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Future Development is Del the Funky Homosapien’s third album and, following his departure from major label Elektra, it was his first album on his independent label, Hieroglyphics Imperium Recordings. Originally released on cassette in 1997, and later reissued on CD and vinyl in 2002, the album largely relied on in-house production from Del along with contributions from Hiero crew members A-Plus, Opio, and Toure. The only guest feature on the album is from crew member Casual, who joins Del on the energetic “Checking Out The Rivalry.” Sonically, Future Development bridges the funk-heavy stylings of Del’s debut with the darker, more futuristic textures he explored on No Need for Alarm. Lyrically, Del refines his rapid-fire wordplay with sharper thematic focus, tackling life in Oakland, societal observations and hip-hop culture, all with a blend of humor, streetwise insight, and multi-syllabic dexterity. Ultimately, the album captures a snapshot of his progression from raw talent to a more conceptually matured songwriter. It remains a significant and under-appreciated chapter in Del’s evolution, showcasing early seeds of the creativity and independence that would come to define much of his career thereafter.
New from Escho - 'Pusher' OST composer Peter Schneidermann (aka Peter Peter) taps his mates Majke Voss and Ice Age's Elias Rønnenfelt for his proper Bleeder debut, covering Lydia Lunch's 'Boy/Girl' and Fifty Foot Hose's 'If Not This Time' in the process. Schneidermann is a familiar face on the Copenhagen scene, working closely with Nicolas Winding Refn on the 'Valhalla Rising' score as well as the scores for each of the 'Pusher' films. And he's been a member of the Escho family for years, so it was surely only a matter of time until he collaborated with Rønnenfelt. The band rush for the '90s on 'Marble Station', layering wall-of-sound guitars with deadpan vocals, while on 'Here Comes the Dead', they sound more like Black Country heroes Slade. The band's version of 'Boy/Girl' is stronger, led by rattling hi-hats and sleazy, Suicide-style guitars and they show off their range with their surprisingly tender version of 'If Not This Time'. It's all a bit knowing, sure, but it's Copenhagen, innit.
A Good Year is the collaborative project of producer and former Liss drummer Tobias Laust Hansen and filmmaker-turned-musician Albert R. Hildebrand. Play. moves between acoustic instrumentation, synthetic textures and loose-limbed rhythms, balancing baggy drums, bass-heavy electronics and understated guitar work with a reflective, road-trip atmosphere. Across the record, tender vocal performances and layered production give the songs a shifting sense of scale, from intimate sketches to expansive, anthem-like moments. Contributions from Horse Vision, Koilwood, Tiffi M, Quiet Light, Late Verlane, Alba Akvama, Suisse Air and MØ add further depth to its blurred mix of organic and electronic sounds.
“Eero : Eesu” is a spiritual and experimental sound‑art work by Adey Omotade, a Lagos‑born artist whose experiences across Paris, Johannesburg, Berlin, Côte d’Ivoire, and other places inform his unique fusion of Yoruba traditions with contemporary sonic practices.
“Perfect Answer,” the latest release from US underground innovator Evanora Unlimited, is a singular pop record where destruction and lyricism coexist. Featuring striking guest appearances from Maria M, RockangelZ, She Diamond, and Taraneh, each track takes on its own distinct personality, giving the album a depth and dimensionality that grows with every listen.
Some 30 years after they first met in the DJ booth of Tokyo's Spacelab Yellow nightclub, close friends François Kevorkian and Dimitri From Paris have finally joined forces in the studio. The result is The Nassau Excursion, a dazzlingly good three-track EP inspired by their joint love of disco and boogie-era dance records made at Island Records' Compass Point Studio in the Bahamas. Featuring Dimitri's regular collaborator DJ Rocca, its is an expressive and fiendishly dubbed-out exploration of this distinctive sound - think echo-laden vocal snippets, thickset synth bass. D-Train style echoing keyboard motifs, jazz-funk flecked Wally Badarou riffs, colourful chords, dubbed-out congas and punchy drum machine beats, expertly arranged to include the kind of stylistic mixing traits and dancefloor dub tropes liberally employed by François and Dimitri over the course of their careers.
