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Eje Eje, the orbiting side project of Şatellites founder and multi-instrumentalist Itamar Kluger, shares ‘Primordial Soup’, his second album on Batov Record, stirring an even wider pot of influences from East to West that defies genre. Kluger first achieved international success with six–piece Turkish psychedelic rock evangelists, the Şatellites, whose enviable catalogue has won them support around the world, from KEXP in Seattle to BBC Radio 6 Music, and FIP in France. Kluger launched his solo project, Eje Eje, with the 2023 ‘Five Seasons’ LP, playing the majority of instruments himself and refining his production chops. Kluger’s blend of traditional Mediterranean and Middle Eastern music with psych, funk, dub, and beat production, culminated in strong support from BBC Radio 6 Music, BBC Radio 2, and Songlines. Much like its predecessor, ‘Primordial Soup' was largely self-recorded by Kluger, blending meticulous studio work, recalling DJ Shadow or early Four Tet, with raw, expressive performances - mainly himself on strings, bass guitar, percussion, and keys, including a new recently acquired microtonal keyboard - perfect for exploring Eastern musical scales, plus musical friends such as drummer Raz Man of Sababa 5, Şatellites and Project Gemini fame. Taking its name from the scientific theory on the origins of life, ‘Primordial Soup’ is as much about sonic experimentation as it is a metaphor for existence itself. For Kluger, the title represents both a philosophical question and a creative mission. “‘Primordial Soup’ is a scientific theory about how life began - thick mixtures of organic matter that, with the sun’s energy, formed self-replicating systems”, Kluger explains. “I still feel sometimes we are just some kind of walking soup bound by a skin balloon”. The album mirrors this idea in its fusion of disparate elements - a bubbling mix of Turkish percussion, psych guitars, dub textures, synths, drum machines, and Middle Eastern musical scales - forming a cohesive yet unpredictable whole. “This album is also a thick mixture of many things, a primal fusion of sounds that exist together only in my imagination, with a potential to come to life”. Kluger began work on Primordial Soup in October 2023, though many ideas had been gestating long before. The process was shaped by both creative compulsion and emotional necessity: “It was a very hard time. Making this album felt like something I had to do to stay sane. I hope it came out banging like my heart did at that time”. Album opener, “Oyun Çorbası” is a playful fusion of Turkish folk and indie rock textures. Its title is a wordplay on Oyun Havaları (traditional dance tunes) and çorba (soup), reflecting the track’s mix of influences. A tight, marshy groove from drummer Raz Man drives the rhythm, while a phased baglama riff leads, layered with swirling keys into a hazy, cymbal-driven bridge. Drawing on the spirit of Ottoman-era dance music but twisted into something uniquely modern, with a Stone Roses meets Turkish folk twist. “The Bride” is a collaboration between Eje Eje and rising flautist, percussionist and multi-instrumentalist Elad Kimhi. Inspired by Lebanese weddings, the track blends tradition with dancefloor energy. Known for his work with Firqat El Nur Orchestra, Sharif, among others, Kimhi brings a deep understanding of Mediterranean music, from Andalusian to Moroccan and Turkish. Middle Eastern synths fly across the funk driven groove, arguably like Omar Souleyman if he made boogie. Brighter in tone than much of the album, poppier but with a psychedelic twist, “The Bride” was made with one thing in mind: parties. Similarly, the uptempo “Puzmak” has a highly celebratory feeling and is set to wreak havoc on dancefloors and parties. Middle Eastern horns lead the track, but carried by heavy percussion, a solid bass groove, and subtle drum machine programming. “Horrorizon”, is heavy in almost every sense — dark, cinematic, and immersive. Relentless, languid drums, a hypnotic bassline, and harsh bouzouki textures create a foreboding atmosphere, evoking a deep sense of an ominous future. Think early DJ Shadow with a pile of Turkish psych wax. Kluger imagines it as a kind of “riding song” for “an old carriage wobbling its way down a muddy road into the unknown night”, recalling “the alertness in your guts that something isn’t right about where humanity is heading”. From brooding cinematic rides to joyous wedding bangers, ‘Primordial Soup’ explores what it means to be alive, connected, and creative in turbulent times and cements Eje Eje as one of the most exciting voices fusing Middle Eastern traditions with cutting-edge beat culture. Whether on the dancefloor or in headphones, this is music that moves.
