MUSIC

*300 copies limited edition* Drawing from field recordings collected during a trip to Japan, boring tables saturates sonic vignettes in sentimental key, replaying familiar traces of lived experience into something more abstract. The seven tracks on mathematical model 0010, Luca Quartarone's debut album, trail through evolving tonal expanses that envelop the environment in a perpetually expanding haze of serenity. Though sonic fragments hail from the everyday, the compositions themselves inevitably glide towards something much larger—just like a passing instant can extend into an ongoing remembrance.

The title of the album is inspired by a piece of land art by Hiroshi Sugimoto, which Luca encountered during a visit to the Enoura Observatory at the Odawara Art Foundation. The work features a metallic plane that embodies the geometry of a hyperbolic surface with constant negative curvature, continuously converging toward a 5mm gauge without ever meeting. Much like the geometry of this piece suggests a mathematical infinity, the album's sonic cartography evokes the feeling of intimate gestures within infinite expanses.

RIYL: The Focus Group, AFX, Mica Levi, Coil

Collaged from juddery electroacoustic rhythms, analog synth squelches, environmental recordings, text-to-speech poems and what Akira Umeda calls “ghost sounds”, ‘Clube da Mariposa Mórbida’ is a transcultural voyage into pure sonic fantasy. The São Paulo-based DIY maverick and former historian trades impressions and delusions with Nyege regular Metal Preyers, aka Jesse Hackett, imagining gory VR avatars, lovestruck arachnids, supermassive black holes and the titular morbid moth club, absurd iconography that stains their warped, mutable soundscapes. Hackett initially contacted Umeda after hearing last year’s sprawling ‘Gueixa’, an hour-long postmodern mixtape made from 202 fragments of the artist’s seemingly bottomless library of experiments. Spotting a similarity in the way they were both driven by collage and curation, Hackett embarked on four whirlwind months of exchange, sending Umeda audio snippets and concepts that the Brazilian eccentric would decode with Google translate. Umeda’s contribution was more uncanny; listening to the sketches on repeat until the sounds created “evasive impressions” in his mind, he used analog instruments and text-to-speech software to recreate these phantom occurrences. “Specters are never clear and always shifting, so the experience of synthesizing them is similar to clay modeling,” he explains. “To record these synthetic ghost sounds is like firing ceramic pots.”

And the hybrid nature of their collaboration doesn’t begin and end there. Both Hackett and Umeda work within visual art: Umeda has made films, ceramics and illustrations, while Hackett works on jewelry and sculpture with his father Bill, the proto-punk jeweler best known for creating Keith Richards’ iconic skull ring. Two of Bill’s artworks are featured on the album art and shadow the record’s themes, both carved in wood that’s stained with a shellac dye made from old 78rpm records. Umeda and Hackett’s music is similarly recycled, as if they’re dousing fresh art with long forgotten colors. On the opening track ‘One Eyed Weasel’, decelerated Brazilian funk syncopations are twisted with weightless voices, orchestral flourishes and canned screams before being lowered into eerie beds of unplaceable white noise. Even at the best of times, it’s difficult to pry apart what’s real and what’s synthesized; cyborg voices in different languages stutter around tangled, colorful musical threads: tablas, overdriven psych guitars, cryptic santur chimes and microtonal reed echoes. But Umeda and Hackett’s music isn’t an accompaniment to some post-Hassell Fourth World concept, it’s a projection into parallel future where our patchwork of cultures, digital and otherwise, has been reduced to hazy memories.

On ‘Boi de Piranha’, defective temple bells punctuate blown-out spiraling beats and unsettling backmasked chatter, and ruffled, featherlight rhythms and mbira-like repeating sequences quiver through sleazy 4/4 architectures on ‘Cut Throat Mickey’. Unfolding like a hypnagogic soundtrack to an unwritten queer, post-apocalyptic noir, ‘Clube da Mariposa Mórbida’ retches and heaves in the glamor of decay; slithering electro-plated music box earworms burrow into ‘Hora Do Slime’, while on ‘Olhos De Facão’ humid synth sequences chew on bone-rattling acoustic percussion and dissociated traces of humanity. It’s Hackett’s most bizarre offering yet, a few paces beyond ‘Shadow Swamps’ murking shadows towards Umeda’s kaleidoscopic concrète jungle.

