NEW ARRIVALS
1062 products
Grace & Raffaella is the first collaborative release by ML and Vittoria Totale. Over nine tracks, the album strikes a deceptively minimalist tone, taking in a ton of musical as well as literary references. An elegy on a journey back to the present, with all the hushed intensity of an informed fever dream, Grace & Raffaella has a magic-realist feel. Its vocal parts serve as loopy self-fulfilling prophecies. Cut off from the sun, the gorge grows darker. Using an electroacoustic sense of spacing, as well as abstracted current-day club influences, with scraps of background noise fading in and out, this album's use and treatment of a snippet-like narrative is its core aesthetic. A digital gleam drenches the spoken bits into instances of subtle surrealism. Like a kitchen sink drama stripped of all deadweight. We are on the edge of relinquishing all control here. Rip up your diary and let go of the language of the old ones. Grace & Raffaella is a seductive slice of modern hyper-pop that defines its own intentions over and over again.
In the words of Emma Warren:
Alabaster DePlume is not doing things properly, and this makes him very happy.
DePlume is a Manchester-born, London-based bandleader, composer, saxophonist, activist and orator. He’s a resident at the legendary London creative hub Total Refreshment Centre, a recording artist for the off-grid, Scottish Hebridean island label Lost Map, and now the latest arrival into Chicago-based International Anthem’s growing family of progressive musical explorationists. Whilst much of his music contains vocals – often whispered imperatives – this is a collection of instrumentals, drenched in feeling and recorded over four albums and eight earth years in cities across the UK.
The music of "To Cy & Lee: Instrumentals Vol. 1" contains naturally elegant orchestration wrapped around something visceral and primordial. Swirled inside the 11 pieces are shades of Japanese Min’yo folk, Celtic folk, the Ethio-jazz of saxophonist Getatchew Mekurya and hints of the pan-human ‘ancient music’ that sat underneath Arthur Russell’s melodies on First Thought, Best Thought. The music is filled with space, inspired, he says, by computer games and Japanese animation, particularly Joe Hisaishi’s soundtrack for Studio Ghibli’s Castle In The Sky.
The record combines new compositions alongside bygone instrumentals and understated lullabies that feel like they’ve been picked from between the cracks of civilisation. These songs were collected from albums "Copernicus," "The Jester," and "Peach" – under-the-radar records that preceded his critically acclaimed 2019 release The Corner of a Sphere. The new tunes feature Dan ‘Danalogue’ Leavers of The Comet Is Coming and Sarathy Korwar alongside a host of London’s finest musicians.
To Cy & Lee… has a suitably individual genesis. DePlume was working for Ordinary Lifestyles, a charity in North Manchester which supports people with disabilities to live in their own homes and to live fulfilling lives. Specifically, he was working with the titular Cy and Lee. His job was to get the guys socialising and he did this by making up songs with them. They’d make up melodies together, humming tunes in the house when they needed something calm, or when they were haring round the city in a battered car. DePlume would record these impromptu sessions in his phone, then go to the studio and use the material as starting points for songs.
He also ran music sessions for Cy, Lee and their friends. “People would focus on a central point, tuning in to one another. There are things we can’t put into words, which can be expressed with sound and music. These guys have fewer words than us, some of them have none. When we put some feelings into a music expression – that’s liberation.”
It’s a method he uses in live shows wherever possible, placing himself and the musicians in the round. The aim is to maximise the creative benefits that a community of players and listeners can bring to the music. It’s a collectivist and humanist approach to making music that sits underneath everything he does. This is music made for a reason, and those reasons include – to paraphrase some of the catchphrases he uses both on stage and in conversation – mixing people up, asking everyone to be as much themselves as they possibly can and the hardcore encouragement expressed in his most popular line, shouted back at him by audiences wherever he goes: “You’re doing very well!”
