MUSIC
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Two tracks of dub-infused electronica, edited from recordings of my live modular jam sessions (which you can watch on my YouTube channel).
You can buy the 7" here on Bandcamp, but please support your local record store where possible :) You can find a list of shops selling the record here: linktr.ee/yassokiiba
If you buy from a store and would also like the WAV files, just message me here and I'll send you a free download code.
A selection of unreleased works from the prolific and Eastbourne based artist B.L. Underwood. As often, it started with discovering a CD, leading me to the depths of the Internet Archive. I still remember the excitement of going through B.L. Underwood's recordings for the first time and realising how unique his approach to electronic music was, every track had something powerful yet moving within it, as he could play around with genres and tempos yet carrying a very distinctive touch. After a short detective work to get in touch with the artist, and quite some time curating the content of this compilation (the hardest part by far), System Of Objects is proudly presenting the remastered version of 6 of his tracks that showcast B.L. Underwood talent and uniqueness.
Longer and slower-releasing than his other albums, Pomegranates often parallels the cinematic epic on which it’s based (Նռան գույնը), with ideas pursued over long timelines and across dark landscapes, assembling elements and moods from the aesthetic and folkloric landscapes of Armenia. Jaar’s identity is perceived within this, folding in his heritage as Palestinian and Chilean as he attempts to build a musical architecture outwards that frames as much of the mess and sprawl of life as possible; using a language that investigates the movement and fluctuation of his own artistic career and character similarly to the film’s tracing of the coming of age of the young poet, Sayat-Nova.
At times, Pomegranates feels profoundly intimate, as though looking through the archive of a friend’s music and discovering the accent and common currency that lives within each of these tracks. Much of Jaar’s most elegant and touching melodic work is nestled here, its power residing in its simplicity and willingness to speak to the heart and not the mind of the listener.
In the text document included in the first freely distributed version of the album in 2015, Jaar writes that the album was conceived during a moment of change, and that the pomegranate became an icon that heralded that passage of time. The physical publication of Pomegranates closes one door whilst opening another, keeping promises and marking a significant point in the career of an artist who restlessly reinvents himself, with a document that illustrates a common language of lyricism, freedom, and emotional resonance linking his many paths and projects.
Métron Records presents Mycorrhizal Music, a new solo offering from composer and multi-instrumentalist Ess Whiteley and their first full-length release since their duo Liila’s album “Soundness of Mind” (Not Not Fun, 2021). Currently a PhD candidate in Composition at the University of California-San Diego, Whiteley’s practice spans recordings, installations, performances, and scores, a body of work as diverse as the fungal webs that inspire it.
Across seven tracks, Whiteley explores interconnected sound worlds shaped by mycelium networks, rhizomatic structures, and other unseen systems that sustain life. Rooted in experimental electronics, minimalism, ambient and IDM, the record imagines sound as ephemeral connective tissue capable of reshaping how a listener might experience time, memory, and futurity.
At the core of Whiteley’s work is an excavation of what lies beneath perception, the felt but unspoken currents of emotionality and subtle experiences that dwell in the unconscious. Mycorrhizal Music channels these hidden threads into a speculative ecosystem of kinship and exchange, where joy, play, and spirituality interlace like branching hyphae beneath the soil.
Mycorrhizal Music has been conceived as kinetic ambient music, designed to move with the listener while walking, riding trains, driving, cooking, where everyday rhythms align with shifting sonic textures, reminding them of hidden, interconnected, mycelial webs of spiritual vitality beneath the surfaces of daily activity.
Guided by a vision of speculative ecology and interspecies resonance, it thrives in contrasts: tracks like Rhizomatic Harpists and Whispered Messages in Tapestried Fields of Fluid Motion pulse with fluid momentum, while Kaleidoscopic Patterns of Emptiness Dancing drifts into fragile stillness.
Hun Hun are 2 young brothers from Bruxelles who are doing a very special music in an ethno-shamanic-tribal vibe pretty cinematographic. With this first opus, an album of 10 tracks, they bring us on a journey into deep, dark and mysterious atmospheres with natural backgrounds from the forest, beautiful vocals, singular percussions, and rhythms that would easily fit for intro sets at Boccacio in 1988. This album could have been easily released on Crammed Disc in the 80’s, but it has a modern touch from today that makes it a proper gem for Macadam Mambo.
Clay oven-baked ruffneck beats and fragrant vocal delicacies from the endless archive of Bryn Jones’ Muslimgauze, offered up in a series of genuinely, previously unreleased - rather than repackaged - material.
The sole 12” in a four part series (the others are 7”) serves two variations on a theme as part of Muslimgauze’s near-ritualistic, everyday practice, at The Abraham Moss studios, north Manchester. Taken from typically untitled DATs sent to labels almost as quickly as they were recorded, the session opens with a wickedly coarse piece of looped, pitching hand-drum rhythms pushed into the red are swirled with a patina of tense cries resembling a glitching muezzin, and peppered with spoken word shrapnel. Its longer B-side variant locks much deeper into that groove with a beautiful wistful vocal loop vapourised into ether whilst the drums are clipped to a cleaner trot, but still riddled with satisfying amounts of sinewy noise in the mix, between its teeth.
