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Straight from the weedy fields of swampville Bruxelles we bring you 8 ‘tranches de vie’ of deep zone-hall by weirdtronic bass veteran Michael Crabbé’s best fitting sound costume to date: the mighty Rudi J! You might know him from earlier outfits but that’s not the main issue here. Rudi J is!When this swamp thing touches the pads, it’s off-road after three seconds, even if you’re in the middle of Europe’s capital. Mixing analog dirt and digital sound bits in a very loose and personal take on dancehall, we’re pretty far away from the dance floor but definitely swinging. It’s a trippy affair wandering around concrete flowers with a deep ambient flavor, but it’s edgy.A hot summer fever dream following his own lusty path, full of life and wonder but with something sinister hiding around every corner. Often reaching for the stars, a deeper shade of bass keeps things nicely grounded. These sounds are built with a sound system in mind and bass culture at heart. Even if you can definitely surf on it from your couch, picking out all of its ear-pricking details, it will very much come alive on a big sound.A layered affair with almost jazzy and orchestral elements peeping through the stereo-field, spectral and dissonant but also playful. Like early dubstep, some of these tunes can destroy a clubsound, keeping you skunking out in pedestrian mode and snorting up the atmospherics, finally forgetting about that damn phone.
Music for movies by Václav Kadrnka "Absence of the loved one is a theme running through both films, but during the creative process we never discuss with the Havels the themes, symptoms or attributes of the characters. We do not specify any meanings. Our collaboration is intuitive, based on interconnectedness. We neither explain things to each other nor analyse. From the outset we have a common goal: to quieten the viewers’ perception, to attune them to certain vibrations by visual, musical and acoustic repetitions, thus enabling them to focus on every tiny detail, every subtle aesthetic quality, so that by the end of the film they have a sense of reconciliation. In fact it is a state similar to meditation or prayer. The aim is being shown Mercy. Each time, the linking of the filmed images with Irena and Vojtech’s music has uncovered a new quality that we have named: a commentary on eternity. Characters cease to be determined by their senses, psychological motivations, or the times they live in. They find liberation in the stream of eternal time." /Václav Kadrnka "We would like to thank all our friends, sound engineers and musicians. The main thanks goes to director Václav Kadrnka, his family and all his collaborators for the precious opportunity to assist them in creating both films. We have worked on our music for the film Saving One Who Was Dead for three years. We met with Václav, discussed the screenplay while it was being born and many other things. We have gradually prepared several working versions that included compositions for piano, Indonesian gamelan, gongs, Tibetan bowls, bells and mini-bells. Yet, step by step, we made it simpler and simpler and eventually only kept violas da gamba, organ and chanting. Everything else was redundant. We made most of the recordings of the compositions for viola da gamba in a church in Prague. The composition for organ was recorded in Milan where we performed a concert shortly before the pandemic arrived in December 2019. We tried to record it in various churches in Bohemia but it was not until the church in Milan that we found the best sounding organ. As for Little Crusader, we recorded the music for the film after it was completed. We had several versions and used the piano version for this album. Together with Václav, we searched for instruments that would work the best for this Medieval story. Eventually, we opted for harmonium with simple chanting which accompanies the character little boy Jenik. Violas da gamba intertwine, move close and then apart from each other the same way as paths of little boy Jenik and his father who is searching for him. Simple chanting and Tibetan bowl accompany scenes with little boy Jenik’s mother who awaits them at home. Trombone and saxophone are like metal swords and the knights’ armor. Violoncello and viola da gamba walk in the rhythm of horse’s hooves, in the rhythm of heartbeat of both the horse and his rider – a father searching for his lost son." / Irena and Vojtěch Havlovi
src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=2063437934/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless=""><a href="https://havlovi.bandcamp.com/album/saving-one-who-was-dead-little-crusader">Saving One Who Was Dead / Little Crusader The Havels / Irena & Vojtech Havlovi</a>
Dae Han is the unsung backbone behind progressive Honolulu acts and international artists. He’s the go-to drummer whenever Japanese rapper Shing02 tours the US and Asia with a full band. In 2019, Takuya Kuroda tapped Dae to organize a band to support the Brooklyn-based trumpeter’s gig at Blue Note Hawaii. Dae also recently teamed up with guitarist Gilbert Batangan and bassist Mark Tanouye to open for Khruangbin. And every year he organizes an always impressive jazz-forward tribute to the late J Dilla. On the drums, Dae’s swift, technical style compliments every situation, from jazz and funk to R&B, reggae, and hip hop. Much the same, Dae has approached the compositions and arrangements for his debut with craft and purpose. BLUE, coming in February 2020, came to fruition over the past 12 months with the help of Nelson Cho, the musician and recording engineer behind Lightworks Recordings in Wahiawa, Oahu. Together, the two spent countless hours honing a sound that travels across hip hop, jazz, and house. The resulting songs act as a diary of the artist’s fateful journey from Washington D.C. through New York to Honolulu, where he resides today. Reflecting on joyful highs and the lowest lows, Dae creates a collage for the listener to hear, appreciate, and understand the path he’s traveled thus far.