Budapest-based concept label, Blue Sun is launching their new line of vinyl focused releases, aimed primarily on DJs and collectors: the Blue Series. A counterpart to the Orange Series launched last year that showcases a more upbeat side of the label, the new collection presents a darker, more experimental, and introspective musical vision.The first release in the Blue Series is a six-track EP by Budapest based multimedia artist, Virág Réti. Choosing her legal name as her artist persona (“Flower of the Meadow" in Hungarian) also with the track titles capturing the folk names of local fauna, Peremidő evokes the artist's innate connection to nature as a place of refuge from the noise of Eastern European urban life.The EP’s motifs point back to early memories of sitting by a river, simply observing time flowing by. The arc of the songs follow the passage of a day, beginning with the hesitant sounds of early morning, gradually moving on toward more defined, rhythm-driven forms. As the airy textures slowly give way to structure and percussion comes to the forefront, the sense of direction becomes clearer, letting moments of gentle disorder and unexpected sounds to surface.Virág previously appeared on the label’s Blue Sun VA II compilation with her track Bíbic. Since launching her ambient music project in the fall of 2024, she has become one of the promising newcomers in the Hungarian experimental electronic music scene. Her debut EP, Minden Ami Megmaradt (All That Remains), was released last November as the final offering of temporary nites label (2023–2025). She is also the founder and organizer of the Budapest-based experimental electronic event series Still Places.
For over four decades Mr. Fingers has been shaping the core of House Music. Now he returns with a new album that continues this timeless journey through deep rhythms, soulful melodies, and immersive atmospheres. Crafted with the warmth and musicality that define him, the record blends deep house, jazz-infused harmonies, and subtle R&B textures. On 'Leev Ur Mynd' Mr. Fingers once again reminds us why his music remains essential: hypnotic grooves and heartfelt compositions. Not just music for the club, but also for the quiet spaces...
![Frail - No Industry [Paperback Edition] (LP)](http://meditations.jp/cdn/shop/files/NUM951V2_{width}x.jpg?v=1776598543)
![Frail - No Industry [Paperback Edition] (LP)](http://meditations.jp/cdn/shop/files/NUM951_Paperback_mockup_{width}x.png?v=1776598543)
"Real Emo" only consists of the DC emotional hardcore scene and the late '90s Delaware Valley screamo scene.... Frail were at the epicenter of that vibrant straight edge youth gaggle, screaming their throats bloody in baggy pants. Discontent with the metallic hardcore format, the quintet pursued Gen-X's ferocious, noisy rage against everything at San Diego's galloping pace. No Industry—the band's first and only vinyl compilation—includes vital singles for the Yuletide, Bloodlink, and Kidney Room labels, plus rare comp tracks from across their '93-95 run. This 17-song limited run of 300 LPs is housed in a hand-silk screened chipboard jacket and includes a 24-page 'zine chronicling the band in notes, quotes, photos, flyers, and revolutionary literature. Make Your Own Noise.
Side A:北京ダック
Side B:ブラックピーナッツ
Billed as a sequel to 2022's '7.37/2.11', 'The air outside...' diffuses its predecessor's ambiguous synthscapes with loose-limbed slowcore improvisations, prioritising vulnerability and falibility. RIYL Laila Sakini, Grouper, Bianca Scout or Ulla. If Perila's immense, immersive double album 'Intrinsic Rhythm' was too much to swallow in one sitting, this one's a little more digestible. The prolific Berlin-based assembled 'The air outside...' from sessions recorded between 2021 and 2023, but they play remarkably coherently, revealing a more fragile, serendipitous side of her personality. Made mostly using guitar and voice, it's music that's not overthought or overproduced, as if we're getting a direct line into Perila's reality - even the title betrays its unpretentious approach. On opener 'Over Me', Perila loops reversed guitar notes, picking out a rough, detuned bassline and barely singing. Her faded voice mouthes out a wordless, improvised lullaby descends into a well, reverberating as she stumbles across the notes. Not ambient exactly, it's more like evaporated, decelerated post-rock - day zero Grouper crossed with Bark Psychosis. And that description holds on 'Barefeeter', even when Perila switches to piano, playing unsteady, muted phrases as the room rattles around her. A song begins to materialize as she sings textured coos, but never completely emerges. 'Gooshy' is more surprising still, playing out like Jandek with dissonant strums that quiver around dissociated vocal expressions, and on 'Fossil', she uses the same philosophy without resorting to live instrumentation, disrupting oozed pads and whisper-singing over the horizontal soundscape.