INDEX:Records is enamoured to present the accomplished debut record by New York City resident, Beau Mahadev – 8-parts of dreamy vocals and wet-textured IDM-pop.
To some extent, this album arriving at INDEX:Records has been over 3 years in the making: we were first introduced to Beau’s work at GLOB in Denver (during our USA tour in 2023), at an event hosted by a dear friend, filled with lovely peeps. We were totally blown away by Beau’s performance and knew within a few minutes of their set starting that we wanted to release an album with them someday. Now, here it is: Subterra. Featuring tasty collaborations with {iii}, Uza A'amo and Yau Hei ASJ.
Vinyl limited to 200 copies. Front sleeve by Chiu. Design by Conna Haraway
London’s DJ Ojo expands his deep end club purview to a full album of purring downbeats, lilting rhythmelodies and technoid bassbin pressure with signature restraint and well-balanced weight for Blank Mind. It's really strong, tightly produced gear the far fringes of dub techno, somewhere between Monolake, Convextion, and the sort of thing Beneath and Kowton were up toback in the post-dubstep and post-UKF days of the late ‘00s...
One up to his label debut 12” of ’23, and a preceding EP for Significant Other’s Pain Management, the eight tracks of ‘Total Internal Reflection’ dwell in a vein of syncopated, offbeat UK bass music where deep house, dub techno, and electronic sound designer suss are reduced to barest essentials, as first shaped by the likes of Beneath and Kowton back in the post-dubstep and post-UKF days of the late ‘00s. It’s a sound that can sometimes take itself so seriously to the point of numbness, but is here inflected with just enough personality and sensuality in the tactile dub tech details and whirring, minimalist efficiency of the groove that buoys it to interest for connoisseurs of this sound.
A carefully plotted course emerges in the finely tempered escalation of tempo and opening of envelopes from a squashed, reticulated opener and nervier, skeletal 2-step parry of a title tune spangled with insectoid intricacy and adore dubbing, finding filigree variegation within a theme as the sloshing bleep swag of ‘Entropic’ nudges into mid-tempo swang shades from Paperclip Minimiser aces on ‘World of lens’, and echoes of Pole bounce around the sound sphere of ‘Axiomatic’, with a strong cap-tip to T++, but at depressed pace, on ‘Cruising’, and the sort of subs made for swimming in the club propel its most robust stepper ‘Isomorphic’.
Rio’s Felinto channel the punkish ‘80s vim and license of Os Replicantes on a pair of crazed, shouty, scrappy calls to resistance, issued in aid of activists in the favelas.
"Fresh from annihilating EU/UK audiences with his steppas tropicalia on the Bokeh Dekalog tour, Felinto presents a crazed vision of Sao Paulo party punk - industrial scuzz, dub squelch, grinding guitars and riot-ready vocals.
Festa Punk is a call to rage, to ritual, to celebration — as forms of resistance against the grim, creeping global fascism. It’s a shout to bend time, to create moments that shake off erased identities and flip the script on a world that treats violence like gospel.
It's also a homage to Brazilian hxc heroes, Os Replicantes, whose classic 'Fest Punk' appeared on the '87 LP Histórias De Sexo E Violência."
Anyone fascinated by Debit or Elysia Crampton’s Chuquimamani-Condori investigation of South American folk heritages or even The Haxan Cloak are advised to check Nervio Cosmico’s electro-acoustic spirit quest, notably recorded at Peter Gabriel’s Real World studios.
““Singing Vessels” draws inspiration from the sonorities and aesthetics of Amazonian medicine ceremonies and traditional Andean music. At its heart is a collection of clay whistles from ancient South America, whose timbres conjure the vibrant soundworld of the Andes. The piece also incorporates shamanic instruments from the Amazon, such as the shacapa — a bundle of dry leaves whose rustling produces a deep, soothing texture with remarkable sensory resonance.
Interwoven with generative electronics, live looping and synthesisers, these organic timbres create evolving psychoacoustic spaces where the mystery of nature meets inner realms of perception and consciousness. The piece unfolds as a ceremonial passage through a shamanic ritual: beginning in a dense jungle of sounding entities, rising into moments of cathartic purging, dissolving into states of blessing and communion, and finally returning to the here and now with renewed awareness.
Nervio Cosmico is an electroacoustic experimental duo based in Bristol, formed by Chilean composer Daniel Linker and Italian sound artist Matteo Amadio. Blending acoustic instruments from ancient South American shamanic traditions with live looping, generative sound design, and live electronics, they craft sonic journeys that explore perception, consciousness, and a spiritual connection with nature.”
Takuro Okada's latest work is the original soundtrack for the film "After the Heat" directed by Hide Yamamoto.
