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Al Wootton samples a museum-worthy haul of vintage drum machines on this sick Library Record for his Trule label - big one for anyone into his work in Holy Tongue, or curios from Tolerance, Freedom To Spend, R.N.A. Organism. Tip!
Wootton was invited to Melbourne's Electronic Sound Studio where he got to work sampling their collection of rare vintage drum machines. And it's those boxes that laid the groundwork to 'Rhythm Archives', the prolific producer's most satisfying full-length to date. Wootton's been at this long enough to realise that restraint is the key, and playing with Holy Tongue has no doubt sharpened his skills. There's not much going on here, but that's what makes it so enticing - Wootton lets the machines set the pace for each track, and adds only the sparsest additional instrumentation for colour. On 'March', the plasticky beatbox pattern is fascinating because it's so weedy compared to the sounds of more modern machines - the kicks are like fingers on wet cardboard, and Wootton shadows them with bone-rattling rim shots, filling in the silence with cinematic piano twangs, white noise and a snake-charming flute.
In the wrong hands, this material would creep towards cringe - there's more than enough artists making canned library music or hauntological slop. But Wootton vaults over the pitfalls, staying on the right side of kitsch. The dissociated voices on 'Slow Rock' that shiver next to his new wave-patented Roland CR-78 take us to the seedy world of 'Liquid Sky', not the postmodern sampledelia that followed, and the footwork-inspired 150bpm whirr of 'Shuffle' is sneakily anachronistic, only echoing the Chicago genre's polyrhythmic patterns, not repeating them to the letter. Wootton does a good job staying away from very obvious genre signifiers; there's the character of each machine that's present, of course, but he sounds like he's trying to subvert the application, wondering how these decaying rhythms might react to his various processes.
If there's any real reverence here, it's for dub, and the genre's influence on everything that followed: post-punk, bleep techno, industrial music, whatever - Wootton sounds right at home threading tape echo trails thru his stuttering cycles. It's a love letter to the drum machine, and it doesn't lag for a moment.


Jim Coles’s fifth instalment of his best-selling ‘Acid Dub Studies’ series arrives in the form of the third set of original works exploring the infectious sound of the 303 bass-line in a dubwise setting. The album takes in traditional dub mixing approaches in a digital and roots/digi-dub style whilst also making space for more electronic and ambient processes to close the project.
‘Acid Dub Studies III’ arrives after 2 years of touring the material in a live setting at festivals and clubs including CTM at Berghain, Les Nuits Sonores, and Andrew Weatherall's Convenanza festival and is the culmination of some 5 years of experimenting with a style that has been met with critical acclaim, reaching far and wide into many a DJ’s box having been noted by some as a truly ground-breaking approach to working with the 303.
Hakuna Kulala debut from Kampala’s Catu Diosis — 7 tracks of mutant afrohouse, slanted Batida, and slow-burn Kuduro pressure. Deeply rhythmic, fiercely physical, and thrillingly unplaceable.
Stepping out from her work as a choreographer, MC, and co-conspirator with Rian Treanor, Catu Diosis delivers a remarkable first statement in Anyim — a body-moving, genre-splintering set that folds East African club DNA into warped afrohouse, achingly reduced Batida, and kinetic vocal meditations.
Opener “Chaa” sets the tone with a stunning post-rock/gqom splicer featuring Uganda peer R3ign Drops — all stuttering kicks and scorched atmosphere. From there, it gets deeper and stranger. “Legi” and the title track “Anyim” push into stripped rhythm experiments: skeletal percussive grids punctuated by breathy, mantra-like vocals, evoking a kind of ceremonial minimalism.
Across the record, Catu Diosis keeps things raw but fluid, staying close to the body and the floor. The beats swing but never settle, rooted in Kuduro’s momentum but constantly fracturing into unexpected pockets. It’s music as movement, shaped by a dancer’s ear for timing and a producer’s instinct for subversion.
One for the heads and the dancers alike. RIYL: Nazar, Nídia, Rian Treanor, Nkisi, Chino Amobi, Slikback.