Properly deep and mysterious future-primitivism on the debut recordings from a reclusive artist about whom we know almost nothing except that they hail from the Mesolongi region of western Greece. Uncanny ambient chamber spectres are the order of the day, with a sound that could have been conjured decades or just weeks ago - who knows - giving something like The Caretaker processing crates of rebetika instead of the usual ballroom dirges.

Aeson Zervas is yet another enigma to emerge from a country that, in recent times, has gifted us the inventive spirits of Christos Chondropoulos’ and Nikolas Rafael Hadjilaskaris’ nebula of projects spanning Live Adult Entertainment, Christian Love Forum and ElHellEll - not to mention Jay Glass Dubs - and which has made Athens a magnet for the Euro avant garde and experimental in-betweeners.

Zervas’ music exists in a space out of time, manifesting a more discreet sound than any of his compatriots, but sharing a feel for displaced, etheric space and timeless, nostalgic romance. His eight-part debut album summons the ghosts of Greek folk and classical music in slow moving arrangements set in eerily iridescent plasma. Uncredited voices and instrumentation are wreathed in hypnotic, noumenal plumes that settle on the mind like smoke caught by moonlight.

He clearly shares the hypnagogic allure and sozzled sensuality of The Caretaker, as though James Kirby was reminiscing on a past life or spirit quest in Greece, but he also somehow reminds us of the solemn beauty of Dominique Lawalrée’s Belgian attic meditations, distinguished by subtle flourishes of near black metal dungeon gloom and arcane synth flickers that jolt the mind into unusual states of curious delight.

Unmissable, if you know what’s good.

Anderson do Paraíso is one of the most influential and seminal DJs and producers behind the downtempo and dark baile funk sound of the city of Belo Horizonte. At 27 years old, the artist gained notoriety with songs that draw an unusual ghostly atmosphere full of suspense and mystery to the frantic whirl of the famous Brazilian beat.

Anderson started producing music in his bedroom in 2012, taking the Tamborzão funk from Rio de Janeiro as a reference. But his sound went through a profound transformation between 2015 and 2016 when he started attending Baile do Serrão, the street party in Aglomerado da Serra—the largest favela in Belo Horizonte and the second-largest group of favelas in Latin America.

When Anderson started going to Baile da Serra, the funk parties in Belo Horizonte were also experiencing a remaking in their geography and sound. The city has a funk scene whose history goes back to the 1980s. However, until the 2000s, the main bailes took place in closed spaces, on sports club courts, like Baile da Vilarinho. The music back then was closer to hip hop, with MCs singing verses about the hard times in the hood, violence, crime, hope, and faith in better days ahead.

However, in the mid-2010s, the bailes were popping up in the streets of favelas. And it was there that a completely new musicality emerged. The MCs focused on verses about sex, drugs, and having fun, while the beatmakers began to invest in more minimalist and ambient arrangements, with slow pace and full of reverb, highlighting beats with high frequencies, as heard in "Sadomasoquista" and "Duvida Não Letícia". This is the sound of Funk BH (or Funk Mineiro), a scene that has been influencing musicians on a national scale as Belo Horizonte DJs and MCs amass hits on streaming charts and go viral on TikTok.

Anderson do Paraíso— o "queridão", the "dearest," as he is also known— is one of the sound architects of this music. His signature is the contrast of electronic elements (such as the robotic sounds of "Todas Elas ao Mesmo Tempo" and the trap hi-hats in "Pincelada de Angolano") with classical music instruments, such as the piano in "Se Faz de Santinha," the violins in "Aula de Putaria," the soprano backing vocals in "Quarentena Cheia de Ódio" and the timpani used as snare in "Blogueira Que Virou Puta". "União dos Rlk" is a collab with two other producers, Ph da Serra and Vitin do PC, that showcases a intricate sound craft and a futurist vision of the genre in mixing different types of baile funk beats in a single track.

Brazilian funk became internationally known for its chaotic energy. However, Anderson's music has an unorthodox and innovative approach that strips down its elements for a radical minimal sound, underlining silence to build a cinematic suspense. "Blogueira Que Virou Puta" showcases the whispery voice of MC Paulin do G floating in a refined and sparse structure oscillating between sensuality and terror, while the haunted bells of "Chama as Sua Colegas' and the choir of "Ultimo Medo do Ano" conjures an haunted aura of baile funk. And yet people create different ways to dance to this sound, stretching the boundaries of the dancefloor.

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.