Music From Memory presents 'Spacious Heart', the debut solo album from Los Angeles-based musician Anthony Calonico. Known for his work as part of the trio Total Blue, Calonico steps forward here with a collection of songs and instrumentals that invite the listener into his lush, expansive and deeply personal world. Written and recorded gradually between 2020 and 2024, 'Spacious Heart' emerged through a slow and open process, allowing the music to develop without rigid expectations. The album’s sonic landscape sits in a somewhat similar zone to Total Blue, with warm keys, synthesizers and rich production creating spacious environments where melodies and textures open up naturally. ‘Spacious Heart’ effortlessly straddles the transcendental qualities of spiritual jazz, the restraint and space of minimal composers such as Harold Budd, and the quiet intensity and dynamics of songwriters like Mark Hollis and John Martyn, ultimately arriving at something wholly its own. Where ‘Spacious Heart’ diverges mostly clearly from Total Blue is through the presence of Calonico’s voice, the emotional anchor of the record. Smooth, luminous and quietly expressive, his singing carries a sense of earnestness and vulnerability while remaining delicately restrained. The album unfolds as a conversation between song and atmosphere, with vocal pieces drifting in and out of focus, intimate and inward-looking. The surrounding instrumentals open up space for these emotions to breathe, settle and expand, creating a world where feeling, texture and nuance move softly together. ‘Spacious Heart’ will be released digitally, on vinyl and CD through Music From Memory on May 21st. Sleeve art and design by Michael Willis.
Two rare recordings from the archives of legendary producer Richard Hewson. Rising Star (Cosmix) began life in 1984 as a vocal single performed by Debbie Sharp. Hewson reworked the original track into a percussive cosmic disco interpretation, aptly titled the “Cosmix”, experimenting with his newly acquired Bel Delay effects unit, which became central to his studio explorations at the time. Deep Song dates back even further, to the late-70s Richard Hewson Orchestra period - the creative blueprint that would later evolve into Hewson’s cult studio project, The RAH Band. Written, produced and assembled by Hewson in his home studio before additional strings and vocals were layered in, the track was inspired by his deep admiration for Miles Davis, particularly the landmark album Kind of Blue. Deep Song was originally released as a B-side under a mysterious alias in 1979.
in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music Recorded 2019-2024 'the gold metal must be wrung a bore is a well lit mine where everything belongs to me' Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025 through Dagmar’s friends People's Coalition of Tandy. The project quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.
Finally, Kompakt issue a true GAS outlier on vinyl for the first time, recorded in 1989 and containing some of Wolfgang Voigt’s earliest and starkest recycling of magisterial Wagner loops, closest to the ends of The Caretaker, Philip Jeck, Kevin Drumm. One of those releases that has lurked on our shelves since 2008 as a book and CD, ‘November 89’ exists in the margins of Wolfgang Voigt’s GAS canon as its creepiest and most occluded evocation of long walks in the Bavarian forests. While other GAS classics ooze a sort of dappled warmth breaking thru the trees in their widescreen dub techno strolls, you can fully feel the light dying over the horizon and the forest drawing in on this particularly gloomy, hour-long suite. As the title suggests, it was mostly, remarkably, made in ’89, back when Voigt was finding his feet between techno, house and indie-pop, and nearly a decade before he co-founded Kompakt with Michael Mayer & Jürgen Paape - by which time he was a full-fledged rave dynamo as Love Inc. and myriad others notable projects. And, in that sense, it can be heard as his ‘Selected Ambient Works 89-95’ - or perhaps more pertinently with SAW II vibes - in his nascent attempt to chase the ambient dragon, which surely endures for its strangely nostalgic, unheimlich qualities. An educated guess leads us to think the first three were made in ’89, taking in the nightfall scenery of smudged symphonic strings and icy crackle to ‘Der Wald’, plus the muddied bass waltz and spectral pall of ‘Das Moor’, thru the self-evidently titled centrepiece ‘1989-11-01’, bristling with a digitally iridescent dread. ‘Tal 90’ and ‘Nah Und Fern’, which shares its title with the 2008 boxset, were most likely made a little later, and find the wintry doom thawing to the GAS-eous forms we’ve all come to deeply know and adore. A true evergreen for deep ambient techno connoisseurs, no less
A masterpiece released in 2006 by Nightmares on Wax—who have remained at the forefront of electronic and soul music for over 30 years—as a tribute to the reggae culture they’ve been immersed in since childhood. Centered on sounds rooted in Jamaica, the album organically fuses dub, soul, jazz, and hip-hop. With its simple yet addictive rhythms, synth lines reminiscent of Quincy Jones, a bluesy feel, and Balearic melodies, this warm sound has never lost its luster and continues to captivate countless listeners—a landmark album that marked a new pinnacle in their career.