Okada himself plays many of the instruments on the album, including piano and acoustic guitar, and is joined on the album by Kei Matsumaru on saxophone and Hiroki Chiba on double bass. The album was mastered by Jim O'Rourke, whom Okada admires, and features artwork by Toru Kase.
The Oganesson Remixes EP follows the March 2025 release of the “Oganesson” digital single, which was the first new music released by Tortoise since 2016. The EP includes the original version of “Oganesson” alongside five new remixes of the track created by collaborators and friends of the band, including poet and activist Saul Williams, prolific mastering engineer Heba Kadry, Black Keys drummer Patrick Carney, indie music icons Broken Social Scene, and International Anthem labelmate Makaya McCraven. The Oganesson Remixes EP comes ahead of a new album by Tortoise, which will be released this fall via International Anthem and Nonesuch Records.
The songs on Touch, the first new Tortoise music in nine years, are dramas without words. They’re elaborately appointed and carefully mixed to enhance a familiar feeling — a distinctly cinematic uneasiness. Close your eyes and you might see cars swerving around unlit rural roads, or cityscapes at night with bells clanging in the distance, or some abandoned warehouse where spies chase each other between towering stacks of boxes.
The making of Touch is an entirely different kind of film — a heartwarming story of musicians adapting to life circumstances.
Tortoise operates as a collective; the five multi-instrumentalists make records by committee, seeking input on creative decisions large and small. All ideas are considered, and for most of the band’s influential three-decade run, the process has been straightforward: Each musician brings in songs or sketches, and as the group absorbs them, the players exchange ideas about the structure, instrumentation, different grooves or (more frequently, because they’re Tortoise) odd metric divisions that might stretch the initial conception of the song.
These discussions have always happened in real time, face to face. Until Touch. As guitarist and keyboardist Jeff Parker explains, over the last decade, the members of Tortoise scattered geographically, making the pre-production rehearsal sessions if not impossible, at least more complicated.
“It’s the first record we’ve done where everything wasn’t based in Chicago,” says Parker. “Two of us are in Chicago. Two of us are here in Los Angeles and John [McEntire] is in Portland, OR. We recorded in several different places. But the strange thing is, in a way it’s kind of the most cohesive session that we’ve done.”
McEntire, who plays drums, percussion, and keyboards and serves as mixing engineer, had little doubt that the actual recording would be fine. His apprehension was about those more open-ended development sessions leading up to the recording, which, he says, have been known to yield moments of peak Tortoise inspiration. “We don't work remotely, unfortunately. We kind of all have to be in the room together. For me the trial-and-error stage is very important. I didn’t want to lose that.”
The percussionist and multi-instrumentalist John Herndon explains one reason why: The path to a “final” version of a Tortoise tune is not a straight line. “It becomes writing and arranging and editing and orchestrating and sort of getting things into a sonic space that feels good, all at the same time.”
There was consensus about that; each of the musicians has a story about songs being transformed by the collaborative dynamic. Percussionist and keyboardist Dan Bitney recalls a session when they were working on one of his tunes. He wasn’t happy with it and promised to come up with a countermelody. “Right away somebody just asked “Does it need a melody? Like, why does this need a melody? And I’m like, “Yeah!” That’s the kind of thinking that can open your eyes.”
In the initial planning for the new record, the band arrived at what seemed like a reasonable geographic compromise: They’d set up shop at studios in three different areas — Los Angeles, Portland, and Chicago. They scheduled sessions with sometimes months in between, so that everyone could sit with the material and refine it further. The plan: To shift some of the wild idea-chasing of those development sessions from group work to individual work, building on Tortoise’s deep and iconoclastic lexicon of sounds — and on the trust between musicians that’s accrued over decades of music-making.
“It’s like, humans adapt,” Herndon says flatly. In order to keep making music as a group, he explains, everyone needed to be flexible then and remain so now. “If you’re used to doing something one way, and then it flips, well, you have to adapt to another way of working. I think that that's what we all were aspiring to do with this, endeavoring to kick in our adaptation skills.”
Still, it wasn’t smooth sailing. “I’m going to be honest, I think that we had some doubts” after the first set of sessions, McEntire recalls. Noting that four years elapsed from the beginning of Touch to its completion, he adds that “it took a long, long time for the music to coalesce. There was some ‘what are we doing?’ questioning going on along the way.”
Douglas McCombs, who plays guitar, bass, and the deep-voiced bass VI guitar that adds a noir luster to “Night Gang” and other Touch songs, believes that questioning would have happened regardless of the geographical challenges. “In the best circumstance, there’s a flow when we’re working on a tune. Everyone’s sparking ideas and inspired. It’s not work.” He adds, “In the worst moments, when we just absolutely don’t know what to do with something, it’s torturous.”
Herdon points to the early versions of “Vexations,” which became the new album’s opening track, as one such slow-torture situation. “We were confounded as to figuring out an arrangement, and things were just stuck,” he recalls. During one of the long lulls between the studio sessions, Herndon says, he got an idea for the tune. “I asked John if I could have the stems [the individual track files] for the song, and then I kind of did a reworking in the garage. Re-did the drums completely and made a breakdown section in the middle. I sent it and was like, ‘I don't know if this is anything, but here.’ And those guys seemed really excited about it.”