"Yasoka" (Night Song) by Suishou No Fune is a live recording captured late at night in Beijing’s UFO Space in August 2024. The album features five deeply atmospheric tracks blending psychedelic improvisation with ethereal vocals and guitar. A haunting meditation on night, memory, and emotional resonance.
"UNDERGROUND SPIRIT 20 – Faraway Thunder" is a live recording by Suishou No Fune featuring drummer Koji Shimura, captured in Tokyo in May 2025. The album blends psychedelic rock and free improvisation in a deeply emotional tribute to Matt Zaun. Ethereal guitar layers and haunting vocals evoke distant storms and spiritual resonance.
Counter Culture Chronicles is proud to announce the release of a remarkable archival discovery: Allen Ginsberg – En Route To Gent, a previously unreleased recording capturing the legendary Beat poet Allen Ginsberg in an extraordinarily candid and intimate setting. This unique audio document presents Ginsberg interviewed in Amsterdam, traveling en route to Gent, and finally performing at the concert hall, offering an unprecedented glimpse into the mind and artistry of one of America's most influential poets. This extraordinary tape features Ginsberg with his lifelong partner Peter Orlovsky, alongside prominent figures from the European literary scene: Dutch poet Simon Vinkenoog, who served as Ginsberg's translator and was a key figure in the Dutch "Fifties Movement", and Dutch Beat poet and artist Harry Hoogstraten, known for his collaborations with international literary figures. Throughout the recording, Ginsberg displays the remarkable candor and spontaneity that made him a defining voice of his generation. Far from a formal interview, this is an intimate portrait of the poet in conversation, revealing his thoughts on poetry, politics, and the human condition with characteristic honesty and insight. The tape captures Ginsberg not only speaking but also singing and playing, demonstrating the performative dimension of his work that made him such a compelling live presence. Vinkenoog was European Beat personified, serving as Ginsberg's translator and publishing the first substantial Dutch translation of Ginsberg's poems. Orlovsky, Ginsberg's lifelong companion and fellow poet, was a central figure in the Beat Generation, portrayed by Jack Kerouac as the saintly Simon Darlovsky in Desolation Angels. Hoogstraten was a veteran Dutch poet and artist whose work appeared in publications from Rolling Stone to The East Village Other. This recording represents a convergence of American and European counterculture movements, capturing a moment when Beat poetry was finding new audiences and interpretations across the Atlantic. What makes this recording particularly special is its unguarded nature. Ginsberg speaks with the same directness and vulnerability that characterized his greatest poems, including Howl and Kaddish. The presence of Orlovsky adds an intimate dimension, while Vinkenoog and Hoogstraten provide the European perspective that enriches the conversation. For scholars of Beat literature, this tape offers invaluable insight into Ginsberg's working methods and philosophical outlook. For general listeners, it provides an accessible entry point into the world of one of America's most important poets, presented in his own voice and words. This is essential listening for anyone interested in Beat literature, 20th-century poetry, or the international counterculture movements that shaped modern literary expression.
Unknown Mortal Orchestra present a limited 12" drawing from 70s and 80s Italian horror & Black Sabbath. "UMO’s 'CURSE' EP reflects these cursed times we find ourselves in. Taking inspiration from Italian horror films of the 1970s and 1980s, the six songs on the release are as cathartic a listen as the band has ever recorded. Featuring both abrasive, Black Sabbath inspired riffs on “BOYS WITH THE CHARACTERISTICS OF WOLVES” as well as the laid back, intricate guitar playing UMO is maybe most famous for on “DEATH COMES FROM THE SKY”, the CURSE EP is the perfect soundtrack to your next confrontation with the void."