This is the second album released in 1995 by Nightmares on Wax, a group that has remained at the forefront of electronic and soul music for over 30 years. Centered on hip-hop, the album organically fuses dub, soul, jazz, Latin percussion, and old-school breakbeats, distilling a rich musical lineage—spanning from reggae to dance music—into a single groove. The smoky sound, woven from passionate soul vocals, saxophone loops, piano, and Rhodes, had a profound influence on subsequent trends in electronic music. A masterpiece representative of 1990s downtempo that continues to resonate deeply to this day.
Extra Stars is a deeply beautiful expression of Gregory Uhlmann’s ever-evolving sound world, and comes at a pivotal juncture in the LA-based composer, producer, guitarist and multi-instrumentalist’s musical journey.
Following a long run of supporting work with artists like Perfume Genius, Tasha, and Hand Habits, alongside an eponymous recorded output largely focused on his more singer-songwriter oriented music, Uhlmann has spent the better part of the last couple years trotting out album after album of groundbreaking instrumental modern music. From the sparse melodies and hushed ambient soundscapes of Small Day, to his much-lauded duo outing Doubles with Meg Duffy, to his perhaps lesser-known but no-less-brilliant duo record Water Map with Dustin Wong, to the lush chamber-jazz interplay of his trio recording with saxophonist Josh Johnson and bassist Sam Wilkes, to the two genre-breaking albums he released as a co-leader of synth-laced trance-jazz quintet SML (2024’s Small Medium Large and 2025’s How You Been), Uhlmann has subtly, if not quietly, established himself as an essential presence in some of the most progressive recordings of our time.
Extra Stars encompasses all he’s learned through all the above. A radiant sidereal serenade, the album’s fourteen miniature infinities swirl serendipitous synthesis and measured, melody-rich song into a panoramic menagerie of sound. For a record that seldom incorporates percussion instruments, the music is distinctly rhythm-forward, while Uhlmann also leans heavily into swaths of pastoral beauty. Extra care was clearly poured into the kind of harmonic depth that’s often missing from vibe-only “ambient” music, making for a delightfully refreshing take on the electronic, processing-heavy 'quiet' sound.
The compositions and production techniques here reflect Uhlmann’s musicality perfectly, surely the result of him being as much a seasoned practitioner as he is an avid listener. If there is a middle ground between Cluster & Eno, Terry Riley’s Shri Camel, and Yo La Tengo’s There’s a Riot Going On, it’s somewhere nearby. Lofty comparisons aside, Extra Stars seems to look beyond reference or imitation. Even the album’s title indicates as much—inspired by a trip to California’s Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, where the reality of the night sky’s starry expanse stretches beyond the boundaries of belief.
We can feel Uhlmann’s gaze past the horizon line from the jump. Album opener “Pocket Snail” kicks off with a slow-ambling synth bass line before opening up into a richly processed, reverberating cacophony of beautiful sliding melodies. Eyes wide open, the small world of the pocket snail begins to burst with new color after a fresh injection of sunlight, but the tonality is more akin to something of a simple torch ballad. It’s an immense clash of big and small, and sets the stage nicely for the delightful vantage point shifting to come throughout the record.
“Lucia” is named after a quaint lodge nestled amongst the cliffside drama of Big Sur, and the tune’s musical rendering of an intimate yet expansive perspective perfectly fits its namesake. The steady thump and chime of Uhlmann’s guitar repetitions sit atop a field recording of the distant, heavy-winded ocean crash of the Cabrillo Highway coast, held even steadier by harbor bell metallic clank percussion and a firm yet pillowy cluster of electric organ chords and mellotron-like leads. Enter saxophonist Alabaster DePlume, the track's lone feature, with his signature breathy reed work. Here DePlume’s vibrato-heavy tenor sax wandering adds a secret-among-friends intimacy to a sonic scene that could go for miles. DePlume hums low in multitrack as Uhlmann leads the steady pulse on, encountering syncopated harmonic pings, fluttering recorder flourishes, and the little bustling sounds of the rural Pacific shoreline. Earworms must live in the ocean air, because it’s tough to get any element of “Lucia” unstuck once it’s in, and the whole thing is all tied up in a bow in just under three and a half minutes. Equally playful and introspective, “Lucia” is the potential soundtrack to a close reading or a thousand yard stare. If Jim Henson dreamt Link’s Awakening this would be the sound he heard.