Yallah Gaudencia Mbidde has always been ahead of the curve. ‘Gaudencia’ is her third full-length since 2019’s acclaimed breakout ‘Kubali’, but she’s been active for far longer than that, working tirelessly on the East African circuit since way back in 1999. She had to wait until time and technology caught up with her, and until she had found a kindred spirit in Berlin-based French producer Debmaster, who returns as the sole architect of this dizzying new set of forward-facing beats and tongue-twisting rhymes. If its predecessor, 2023’s electric ‘Yallah Beibe’, had looked outward, welcoming collaborations with Lord Spikeheart and Ratigan Era, and external production from Hakuna Kulala staples Chrisman and Scotch Rolex, ‘Guadencia’ digs deeper into Yallah and Debmaster’s collective psyche, laying out a revolutionary narrative that tramples over genre boundaries and questions rap’s elemental purity.
Yet again, it’s Yallah’s dexterity on the mic that sets her apart from her peers. Rapping, singing and ad-libbing in English, Luganda, Luo and Kiswahili over Debmaster’s time-fluxing beats, she formulates her own idiosyncratic flow without worrying about being lost in translation. “Even if they don’t understand, it’s the impact that I leave on them,” she told The Quietus in 2022. “Music speaks to the hearts of the people.” And this time around, Debmaster meets her lyrical innovations head-on, developing a sound that’s correspondingly multi-lingual. On ‘Kujagana’, his microtonally-skewed synth arpeggios liquefy into bass-heavy 808 drops and ear-piercing snaps, and Yallah puppeteers the rhythm and the harmony, rapping in double-time and crooning a haunting chorus. The ghosts of breakcore wind around ‘Lioness’ meanwhile, with ruptured distortions, spliced percussion and scraped ASMR FX that repurpose the rave canon while Yallah boldly asserts her position. “Watch me,” she commands through the wall of warped noise.
Jet engine whirrs and ominous, rolling beats underpin Yallah’s high-speed chat on ‘Wantintina’, and the mood is ruptured by wiry, wordless vocal chants. It’s apocalyptic music, but not without cracks of light – between the distorted interference and ritualistic drones, Yallah’s animated rhymes push her emotions to the surface, as if she’s wrenching herself out of harm’s way. And she’s never more flexible than on ‘Yalladana’, chanting, evangelizing and switching up her flow without warning, accompanying Debmaster’s widescreen airlock hisses and torched blips with accelerated prophetic observations. Yallah and Debmaster have cultivated a single voice on ‘Gaudencia’, figuring out a way to alloy dynamic, modern production with the world’s most ambitious oddball street poetry – it’s taken Yallah over two decades to find her congregation, but it was worth the wait.
Primitive Maxi Trial is a time-warped excavation from the archives of Emiliano Pennisi, the Palermo-based producer and underground fixture behind the Paradigma collective (DerFreitag, Algoritmo). Surfacing on the Heat Crimes imprint, this archival transmission feels less like a retrospective and more like a haunted artifact – a fragment of the pre-digital underground rendered in dusty, lo-fi hues.
Drawn from material produced between the late ’90s and mid-2000s, Primitive Maxi Trial occupies a blurred zone where early DAW fetishism meets pirate aesthetics and a scavenger’s ear for pop-cultural residue. Think cracked VSTs (Albino, SubBoomBass), MPC 1000 grit, and CD-ROM sample libraries ripped from Future Music and Computer Music cover discs—long-lost sonic ephemera unearthed like forgotten VHS tapes in the backroom of a failing electronics shop.
There’s an unmistakable hauntological hue here—not in the usual Ghost Box pastiche sense, but something rawer, more regionally specific. These tracks were forged under the looming shadow of the Mafia Maxi Trial, in a city fraught with paranoia, informal spaces, and cultural fragmentation. That tension bleeds into the music: compressed textures, iron-lung atmospheres, and bleakly humorous juxtapositions that wouldn’t feel out of place soundtracking a Mark Leckey installation.
But this isn’t mere nostalgia. Pennisi’s compositions slip between IDM’s jittery melancholy, no-fi techno, ambient detritus, and grotesque rave misfires with an almost outsider art sensibility. Surreal cuts appear like tape-warped memories of nights out you’re not sure really happened. In the best moments, Primitive Maxi Trial feels like music made not for release but for ritual—claustrophobic yet oddly liberating, deeply personal yet disarmingly tongue-in-cheek.

We are delighted to be able to bring you these gorgeous field recordings from the Sumedang Province of West Java which, over their 50 minutes, present two distinct sides of Sundanese musical and devotional culture.
Although West Java is a Muslim country, these recordings highlight currents of pre-Islamic animist beliefs and practices that continue to flourish in the small towns and villages of the highlands of West Java. The recordings showcase two forms of trance music that are essential to the spiritual life of the Sundanese people in the highland regions.
Tarawangsa trance music is a traditional ceremonial genre known for its deep spiritual and hypnotic qualities. This music is made using only two instruments, the tarawangsa, a two-stringed fiddle, accompanied by the jentreng, a seven-stringed zither, creating a unique blend of resonant, droning sounds. Historically, tarawangsa music has been performed as part of sacred rituals and agricultural celebrations to honor local deities and ancestors, particularly associated with the Sunda culture. The minimalist, repetitive melodies gradually build, guiding participants and listeners into a meditative, trance-like state, during which dancers can be possessed by the spirits of ancestors or deities from the spirit realm, the music serving as a link between the two worlds.
In stark contrast to the calm, medititive sound of tarawangsa, we also present here two long pieces from Panca Buana Reak Group. Sundanese Reak trance music is like the punk rock of Sunda folk music, combining powerful and driving rhythms played on a number of hand drums and percussion instruments with the buzzing sound of the tarompet, a double reed wind instrument often amplified through whatever mobile speaker system might be at hand. Sometimes the group will play gamelan gongs, as heard on the first piece on the album, although this remains a music that is popular mainly with the working class youth of the rural villages, many of whom will also be fans of Indonesia's burgeoning metal and punk scenes. Reak performances are often wild, anarchic events that feature masked dancers, costumes, public trancing and spirit possession.
These recordings were made by Xenia At during her travels through West Java earlier this year. The tarawangsa recordings were made in a home in the village of Rancakalong on the evening of 17th January 2024, while Panca Buana Reak Group were recorded during rehersals in the village of Cinunuk on 19th and 20th January 2024.
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Geniuses at work. Composers and multi-instrumentalists Valentina Magaletti Susumu Zongamin Mukai shielding the rain with giant sonic umbrella made of radio waves. Impromptu recordings, proto postpunk from the mist of East London basements for a trip to Maryland that is yet to happen. "It's Cold in Baltimore" is an invitation from V/Z to dream of flying without taking off, elevating the spirit until the clouds start screaming of joy.