When Jako Maron reimagined Réunion island's politically-charged maloya sound on 'The electro Maloya experiments of Jako Maron', he focused on the genre's distinctive, revolutionary rhythms. Electro-plating the call-and-response thuds, he used the language of techno to upset the expected template, disrupting maloya's 6/8 pulse with modular bleeps and Roland kicks. He takes a different approach on 'Mahavélouz', focusing on the bobre, traditional maloya's only melodic instrument, a long bow amplified by a calabash that's known as the berimbau in Brazil. Maron was fascinated by the bobre's unique sonic signature, and noted that when it's usually played, it's drowned out by the louder percussive instruments. So he enlisted a number of traditional bobre performers to play a series of solos, using them to guide the album's four lead tracks and distorting and compressing the serrated hits until they stood confidently in front of his undulating roulér (bass drum) and sati (hi-hat) patterns.

"These four pieces are the culmination of my research into electronic maloya," explains Maron. "There's no need for words on this music; the bobre is the voice, and it is an ancestral voice. It's a reimagining of maloya kabaré in an electro form." This is the music that Maron has used to drive his recent live performances, so it prioritizes maloya's dancefloor potential. Swapping the traditional roulér and sati sounds for TR-606, TR-909 and TR-707 hits, he generates a hypnotic roll on opening track 'Paré po saviré' (rise up), forming a rubbery backdrop for Amemoutoulaop's acidic bobre twangs. Maron describes the track as a "call to bring spirits and people together", and using piercing feedback squeals to harmonize with the bobre, he introduces us to the voice that anchors the entire album. On 'Bék dann dir (try harder), he augments the bobre with glassy Korg Polysix chimes and Machinedrum sounds, and 'Zésprimaron'(the Maron spirit), ushers us towards a ceremony, shuffling his rhythm into a ritualistic throb, and using squelchy synth sounds to flutter into a trance.

Maron concludes his live bobre experiments with '1 piton 3 filaos' (one hill and three trees), and it's his most ambitious fusion, with hallucinatory flutes and technoid stabs rising weightlessly in-between Amemoutoulaop's frenetic performance. But this isn't the end of his investigation: Maron fleshes out 'Mahavélouz' with tonal studies that replicate the bobre synthetically. On 'Mdé prototrash', the characteristic ping is re-created by his modular system, and it's almost indistinguishable from the original instrument, buzzing and popping alongside Maron's surging percussion. The sound is more uncanny on 'dann kér Mahaveli' (in the heart of marvelous land) but no less affecting, knotted around synthetic bird calls and entrancing warbles. Even more idiosyncratic than its predecessors, 'Mahavélouz' is a bold step forward for Maron that builds on ancient foundations to construct a staggeringly new kind of dance music.

Bristol-based, London-born auteur ThisisDA has spent over a decade at this point furrowing out his own niche in the experimental rap landscape. Across a slew of under-the-radar solo releases and eclectic collaborations, he’s routinely peered beyond the boundaries of traditional hip-hop, taking a refreshingly open-minded, eclectic approach to his art. Working alongside jazz collective Sumo Chief, playing throughout Europe with Klein and breaking bread with bedroom pop viral superstar Eyedress, ThisisDA has always refused to stay in the same spot for too long, and his latest full-length offering is a testament to that spirit.

Dizzyingly inventive, ‘Fast Life’ crackles from idea to idea, gesturing to drill, grime, electro and trap but refusing to adhere to any conventional template. Featuring collaborations with Hakuna Kulala’s master beatmaker Debmaster – who’s racked up production credits on records from MC Yallah, Aunty Razor, Ratigan Era and more – and Welsh-born vocalist Mimi Jones, the album’s bound together by ThisisDA’s boisterous personality and lightheaded wordplay. “Elevate you like the rapture, it’s an independent matter,” he quips on the euphoric intro to ‘Breakout’ before handing the mic to Jones, whose seductive coos foreshadow a barrage of DA’s most tongue-twisting rhymes.

On ‘Tell Him’, Debmaster spaces out weightless synth stabs and skeletal, grimey kicks, leaving ThisisDA to grandstand for a moment. “Dat boy there is a pussy, flip the coin if you push me,” he spits, molding his voice into an android croon. But it’s not all bravado; there’s a more solemn flex to the ‘808s & Heartbreak’-inspired ‘End Up’ as ThisisDA recalls the trappings of the lifestyle, underpinning his words with soulful AutoTuned cries. Elsewhere, on ‘Captain’, neon-flecked Southern rap excesses rumble through DA’s squelchy, haunted soundscape, and its this wide-eyed, boundless fusion that sets him way out on his own.