Highest grade sand trampling proto-Goa trance invocations from Alexis Le Tan & Joakim’s prized Parisian project Full Circle, hailing the likes of Chris & Cosey, early Nu Groove, and more ancient ritualist spirits, on a new set of lush, buoyant steppers and sidewinders for Good Morning Tapes.
After leaving loosey goosey dancers hanging for a few years since their coveted Good Morning Tapes editions, Full Circle pick up exactly where the ‘Further Knowhere’ mixtape left us in a utopian 3rd place slipstream. ‘Beyond Knowhere’ pursues a particular late ‘80s/early ‘90s dragon, and in return answers a certain dancefloor need for music that propels both body and spirit with an effortless sensuality that’s lesser heard in clubs nowadays.
Perhaps most notably they emphasise the influence of Chris & Cosey over that era in lead ace ‘Odd Perceptions’ in the lushest whorl of dubbed-out 909, sitar, and overtone singing for 8 minutes practically guaranteed to trigger sweat and palpatations. If you’re not feeling the frisson by the time of its bassline coda 7 mins deep, you may need to see a doctor.
Chakras aligned, they continue to elevate the senses with the pendulous acid stepper ‘Painting Noise’, reframing a vocal sample - “take this brother, may it serve you well”, as also found on Major Problems’ Overdose’ - in a tripper early trance-steppers style riding gunky acid bass and head-smashing FX, before taking it down a gear to the Konders-esque digi-dub chug of ’Sharp Water’, again rubbing Nu Groove influence with a damn effective, psychedelic steez.
Big tunes!
A captivating deep cut from the golden age of Italian library music, Il Ponte Dell’Asia stands as one of Piero Umiliani’s most evocative and exotic soundscapes. Originally released in 1967 as a private pressing for Italian the TV documentary by Corrado Sofia, this elusive gem blends Far Eastern motifs with the elegance of mid-century European jazz and the textured experimentation that defines Umiliani’s best work.
On Il Ponte Dell’Asia, Umiliani constructs a cinematic bridge between continents, layering modal melodies, sinuous flutes, shimmering vibraphones, and richly orchestrated strings over hypnotic rhythms and subtly psychedelic touches. The result is a masterful fusion of East-meets-West that channels both travelogue fantasy and avant-garde sophistication — a rare synthesis of traditional instrumentation and modernist sensibility. Exported from the original tapes, pressed on high-quality vinyl and with faithfully restored artwork, this reissue offers a long-overdue return to one of Umiliani’s most immersive sonic journeys, an essential for fans of Italian library music, film scores, and genre-defying jazz. Rediscover a lost jewel from the vault of one of Italy’s most visionary composers — where bamboo forests, smoky clubs, and dreamlike landscapes converge in sound.
Released in 1970, Funkadelic’s self-titled debut was a radical collision of psychedelic rock, gospel, blues, and soul — a chaotic, genre-defying statement that redefined the possibilities of Black music. Where Motown aimed for polish and crossover appeal, Funkadelic dove headfirst into distortion, improvisation, and spiritual ambiguity, offering a sound as gritty and unpredictable as the era itself. Backed by a ferocious young band — including Eddie Hazel, Billy Bass Nelson, Tawl Ross, Tiki Fulwood, and Mickey Atkins — the album rejected convention in favor of raw groove and existential noise. Tracks like “I Got a Thing…” and “What Is Soul” pulse with menace and joy, bookended by surreal monologues that echo both street philosophy and space-age gospel. As part of Org Music’s Westbound Records reissue series, this edition restores the album’s full impact across multiple formats. The deluxe double LP, mastered at 45RPM directly from tape by Dave Gardner at DSG Mastering, offers the highest fidelity to date. Gardner and restoration specialist Catherine Vericolli archived and restored the original master tapes at 54 Sound Studios in Ferndale, Michigan, with assistance from in-house engineer Nick King. A single LP edition, cut from high-resolution tape transfers, is also available, alongside CD, cassette, and digital formats. A sonic revolution in its time and a lasting influence ever since, Funkadelic remains a groundbreaking testament to music without rules and freedom without limits.