Herndon quickly adds that every Tortoise record has benefitted from similar experimentation. In fact, it’s the key thing, a defining characteristic: “Sometimes doing an edit will leave a space open for something else, and we’re all into that idea of, ‘What happens next?’ It’s this attitude of ‘Let’s make some music together and see what happens.’ We're all comfortable with the not knowing, with letting an idea go through many permutations.”
Along with that is the knowledge that this open-ended exploring can be time-consuming. And might possibly end in futility. McCombs says that though the band’s approach changed with Touch, the players still needed the mindset they’d used in those brainstorming rehearsals. “When I get frustrated or when we seem like we're stalling out a little bit, I just have to remember that patience is one of the things that makes this band work.”
Asked to recall a moment that required patience, McCombs doesn’t hesitate. “It seems to happen a lot with the drummers,” McCombs says. “Somebody will be like, ‘Hey John [McEntire] why don’t you play this?’ And he’ll be like, ‘I don’t wanna play it cause I hear Herndon here.’ It’s like McEntire hears Herdon and Herndon hears Bitney… That happens a lot, and then they’ll come to a consensus. Sometimes half the song will be one drummer and half the song will be another drummer. That’s kind of the way it works.”
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It must be said: When things click into place, Tortoise is a rare force. Whether cranking out a foursquare rock backbeat or chopping time into polyrhythmic shards that defy counting (and logic), the band challenges accepted notions of what rock music can be, what moods it can evoke — that’s part of the reason the band is revered so widely, among musicians working in many genres.
Tortoise’s indescribable sonic arrays have grown more intense — and more influential — over time. Early works — the 1993 debut and the 1996 Millions Now Living Will Never Die, which opens with a twenty-one-minute suite — contrast the thick harmonic schemes of Krautrock with the similarly impenetrable densities of musique concrete, adding jarring spears of electric guitar as spice accents. The commercial breakthroughs that followed, TNT (1998) and Standards (2001) found Tortoise further expanding its toolkit: Rather than orient each piece around declarative single-line melodies, the musicians let the vast, lush, inviting scenes become a hypnotic wordless narrative, built from overlapping layers and interlocking rhythms.
Each step in the discography underscores a truth about Tortoise: The questions about arrangement and orchestration are foundational, defining the scope of the canvas and the density of the band’s exactingly precise soundscapes. There can, as McCombs notes, be multiple drummers on a track, and their beats can be supported by acoustic percussion or random electronic blippage. Likewise, on any given track, there can be multiple mallet parts, sometimes sustaining gorgeous washes of color, at other times pounding out intricate Steve Reich-style interlocked grids of harmony. There can be multiple guitars, each with its own earthshaking effects profile. (Parker laughs when he says “I’m kind of like the straight man with the guitar sounds.”) There can be multiple synthesizers — darting squiggles of lead lines crashing into asymmetrical arpeggios, or bliss-toned drones hovering in the upper-middle register like a cloud in a landscape painting.
And there can be noise, all kinds of it: While the working method of Touch meant Tortoise sacrificed some spontaneous sparks, it encouraged the musicians to explore the thickening textural possibilities of different flavors of noise (white, pink, etc). The band recently issued a set of remixes for the single “Oganesson.” The more austere, stripped-down interpretations offer telling insights about the deployment of noise as well as the track-by-track assembly process, the ways Tortoise uses open space, textural layers, and dissonances to create drama.
McEntire believes those little devices are essential to the sound. “Because we don't have a singer, we have to have a different vocabulary for creating interest. So we use all the little things, like dynamics, texture, orchestration.”
Given the intricacy of the music, McEntire explains, every little sound starts as a decision in the recording studio, and then, subsequently, becomes a logistical decision for live performance — after all, the many parts have to be executed by the five players.
Imagine it’s late afternoon, you’re outside by the lake, and there’s sunlight on the water. This is the peaceful and contemplative scene that Matt Gold and Resavoir set on their collaborative LP Horizon. Across 10 lush and exploratory tracks, it’s the product of two Chicago-based musicians—Will Miller, the acclaimed trumpeter, composer, and producer who’s worked with SZA, Whitney, and more, and Gold, a seasoned multi-instrumentalist and accomplished guitarist—effortlessly combining their distinct sensibilities for something hypnotic and tangibly inviting. What started as a love letter to their shared admiration for ‘60s and ‘70s Brazilian music evolved into a dynamic and sprawling body of work. These sunny and expansive tunes are as immersive as they are endlessly replayable.