“I wanna brush my hands between the clouds and claim that sky,” he exclaims on the album’s lulling closer ‘Change That’. With ‘Fast Life’, ThisisDA aims high and leaves the rest of the scene in the dust.

The artist sometimes known as Huerco S. ushers a phase shift of sound to the shoegazing harmonic gauze of Make Me Know You Sweet, his immersive debut proper as Pendant. In this horizontal mode, Brian Leeds relays abstract stories from a headspace beyond the dance, placing his interests in the Romantic landscapes of JMW Turner, Robert Ashley's avant-garde enigmas, and Indigenous North American philosophy at the service of a more expressive, oneiric sound that sub/consciously avoids the trap falls of "chillout" ambient cliché. Across seven amorphous, texturally detailed tracks he establishes far reaching coordinates for both Pendant and the West Mineral Ltd. label, which aims to release everything except the commonly accepted, traditional forms of late 20th/early 21st century dance music, while also representing the work of his inner circle of friends, producers, artists. In that that sense there's a definite feeling of "no place like home" to his new work, but that home appears altered, much in the same way The Caretaker/Leyland Kirby deals with themes of memory and nostalgia. It's best described as mid-ground music, as opposed to the putative background purpose of ambient styles, or the upfront physicality of dance music. Rather, the sound billows and unfurls with a paradoxically static chaos, occupying and lurking a space between the eyes and ears in a way that's not necessarily comforting, and feels to question the nature and relevance of ubiquitous pastoral, new age tropes in the modern era of uncertainty and disingenuity. The results ponder an impressionistic, romantically ambiguous simulacrum of real life worries and anxiety, feeling at once dense and impending yet without center. From the keening, 11-minute swell of "VVQ-SSJ" at the album's prow, to the similar scope of its closer, Pendant presents an absorbing vessel for introspection, modulating the listener's depth perception and moderating our intimacy with an elemental push and pull between the curdling, bittersweet froth of "BBN-UWZ", the dusky obfuscation of "IBX-BZC" and, in the supremely evocative play of phosphorescing light and seductive darkness in the mottled depths of "KVL-LWQ", which also benefits from additional production by Pontiac Streator. Make Me Know You Sweet taps into a latent, esoteric vein of American spirituality that's always been there, yet is only divined by those who remain open-minded to its effect. Master and lacquer cut by Matt Colton.

Delicate glitches drifting like particles, ambient textures rising like mist—West Mineral, the seminal imprint founded by Huerco S. and a defining force in the post-2010s “Dubient” movement, returns with another essential release. Sleepdial is the solo project of Denver-based experimental musician Luke Thinnes, known for his releases as Dubharp on 100% Silk and as French Kettle Station on Slagwerk. This debut LP offers a soundworld where blurred drones and error-like noise artifacts linger with echoes of nameless, half-remembered emotions. Navigating the liminal zones between loop and non-loop, structure and collapse, it gently scatters fragments of memory into Dubient silence. A crystalline document of dreamlike introspection—one that glows quietly within the contemporary experimental continuum. Mastered by Rashad Becker.

This is a record of a quiet curse engraved at the intersection of post-club, ambient noise, and electronic ritual music. The debut work of anonymous unit SixSixSevenFortySeven by NVST and Zohar, released by Manchester-based YOUTH, one of the most prestigious labels in the current left field, has arrived on analog. Rusty iron reverberations and closed-room grooves intertwine. A labyrinth of industrial/experimental electro that traces the dark side of the city! Disturbing noise, distorted beats, and vague voices fluctuate throughout the album, the rhythm repeats like a relic of memory, and occasionally a melody lit in the distance bleeds like a scar. This is not so much an album of sound as it is an "invisible map" drawn by the ghosts of the city.

Originally released in the early ’80s on the obscure German imprint Giraffe Rec, this elusive one-off LP by shadowy Düsseldorf-based unit Mentocome now sees an official analog reissue via Amok Age! A document of impersonal silence and machine-born noise, buried deep in the cassette underground and post-wave detritus of the time. Rust-laden echoes in the vein of Werkbund or Peter Rehberg, brooding industrial drones, and sinking minimal rhythms conjure a cold, mechanical poetry. At times evoking the empty claustrophobia of a U-boat’s inner hull, elsewhere revealing moments of rain-drenched piano reminiscent of early Robert Haigh. Less a record than a phantom cartography of unseen urban heartbeats, linking directly to the spectral soundworlds of the Creel Pone lineage.