Practically, he purposefully brings together players of different skill levels and different backgrounds so they have to interact differently, placing them in unusual situations in which to record. “I wanted to destroy the idea of correct so we were playing it different ways for fun. We had a very magical time playing the tunes”. This is activism expressed through gorgeous music that breaks down barriers by encouraging that most powerful emotion: connectedness.
One source of these gorgeous instrumentals is "Peach," an album that later bestowed a name upon legendary monthly sessions he’d run once he’d moved to London. The music was recorded in the middle of the room at Antwerp Mansion, around a big dinner cooked for 60 people.
“The dinner made the air vibrate in the way it did. We did it a certain way, for fun, getting people to shout out instructions – ‘make it like a hangover!’ ‘Make it like a barrel rolling down the ice!’ And we did it that way. You’ve got people eating and drinking around you and they might shout out anything. You can let go and respond.”
The two new pieces were recorded at London’s now-famous Total Refreshment Centre with Danalogue (on piano) Sarathy Korwar (drums), Chestnutt (of Snapped Ankles, on synth), Donna Thompson (voice) and James Howard (guitar). They had a day to record, and DePlume was in post-gig exhaustion. His saxophone was as battered as he was and was failing to play certain notes. “When something is broken or absent or missing, you go around it and that’s what makes it good,” he says. “Then it belongs to that moment. I want to make things that belong to the moment.”
DePlume’s politics might be more evident in vocal songs from his live repertoire when he’s reshaping advertising slogans into a call to arms or encouraging activism on “I Was Gonna Fight Fascism,” but his commitment to the cause is as palpable through the instrumentals of Cy & Lee... This is music designed to respond to what Russian revolutionary poet Mayakovsky described as a “social command.”
“I like the idea that we’re not just doing frivolous decoration. We’re doing work for society. I like to listen for what needs to be said.”
“Years ago I played a bit of sax in other people’s gigs. I realised I was waiting for someone to give me permission to do my own thing. I noticed that no-one will ever give you permission to do your awesome shit, because they don’t know what it is. It’s impossible for them to give you permission. Who gave me permission to talk to you like this? I gave myself fucking permission.”
Alabaster DePlume is not doing things properly. Hallelujah.
A landmark debut released in 1976, Jaco Pastorius’s first solo album forever changed the history of the electric bass. Featuring an all‑star lineup including Herbie Hancock, Michael Brecker, David Sanborn, and Don Alias, it remains a timeless masterpiece that continues to be regarded as the ultimate bass bible.
Noborikawa Seijin, known as Okinawa's Jimi Hendrix, delivers a powerful performance singing “Hiyamikachi-bushi,” one of the representative Ryuka songs.
A legend in Okinawan folk music, Noborikawa Seijin gained national recognition through his appearances in the films “Nabii's Love” (1999) and “Hotel Hibiscus” (2002), as well as his collaborations with Soul Flower Union and Takashi Nakagawa in 1999. Building on traditional folk songs, he made great contributions to Okinawa's music scene through various innovative endeavors. This marks the first 7-inch cut of “Hiyamikachi-bushi,” originally included on his acclaimed 1998 album “Howling Wolf” released by Omagatoki. The B-side features the folk song “Harikuyamaku” from Ayano Uema's 2012 major-label debut album “Uta-mono,” a highlight showcasing her status as a diva of the contemporary Okinawan folk music scene.
Representative Okinawan melodies “Haisai Ojisan” and “Toyonen Ondo” by Deigo Musume are reissued from original Marufuku Records sources.
“Haisai Ojisan,” an early masterpiece attributed to Shōkichi Kina at age 13, remains a quintessential Okinawan melody to this day, famously heard at Koshien Stadium. Behind its humorous lyrics and melody lay the harsh realities of post-war Okinawa, still bearing the scars of defeat. This release features not the widely known 1977 Philips version with its rock arrangement, but the original, simple, and fresh-sounding version released by Marufu Records in Okinawa, 1972. The B-side features “Hounen Ondo,” a 1976 hit by Deigo Musume, one of the leading family groups that shaped Okinawan music, also from the original Marufu Records master.