There’s nothing more resonant than the human voice. It contains timbres and textures no other instrument can replicate, but most importantly, it’s immensely powerful: One voice can spark an uprising, but many voices in unison create a movement. Nya Gazelle Brown, Sabrina Cunningham, and Piya Malik, the three women who front NYC punk-chic, discodelic band Say She She, understand how to wield such power. They soar above irresistible grooves, locking together in gorgeous three-part harmonies that cleverly disguise the feeling of righteous rebellion permeating their music. Theirs is a multi-pronged call to action: Move your body, expand your mind, and recognize your strength. Say She She, whose name pays homage to Nile Rodgers, made Cut & Rewind, their third record, almost immediately after wrapping the tours supporting 2023’s Silver. The band’s trajectory has skyrocketed over the past few years, earning praise from The Guardian, the LA Times, MOJO, and NPR, and touring with Thee Sacred Souls. They have performed at venues like the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles and the Roundhouse in London, as well as festivals including Glastonbury, Austin City Limits, and Pickathon. They’ve long mined the sounds of the '70s and '80s, citing Minnie Riperton, Rotary Connection, Liquid Liquid, and ESG as influences. Cut & Rewind expands their scope, incorporating elements of Lonnie Liston Smith and the Lijadu Sisters into their sonic palette while channeling the spirit of contemporaries like Lambrini Girls and Amyl and the Sniffers. It all combines into a psychedelic soundscape of pulsing disco beats, astral whistle tones, and earwormy melodies. Over a couple of short, intense sessions, Brown, Cunningham, and Malik gathered with their rhythm section, Dan Hastie, Sam Halterman, Dale Jennings, and Sergio Rios—all members of cult funk band Orgone—at Rios’s North Hollywood studio, Killion Sound. Say She She’s writing practice is an exercise in presence, as each of the three channels their front-of-mind thoughts and feelings into cathartic transmissions. There’s an element of spontaneity at play, informed by the players’ affinity for The Meters-style jamming and the studio discipline of Booker T and The M.G.’s, as well as Malik’s time in a post-punk improv band with Liquid Liquid’s Sal Principato. “The writing room is very free,” says Brown. “We’re able to just be, and fully express ourselves.” They’d write a song and record it that day, cutting the instrumental to tape no more than three times, choosing their favorite take, and immediately laying vocals. To preserve that raw, spur-of-the-moment vibe, they stick to a hard and fast rule: “We never record anything that we can’t recreate live,” explains Malik. “It’s the same thing when the three of us are up on stage that happens in the studio.” Each of the 12 tracks on Cut & Rewind crackles with palpable energy, practically daring you to keep your head and hips still. The cosmic boogie of “Chapters” ripples out into the ether, while the no-wave throb of “Shop Boy” glides like rollerskates through a warehouse loft. The silky “Under the Sun,” written in solidarity with the 2023 Writers Guild of America strikes, shines like a sun flare in a camera lens. The three vocalists deftly weave around each other, sometimes creating an interlocking rhythmic lattice (part of a technique they’ve dubbed the “Say She She sigh”), sometimes coalescing in a heavenly triad. But a politically charged undercurrent buzzes beneath the lush, strobing sonics, giving these jams an added heft. In a time of political turmoil where community is more necessary than ever, Say She She offers a particular salve: protest music dressed up as a sweat-dripping, body-moving, consciousness-raising good time. “She Who Dares” is a simmering slice of psych-funk that imagines a near-future dystopia wherein women’s rights have been decimated globally. The group started writing the piece as a way to exorcize a notably insulting male interaction, but it morphed into a more universal, fist-raised anthem. It starts with Cunningham’s voice filtered through a megaphone, explaining how hundreds of thousands of women have suddenly been imprisoned across the world. “It feels scary, setting a Handmaid’s Tale tone,” explains Cunningham, “but ultimately, it’s meant to be empowering for other women.” The song doesn’t linger in fear; instead, it seizes and becomes that megaphone, issuing a chant of encouragement to keep up the good fight. Early album