“Burnt Toast” is an essential example of Uhlmann’s penchant for using the guitar to make non-guitar sounds. That’s not to say that what is occurring here is a simple act of processing. Rather, Uhlmann has a distinct and instantly recognizable ability to play the instrument itself in a way that lends to drastic and realtime tonal transformation. Clocking in at a lean 1:25, it’s a quick and lively skip through a blend of complimentary and warring syncopations—another hallmark of Uhlmann’s style—topped with synthetic glissandos and stereo-image warbles placed just so. What really makes it gel, though, is the harmonic simplicity that the transformative madness is serving. At the end of the day, the basic structure of “Burnt Toast” is an uncomplicated chord progression.
That essential simplicity, leaning into tonal expressions of quiet joy and deep longing, could be the most relevant throughline in Uhlmann’s work. On Extra Stars it’s likely best exemplified on “Days,” a serene 7+ minute track born in the nerve shattering confusion of 2020. “It was made in my old apartment and felt like a way of self soothing by playing the same chords over and over again,” says Uhlmann. The result is a wisping, languid, near free-time drift through a progression that manages to maintain its directness despite its slow-building reverberated accompaniment. Like a Harold Budd take on the somber fingerpicked elegance of Frantz Casseus, “Days” wanders through the speakers with an almost nostalgic air. A grandmotherly wall organ melody sings around dancing piano notes as chattering synthesis renders itself percussive amongst the steel string comfort of Uhlmann’s electric guitar. It’s the kind of recording that could go on forever and maybe, somewhere, it’s doing just that. On Extra Stars, though, it acts as a spiritual centerpiece, rejuvenating the listener as it fades out slowly, cleansing and leaving us ready for more.
“Back Scratch” is collage-cut from a series of piano improvisations and post-composed with pitch-shifted percussion contributions from Uhlmann’s SML bandmate Booker Stardrum. Uneven loops syncopate in chance mode while the barrage of high-register notes conflate with Stardrum’s stickwork to cement a rhythm dense enough to nearly become a drone. The impulsive comparison to the intensely rhythmic zither dance of Laraaji would be understandable, but mostly inaccurate. “Back Scratch” is produced in a markedly raw, un-reverberated manner—and it’s precisely that stark wonkiness that separates it from something like Day Of Radiance and makes it more akin to a basement DIY crack at Reich’s Drumming. That said, its brevity and singularity among the wildly diverse Extra Stars tracklist means that it might be (just maybe) more actual fun to listen to than both of those records.
The guitarless moments on Extra Stars shine as brightly as those that highlight Uhlmann’s primary instrument, but even those departures display themselves distinctively, especially when he invites and directs a collaborator. The labcoat synth silliness and percussive b-ball bounce of “Dottie,” for instance, contrasts sharply from the unbridled beeswarm rhythm composite of “Worms Eye” despite the implementation of the same tools and techniques—likely due to the co-production presence of synthesist Jeremiah Chiu (another SML bandmate) on the latter. Regardless, there’s no mistaking an Uhlmann composition and there’s no mistaking when he’s at the helm. For instance, while Chiu’s presence can certainly be felt on “Voice Exchange,” its outlandish rhythm focused take on the pitch-shifted vocals of longtime Uhlmann collaborator Tasha couldn’t be further from the other Chiu co-productions on Extra Stars.
The ability to maintain a recognizable voice across vast stylistic shifts, while employing the talents of those who also possess singularly recognizable voices, is not something that is heard often and it’s Uhlmann’s ability to recognize what makes each collaborator unique that makes it work here. A great example is “Bristlecone,” which finds him directing the powerful low-end command of Anna Butterss’s bass and the multiphonic mystery of Josh Johnson’s processed alto. The composition and arrangement are supported at every turn by Uhlmann’s SML bandmates without the result ever wandering away from something we can hear as distinctly his. Like David Bowie, Joni Mitchell, or Miles Davis, Uhlmann uses collaboration to both support and transform. To reinforce and evolve. With Extra Stars he has delivered such a promising collection of instrumental concepts following an extended period of vast, high-level artistic output. There’s no doubt that it will continue to be a joy to experience that evolution in real time.
"Consumação" marks a major change in Domingos' life, a break with his old self. A new found spiritual awareness is channeled into music as often as he is able. Broken and missing relationships, broken PC, but the music still flows in his mind and with the tools at hand: tablet and cellphone. The EP is therefore a transitional document, beginning to show that "my current thoughts are not the same as before". The traditional ID punctuating the music now often proclaims "Solta!". Let go. The music, though, stays consistent with a left-field vibe, even while the appeal is pretty much universal. "Não Acredito" and especially our longtime favourite "Hot Girl" come out as monuments to loneliness and disillusionment but still with enough room to feel good about oneself. To receive all that as part of the natural course of life. None of these considerations break new ground. "Não Acredito" is simply the very human exclamation of disbelief in face of a ton of bad things happening cumulatively. "Coração de Pedra" is about a common sentimental feature in contemporary love life: hearts of stone. Face them or develop one. "Leave Me Alone" is simply that: get lost, give me space. But one listens to the song and there's hope in there. Not even buried deep. All these contradictory feelings are played out throughout the EP and become a compositional tool, a signature, although the producer confides he's not too bothered with making the titles correspond to the mood. It just happens. The music is its (and his) own self.