All music by Merzbow & Akio Jeimus
Recorded at Munemihouse & Avant Chop Studios 2025
Mixed by Masami Akita at Munemihouse
"Fusia's Joule 1" and "Fusia's Joule 2" recorded live by Ki Moon Song at Polaris, Tokyo March 2, 2025
Mastered by Cedrik Fermont at Syrphe
Photo by Akio Jeimus
Inner poster artwork by MA AI generated
Design & Layout by Parker Thiessen
Since adopting the Merzbow moniker in 1979, Masami Akita has collaborated widely with artists across noise, free jazz, and experimental music. 2025 saw him recording with Akio Jeimus, a Chicago-born, Japan-based drummer who has worked with Toshimaru Nakamura, Akira Sakata, Tetuzi Akiyama, and Otomo Yoshihide, and currently performs as a member of the Osaka group goat (jp). Jeimus approaches the drum kit with restless, intuitive physicality, marked by a fondness for chance interplay and extended techniques. Consisting of studio sessions as well as recordings taken from a live performance in March 2025 in Tokyo, Any Other Utterance captures noise and drum set locked in motion, where patterns continuously form, self-destruct, and collide.
Opening with the studio track “Florescent Silhouettes,” the record bursts out of the gate with a flurry of cascading drums as Masami’s electronics roar and churn. Midway through, the noise condenses into a stuttering, squirming pulse as cymbals and snare drum volley in response. By the end of the track, the electronics pierce through the percussion, a high-pitched squall stretching into a sustained howl.
The B-side, comprised of “Fusia's Joule 1” and “Fusia's Joule 2” (perhaps named after the color of the dynamic lighting at the venue that night), captures the duo in raw, unrestrained form on stage — a storm of noise introducing itself immediately and refusing to relent. But the storm suddenly cuts out six minutes in, leaving only Jeimus’ clattering percussion, unrelenting in its own way. He moves between percussive bursts and crashes of cymbals and bells, scraping and smearing the kit to draw out blurred textures. Masami soon returns with sharp, surprising stabs of sampled piano. Interlaced with blasts of distortion, the piano punctures the air of the 70-person venue in downtown Tokyo, as the performance mutates into a kind of twisted free-jazz duo.
Across both halves, Any Other Utterance documents a shifting relationship between the drum set and noise: two forces chasing, interrupting, and reshaping each other in real time. What’s left isn’t resolution, but the sense of motion itself.
- Jake S.
ノイズ界の二大巨頭、Merzbow と Bastard Noise が真正面から激突したコラボ作『Brick Wall Evolution』。Merzbow の流動的で有機的なハーシュノイズと、Bastard Noise の低域重視のパワーエレクトロニクスが融合し、圧倒的な密度と質量を持つ音響が立ち上がる。高周波のきらめきと地鳴りのような低周波が層を成し、混沌と秩序が同時に存在するノイズの地形が刻々と変化していく。タイトル通り、進化した音の壁！！
To celebrate 20 years of this incredible album by Masami Akita, we are doing a limited edition gatefold vinyl pressing on baby pink colored vinyl limited to 300 copies worldwide.
This is NEW MANUKE's first album. Shake your hips, shake the world, keep on movin', Maximum volume!
For the first time in Nø Førmat’s history, the CD and vinyl editions of ‘A Touma’ will be available exclusively to Nø Førmat! subscribers. Subscribe to the PASS and get all of our productions of the year! After the success of Djourou, the Malian virtuoso returns for an intimate tête à tête with his kora – intimate yet simple and majestic. Taking time off from the Djourou sessions, Ballaké recorded these eight instrumental pieces in the intimate confines of the Chapelle Sainte-Apolline in Belgium. Together they proclaim, without need for further evidence, the heights of mastery and freedom that this discreet giant of global music has scaled in his forty-year-long career. Though two of the pieces also feature on Djourou, the new album gathers together all eight of them in a musical conversation between a master, made of flesh and spirit, and his ‘double’, made of string and wood. It’s a captivating, intimate and authentic testament, recorded in one afternoon, in which Ballaké takes us on a journey, a meandering trip full of majesty that borders on the sacred and touches serene meditative uplands as well as plains criss-crossed by Manding warriors straight out of the epics of a country of whom they are the pride. As for the title ‘A Touma’, take it to mean ‘this is the moment’: the moment for Ballaké to share the fruits of his maturity, and for us to discover and be blown away.