Subliminal moments, suspended fragments, caught between time zones. Comprised from a selection of soundscapes created by Aleksandra Zakharenko throughout various stages of last year, 7/37/2.11 acts as an auditory journal chronicling the fluctuating states of vague ambiguity the artists faced during the unprecedented turmoil of 2020. Press: Perila casts her slow burn, drowsy magic on Vaagner’s A Sunken Mall sublabel, drawing on the ambiguous nuance of daily life for another diaristic entry to her quietly expanding, precious catalogue. Continuing to occupy a personalised corner of the contemporary ambient sphere, somewhere between Félicia Atkinson and claire rousay’s liminal tone and Burial’s South London nightscapes; Perila transmutes fleeting feelings into a singular sort of ephemeral ambience richly textured with field recordings and laced with her signature spoken recitals (here edged from ASMR and into more audible room volume), slowly venting her thoughts. If you’ve had even half an ear on this realm over the past few years, we hardly need to describe it any further - but suffice it to say that this one is a deeply satisfying entry to the microcosm. The album is a more serenely intimate experience then much of what we’ve heard from Perila before, relaying observations in low-lit settings that settle the listening space to her tenor. ‘Long Dizzying Air Through a Balcony Door’ lures in with long, healing, sferic pads, and ‘Amorphous Absorption’ feels to drop the temperature a few degrees, condensing into icier drips. The title and spare tone of ‘Haven’t Left Home 4 4 Days’ is uncannily on the mark - we know that feeling all too well - with a dream-pop tone recalling Teresa Winter at her quietest, with ‘Crash Sedative’ surgeon off any slumber feels with beautifully quizzical, whimsical flurry of keys, but the final send off leaves us in ‘1 Room’, with what sounds like a stray Theo Parrish chord sequence drifting in from the street, as the day blurs into the next.
For it's 4th instalment and final addition to the May batch, Vaknar is enthralled to present 60+ minutes of selected organ music over two set of tapes, all coming courtesy of none other then Danish collage artist and musician øjeRum. øjeRum has been a favourite of the Vaagner/Vaknar hub for years, and it is with the utmost honour that we were given the chance to comply some old, new and unreleased organ works for this upcoming release, all of which will be presented via a double cassette box that will include a riso printed, fold out sleeve and feature work by both the label and the artist himself. -Vaagner What we listen to in this anthology of more than an hour are textures related to the minimalism of masters like Terry Riley, La Monte Young and Phill Niblock, as well as a fervent passion for the neo-classicism ambient of Erik Satie and Brian Eno . A reflexive maridation prone to states of static and decidedly spiritual interpenetration. Far away from the New age pseudo mysticism so in vogue. Here one can hear falls in profane and sweeping chasms built with an obscene simplicity. It´s not music (only) to listen to but with which to surround oneself and live forever. The word and concept music has been outdated for a long time. - Perú Avangarde
Originally self-released in 2023, Stella Kola, the debut album from Beverly Ketch (Jow Jow, Weeping Bong Band) and Robert Thomas (Sunburned Hand of the Man, Dalthom). "Given the pair’s respective roots—and the presence of collaborators drawn from across the Northeast experimental underground—one might expect “a brutal blast of acid swirl.” Instead, what emerges is something far more unexpected. The album is “steeped, not in noise and dissonance, but in the fragrant, captivating folk of Linda Perhacs, Judee Sill, Karen Dalton, and Bridget St John.” From the opening moments, especially on “Rosa,” the record reveals its core sensibility: “a ballad that digs deep into the psychedelic-folk tradition until it takes root in a freshly sporous permaculture.” What follows is a set of songs that feel both carefully assembled and organically grown—delicate structures held together by a wide circle of contributing musicians, including Wednesday Knudsen (flute), P.G. Six (harp, guitars, keys), Gary War (synth), Jen Gellineau (viola, violin), Willie Lane, L. Gray, and others. Rather than functioning as studio additions, these collaborators form a genuine collective presence. “The family affair feeds into the album’s charms,” and the feeling is unmistakably communal. Like many of the ‘60s folk records it echoes, Stella Kola carries “the feeling of community and camaraderie” at its core, shaping a warmth that runs through the entire release. The album’s emotional palette leans toward a quiet, persistent melancholy: “the best records from that era also carried with them an inherent sadness and Stella Kola’s songs wash over the listener with a beautiful woe.” Its sound edges into the terrain of Fairport Convention and Pentangle, with references to “Beggar’s, Kings, Dark Damsels, and Tarot,” yet never settles into revivalism. Instead, Ketch and Thomas extend the tradition outward, refracting it through their own distinctly American, underground language."