The legendary Charlemagne Palestine returns to Black Truffle with KKKAAARRREEENNNIIINNNAAA, capturing a 2025 performance in London alongside two close collaborators of recent years, multi-instrumentalist Daniel O’Sullivan and guitarist Oren Ambarchi. While perhaps still best known for the ecstatic piano clouds of his ‘strumming music’ performances, Palestine’s life-long search for what he calls the ‘golden sound’ has taken in an enormous variety of methods of sound production. Now stretching back an incredible six decades, his exploration of continuous sound forms has led him to mega-instruments from the carillon bells of the Saint Thomas Episcopal Church to the synthesizer armada of the Moog Sound Lab, with stops along the way at many of Europe’s grandest church organs. Just as important, though, has been Palestine’s practice as a singer, beginning with his childhood experience of sacred Jewish music and growing through his studies of Indian and Javanese musical traditions in the 1970s. KKKAAARRREEENNNIIINNNAAA reimagines a key work showcasing Palestine’s voice, the haunting ‘magic song’ Karenina for falsetto singing and harmonium, recorded in Paris in March 1997 to honour the spirit of Palestine’s recently departed black labrador. In this trio version, which Palestine describes as the ‘karaoke’ version, O’Sullivan controls three cassette machines playing the original recording, their slow drift out of phase creating complex patterns of delays and ricochets as the recorded voice chants the syllables of Karenina’s name and other trance words. Beginning with a held organ tone that gradually expands to fill out the frequency spectrum, the piece soon grows into a dense psychedelic mass, as Palestine’s electric organs and the echoing pre-recorded voices are joined by Ambarchi’s swirling Leslie guitar tones and O’Sullivan’s viola, synthesizer and additional vocals. Atop it all sits Palestine’s live voice, in an extraordinary performance of keening, shamanic intensity, sometimes delivered in melodic unison with his keyboard playing. Previews: kompakt.fm/releases/kkaarreenniinnaa_lp_dl Though clearly a work of Palestine’s design that sits squarely within his oeuvre, Ambarchi and O’Sullivan are far from simple accompanists on KKKAAARRREEENNNIIINNNAAA. As the elements of the teeming, emotionally charged stew writhe and twist, different elements come momentarily to the surface, O’Sullivan’s spaced-out viola taking the lead in moments that recall Kosugi’s Catch Wave, Ambarchi’s gliding chords and signature stuttering tones enriching the details of many of the quieter episodes. Throughout all its transformations, the music is buoyed up by a sacred aura, as Palestine intones his hypnotic prayer for the soul of his departed pet. Arriving emblazoned with a striking labrador painting by O’Sullivan on the cover, KKKAAARRREEENNNIIINNNAAA is an essential slice of modern ritual music.
After the wild Afro-jazz fusion of Trancedance (reissued as BT118) and the meditative solo Christer Bothén Donso n’goni (BT133), legendary Swedish multi-instrumentalist Christer Bothén returns to Black Truffle as part of a dream quartet completed by the three members of Ghosted: Oren Ambarchi (guitar), Johan Berthling (bass) and Andreas Werliin (drums). Recorded at a rustic studio built by Werliin and Hans Fredriksson in the sylvan surrounds of Hamburgsund, Sweden across a few days in September 2023, Serpentine offers up four generous slices of hypnotic repetition and shimmering resonance, cut through with wild bursts of Bothén’s bass clarinet. The depth and ease of the quartet’s rapport is evident from the first moments of the opening title-track. Berthling’s resonant upright bass locks into a head-nodding ostinato that makes sensitive use of a prominent end-of-phrase rest, opening spaces through which Werliin’s continually shifting statements of the pulse shine through. Having worked together in various groups for many years, Berthling and Werliin are masters at playing subtle games of difference and repetition, creating a driving rhythmic flow animated by perpetually changing details: here, you can never step in the same groove twice. Weaving through it all is Ambarchi’s now-signature Leslie-cabinet guitar tone, sounding out long chords at times strikingly close to a Hammond, while also creating intricate cross-rhythms through the play of his tremolo modulations against the bass and drums. When Bothén enters five minutes in, the growl of his bass clarinet at first works deep in the collective brew, carving off brief staccato phrases and twisting them into fragmented melodies. As he moves into the instrument’s higher registers, Bothén’s playing becomes wilder, twinning with Ambarchi’s guitar in shimmering arcs like a 21st century update of the Garbarek-Rypdal pairing immortalised on Sart. Each of the four pieces explore different possibilities of a shared language. On ‘Antigorite’, another hypnotic bass riff emerges gradually from an atmospheric haze, eventually developing into a frenetic rhythmic workout propelled by Werliin’s cowbell. Berthling sits out for ‘Lizardite’, while Bothén moves from bass clarinet to the Donso n’goni, the sacred Wassoulou hunter’s harp he has studied for half a century; the resulting performance streamlines the approach heard on other tracks into pure modal propulsion, sparkling with harp-like arpeggios from Ambarchi’s guitar. On the closing ‘Chrysotile’, the bottom drops out, leaving a swampy, churning mass of wavering organ-like chords, roaming bass runs, and distant toms, over which Bothén floats bass clarinet figures by turns bluesy and abstract, the whole thing landing somewhere between classic ECM and the most blasted freeform moments of early Amon Düül II. Bearing a delicate calligraphic abstraction by Bothén on its cover and beautiful documentation of the recording sessions on its inner sleeve, Serpentine is a powerful reminder of the magic that can happen when inventive musicians just get together and play.