Both Miller and Gold attended Oberlin College’s Conservatory of Music together and in the years after graduating, they orbited each other around Chicago’s music communities. “We were showing up for each other as friends and taking an interest in each other's projects, noticing a lot of resonances and similarities working within in our music,” says Gold, who’s collaborated with artists like Makaya McCraven and Jamila Woods and stretched the bounds of jazz and Americana on solo albums Imagined Sky and Midnight Choir. “We had talked so much about eventually working together that it was almost like an ongoing bit at a certain point,” says Miller. Though they had known each other for over a decade, they first had their chance on “Inside Minds,” the breezy lead single on 2023’s Resavoir. While those sessions were remote, two had palpable chemistry.
It wasn’t until Miller left the touring band of the Chicago group Whitney in 2023 that their plans to make music together in person came to fruition. “When I first started Resavoir, I was chasing the desire to produce records and now that I had time to focus exclusively on that, Matt was the first person I called to come to the studio,” says Miller. The two had bonded over an admiration for the Brazilian guitarist Luis Bonfa and songwriter Milton Nascimento, especially the latter’s work with Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter, so they decided to use nylon string guitar as a starting point for these early sessions. “Canopy,” which opens Horizon, was the earliest track. Kicking off with bright acoustic chords, the song slowly unfurls into a slinking groove, samples, and fluttering leads from soprano saxophonist Tim Bennett.
As these initial experiments proved successful, Gold and Miller felt they could broaden the scope of their vision. “We were initially conceiving of it as this acoustic guitar driven record but eventually we wanted to frame it orchestrally and see how many shades and colors we can bring in around that sound,” says Gold. “Dewy” thrives within this orchestral palette of woozy synths, strings from Macie Stewart, Claire Chenette’s oboe, flautist Wills McKenna, and French horns from Lloyd Billingham. “We discovered that our multi-instrumentalist mentalities—using piano and bass, samplers, drum grooves, guitar ideas all as starting points— nurtured the broad orchestration across this record,” says Miller.
“The LP took about a year with on-and-off sessions,” says Miller. “The songs benefit from letting them ferment for a couple months, coming back to it, and seeing what sort of new flavors have developed.” Co-produced by Miller and Gold (and mixed by Dave Vettraino), Horizon proudly reflects the artists’ vast artistic community and musical network in Chicago and beyond. Along with Gold, Eddie Burns (Clairo), Peter Mannheim (Tony Glausi), and Carter Lang (SZA, Lil Nas X) provide drums and percussion throughout. On the dreamlike single “Diversey Beach,” New York songwriter Mei Semones lends vocals and along with her band members Noah Leong and Claudius Agrippa, collaborated on a mesmerizingly conversational string arrangement. “We wrote "Diversey Beach" on the coldest day of the year watching a blizzard coming down out of the window, where the sounds of the cars driving by sounded like waves crashing on a beach,” says Miller. “I sent it to Mei Semones, who I’ve been a fan of for a long time. She's absolutely incredible and it’s amazing what she did with it.”
Horizon is a testament to the feeling of endless possibilities that come from collaboration. It’s a remarkable synthesis of two artists who share musical community and an artist lineage but have carved their own paths in unique ways. Nowhere is this more evident than “Hazel Canyon,” which boasts Gold’s silky pedal steel and a subtly enveloping arrangement that evokes Erasmo Carlos. “Musically, we're always trying to capture a fleeting moment of infinite expanse, feeling the vastness of things while knowing they'll always change,” says Gold. “This record keeps the light reflecting on the water just a little longer -- our collaborative process running through the backbone of these songs and rippling out in so many beautiful directions..”
In the mid-90s, Ken Ishii rose to prominence, with a futuristic sound rooted in Detroit’s machine soul yet unmistakably his own. Hailing from Sapporo, Ishii quickly became synonymous with futuristic, cutting-edge productions, and ‘Jelly Tones’ – originally released on R&S Records in 1995 - was the breakthrough release that propelled the Japanese producer to global notoriety.
SML is the quintet of bassist Anna Butterss, synthesist Jeremiah Chiu, saxophonist Josh Johnson, percussionist Booker Stardrum, and guitarist Gregory Uhlmann. Their second album, How You Been, finds the supergroup of prolific composer/producers pushing ever further into the hyperrealist, collectivist approach to music creation nascently explored on their debut Small Medium Large, which was lauded as “awe-inspiring” by Glide, “exuberant” by the Los Angeles Times, and “an exciting milestone” by Pitchfork.
How You Been represents a breakthrough in the musical language of the group. This new work was crafted via extensive post-production of recordings from a handful of shows in a similar fashion to their debut, but whereas Small Medium Large was constructed from analog tapes of the band’s very first (and very modest) shows at bygone Highland Park LA venue ETA, How You Been was built with a higher level of self-awareness and a far deeper pool of source material.
Behind the thrust of the first album’s success, the band approached every performance in late 2024 and early 2025 as a generative opportunity to hone their sound and document their expansion across a new landscape of audiences, venues, and cities. Despite the premeditation driving their commitment to record every moment, the band started every show without musical direction, improvising intuitively, completely. Within every performance is an impressive display of the band’s total trust in one another and confidence in their own instincts.