highlight “Disco Life,” whose unbreakable beat and shimmying tambourine live up to the name, is one of Cut & Rewind’s most overtly political cuts. It examines the 1979 “Disco Demolition Night” at Comiskey Stadium in Chicago, a publicity event-turned-riot organized by shock jock Steve Dahl. Attendees were encouraged to bring a disco record in exchange for cheap admission, which Dahl would then burn in a dumpster—already an implicit attack on a genre fronted by Black people, queer people, and women—but the crowd brought and destroyed anything made by Black musicians. The lyrics decry the event’s racism and homophobia, understanding that the roots of the riot still linger. Say She She knows a better world is possible, and uses “Disco Life” to manifest “a playing field where all are free.” Cut & Rewind is Say She She at their most vital, both outside of time and profoundly of the now. It urges us to stay present and attentive to the challenges we must endure, but offers a way to recharge our collective battery. It’s a shimmering, celebratory epic, equally suited for the dancefloor and the demonstration.
For many bands, having all their gear stolen would be catastrophic. For Third Ear Band, this unfortunate 1968 incident opened a portal to beneficial change that would ultimately define one of British experimental music's most singular statements. Now, Antarctica Starts Here presents the first-time vinyl reissue of the group's self-titled 1970 sophomore album - often called Elements due to its elemental track titles - complete with new liner notes by Dave Segal that illuminate this remarkable chapter in acoustic psychedelia's evolution. Leader and percussionist Glen Sweeney viewed the theft as a sign to alter Third Ear Band's approach entirely, switching to exclusively acoustic instruments just as electrified psychedelia reached full bloom. Alongside Paul Minns (oboe, recorder, whistles, flutes) and Richard Coff (violin, viola), Sweeney struck out on an individualistic path that blended Indian raga with chamber music - without plugging in. Following their powerful 1969 debut Alchemy, which established them as a solemn force in the global underground, Third Ear Band's self-titled album represented the full flowering of their alchemical vision. The four tracks - "Air," "Earth," "Fire," and "Water" - correspond to the basic components of medieval European alchemists' doctrines, creating what Dave Segal describes as "epic, trance-inducing jams that suggested secret knowledge of infinity." What distinguished Third Ear Band from their contemporaries was their peculiar estrangement from the counterculture on a sonic level. As Segal notes, "Even outré contemporaries such as Comus and Jan Dukes De Grey sounded like pop groups compared to TEB." Having no traditional front person or electric instruments, the group forged a path that flowered most vividly on this album. The methodology was deceptively simple yet profoundly effective: "Sweeney laid down a steady pulse on hand drums, while Minns and Coff wove in melismatic patterns on oboe, recorder, violin and viola." This approach created what Segal describes as "a communal transcendence in sound – a hypnotic swirl that doesn't swing, but rather wafts and undulates with cloistered beauty." The album's four elemental compositions exist in what Segal calls "an eternal now, a perpetual wow. It is an ouroboros of organic textures, seemingly magicked into the air spontaneously, yet possessing a rigor that suggests long hours in the lab." Without electricity, Third Ear Band somehow "burrowed deeper into your consciousness" than their amplified contemporaries. Originally released on Harvest in 1970, this album has remained out of print on vinyl for decades, making ASH Records' reissue a significant event for collectors of British experimental music. The influence of Third Ear Band's acoustic approach can be traced through subsequent generations of artists from Popol Vuh to Trad, Gras Och Stenar and beyond - groups that understood how acoustic instruments could achieve psychedelic transcendence without electronic amplification. This reissue preserves the album's original four-part structure while presenting it with the sonic clarity that reveals the intricate interplay between Sweeney's rhythmic foundation and the melodic explorations of Minns and Coff. The inclusion of Dave Segal's comprehensive liner notes provides crucial context for understanding Third Ear Band's unique position within the experimental music landscape.