2026 repress. With Dub Techno firmly back on the menu in clubs the world over, Deadbeat, at long last, resissues what is perhaps his greatest collaborative work with Paul St Hilaire aka Tikiman. A true genre masterclass, as the name suggests, the album infinitely showcases two titans of the form at their very best, and 10 years on, remains a stone-cold classic. Re-cut by their old friend Stefan Betke aka Pole at Scape Mastering who first cut it to wax so many years ago, this 10-year anniversary edition is a crucial showcase of two masters at work.
Swiss unarchivers WRWTFWW give vinyl wings to a cult, 1999 Japan suite of jazz-spurred techno and shine-eyed electronica balanced between Warp’s AI comps and A.R.T.’s future jazz styles A lot of Japan-o-philes will be made-up to see this one on wax after more than a quarter century as a CD only curio and, since ’22, on download formats. All the material is duly given room to breath over 2LP, spinning the ‘Bug in the Bassbin’-era Carl Craig vibes of Missing Project’s ‘Poisson D’avril (Da’ Future Given a Deep Soul Mix)’, thru it soaring ‘Galaxy Dub’, via chunky house wigglers from Virgo, a slow-rolling groove by Tensor, early Black Dog feels in Penance’s ‘Cure of Soul (Fossil Mix), and low-slung trip by Led-M.
Gak Sato & Tadahiko Yokogawa — RENGA. Inspired by the Japanese poetic form of linked verses, this 10-track journey spans ambient, jazz, breakbeats, electronica, environmental music, techno, cinematic, library music, musique concrète and somewhere in between, with artwork by Aoi Huber Kono. Limited Edition.
Synthesist and composer Emily A. Sprague bridges intuitive sonic structures and expressive songwriting, yielding expansive terrains that are immediate and immersive. From early experimentation with guitar and keyboard as a teen, Sprague went on to form indie band Florist in the early 2010s, gaining a devoted audience, before expanding to environmental / ambient compositions under her own name in 2017. Her releases include several albums across both projects, most recently Florist’s Jellywish and Cloud Time in 2025, and now, the Double Moon EP. Limited edition 7” includes the exclusive bonus track “Dusk (How to Fly)” and a dub of “Double Moon” by Andras.
Mieko Shiomi is known both for her avant-garde musical activities with the Group Ongaku collective during her student years and for her participation in Fluxus from 1964 onwards. The Fluxus Festival held in Venice in 1990, to which she was invited, became a pivotal event that brought about a major shift in her subsequent work. That same year, she self-released a cassette requiem in memory of Fluxus founder George Maciunas.
This tape work combines original compositions performed on synthesizer harpsichord and organ with recordings of her own voice played backwards. These sound sources were taken to a studio and edited together with environmental sounds recorded at the Venice venue. The piece also incorporates the voices of key Fluxus artists including La Monte Young, Marian Zazeela, Eric Andersen, Willem de Ridder, and Ken Friedman. Making use of the specific properties of tape, the piece integrates unique ideas and structures and occupies a distinctive place among Shiomi’s oeuvre.
Mana is the International Anthem debut by composer, trombonist and vocalist Kalia Vandever. This new full length carries on the expansive and dazed spirit of their first solo album, We Fell In Turn, while entering a new landscape of spacious songwriting.
Vandever’s music has quickly and widely gained traction in the last few years despite the fact that their style has been consistently difficult to pin down, boasting a compositional scope ranging from the cinematic modern jazz of their quartet work to the synthetic, gauze-like droning ambience of their solo material. Mana leans into the expansion of the latter: solo trombone filtered through a well-dialed pedalboard and manipulated live, paired with spare piano à la late-career work of Ryuichi Sakamoto. The electroacoustic interplay simultaneously echoes and transforms the long-note melodicism of Vandever’s melancholic brass work; and the whole sound is emotively augmented with head-on, unambiguous, and deeply personal sung lyrics—a particularly fresh move for the composer. This dexterity has not gone unnoticed, with The Wire asserting, “Vandever has never sounded more assured and in control of their many strengths.”
“It was born out of curiosity,” says Vandever of the new record. “Of wanting to explore playing in a solo context, but also wanting to interact with my own sound. I was also asking myself things like ‘how can I do this in a way that feels personal, but different from what I've seen?’ It's allowed me to go deeper into my relationship with the instrument and with sound in general.”