As SML has evolved and spread out in space-time, their fluencies, both as an improvising unit in performance and as a production team in the studio, have sharpened. At inception the band inspired disparate but distinctive artist comparisons like Essential Logic, Oval, Herbie Hancock’s Sextant, and electric Miles Davis, as well as assorted genre touchpoints like Afrobeat, kosmiche, proto-techno and new-jazz. With How You Been their work manages to both collapse and explode such derivatives, displaying a new, high resolution version of SML, fully-flowered into a new strain of sound, bound to incite its own copycats in due time.
“SML might signal a new iteration of jazz, or it might not be jazz at all, or it might not matter.” - Pitchfork
It’s important to note that SML’s sound wasn’t created in a vacuum. The band is part of an extensive community of creative musicians who collaborate in a multitude of ways, and that community has proven to be essential to a growing family tree of innovative, genre-expanding music. Los Angeles in the 2020s is a musical Petri dish in the same way that Cologne & Dusseldorf were for the birth of Krautrock; Canterbury for progressive rock in the late 60s; NYC for No Wave & the Downtown sound in the late 70s and 80s; Chicago for genreless, Tortoise-adjacent sounds in the 90s. The musicians of SML represent the core of a new school within the Los Angeles jazz and improvised music scene that seems to breed infinitely overlapping combinations, including Jeff Parker’s ETA IVtet and Expansion Trio, the Uhlmann Johnson Wilkes trio, Anna Butterss’s own band (as heard on 2024’s Mighty Vertebrate), and various other solo and ensemble projects encompassing every single member of the SML, respectively.
On How You Been the curatorial challenge of the capture-cut production employed by SML is met by the delightful happenstance of each member being a seasoned producer on their own merit. Accordingly, SML’s perspective on what is a moment to expand upon with the post-producer’s knife and glue is five-strong. Each member’s proclivities, penchants, and predelections get their chance to filter the always-evolving elements of the group concept.
“Chicago Four” uses a live recording from treasured Chicago haunt The Empty Bottle as its foundation. It begins with interlocking synth and percussion loops before the entry of Uhlmann’s wobble-effected electric guitar melody and Butterss’s picked bass counterpoint. Stardrum’s swinging traps slide in, catching up to a couple of added percussion layers, before Johnson adds distorted chordal hits that sound like hard horn samples from a golden era Bomb Squad or Rakim beat. It all intertwines perfectly and makes an otherworldly vehicle for Johnson and Chiu’s cascading keyed melody, which soars above and between, complimenting either side of a hypnotically shifting, infectiously repeating modulation.
“Brood Board SHROOM” is a temporary touchdown on an alien planet where rhythm moves in timeless, breath-like undulations, with repetitions cut from a very different cloth than the lock-step polyrhythmic grooves of “Chicago Four.” The track’s opening lines evoke the soft throbs of the beloved ambient works of Aphex Twin (or perhaps a Robitussen-drenched take on Steve Reich’s Different Trains), before frothy curtains of textured sound drape into the mix, overlaying like distant, minimalist symphonies in a gentle, synthetic recreation of free time — slackening and accelerating as each layer of tonal pulses hovers to front-and-center or retreats into the distance. It’s a gut feeling rather than an academic exercise, and it’s all in the service of forward motion. “Plankton” occupies a similar space albeit in bite-sized form, centering Buterss’s low end melodicism and high-string visitations surrounded by skittering tonal chatter from their bandmates.
Of course, SML’s experiments with this kind of pulsating freedom are heavily balanced by muscular turns and body mechanics fit for the dancefloor. “Taking Out the Trash” is a perfect pace-setter for How You Been, a punchy nugget encapsulating the essence of SML. Chiu’s percussion synth establishes the groove before Stardrum and Butterss drop in on a heavy breakbeat. Uhlmann comes in with a searing, plucked staccato funk line on his guitar that would give Glenn Branca and Larry Coryell something to high five about. Things eventually trip into a total breakdown, with only the perc synth still looping. When the band explodes back in, the key has changed, and Johnson is letting loose on a wailing, distorted saxophone solo.
“Is there a way to dim the lights a little more?” Chiu asks at the start of the album’s closer “Mouth Words.” Moments later SML takes us out with a mid-tempo 4/4 groover dressed in swelling glissandos and punctuated by insistent, rapid-fire phrases from Johnson’s alto. As the final tune dissolves into a layer of arpeggiated chirps and sampled crowd sounds, Chiu’s voice is back again to say what we’re all thinking: “Very good. Thank you.”
Matthew Herbert and drummer/ vocalist Momoko Gill announce the release of new album Clay via Strut in June 2025. A soulful, elastic collaboration, Clay treads nimbly between the dancefloor and the more introspective moods of the early hours, both reminiscent of Herbert’s iconic album Around The House while taking off in a compelling new direction. Agile and open-hearted, Clay is a thrilling, sonically adventurous record from two of the UK’s most forward-thinking artists.