SQUANDERERS return to deliver "Skantagio", the follow up to their debut album, If a Body Meet a Body (Shimmy-Disc, 2024). “We were in the studio for one day, and performed all pieces on that first LP prior to breaking for lunch. Skantiago contains the pieces we performed after lunch,” says bassist and Shimmy-Disc founder, Kramer. “We may be SQUANDERERS, but we don’t dally. And we don’t labour over our spontaneous inventions while we’re in the studio.”
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.
Self-proclaimed as one of DINTE’s faves, the Pinoy Rock mixtape, originally broadcast on NTS, is graduated to cassette with nearly 90 minutes of haunted country blooz and folk rock from beyond the usual hotspots.
As ever, the selections enamour to a lesser-raked zone of interest bound to resonate with lovers of this sound’s roots in US prisms, and appears like a parallel to the sorts of far away but strangely familiar sounds surfacing via reissues of Leong Lau or DJ Sundae & Julien Dechery’s Sky Girl’ set.
Admittedly we, and probably many others, have no clue to vintage Filipino music, slo it’s a pleasure to allow DINTE do the heavy lifting, presenting a carousel of laid-back, hook-laden charms sung in Filipino and Tagalog and mostly erring to Western tunings, but also laced with subtle traces of their far South Eastern heritage.
Pastoral folk rock sits shoulder to shoulder with soulful ballads, purring folk shares space with more symphonic works that unusually recall Arabic classical, while psych rock power jams give way to balmy chuggers, eyes-closed lead guitar solos, and slow but hard blues rock and slide guitars, all with DINTE’s reliable seal of approval.
Available on vinyl for the very first time: “The Trance Of Seven Colors” by master Gnawa musician MALEEM MAHMOUD GHANIA and free jazz legend PHAROAH SANDERS. Produced by BILL LASWELL and according to The Attic “one of the most important albums of Gnawa trance music released in the ‘90s”.
Originally released in 1994 on BILL LASWELL’s AXIOM imprint, “The Trance Of Seven Colors” is the meeting of two true musical masters: MALEEM MAHMOUD GHANIA (1951 – 2015), son of the master of Gnawa music MALEEM BOUBKER GHANIA and the famous clairvoyant and "moqaddema" A'ISHA QABRAL, and a master of the traditional Gnawa style in his own right. MAHMOUD learned this craft as a youth along with his brothers, walking from village to village, performing ceremonies with his father BOUBKER and was one of the few masters (Maleem) who continued to practice the Gnawa tradition strictly for healing (the central ritual of the Gnawa is the trance music ceremony – with the purpose of healing or purification of the participants). With 30 cassette releases of music from the Gnawa repertoire with his own ensemble and performances at every major festival in Morocco, including performing for the King in various contexts, MAHMOUD GHANIA was also one of Morocco's most prominent professional musicians.
In 1994, BILL LASWELL and PHAROAH SANDERS went to Mocrocco, equipped with just some mobile recording devices, to record GHANIA and a large ensemble of musicians (to a good part family members) in a very intimate set up at a private house with the legendary free jazz musician contributing his distinctive tenor saxophone sounds that gained him highest praise as a truely spiritual soul right from the days of playing with JOHN COLTRANE and his wife ALICE and on seminal solo albums like „Karma“.