A turning point in that development came when Vandever began to get more opportunities to play outside of the context of the jazz world. Some of those opportunities came in the form of playing a part in backing groups for pop stars (Harry Styles) or indie-rock mainstays (Japanese Breakfast), but the true exploration of Vandever’s own sound personality came while performing solo to new audiences unconcerned with genre. In particular, an opening slot on a tour with folksinger Haley Heynderickx seemed to knock something loose. There was, perhaps, less of a feeling that they needed to touch on jazz traditions in order to satisfy some kind of unspoken expectation from the audience—less perceived rigidity and, thus, less shyness about how to present. For Vandever, warming up the stage for Heynderickx and seeing a very different kind of crowd from the stage night after night helped to cement a sort of bravery about sharing a number of more intimate, lyric-centered pieces. “I was considering that they might gravitate more toward words,” says Vandever. “So I thought I could try these songs that I had been developing, that maybe I was feeling a little nervous to share."
“When I started opening for Haley, her audiences were just so giving and really open to receiving anything,” they continue. “So I started trying these songs and I feel like the words really resonated with audiences. It felt important to include them on the record.”
It’s more than just the words that resonate here. There’s a sonic scope on Mana which tees up a deep world for these lyrics to live in whenever they appear. A full-bodied trombone awash in reverberation and polyphonic pitch-shifting introduces “Hubbard Road,” Mana’s opening track. Vandever’s trusty brass axe rings out with confident warmth and soft power, ascending and descending in register, before being joined by the song’s primary theme—two repeating grand piano triads. It’s a quietly tense musical figure that is slowly unwound by Vandever’s soul-bearing horn improvisations.
“Waiting” opens with solo trombone laid deeply in a dense web of cloudy effects, holding a warped mirror to Vandever’s melodic brass call. The two elements vie for position until the halfway mark, when the disorienting tonal wash wins out, soon joined by Vandever’s longing and contemplative high-register vocal work—not dissimilar to the alluring intimacy of Grouper or the obscure swoon of Victorialand era Cocteau Twins.
“Murmuray” is a could-be brass reverie, rendered ambient via the foghorn solitude of Vandever’s effect chain savviness. By the 1:30 mark it’s transformed into a droning take on a tune grandma might have hummed, appropriate for the early riser’s first step into the day or the night owl’s weary and quiet walk home.
The track’s title is an Ilocono term used to describe waking and being fully awake. “Ilocono is one of three most common languages in the Philippines and was spoken primarily by my maternal grandfather,” says Vandever, who learned the term when their grandmother used it to describe their voice on a phone call. “I'm very close to my grandma on my mom's side. She's the only one in the family who sings, and I grew up listening to her sing Hawaiian folk songs. I feel like her singing encouraged me to discover my voice. She's been an influence of mine for my whole life.”
For Vandever, that family connection and that lineage cannot be overemphasized. In the liner notes for Mana, they focus on the importance of Hawaiian mythology and ancestry as inspiration for their solo work. Mana, which in Hawaiian means “foundational, supernatural, or divine power and strength,” reveals more of their voice and words, drawing from yearning, loss, and bewilderment.
From Vandever's liner notes for Mana: "Mana in Hawaiian culture is the divine and supernatural spirit that gives strength and power to living beings, places, and objects. In traditional Hawaiian society, mana lived in Ali'i, known as chiefs and royalty who upheld the kapu (code of conduct) and cared for their people and the land. They possessed the most mana due to their believed relation to Gods and their responsibilities to the islands. In modern culture, mana can be felt, cultivated, and strengthened as you grow closer to your inner self, native land, and ancestral power. I carry the stories, wisdom, and care of my ancestors as I navigate grief, love, community, and exploration and feel my sense of mana deepening when I play for them."
In the last few years Vandever has had several opportunities to travel to Hawaii to play music, and it seems to have shed new light onto their personal connection to Hawaiian mythology and ancestry and how it relates to their musical expression—a meeting of their familial and professional life that represents a sort of closing of a circle.
“My experience of going to Hawaii when I was younger was purely to see family, and it always felt very separate from music,” they explain. “A lot of my Hawaiian family doesn’t really travel, so they weren't able to see me perform until the last couple of years. I’m just feeling really grateful that there's been this convergence, and I feel like it really influences the way that I play, and to have this confidence and when I play the solo set. I think a lot about the presence of family and ancestry when I play—connection with family that I've lost.”
The final song on Mana is “Holding,” Vandever’s version of a breakup song. Swirling, suspended chords pile up beneath a trombone-led intro, concentrating into droning clusters of soft synth-like sound. These frenetic yet melodically unchanging tones become a gentle beeswarm bed for Vandever’s simple and direct lyricism, the most apparent point of new growth on the album itself, delivered with the same floating confidence as their trombone work:
Holding on to you
Will you hold me til the end?
Will you release me?
I will release you
I am holding