Orbiting around Herbert’s fleet-footed productions and the ingenuity of Momoko Gill’s dexterous, melodic writing, Clay is at once stripped-back and rhythmically complex, drawing on a variety of found sources - from japanese kotos to basketballs - to give the sound an unmistakably organic feel.
Bringing together original sampling techniques, live improvisation and lush, expansive arrangements, Clay is lifted into higher realms by Momoko Gill’s intimate vocal performance, soaring wide-winged across the album’s eleven tracks, whether on the euphoric melancholia of ‘Mowing’ or the emotive duet ‘Heart’.
Clay follows the 2024 release of debut collaboration ‘Fallen’ and Momoko Gill’s remix of Matthew Herbert’s ‘The Horse Is Here’. And yet, although Clay marks the first full-length release between Herbert and Gill, the duo’s shared passion for pushing sonic boundaries has played a crucial role in their respective careers to date.
For Herbert that means treating the world as an instrument, making music using everything from the sounds of a bomb exploding in Libya, a horse skeleton, a tank driving over a meal made for Tony Blair, 20,000 dogs, 245 shops and countless other noises. His album ONE PIG – which follows the lifecycle of a pig from birth to plate – remains one of the most ambitious and provocative pieces of electronic music this century, cementing his reputation as an utterly singular composer, artist and producer.
Self-taught in drums and composition, Momoko Gill’s journey to Clay has been similarly experimental – cutting her teeth in South London’s multi-disciplinary music scene, embracing new challenges and collaborating with the likes of Coby Sey, Tirzah and Alabaster DePlume. Although drums and vocals are her mediums of choice, Gill’s multi-instrumental talents were on full show on 2024’s EP as An Alien Called Harmony with poet/rapper Nadeem Din-Gabisi, and she continues to hone her style in the frictions between genres.
With an intuitive feel for one another’s sound, Clay is a meeting of musical minds that resonates far beyond the sum of its parts - a startlingly fresh, beautifully conceived record from two artists who sound like they’ve been playing together all their lives.
Matthew Herbert and drummer/ vocalist Momoko Gill announce the release of new album Clay via Strut in June 2025. A soulful, elastic collaboration, Clay treads nimbly between the dancefloor and the more introspective moods of the early hours, both reminiscent of Herbert’s iconic album Around The House while taking off in a compelling new direction. Agile and open-hearted, Clay is a thrilling, sonically adventurous record from two of the UK’s most forward-thinking artists.
Orbiting around Herbert’s fleet-footed productions and the ingenuity of Momoko Gill’s dexterous, melodic writing, Clay is at once stripped-back and rhythmically complex, drawing on a variety of found sources - from japanese kotos to basketballs - to give the sound an unmistakably organic feel.
Bringing together original sampling techniques, live improvisation and lush, expansive arrangements, Clay is lifted into higher realms by Momoko Gill’s intimate vocal performance, soaring wide-winged across the album’s eleven tracks, whether on the euphoric melancholia of ‘Mowing’ or the emotive duet ‘Heart’.
Clay follows the 2024 release of debut collaboration ‘Fallen’ and Momoko Gill’s remix of Matthew Herbert’s ‘The Horse Is Here’. And yet, although Clay marks the first full-length release between Herbert and Gill, the duo’s shared passion for pushing sonic boundaries has played a crucial role in their respective careers to date.
For Herbert that means treating the world as an instrument, making music using everything from the sounds of a bomb exploding in Libya, a horse skeleton, a tank driving over a meal made for Tony Blair, 20,000 dogs, 245 shops and countless other noises. His album ONE PIG – which follows the lifecycle of a pig from birth to plate – remains one of the most ambitious and provocative pieces of electronic music this century, cementing his reputation as an utterly singular composer, artist and producer.
Self-taught in drums and composition, Momoko Gill’s journey to Clay has been similarly experimental – cutting her teeth in South London’s multi-disciplinary music scene, embracing new challenges and collaborating with the likes of Coby Sey, Tirzah and Alabaster DePlume. Although drums and vocals are her mediums of choice, Gill’s multi-instrumental talents were on full show on 2024’s EP as An Alien Called Harmony with poet/rapper Nadeem Din-Gabisi, and she continues to hone her style in the frictions between genres.
With an intuitive feel for one another’s sound, Clay is a meeting of musical minds that resonates far beyond the sum of its parts - a startlingly fresh, beautifully conceived record from two artists who sound like they’ve been playing together all their lives.
An electrified meeting of minds, Candy Girl is a lost 1975 session by jazz pianist Mal Waldron, recorded in Paris with core members of the mighty Lafayette Afro Rock Band, the American funk unit who had made France their home and whose deep grooves would later be mined by generations of hip-hop producers.
By 1975, Waldron was a decade into his self-imposed exile from the United States—a transformed musician who had reassembled his sound in Europe and Japan after a devastating breakdown in the early '60s. His post-1969 output had stripped jazz down to its core elements: modal intensity, locked grooves, and hypnotic repetition. Candy Girl doesn’t interrupt this trajectory—it extends it, wrapping Waldron’s minimalist mantras around the funked-up chassis of the Lafayette rhythm section.