viragezero was born on a cold Sunday evening in December, on the way home after a Chris Cohen concert at the Face Z festival. In the Geneva winter, the desire emerged to create a new collective space, nourished by the long drifting journeys of kosmische musik. Initially imagined as a parallel playground bringing together the duo Citron Citron, two former members of L’Éclair and musicians from Magic & Naked, the project quickly developed its own gravity. This self-titled debut album sketches a world that feels both familiar and distorted, where everyday landscapes slowly shift into something more unstable. Through tracks carried by nervous synths, rhythms inherited from 1990s trip hop and abstract hip hop, hazy guitars and moving electronic textures, viragezero builds a music suspended in midair. A music driven as much by sensation as by structure, where tensions rise without ever fully exploding, like a dream that refuses to let go. Zoé Sjollema’s lyrics play a central role in this feeling of drift. Built from fragments of dreams written down upon waking over several years, they develop an instinctive form of writing in which reality constantly seems to lose its stability. Emptiness, wandering, exhaustion and the sensation of being disconnected from the world run throughout the album without ever becoming completely explicit. The songs move more like mental states, spaces where emotions take the shape of shifting landscapes, diffuse tensions or distorted memories. Beneath its misty textures and hypnotic rhythms, viragezero also speaks to a form of contemporary solitude, to the feeling of moving in circles, searching endlessly for an exit without ever quite reaching it. Yet within this instability emerges a desire to let go, to drift away, to disappear momentarily into something larger than oneself. Without ever falling into conventional narrative songwriting, viragezero works instead through impressions, repetitions and sensory shifts. The album unfolds like a nocturnal passage between quiet anxiety and contemplative surrender, each track opening a new mental space. Somewhere between dream pop, electronica, IDM and spectral songwriting, viragezero delivers a dense and instinctive debut album, capable of being contemplative, abrasive and deeply immersive all at once. A nocturnal, haunted and living record that transforms fragments of reality into shifting sonic matter.
Based in Cornwall, Blind Yeo have emerged in recent years as one of the most distinctive voices in the UK’s psychedelic landscape. Born out of the isolation of lockdown before taking shape during a formative residency at The Cornish Bank, the project developed as an open-ended collective, bringing together musicians, visual artists and performers around a deeply collaborative practice. On stage, Blind Yeo quickly move beyond the format of a band, becoming a total experience shaped by trance, improvisation and real-time construction, where sound, bodies and images intertwine in a constantly shifting form. With The Lemoine Point, their debut album, the collective reaches a new phase. Recorded on a disused airfield near St Agnes, at the heart of the landscape that feeds their music, the record marks a clear shift: no longer just capturing the intensity of their live performances, it translates that energy into a more focused and inhabited form, capable of articulating a broader vision. The title itself acts as a key. In geometry, the Lemoine point refers to a hidden centre, not immediately visible, where the lines of a triangle converge. Blind Yeo adopt this idea as a compositional principle, bringing together different temporalities, narratives and emotional states into a single moment. The album becomes a point of anchoring where past, present and future coexist, where memory, grief, desire and projection are woven into the same sonic fabric. Musically, The Lemoine Point deepens and expands the directions explored in their earlier recordings. Much of the album was captured live, driven by an extended core ensemble — Sam Pert on drums, Phil Self on guitars, Henry Greenham on synths, Philippa Blum on cello, Jake Sheridan on bass, alongside Will Greenham and Anouska Helm on vocals, guitars and songwriting — whose interplay allows a raw, almost ritual energy to circulate. Around this foundation, more intimate sessions refine the material, introducing softer and more delicate textures, further enriched by string arrangements from Matthew Kelly. The writing draws freely from narrative traditions, only to reframe them in a contemporary context. Fragments of older stories, such as Frick and Frack inspired by Italo Calvino, are reactivated to explore duality, the tension between opposing forces and the search for an inner centre. From the opening track Today Tomorrow, the album establishes a fractured relationship to time, caught between disorientation and the attempt to regain balance, as if each piece were working towards a fragile and constantly shifting equilibrium. Rooted in a specific territory yet open outward, The Lemoine Point also captures something of a collective moment. The Cornish landscape, its communities and the dynamics that shape them become integral to the record. This connection to place does not result in a fixed or nostalgic folklore, but in a living material shaped by multiple influences, where psychedelia, folk traditions and electronic practices coexist without hierarchy. With this debut album, Blind Yeo assert a singular form that is both immersive and structured, moving beyond conventional formats. More than a recording, The Lemoine Point acts as a point of convergence, an attempt to grasp a state of the world through sound, allowing its tensions, contradictions and impulses to exist side by side.