A four-piece band based in Tokyo.
Initially playing reggae/dub music, the band gradually developed into an innovative fusion of diverse musical influences, such as jazz, soul, psyche pop, new age, and exotica.
The sound is based on groove and euphoria, with nostalgic melodies.
They have performed at iconic events in Japan such as Fuji Rock Festival, and also have been looking overseas since they performed in Canada(Toronto, Montreal, and Vancouver) in 2019.
The new EP "Ramble In The Rainbow"(2024) is their first international release on the US label Peoples Potential Unlimited.
The work shows their musical maturity, drawing inspiration from Sun Ra, Lee "Scratch" Perry, and Yasuaki Shimizu.

From Recital:

"Recital is joyed to publish the newest record by Canadian composer Sarah Davachi. Currently working on her PhD in Musicology at UCLA, her trajectory has been unorthodox. Hailing from Calgary, Alberta, which, if you've never been there, doesn't really scream "Avant-Garde" (Calgary is the rodeo capital of the world). From a young age, Sarah was a driven pianist (and figure-skater, although that's a story for a different time). It is important and interesting that she chose to study esoteric music; as Sarah could have easily been a cowgirl or a concert pianist had her ingrained love of synthesis and sonic phenomenology not taken the wheel.

Sarah is a considered person. I find few people that have the diligence and resolve to take their time with music... especially in a live context. I respect that about her. The first time I saw Sarah perform, I presumptuously told her that her music reminded me of my favorite Mirror albums (the exceptional project of Andrew Chalk and Christoph Heemann). Sarah was not familiar with Mirror, so the compliment was initially lost on her. Years back I was in the same situation when a review compared my music to Andrew Chalk, who was unknown to me at the time. So I felt a kinship in our magnetic drift towards unspoken and clustered beauty.

Let Night Come On Bells End The Day follows the release of her "sound-wheel" LP All My Circles Run, which examines the isolation of different instruments. Let Night Come On..., recorded mainly with a Mellotron and electronic organ, feels like a return to the nest. Burrowed in the studio, Davachi was the only performer on this album. She both splays her compositional architecture and re-contextualizes the essence of her early output. She chiseled careful and shadowed hymns; anchors of emotion.

Two pillars of this album are "Mordents", which to my ears drops hints of her love for Progressive rock music - and "Buhrstone," comparable to a sombre funeral march of piano and flutes. These two examine punctuations of early music, gently plucking melodies and movements. The three other compositions are tonal works, blowing slow jets of lapping harmonics.

Writing this description now, I find it hard to separate "At Hand" from filmmaker Paul Clipson, who made a melancholic film for this piece of Sarah's. A fitting title for Sarah and Paul's relationship - frequently working in orbit of each other, meticulous and tactile. I cherish this track as a memory of Paul.

This is a lovely album to fill an evening living room with. A blanket, a cup of wine, a dim bulb, a wide window."

Very different from Biosphere's last AD 93 offering, 'The Way of Time' is a freewheeling set of atmospheric vintage synth jams, dubby ambient techno experiments and decelerated electro workouts that's inspired by American poet and author Elizabeth Madox Roberts' 'The Time Of Man'. Essential listening for fans of 'Patashnik', then.

On 2021's 'Angel's Flight', Geir Jenssen focused his gaze on Beethoven's String Quartet No. 14, tweaking and stretching it to tease out its essence. He's on more familiar ground here, using Joan Lorring's voice, from a 1951 radio adaptation of 'The Time Of Man', to guide us through a spruced-up spread of his signature sounds. If you've kept up with his releases, then you'll know that the last few albums have been made with restored keyboards and drum machines - a marked shift from his period using samples and software.

'The Way Of Time' seems to follow the same path: opener 'Time Of Man' is barely more than a brassy analog lead and Lorring's smudgy voice, while the title theme (that repeats in various forms), with its acidic plucks and sequenced repetitions takes us back to Jenssen's milestone album 'Patashnik', when he set the bar for ambient techno. It's a welcome return to familiar sonics; unlike his last couple of synth-heavy albums, that sounded like fun diversions and jams, 'The Way Of Time' holds neatly together as a unit, well braided by its journeyman theme. Lorring's voice is the anchor, and Jenssen's able to refresh his most referenced material with contemporary processes and techniques.