The aptly titled „The Trance of Seven Colors“ ranks among the best Gnawa recordings ever released , made it onto the list of “10 incredible percussive albums from around the world” by Thevinylfactory.com and is 25 years after its original CD release on finally available on vinyl!
Harnessing the chaos born from endless jams in a remote, rented farmhouse, the album dives deeper into their punk approach to jazz, while opening up space for long-nurtured fascinations with electronic textures and cinematic oddities. Their third album, it features previous singles feely, and bamboo.
The title was pulled from a bank of favourite names after the band saw Ez’s artwork; a quirky world of three cell-like flats housing absurd creatures. 'frank dean and andrew' nods to the anonymous, everyday passersby whose lives quietly unfold in the background of a nondescript town.
Pulling back the curtain on its creation further, the band reveals, “The album was recorded at the end of a year of extreme highs and lows. The tensions play out in the music in weird ways... the feeling of the music is very particular, and peculiar. Most UK Jazz music can end up too arranged and neat, or generally optimistic in mood, whereas this album goes the other way in all aspects.”
At the album's core, the glitchy, late-night focus track red in tokyo features Chinese-Vietnamese-British rapper Jianbo, whose grimey, distorted flows cut through growling guitar riffs and a dragging, drill-like drum line. “It’s a weird, grimey anger with a touch of no-wave and post-punk,” the band explains, “Hari’s bass ended up sounding like a Japanese Koto”. The intensity is fitting, as Jianbo recounts a tense moment in Tokyo that left him “seeing red.”
Shifting through moods, the second track oscillates to life with a dubby bassline and bursts of distant, animalistic commotion, like a flock scattering after a disturbance. With unsettling keys and guitar, the instrumental upends the familiar contours of jazz and leaves a lingering unease as part of what the band calls the album’s “weird, off-key” side. Equally unexpected, the title, horticulturalists nightmare (birds), taps into the surreal fear lurking in the pulsing soundscape.
That freeform, borderless creativity carries into grilly, where the keys lay out the pace and mood. “The tempo and the ambience frame the track to be like a dance tune, but with a darkness from Burial-type ambiences and pulsing drill-style delays,” the band notes. As horn layers clear the haze, the jam’s raw energy and feeling come together as a transportive piece.
Taking a dip into the melancholic, toucan opens with a whir and solemn, ceremonial horns, underpinned by a mellow harmony that moves into far-off, choral-like overlays. Opening with a similarly dystopian eeriness is location, the band’s favourite. From the heavy slump of the drums to the three-piece horns of Dan, Akers, and Jonny, which counterpoint each other in a sea of reverb. The tune is named after a Playboi Carti song of the same name, inspired by the opening synth movement.
The title track, frank dean and andrew, flickers with a bittersweet nostalgia, capturing for Ebi Soda, a modern sense of indifference, a stay-at-home, it-is-what-it-is kind of resignation. It mirrors the mood of the figures on the album artwork: sitting alone in flats, suspended in quiet isolation. Lou’s chords, Hari’s chordal bass, and Sam’s laid-back tempo lay down a "loose, Midwest, emo undercurrent, a tone that runs deep in much of the hyperpop" the band had been absorbing. Will vocalises through the trombone, making it sound as though someone is singing down a crackling phone line. A flugelhorn overdub adds more warmth to the track’s slow-burning atmosphere, with trombone and sax joining the mix in the second half.
Closing the album is insectoid creatures are infesting the land, beginning as a dissonant, scattered hellscape of wailing improvisations, freewheeling robotic noise, and buckling delays that eventually rupture into a cinematic scape, giving way to an ascending sequence of hopeful, mood-settling melodies.
As a whole, the album’s character arises from stylising with production and mixing. The approach fluctuates between focusing on ambience and reverb, drawing from UK dubstep influences like Zomby, Burial, and Joe Armon-Jones’ collaborations with Maxwell Owin, and embracing the raw, grainy DIY ‘mixtape’ sound, inspired by artists like Athletic Progression, Yameii Online, and Playboi Carti.