Originally released in microscopic quantities on the Calumet label and long shrouded in obscurity, Candy Girl was recorded spontaneously in the studio of French producer Pierre Jaubert, whose Paris HQ had become the workshop for both avant-garde jazz (Archie Shepp, Art Ensemble of Chicago, Steve Lacy) and psychedelic funk (Lafayette Afro Rock Band AKA Ice). This session finds Waldron jamming freely with bassist Lafayette Hudson, drummer Donny Donable, and keyboardist Frank Abel on clavinet, Moog and more—laying down raw, unfiltered instrumental funk with an experimental edge.
Highlights include the low-slung vamp of “Home Again”, the crisp, break-laden groove of “Red Match Box”, and the mesmeric swirl of the title track “Candy Girl”—a minor-key electric piano waltz with hints of cosmic soul. There's even a deep cut for the crate diggers: the somber yet meditative “Dedication to Brahms”, where Waldron deconstructs the Romantic composer’s third symphony into a sparse jazz reverie.
Unlike his polished sessions for Japanese labels or the avant-garde swing of his earlier Prestige work, Candy Girl feels more spontaneous, even accidental — and that’s part of its power. It’s a document of Waldron as bandleader, collaborator, and explorer, captured in the midst of a vibrant, cross-cultural scene in mid-70s Paris. Never officially issued with a cover and barely released at all, Candy Girl is a rare convergence of two underground traditions: Waldron’s Euro-exile electric jazz and the raw, sampled-future funk of the Lafayette Afro Rock Band. Now finally resurfaced, it deserves its rightful place in both stories.
This official edition features audio remastered by The Carvery, new liner notes by Francis Gooding, and packaging that pays tribute to the obscure original release, complete with replica Calumet label artwork. For years it lived in the shadows; now Candy Girl finally steps into the light — a vital rediscovery from one of jazz’s most distinctive voices.
Strut & Art Yart present a new definitive collection of singles released by jazz maverick Sun Ra during his Earth years, spanning 1952 to 1991. Released prolifically during the 1950s and more sporadically thereafter, primarily on the Saturn label, the 45s offer one-off meteorites from Ra’s prolific cosmic journey, tracing the development of his forward-thinking “Space-Bop” and his unique take on jazz and blues traditions which sounded unlike anything else from the period. As with his LPs, most 45s were only pressed in small runs and were sold at gigs and have since become extremely rare and sought after. Some have only been discovered in physical form in recent years; some were planned and pencilled but allegedly never made it to vinyl and some appeared as one-off magazine singles and posthumous releases.
'Singles' will be released in various formats across two release dates. All formats feature fully re-mastered tracks, rare photos, poster artwork, extensive sleeve notes by Francis Gooding, an interview with Saturn Records founder Alton Abraham by John Corbett and detailed track by track and session notes by Paul Griffiths. The 45s box sets are limited to 500 copies, and each features a hardboard flip top box containing 10 x 45s in their original artwork along with a bound 28pp booklet.
Strut present a new definitive collection of singles released by jazz maverick Sun Ra during his Earth years, spanning 1952 to 1991. Released prolifically during the 1950s and more sporadically thereafter, primarily on the Saturn label, the 45s offer one-off meteorites from Ra’s prolific cosmic journey, tracing the development of his forward-thinking “Space-Bop” and his unique take on jazz and blues traditions which sounded unlike anything else from the period. As with his LPs, most 45s were only pressed in small runs and were sold at gigs and have since become extremely rare and sought after. Some have only been discovered in physical form in recent years; some were planned and pencilled but allegedly never made it to vinyl and some appeared as one-off magazine singles and posthumous releases.
‘Singles’ will be released in various formats across two release dates. All formats feature fully remastered tracks, rare photos, poster artwork, extensive sleeve notes by Francis Gooding, an interview with Saturn Records founder Alton Abraham by John Corbett and detailed track by track and session notes by Paul Griffiths.
Regardless of the confluence of events that led to this dream pairing, there’s a strong hint of clear-minded innovation to Promises. The debut collaboration LP from electronic musician Sam Shepherd aka Floating Points and legendary saxophonist Pharaoh Sanders, backed to a lavish fullness by The London Symphony Orchestra, feels like the murmurs of an entirely new language for jazz, quite distinct from either participant’s prior output — in fact, it seems to illuminate a hidden lexicon we didn’t know either artist had in the first place.
We say jazz, but Promises truly defies categorisation with its moody atmosphere and indeterminate music-like patience. The nine movements of the LP gently cradle a circular note pattern in the way of a minimalist classical piece, as a flood of synth and string drones gradually fill the empty spaces in-between. As this deep meditation progresses, Sanders recalls his adventurous past work with the Coltranes by undergoing his own inner journey, his sax flitting between conversational licks, esoteric mouth sounds and white-hot fury, bobbing against the rising tide of electronics, organs and orchestra swells.