Occasionally, you find music outside the commercial mainstream, outside of everything – the music of visionaries, eccentrics, inventors, loners, the keepers of secrets, the path-finders. Moondog, Daphne Oram, Harry Partch are from this mould. And so too is Lori Vambe. New on Strut, the first ever reissue of Vambe’s privately pressed original albums from 1982, Drumland Dreamland and Drumgita Solo. A self-taught drummer, inventor, and sonic experimentalist, Lori Vambe is a unique figure in British music. Creator of his own instrument, the drumgita (pronounced ‘drum-guitar’) or string-drum, Vambe intended to create a kind of music that had never been made in order to pursue access to the fourth dimension. Vambe was born in Harare, Zimbabwe and his father, Lawrence Vambe, was a noted Zimbabwean journalist and author. Moving to London in 1959, Vambe immersed himself in the Brixton squat movement of the early 1970s, teaching himself to drum and creating a short-lived performance group, The Healing Drums of Brixton (Vambe, the sculptor Alexander Sokolov and outsider musician Michael O’Shea). Vambe later had a dream-vision involving a feeling of ecstasy while playing an unknown instrument that extended from his own umbilical cord; the instrument would manifest itself as the drumgita. In 1982, he privately produced a pair of home recordings, the diptych set Drumgita Solo and Drumland Dreamland, releasing them on his own label Drumony. On these records, he rejected any commercial aesthetic and employed tape effects, temporal shifts, reversed sound and overdubbing to investigate space-time and access the fourth dimension. Combining layered drums with the rhythmic throb of the drumgita and, on Drumland Dreamland, an improvised piano performance by Brazilian concert pianist Rafael Dos Santos, the albums are both hypnotic and perturbing. Both albums were cut at Portland Studios by Chas Chandler and stand as a concealed monument of Black British experimental music. 500 copies of each record were originally pressed, and both were released together. The albums were never performed live. For this first ever reissue of Drumland Drumland and Drumgita Solo, Strut presents the two albums in their original artwork, housed in a deluxe slipcase including an additional 8-page 12”-sized booklet featuring unseen photos, liner notes and an interview with Lori Vambe by The Wire magazine writer Francis Gooding. Both albums are fully remastered by The Carvery.

Strut presents an exclusive reissue of Experience Unlimited’s 1977 debut album, Free Yourself, featuring a brand new interview with bandleader and co-founder ‘Sugar Bear.` This seminal recording blends soul, jazz, and funk-rock, laying the foundation for Washington D.C.'s go-go scene. Experience unlimited had originally started out in 1973 when they met at Ballou Senior High School in South-East D.C. and came to the attention of Black Fire Records’ Jimmy Gray after winning a school talent competition. “Jimmy saw that we had a lot of potential and he put us into the studio,” remembers bandleader Gregory “Sugar Bear” Elliott. “That was our first experience recording - I remember that he just told us to be ourselves and we just gathered together and played. We were young kids then saying what we felt.” Free Yourself is a free-flowing album, full of positive messages and infectious grooves. “We could play any style,” continues Sugar Bear. “The album has a lot of different songs and feelings – from ‘Peace Gone Away’ to ‘Funky Consciousness’ which features some heavy guitar work and ‘Free Yourself’ where you can hear early stylings of go-go – it’s all in one. We just wanted to record where we were at.” Experience Unlimited would go on to score the huge hit ‘Da Butt’ in 1988 which featured in the Spike Lee movie School Days and would add their unmistakeable rolling rhythms to Grace Jones’ ‘Slave To The Rhythm’ and Kurtis Blow’s ‘Party Time’ This new reissue of Free Yourself features full original artwork including the cover painting by Malik Edwards. It is remastered by The Carvery and includes a brand new interview with bandleader and co-founder Gregory “Sugar Bear” Elliott alongside rare photos.

Nigeria 70: No Wahala returns to a fertile heyday in Nigerian music when established styles like highlife and juju became infused with elements of Western jazz, soul and funk in the ‘70s and early ‘80s.

