative each individual finds themselves in whether they see it or not. The Chicago Underground Duo, it seems, sees it.
While the musical language of Mazurek and Taylor can certainly be clocked in the slew of projects that they participate in together, the sound of a Chicago Underground Duo album is singular among them. Hyperglyph is no exception and could even be considered a distillation of that intuitive yet complex sound. A key can be found in the title of the album itself: highly complex geometric structures which can seem overly complex at first but, when thousands are arrayed in 3D space and with user training and adaptation, can significantly enhance perception and information assimilation and lead to new knowledge and insights.
The album opener “Click Song” kicks off with a blown-out horn chant from Mazurek, doubled by tuned bells and nestled into a muscular and symmetrical stereo-overdubbed polyrhythm from Taylor. Synthesized bass pulls our ears along cyclically, dropping in and out to almost severe dynamic effect while Mazurek and the subtle-yet-persistent bells elaborate upon the melody before ultimately departing from their repetitive psalm in favor of improvisation. It’s all held together by the steady, deep, chest-thump boom of Taylor’s kick drum pattern.
“There has always been a lot of African influence in the rhythms we play,” says Taylor. “With this record, specifically, we utilize rhythms from Nigeria, Mali, Zimbabwe, and Ghana.” Taken as a whole, spiritually, this introductory three-minute stomper lives somewhere between a Tuareg wedding and the most hypnotic moments of the click songs of Northern Africa.
Title track “Hyperglyph” follows, and begins with a chromatic moving harmony played by Mazurek on the RMI electric piano, an instrument famously utilized on Miles Davis’ groundbreaking Filles de Kilimanjaro. The vibe here, though, is one of unyielding, trancelike repetition. The trumpet introduces the time, with Taylor's chunky smacking rhythm hitting hard from the get go. Eventually, the tune undergoes a transformation, with the back and forth of melody and rhythm hitting a fever pitch. A pitch-shifted trumpet becomes a New Orleans march baritone. Dennis Bovell-style dub sounds enter (or, maybe, reveal themselves) at the start of the song’s final movement, followed by wordless incantations. Swelling and saturated, the track sounds as if it’s about to tear itself apart. Static pulsing merges and overtakes the recorded percussion to present a new rhythm of hissing electronics — the harnessed wailing of the unleashed ghost in the machine. A spiritual awakening from the bowels of the earth.
“Hemiunu”, a Chad Taylor composition, is a waltz based around a simple piano figure repeated throughout. A folk melody from anywhere, the kind that’s been in the air for as long as anyone can remember. One might imagine the melody played clawhammer on an Appalachian afternoon, bowed somberly on the Chinese erhu, or hummed nonchalantly on the factory line. From the jump, Taylor’s percussion threads itself into the sound of a well-worn upright piano as the high register is haunted in wide stereo by that roiling RMI electric piano in octaves, alternately dubby and harplike. Enter Mazurek with another folk-like melodic phrase. Pause. Again. Pause. Leaving room for the now densely waltzing bouquet to bloom before diving deep into laser-sharp Lee Morganesque territory with a wildly vibrating high trumpet cry, but with a tone Mazurek owns completely.
The deeper reference for Mazurek’s most untethered emotional playing is his late friend and mentor Bill Dixon, an extraction most apparent in the three-part "Egyptian Suite.” At the start of part one (“The Architect”) a cyclical pattern from Taylor becomes a bed for Mazurek’s repeating, descending, synthetic-Egyptian scaled theme. This call to action dissolves into the second movement, “Triangulation of Light,” where Taylor’s bowed cymbals set the stage for an exploration of microtonal color with and against the occasional joining and un-joining of tones that stretch the frequencies to their limits from Mazurek's open and half muted trumpet. Like a tornado siren in the distance, breaking through the membrane of storm clouds on the horizon, in search of another siren.
The third and final movement, “Architectonics of Time,” announces itself with free rolling swaths of percussion from Taylor à la Robert Frank Pozar’s mind-bending percussion on The Bill Dixon Orchestra’s classic Intents and Purposes. Here, though, the lineup is limited to two, with no overdubs or post-production. Taylor's singular style and Mazurek's tonal painting coalesce into a maelstrom of intervallic tone and beat before the final repeat of the lead melody from the suite’s first movement. It truly feels like reaching the summit. It’s pure and free duo interaction, the symbiosis of 30 years.
“Succulent Amber,” the final track on Hyperglyph, could fit just as easily on side two of Autobahn. After a brief modular synth-induced pan-harmonic melody shift, a steady kalimba is joined by the gentle intermittent raindrop-melodicism of the RMI electric piano in this understated final duo performance, unadorned by further studio arrangement. It’s a full-on comedown moment after the intensity of “Egyptian Suite,” though rather than winding down or petering out, here the Chicago Underground Duo still manage to point toward some kind of incoming mystery with four sudden-yet-patient ascending chords on the low-register of the RMI electric piano just before the curtains close. The piano notes end on a leading tone, leaving the resolution to the listener.
Once we’ve climbed the mountain, they remind us, we have to deal with what’s on the other side.

Different Rooms is a collection of songs and musical motifs we composed, edited, and collaged in the weeks between late 2024 and early 2025. Most of the recorded material was performed during that editing process, except for live performances taken from improvisations we recorded with Jeff Parker and Josh Johnson some time in 2023.
In our typical process, much of our material is collaged and combines moments of live improvisation, field recordings, and in-studio experimentation. This record, however, marks an evolution in our approach to studio production.
Our studios are side-by-side. When we were writing this album, you might have found us tracking viola stacks in one studio while, in the other, we were writing through-composed themes and rearranging the material. Granular synthesis and tape manipulation are key tools we use to create variation and movement in a composition. This process often yields surprising results, capturing the emotion but expressing it in unexpected ways. It feels essential that we embrace a bit of chance.
In contrast to our first album, Recordings from the Åland Islands, we wanted this music to feel very present. Where Recordings was intended to transport you to another place, Different Rooms is meant to meet you where you are. It’s a decidedly urban album. The field recordings were captured on train platforms, in city streets, in rooms at home, and intentionally paint a quotidian sonic image, blurring the line between what you hear in your own environment and what is on the record.
The song cycle is set in palindromic sequence, figuratively, with certain pieces (reflected) by a reprised or recurring motif that is often reimagined with new instrumentation.
The sonic and temporal abstraction between what is performed in real-time versus what is recorded, manipulated, and collaged reinforces our intent to collect the works under the title Different Rooms, which literally expresses the way the material was recorded in different rooms while reminding us that our shared experience of present time is also one that is asynchronous, historied, and complex.