The legendary singer Salif Keita makes a grand return with So Kono, an acoustic and deeply intimate album. Salif Keita, "the golden voice of Africa," reveals himself for the first time in a stripped-down acoustic format, reconnecting with his roots and his guitar, his long-time companion instrument. The idea of an acoustic album had long been dismissed by the artist himself. "I’m not a guitarist; I use the guitar to compose," he used to say, reluctant to expose this level of vulnerability. However, in 2023, during the Kyotophonie Festival in Japan, organized by photographer Lucille Reyboz and encouraged by producer Laurent Bizot (Nø Førmat!), something changed. Surrounded by the spirituality of a Zen temple and supported by his loyal musicians – Badié Tounkara on ngoni and Mamadou Koné on percussion – Salif agreed to bare himself like never before. The title So Kono, meaning “in the room” in Mandinka, reflects both the simplicity and depth of this album. Recorded in the intimacy of his hotel room in Kyoto, 'So Kono' captures the very essence of Salif Keita: a powerful voice, shaped by trials and travels, elevated by minimalist arrangements. Blending reimagined classics and new compositions, this album resonates as a sincere and timeless work, reaffirming why Salif Keita is considered one of the greatest living singers, across all cultures and continents.
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.
Retrieved from long-forgotten reel-to-reel tapes and cassettes, this collection of prehistorical traces unveils some of the meanders which eventually led to the inception of legendary experimental pop outfit Aksak Maboul, founded in 1977 and still active in 2025.A bildungsroman of sorts, the story begins in 1969, when 19-year-old Marc Hollander and Paolo Radoni form a band to play a strange mixture of psych rock and free jazz. Called Here and Now (no connection to the later UK band of the same name), the band soon becomes a wild tentet and, after winning an amateur contest and being involved in the whirlwind around the mythical Amougies festival, lands a record deal with then-prestigious French label BYG Records (but ends up not releasing anything).More musicians join the collective (including future Aksak Maboul members Vincent Kenis and Denis Van Hecke), which dissolves in 1972.From 1973 to 1977, Marc Hollander engages in a series of solo recordings and collabs, in which further threads which will make up the fabric of Aksak Maboul’s music are explored.In the course of seventeen tracks and 80 minutes* of music nurtured by the fertile upheavals of that era, we are taken for a stroll through moments of free rock, improv, quasi-kraut, modular and ambient electronics, piano pieces, percussion and various experiments and sketches, which hint at what Aksak Maboul later became, and at what it has not (but could have) become…*on the digital and CD versions. Two tracks, as well as the two additional excerpts of a 1969 live set by Here and Now, are left out of the vinyl format.All tracks recorded in and around Brussels, 1969-1977Assembled & edited by Marc Hollander, 2025Restored and mastered by Stephan Mathieu at Schwebung MasteringFeaturing Marc Hollander, Vincent Kenis, Paolo Radoni, Chris Joris, Pico Berkowitch,Denis Van Hecke, Stefan Liberski, Somore Sainte-Jules, John Van Rymenant and others.