"The Nigeria 70 series is the gift that keeps on giving [...] a reliable source for some of the finest music to come out of 1970s and 80s Nigeria" (Pop Matters)

If we can learn to love, think and serve, the mind will become so powerful and co-ordinate that it will unerringly direct all other of our activities. Our calm enthusiasm will inevitably give us that slow, deep and powerful breathing which will finally become automatic with us. Let something else tell you what to do when you want something by some greater forces, by the senses of transcendental knowledge. Why worry over what's already created? Think about the beautiful of tomorrow. Think about what can better that which has already been created on this planet giving good example for others, for you are the key to the world and the world will learn from you. For those who do not know Him by his name there is no mystery. For those who sincerely need Him deep down in their souls and believe and believe and believe, this will serve as much to me inso much as to this planet. Thank you Creator of All.

The Beautiful of Tomorrow by Pharaoh Sanders

Orchestre Tout Puissant Marcel Duchamp’s latest album, “Ventre Unique”, is a dynamic exploration that seamlessly blends folk, krautrock, post-punk, and African rhythms, delivering an emotionally charged yet exuberant listening experience. Helmed by Geneva-based Vincent Bertholet, the orchestra’s ever-evolving lineup and distinctive sound pay homage to both African music traditions and avant-garde artist Marcel Duchamp, while pushing the boundaries of contemporary music.

Recorded over ten days in the outskirts of Paris at Studio Midilive, the album features an eclectic international cast of 12 musicians. The result is a beautifully organic sound that balances Bertholet’s simple, loop-based compositions with intricate arrangements of marimba, horns, strings, and angular guitars.

Ventre Unique is the group’s sixth album and follows their acclaimed 2021 release, “We’re Ok But We’re Lost Anyway”. While their previous work captured the disarray of the world during the pandemic, “Ventre Unique” reflects on shared human experiences, inviting listeners to find common ground through music.

Merengue Típico: Nueva Generación! delves into the heart of Dominican merengue, a genre whose significance often eludes the spotlight. Bongo Joe's venture into unexplored terrain takes us to the Caribbean, specifically the Dominican Republic, shedding light on its musical tapestry. Curated by Xavier Daive, aka Funky Bompa, the compilation unveils rare '60s and '70s gems, providing a glimpse into a transformative period following the fall of the Trujillo regime. With over 20 years in the Dominican Republic, Xavier Daive meticulously sources original 45s, offering a snapshot of merengue's evolution during a creatively charged era post-Trujillo. The genre's roots, dating back to the 19th-century Dominican Republic, predate salsa, establishing its unique identity with the introduction of accordions via German trade ships. The genre's classic típico configuration emerged in the mid-'60s, leaving a lasting impact on its evolution. Focused on the explosive '60s and '70s merengue típico scene, influenced by genre pioneers like “Tatico” Henríquez and Trio Reynoso, the compilation showcases technical finesse and high-speed rhythms. Tracks like Rafaelito Román’s "Que Mala Suerte" embody the genre's infectious energy. Aristides Ramírez’s "Los Lanbones" adds a touch of humor, cautioning against pub freeloaders. Merengue Típico: Nueva Generación transcends the realms of a typical reissue; it's an immersive journey into the roots of Dominican merengue, expanding its narrative beyond borders to enrich the global musical landscape. This compilation goes beyond individual tracks, providing a historical and cultural context, enriching our understanding of the genre's evolution in the Dominican Republic during a crucial period. Designed for both connoisseurs and wild dancefloors, this compilation is not only a historical and cultural exploration but also a treasure trove for DJs seeking to infuse their sets with the vibrant rhythms of merengue típico.

Atlas, the latest album from renowned electronic artist Laurel Halo, is a suite of sensual ambient jazz collages, designed to take the listener on a roadtrip through the subconscious. Blending both synthetic ambient textures and acoustic instrumentation, the album is a series of endlessly listenable maps, rife with hidden detail. “Belleville” - the first single on Atlas - is a disarming piano ballad, recorded in one take during the spring of 2021. It's embellished with undertows of processed vibraphone, as well as a sudden, gorgeous stack of vocal harmonies featuring Coby Sey.

A long-lost cornerstone of D.I.Y. soul by George Smallwood!! Synthesizers shimmer gently beneath heartfelt vocals, carrying a message of endurance and quiet resilience. A private press masterpiece where groove and testimony entwine—evoking the spirit of Syl Johnson, the introspection of Shuggie Otis, and the sacred solitude of the true soul craftsman.