The incessant brain bogglers zig-zag back to Diagonal with the nerve-gnawing acid pointillism of Right Frankfurt after a series of purple-themed 12”s with iDEAL and Hypermedium and the zinging Do These sessions with F.C.O.U. and Presto!?
Equivalent to an intravenous dose of acidic synthesis, Right Frankfurt nods to one of techno’s most efficient power centres with a PCP-on-Modafinil-strength reduction and concentration of early industrial techno tropes shorn of their skull-cracking beats and left to babble in an utterly alien coda.
It does so for 25 unrelenting minutes, which, if you asked my mum, all sounds the same. But, if you’ve ever appreciated the lissom fluidity of a strong acid or synth lead in the dance, you will notice and no doubt relish the piece’s tumultuous, microtonal variation, see-sawing up/down and around the frequency scale in highly visual knots that are perhaps best experienced in synch with the strobes of their live show.
We recently witnessed EVOL scare the bejesus into Berghain with this stuff, to the extent that there’s now a small cargo cult like gathering on the wastelands next door to the club who can do nowt but worship a discarded acid smiley keyring and speak in 303 tongues whilst cowering at the sight of Easyjets overhead.
God save the ravers.


‘Dimension Intrusion’ was the first full-length studio album by Richie Hawtin, who was 22 years old at the time and living in Windsor, Canada. It was first released in June 1993 under the F.U.S.E. name on Hawtin’s own Plus 8 Records imprint and again as the second release of Warp Records seminal ‘Artificial Intelligence’ series.
The album compiled previously released F.U.S.E. EPs from Plus 8 complemented with new music specially recorded for this release. It would be a fundamental album for the young producer, who was experimenting with different themes and techniques to find his very own sound. Largely inspired by sci-fi movies he used a collection of synthesizers and drum machines, playing with their electronic yet warm sound effects and in turn discovering some of his favorite instruments.
The tracks on ‘Dimension Intrusion’ range from club focused techno to soundtrack ambience and can be seen retrospectively as experiments leading to what would soon become Hawtin’s trademark acid laced Plastikman sound.
It was on this album that he first collaborated with his brother, Matthew Hawtin, presenting an original painting completed in 1992 as the album artwork. In fact the album title was derived from this painting’s title ‘Dimension Intrusion’, demonstrating the reciprocal inspiration shared between the brothers. The acrylic painting oscillates between the one and two-dimensional. The composition of geometrical beams in bold primary colors and sharp lines evokes electrically charged movement and progression in and out of different dimensions. The visual tension corresponds with the energetic rhythms of the music, furthermore, the abstract painting and techno music share machine-like precision whilst producing a sensual and emotionally triggering experience.
Dimension Intrusion’ is an iconic album in the history of electronic music that sets Richie Hawtin on a path of exploration and interest in the connection of audio and visual expression.

Madteo is one of the great eccentric visionaries of Electronic Music and his new album Misto Atmosferico E Ad Azione Diretta on Unsure once more happens to be a mind-bending piece of art. Misto Atmosferico E Ad Azione Diretta shifts between focused gritty grooves and the long freeform associative adventures that you haven’t heard before, never static, sometimes overwhelming, always on edge.
The opener Cans People is an archaic rave monster, To Know Those Who is non-linear dub techno, Nocturnal Palates expands the Filter House universe and Rave Nite Itz All Right hits you hard and strange (yet subtle, in a way). The last two tracks then let loose; Madteo manipulates time, space and sounds to create the psychedelic secrets of Luglio Ottantotto. And Emo G (Sticky Wicket) explores the outskirts not only of House or Techno or whatever but music in general, a 15-min-trip through the low frequencies, the rumble, the dark hearts and the enchantment. Breathtaking. Bring The Voodoo Down.