Harnessing the chaos born from endless jams in a remote, rented farmhouse, the album dives deeper into their punk approach to jazz, while opening up space for long-nurtured fascinations with electronic textures and cinematic oddities. Their third album, it features previous singles feely, and bamboo.
The title was pulled from a bank of favourite names after the band saw Ez’s artwork; a quirky world of three cell-like flats housing absurd creatures. 'frank dean and andrew' nods to the anonymous, everyday passersby whose lives quietly unfold in the background of a nondescript town.
Pulling back the curtain on its creation further, the band reveals, “The album was recorded at the end of a year of extreme highs and lows. The tensions play out in the music in weird ways... the feeling of the music is very particular, and peculiar. Most UK Jazz music can end up too arranged and neat, or generally optimistic in mood, whereas this album goes the other way in all aspects.”
At the album's core, the glitchy, late-night focus track red in tokyo features Chinese-Vietnamese-British rapper Jianbo, whose grimey, distorted flows cut through growling guitar riffs and a dragging, drill-like drum line. “It’s a weird, grimey anger with a touch of no-wave and post-punk,” the band explains, “Hari’s bass ended up sounding like a Japanese Koto”. The intensity is fitting, as Jianbo recounts a tense moment in Tokyo that left him “seeing red.”
Shifting through moods, the second track oscillates to life with a dubby bassline and bursts of distant, animalistic commotion, like a flock scattering after a disturbance. With unsettling keys and guitar, the instrumental upends the familiar contours of jazz and leaves a lingering unease as part of what the band calls the album’s “weird, off-key” side. Equally unexpected, the title, horticulturalists nightmare (birds), taps into the surreal fear lurking in the pulsing soundscape.
That freeform, borderless creativity carries into grilly, where the keys lay out the pace and mood. “The tempo and the ambience frame the track to be like a dance tune, but with a darkness from Burial-type ambiences and pulsing drill-style delays,” the band notes. As horn layers clear the haze, the jam’s raw energy and feeling come together as a transportive piece.
Taking a dip into the melancholic, toucan opens with a whir and solemn, ceremonial horns, underpinned by a mellow harmony that moves into far-off, choral-like overlays. Opening with a similarly dystopian eeriness is location, the band’s favourite. From the heavy slump of the drums to the three-piece horns of Dan, Akers, and Jonny, which counterpoint each other in a sea of reverb. The tune is named after a Playboi Carti song of the same name, inspired by the opening synth movement.
The title track, frank dean and andrew, flickers with a bittersweet nostalgia, capturing for Ebi Soda, a modern sense of indifference, a stay-at-home, it-is-what-it-is kind of resignation. It mirrors the mood of the figures on the album artwork: sitting alone in flats, suspended in quiet isolation. Lou’s chords, Hari’s chordal bass, and Sam’s laid-back tempo lay down a "loose, Midwest, emo undercurrent, a tone that runs deep in much of the hyperpop" the band had been absorbing. Will vocalises through the trombone, making it sound as though someone is singing down a crackling phone line. A flugelhorn overdub adds more warmth to the track’s slow-burning atmosphere, with trombone and sax joining the mix in the second half.
Closing the album is insectoid creatures are infesting the land, beginning as a dissonant, scattered hellscape of wailing improvisations, freewheeling robotic noise, and buckling delays that eventually rupture into a cinematic scape, giving way to an ascending sequence of hopeful, mood-settling melodies.
As a whole, the album’s character arises from stylising with production and mixing. The approach fluctuates between focusing on ambience and reverb, drawing from UK dubstep influences like Zomby, Burial, and Joe Armon-Jones’ collaborations with Maxwell Owin, and embracing the raw, grainy DIY ‘mixtape’ sound, inspired by artists like Athletic Progression, Yameii Online, and Playboi Carti.