Originally recorded and released in 1977 on Sky Records, the first collaborative album by Brian Eno and Cluster was the first ambient record produced in Germany, and is considered the seminal, defining work of the genre. Brian Eno was certainly instrumental in creating and popularizing the concept of "ambient music" -- but it was not his invention alone. The German musicians Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius (Cluster) were brothers in spirit. As so often in music, the idea of ambient was in the air -- both Eno and Cluster experimenting with the form in the 1970s, rendering any debate as to who influenced who redundant. What is certain, is that Brian Eno attended a Cluster concert in Hamburg in 1975, strategically positioning himself in the front row. Sure enough, he was invited on stage to jam with the band and, after the show, the participants arranged to meet up again. They did so two years later at the Old Weserhof in Forst, the domicile of the German duo. Eno and Cluster spent three weeks in Conny Plank's studio, resulting in two albums: Cluster & Eno and After The Heat (1978). In the liner notes, Asmus Tietchens (who also plays on the record along with Can's Holger Czukay) writes: "Clearly, all three musicians inspired each other during their three weeks together without any clash of personalities. Nevertheless, some tracks sound more like Cluster, some more like Eno. So it made perfect sense to collect the tracks with a Cluster flavor on Cluster & Eno." The importance of this record can never be overstated, nor can its elegance of diverse forms be matched. From Indian sitar and tamboura, to synth warbles and airy tributes to Western groove, it is a rare glimpse at what happens when masters meet.
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"Phil Pratt (George Phillips Pratt) was an influential figure in the Jamaican music industry, recognized for his work as a producer, singer, and songwriter. Beginning his career in the 1960s as a vocalist, he soon transitioned into production, becoming an important contributor to Jamaica's golden era of reggae throughout the 1960s and 1970s. As a producer, Pratt worked with leading artists including Al Campbell, Dennis Brown, Horace Andy, and Ken Boothe, creating recordings that became foundational to the reggae genre. His production credits include notable releases such as The War Is On, as well as key tracks like Dennis Brown's 'Money in My Pocket' and Horace Andy's 'You Are My Angel.' Pratt's production legacy -- defined by his ear for melody, rhythm, and artist collaboration -- continues to hold significant influence in reggae history. Phil Pratt has since passed away, but his work remains widely respected and celebrated. Originally released by Burning Sounds in 1978, Star Wars Dub highlights Pratt's distinctive production style. This new edition faithfully reissues the album, featuring an insert with sleeve notes and pressing on limited edition 180gram Purple Transparent vinyl."
Go Hirano - Piano, Pianica, Windchime, Percussion, Electronics, and Effects
Tracks A1, A2, A4, B1, B4 recorded live in October 2020 at Pianola Records, Tokyo
Piano Tuning and voicing by Emi Hatakeyama
Recorded by Makoto Oshiro
The remaining tracks were recorded in the late 1980's-2019 and remixed in 2019
It has occasionally been assumed that Henry Grimes got this recording date as a reward for his long service in the avant-garde of jazz. Having already honed his musical conception with a varied range of players, from Benny Goodman and Arnett Cobb to Lee Morgan, Gerry Mulligan, and Sonny Rollins to McCoy Tyner, Steve Lacy, Albert Ayler (including ESP 1020, Spirits Rejoice), Don Cherry, and Cecil Taylor (to name just a few), the service was certainly there, but he got this gig fully on his merits. For The Call Grimes teamed with highly original clarinetist Perry Robinson (as label owner Bernard Stollman has noted, "a virtuoso who merits far wider recognition... and this recording reflects both of their contributions, in equal measure") and stalwart drummer/ESP-Disk' regular Tom Price. As a bassist, Grimes's melodic style is well up to the task of being co-equal voice with a horn, resulting in a thoughtful and texturally rewarding LP with a level of quality far above the rote sideman session cliche, and far away from equally cliched ideas of unrelentingly full-bore free jazz. It offers the sound of three excellent musicians listening to each other and responding superbly. The Juilliard-trained Grimes appeared on six other ESP LPs besides those already mentioned. He retired at some point after the last of them, 1967's Marzette Watts LP, and went so far off the scene that it was rumored that he had died. Happily, that was not the case, and he reemerged in 2003, moved back to New York, and returned to his prolific ways.