Black Tape II is only the second widely available release by Ohkami No Jikan (The Time of the Wolf), one of the more esoteric groups of the 1990’s Tokyo underground. Recorded in 1992, it illuminates a largely undocumented facet of Nanjo Asahito’s psychedelic cosmology, distinct form his better known work with High Rise, Musica Transonic and Toho Sara. Aside from a handful of limited, handmade cassettes and CD-Rs on his La Musica label, there’s only been one Ohkami No Jikan album, Mort Nuit, that made it beyond the collector inner circle. One of Nanjo’s longest-running, most mysterious outfits, Ohkami No Jikan’s conceptualisation – as a psych outfit “that explores ‘stasis’ and ‘motion’, both actively and philosophically” – hints at the intensity of the music here. There’s a pellucid beauty to much of Black Tape II, with the simplest, most erotically charged chord changes descending from the heavens, Nanjo moaning consumptively as the songs slip by in an acid daze. The 1992 line-up here, with Asai Fumiyo on bass and Nagao Kouji on drums, was one of many variations of Ohkami No Jikan; simultaneously languorous and heavy, at times pushed into the red with sharp feedback arcs, the group feels cosmically aligned with Nanjo’s purity of vision. “Unreleased recordings from the the ‘92 Black Tape (cf. 068). Cool acid heavy psychedelic sound takes that weren’t used on the original release. Early studio demos.” - from the original La Musica cassette release Available for the first time on LP or any physical form aside from a small run of hand assembled cassettes on the Japanese La Musica label in mid ‘90s (LA-077). Housed in a custom die-cut, "Uni-Pak" style gatefold with metallic ink, spot finishes and matching La Musica inner sleeve. La Musica Records was a label founded by Asahito Nanjo in Tokyo during the 1990's. It released nearly 200 cassettes and cd-r's, all handmade in micro-editions sold at shows. The catalog featured artists and recordings largely of obscure, often completely unknown origin, sanctioned and "grey-area" documentation of the Tokyo psychedelic underground. Black Tape II is part of Black Edition's work to bring La Musica's unique and confoundingly beautiful catalog to light.
Post-classical composer, sound artist, and curator Matthew Patton returns with his second album as Those Who Walk Away. Afterlife Requiem is an elegy to friend and collaborator Jóhann Jóhannsson. Drone, electroacoustics, and near-silences extracted from unfinished recordings on Jóhannsson hard drives, underpin two string quintets—Ghost Orchestra (Reykjavík) and Possible Orchestra (Winnipeg)—processed and erased in a doleful durational work. Patton also works again with Andy Rudolph (Guy Maddin) and Paul Corley (Sigur Rós, Ben Frost) on co-production and sound design, to forge a simmering physicality that juxtaposes roiling low-end with haunting movements of ghostly strings.
“Everything I have ever written is a Requiem. Everything an ending. Death is smeared all over this music. My work is about disappearance—of the present, the past, of everything. Afterlife Requiem gets slower and slower over its duration, it is one huge ritardando, time is not just slowing down—it is disappearing. Without even thinking, two related tragedies occurred and came to the surface organically while I was writing, recording, and working: the death of my mother and the death of composer and friend Jóhann Jóhannsson. When I start writing, I am not thinking of anything in particular, I am just writing, composing, recording, and listening… but something always makes itself apparent or pushes itself through in an unforeseen way. After my mother’s medically-assisted death, in clearing out her apartment, I realized that I was also erasing the physical manifestation of her world—and that I was doing the exact same thing with the music I was writing and recording. During this time, Jóhann’s death also kept making itself apparent.
For Afterlife Requiem I have taken short abandoned fragments from Jóhann Jóhannsson's hard drives and placed these disembodied audio ghosts in alternating sections within my own music, leaving them impure—and in the process blurring the distinction between making and un-making. After his death, I had been given these hard drives from Jóhannsson's Berlin studio to listen to. This music was abandoned, in various states of formation and dissolution: an index of decayed and dead memories, forgotten and now existing only within a series of interlocking mechanical parts which in time will themselves fail and disappear, like everything else. For months, I listened to these remains of Jóhann’s music obsessively, trying to discover clues about Jóhann before he died. Many times I would find that he had left the recording device going long after the recorded music was over. He seemed to be unaware that the music had ceased or didn't register this was the end of the music or maybe he was distracted by something else. But I found these long silences profoundly emotional and touching.
The disappearing elegies of Afterlife Requiem are not so much music as they are the remains of music. In this way I always work towards the subtraction of meaning. The music is distant and smeared, damaged, ghost-like and haunted, only hinting like a half-forgotten memory of what once existed; a condensed depiction of decay and erasure. I have underlaid the whole of this new piece, from beginning to end, with these disembodied silences from Jóhann’s own work, space, and time. Now gone forever, his recorded silence remains; a monumental vacancy lost to the world. Throughout the piece, and especially in the ‘Memorial Environment’ sections, I also incorporate countless natural-world sounds, everything from volcanic lava to freight elevators to human blood flow to turbine hiss to suicide injections.
Artist Robert Smithson said decades ago: ‘It is the dimension of absence that remains to be found’. For me, this music also measures how time runs out. In fact, time already has run out. Eternity has already begun.”
– Matthew Patton (Those Who Walk Away)
A eulogy to a band and a millennium, the year 2000's collaborative Macha Loved Bedhead has been remastered from the original analog tapes and finally makes its way to the mother format. Recorded long distance by Wichita Falls-born brothers Matt and Bubba Kadane and Josh and Mischo McKay, this five-song, 34-minute EP combines gamelan, slowcore, and a cover of Cher's "Believe" pecked out on a touch tone phone into a seamless meditation on life at the end of the American century.
Groggy, engrossing new work from Ulla under their newly minted U.e. tag, riffing to the sublime on a set of (mostly) acoustic reveries that tap into the kind of smokey vapours favoured by the likes of Vincent Gallo, Voice Actor, Jonnine. Oh aye, it’s a special one.
A new year, label, album and handle for Ulla, a multifaceted artist who has draped our pages with wonder, under numerous aliases and collabs, for almost a decade. On ‘Hometown Girl’ they distill transience and flux into a quiet set of chamber works subtly resembling the room recorded nuance of their ‘Jazz Plates’ side with Perila - here taken a step further into more elusive, low-lit dimensions.
In a mode that’s wistful and melancholic, listening to the album’s dozen discrete pieces feels like leafing thru a journal of hand-written notes, reflecting on the feelings that come with separation from loved ones and displacement from familiarity. Ulla performed and recorded all of the instruments themselves, lending a tangible tactility to layered arrangements of woodwind, keys, strings, drums and voice, lightly speckled with electronics and perfused with open window field recordings.
They locate a crackling frisson of personality in the voice notes and day-dreaminess of their mottled inscapes, gauzily demarcating lines between past and present selves. In that aesthetic and approach we can also hear similarities to Jonnine’s blue-skied ‘Southside Girl’ or crys cole’s poetic sensuality, often leaning into the domestic surreal.
A frayed, opening salutation ‘Good Morning’ signals a delirious half hour in Ulla’s company, variously swaying to the downstroked jazz swing of a ‘Lavender (NF)’ spritzed with clarinet, whilst ‘Froggy Explorer’ stirs the air like Jan Jelinek on a barely-there tip. The Basinski-esque fritz of degraded loops really snags the imagination along with a twinkling nightlight ‘Ball’, as the album opens out into its most fully resolved songs with a closing couplet of disarming wonders ‘Drawing of Me’, and a blurry ‘Mute’ that feels like Ulla 〜almost〜 reveals too much before retreating back into the shadows.