Caterina Barbieri & Bendik Giske's At Source resounds music as wellspring, that which is essential and unknowable, and yet utterly primary. It finds two acclaimed composer-musicians building a world together in self-contained collaboration between analogue synthesis and an extended approach to the saxophone that conjures its own universe of sound. It is at once intimate and cosmic, drawing on the challenges and possibilities of their artistic exchange, tearing down technique to access all the expansive possibilities of their sonic meeting point. At Source is a document of the world of sound to be conjured when two artists strive for something together, discovering the expansions and limitations of performance by bodies and machines. It is not an exercise in assimilation, but in productive exchange and creative confrontation. It does not draw on outside energies or influences, but grapples with what there is to find in their respective playing. "It also reflects how natural the collaboration was," says Barbieri, "a meeting at the source which was spontaneous, graceful and natural". Barbieri and Giske first met and were enthralled by one another's performances at Kunsthaus Glarus in 2019, a meeting that spurred conversations on the power of transitions as a compositional force. Giske later contributed a rework of Fantas for Fantas Variations (Editions Mego, 2021), an ambitious undertaking to rescore Barbieri’s work for his saxophone and voice, a challenge Giske had started undertaking two years prior as an ongoing practice of transcription. “The request came as a proof of aligned ideas”, says Giske. Their new collaborative project then started during an artistic residency in Milan’s ICA in 2021, by invitation of swiss artist and curator Jan Vorisek, as the world was emerging from lockdown. This meeting, and the preceding closure of sites for cultural exchange, made their work together 'feel like springtime' says Barbieri. Giske, who was on the brink of releasing his sophomore album, Cracks, then joined Barbieri's light-years tour, which functioned as an inaugural incarnation of her newborn label and platform through a series of multi-artist curated shows with appearances of Lyra Pramuk, Nkisi, MFO, among other artists. Through the tour, they continued to develop material live, and this release, laid down in the studio, is true to that ever-evolving process of creation, where live feedback stays essential to the vitality of this collaborative effort. The tracks are each named with two evocative words that contain the two poles of their sound. Theirs is both abstract and cosmic, in the synth as machine undermined by Barbieri's naturalistic playing, and in Giske's continuous exploration of the symbiosis between his instrument, voice, and body. These binaries, of body and machine, posed various challenges, notably in how the stepped patterns Barbieri uses were near-impossible to translate for Giske's body to perform, and other times where mathematical resolutions were needed to sync their playing. Explains Giske: "It forced me to go to the core of what I am and what I have to offer”. Barbieri says that it "explores the liminality between the machine and the human, and the vulnerability in this process". On 'Intuition, Nimbus', the first track to be written, Giske's playing flutters and rises on Barbieri's synth, like a flock of birds lifted skywards on thermal columns, with clouds of pulsing tones fanning avian wings. 'Alignment, Orbit' settles into a steady torque, Giske's gentle percussions syncing with shifting loops, steadily building energy and conjuring solidity from breath and resistance. The extended 'Impatience, Magma' stretches glowing and languorous, honing in on and picking up a synth melody with whetted edge that cuts through the firmament, populating a broad cosmos of extended tones and replicating patterns in a piece that calls to mind Laurie Spiegel's extended works, and steps into transcendent duet with Giske's saxophone at its most keening and spiritual in tone and movement. 'Persistence, Buds' unfurls gracefully in sensuous sympatico, as saxophone caresses Barbieri's slowly twirling progressions, a tactile and meditative closer. At Source is testament to two divergent practices finding a whole cosmos in which to convene; music is crystalised and made utterly enveloping through the focused and critical work of two musicians working at their peak. The versions here are, temptingly, "just one of many versions" of this abundant source material Giske explains. Like the best collaborations, At Source is more than the sum of its parts – bringing more to the feast than the simple combination of two musicians, promising versions upon versions of the exquisite material captured here.
As Brian Eno told us last week, “Leenalchi has changed the way I think about music, dancing and Korea. I have never heard anything quite like this.” There’s so much to say to you about this amazing band—but what will get you to listen? Is it that they play addictive psych pop? Or that they sound like animals talking to each other over tripped out bass lines? They have a new single out today called HERE COMES THAT CROW, which, like all of Leenalchi’s songs, is a chopped and screwed version of a pansori tale (a traditional form of storytelling from the 17th century). Based on a story about the warlord Cao Cao, the song is an allegory about life’s precariousness. The band wrote a poem to explain: Doyung doyung goes the small boat floating down the river. Whether the chased or the chaser, no one can stop—just beneath the boards lies the underworld!