Exact reissue, from 1974. "After two visionary LPs for his own tiny Nodlew label, Weldon Irvine signed to RCA for Cosmic Vortex (Justice Divine), exploring the deeply spiritual and political terrain of his previous efforts on the kind of grand musical scale that major-label funding accommodates. This is a big, bold record by any measure, with a startlingly pronounced focus on lyrics and vocals. At the same time, however, the melodies spread out like tentacles, informed by the improvisational sensibilities of jazz and the deep-groove spirit of funk." --Jason Ankeny/AMG
A bizarrely entrancing jewel from the depths of the Japanese underground, Doo Dah Nean was originally released in small run of hand assembled cassettes by the La Musica label in the late 90’s. The album is the sole release and evidence of Nean, an entirely under-the-radar trio that crossed the sensual, disassociated female vocals of Japanese iroke kayōkyoku music with off-balance shamanic rhythm and echoing electronic rumble. Nean were the trio of Yui on bass and electronics, Naoko on voice, and Non on drums. Both Yui and Non were also part of Holy Angels, and Yui played with Ohkami No Jikan and Mauduit Nuit. Vocalist Naoko, in her lone recorded appearance anywhere, elevates the proceedings to peak outsider strangeness. Her ultra-repetitive chants and sighs balance childlike innocence with sinister knowing. Alternately distracted and humming to herself or delivering breathy, near field whispers, the simple juxtaposition of her vocalizations with Non’s stumble-drunk drums, and the amorphous blobs and gloops of tone unleashed from Yui’s instruments lands like an avant garde, proto-ASMR incantation. A truly confounding release in a La Musica catalogue that’s not exactly thin on the ground for such form. From the original cassette release: “Cult Lolita psychedelic group who smile sardonically as they fuck with contemporary classical and free jazz. The world is coming down with all-girl groups, but there are none that can compare with Nean for innocence, ignorance and plain idiocy. Totally bizarre work - exotic rhythms and avant-garde improv collide with flying Lolita vocals. 100% Lolita essence, ultra-acid.” Available for the first time digitally, on LP or any physical form aside from La Musica cassette (LA-017). Housed in a custom die-cut, "Uni-Pak" style gatefold with metallic ink, spot finishes and matching La Musica inner sleeve.
'Muzak for the Encouragement of Unproductivity' is a poetic inversion of Muzak’s traditional role in stimulating seamless productivity in the workplace. Beginning as a pre-radio music distribution network (1934, U.S.), Muzak was transmitted along electrical wires with the intention of being at once ubiquitous and indiscernible, always present yet easily ignorable. As a pseudo-science the aim was to capitalize on the potential of music to have a psychological effect on listeners, and with the goal of maximum productivity, was employed as a sonic disciplinary force in the work place.
Previously installed for Dystopia Sound Art Biennial (2024), at the Amazon Packing Station located before HAUNT-Frontviews in Berlin, Muzak for the Encouragement of Unproductivity sonically addresses utopic notions of seamless, efficient productivity, inherent to capitalist cultures, and their very real dystopic effects from labour exploitation to the impacts of over-production on the environment. This poetic inversion, further developed as an album, is not meant as a kind of melodic control but rather a reflective space in which to consider the benefits personally, globally and environmentally, of slowing down.
Reverb, essential to the Muzak aesthetic, is programmed (using convolution reverb) with the dimensions of the Berlin Amazon fulfillment centre, DBE2. Amazon fulfillment centers are global contemporary factories, promising a consumer utopia of next day delivery of almost any product imaginable. Inspired by Sam Kidel’s concept of “mimetic hacking”(1), the reverberation characteristics of the DBE2 facility perform a symbolic sonic break-in to the guarded Amazon fulfillment center, a trespass to the flow of production.
Guffond’s ambient Muzak with its drifting horn, clarinet and synth-like modulations is just too down-tempo for upbeat spending. If this is Muzak it is possibly Muzak for the end of the world, thoughtfully seeking transcendence through implied questioning after all avenues for shopping have been exhausted.
“Music for Stillness” unfolds slowly, inviting rest and quiet presence. The bansuri flute leads the sound, its vocal-like quality weaving melody atop cello and ambient textures. Influenced by Indian classical music, Japanese environmental music, and Western ambient music, the album leaves space for the listener to choose how deeply to engage. The music offers a single question: What might peace sound like?
Kyoto’s very own lo-fi funk duo mess/age finally drops their highly anticipated full album "MESS/AGE/2," out now internationally on the esteemed D.C. imprint PPU.
“Morette ite, Hissori ne.”, the debut album by Marewrew, returns in a newly remixed and remastered edition. This landmark recording, which brings Ainu traditional songs into the present, has been revived with updated artwork and is being released on vinyl for the first time.