NEW ARRIVALS

It has taken me over 50 years to write these words. Since my initial successes in the 1970’s many have urged me to “release” unpublished works from the same period, pieces that featured the VCS3 synths or the amazing Serge (which I regret not having used enough) or pieces featuring soundscapes from my classic environmental composition style. For reasons of persistence and empathy, Lawrence English at Room 40 was the most persuasive; now, nearly 3 years after our agreement, a new publication composed with materials from that inceptive period has come to fruition. While I’m condemned to live evermore in the past, it is the future where I continue to put my remaining creative energies. Nonetheless, in the creation of these 2 “new” works I did all I could to avoid sentimentalism or get buried by my own history and the musical riches of the late 20th Century. Relistening to these forgotten fragments of old tapes included inspiring and useful surprises.

“Elemental View” is a work in six movements by pioneering composer Ellen Fullman for her Long String Instrument and The Living Earth Show. The expansive installation inhabits an industrial sized space with 136 strings, precisely tuned and configured for this multi-movement piece. Listening to the music of Fullman’s singular creation is akin to standing inside a giant musical instrument. The result is a music at once ancient and utterly new, environmental, and folk-like yet orchestral; immersing the listener in a transportive glistening atmosphere. “Elemental View” invites the listener to discover, as if with a magnifying glass, the details of the physics of string vibration itself. Fullman bows the instrument lengthwise with her fingertips while walking, playing multiple strings at once. As she walks, upper partial tones unfold at different rates, in proportion to differences in string length, imparting an undulating wave of continually shifting overtones. The notation for the Long String Instrument contains both temporal indications and spatial choreography, as specific harmonies emerge at distinct locations along the string length. Invention and discovery are at the core of Fullman’s work. To produce percussive sounds on the otherwise drone-based instrument, Fullman designed and fabricated the box bow, shovelette, and shoveler, which play three, six, or nine strings at once. Varying techniques with these tools produce either open ringing tones or closed dampened ones. With their laser focused precision and virtuosic ensemble playing, The Living Earth Show brilliantly executes the rhythmic and harmonic complexity of Fullman’s composition. In the movements “Environmental Memory” and “Concentrated Merry-Go-Round”, Fullman incorporates Travis Andrew’s primary instrument, the guitar. Andy Meyerson and Fullman accompany the guitar in duo playing box bow and shoveler. For “Surface Narrative in Four Parts”, Meyerson also applies his percussion mastery to the santur, a Persian hammered dulcimer. The santur’s unique tuning is derived from the extended microtonal partials of the sequence played by Fullman on The Long String Instrument.

"The Sound Leaves" began as an interactive sound performance and installation based around humans’ impact on the environment and how that impact is altering the sonic landscape of our world. As ecosystems change due to climate collapse, the sound of those ecosystems changes too. "The Sound Leaves" used an amplified collection of autumn leaves to encourage participants to listen closely to how their actions alter the sounds of the fallen leaves by walking on and through them for a period of time. By amplifying these sounds, processing and mixing them live, and playing them back via a set of speakers directed at the installation, the performance heightened the sonic changes participants’ actions create. From that performance, a sound piece by the same name was composed using the recorded sounds with additional instrumentation. It was installed as a temporary exhibition on site at Philbrook Musuem of Art during the winter of 2023, emanating from a grove of oak and elm trees. A year later, as the climate crisis worsened, those same sounds were reprocessed and reconsidered, creating a more ghost-like approach, "In Collapse."

Really feeling this trippy acid treat by a one-of-a-kind Lolina; her 10th solo album since the last Hype Williams drop with Dean Blunt in the early 2010s, and typically riddled with low-key mischievous slants on mutant dance-pop, as heard in her regular midweek club night at ace London venue, Spanners. Chasing up her trip-hop tinted LP ‘Unrecognisable’ (2024), and a mix CD as Balmainjeans repping her club night ‘Distressed’, Lolina plays to an ideally unpredictable form with a shift into acid pop on ‘Monopoly of Mistakes’; featuring eleven concentrated formulations of dry drum machines x tweakiest 303 gunk gilded with those vocals that keep us coming back. The combo of silver box x slanted vox finds the DIY prism-pusher bending timelines thru lo-fi indie-pop with sound system steppas, basement noise, cold wave and free party acid tekno, but never quite settling into any one style. Maintaining her mutable range of variations within a theme, Monopoly of Mistakes really catches our breath with the way Lolina turns a paucity of ingredients into a dead satisfying thing. Whether commanding the 303 to the beat-less abstraction ‘Border Beach’ or alloying with wooziest keys and steppas fizz on ‘The Mercenaries’, or going deep into the lushest wormhole on the titular, 7 minute standout, her min-to-max sense of economy is key to this LP’s appeal. It’s there in the piquant synth-pop of ‘Menace’ and ‘Everlasting’ - think Wee Papa Girl Rappers via Dave Ball at John T. Gast’s - and calling to mind a lost SOPHIE x EVOL gem in ’Stand Off’. But it’s also finely measured with an utterly gorgeous new age miniature harking to classic Hype Williams on ‘Welcome to the Drift of Whats Already Begun’, and of course the zinging closer ‘Penalty’, where zippiest ‘80s french cold wave meets AFXian harmony and a sort of Dopplereffektish science-lab engineering in a chef’s kiss demo of the extended melodic wooo that sets all her work apart. Best believe it’s fully distinctive, addictive gear.

Originally released in 1989 as Violin Solo. Sept. 3-4, '89. Takehisa Kosugi's improvisations, both with violin and miscellaneous sounding objects, have a sense of emerging from the bottom of a spiritual unconscious. From this place comes a music based more on the feeling of sounds than conscious arrangement. Memory, physical action, tactile perceptions, environmental conditions, and awareness of subconscious microcosmic and macrocosmic extremes inform his work as much as the intention to assemble sounds into music. When listeners connect with his sounds, a direct identification of experience occurs between audience and performer. Personnel: Takehisa Kosugi - electric violin.

When they were there they saw a lone woman coming to the door of the Hostel, after sunset, and seeking to be let in. As long as a weaver’s beam was each of her two shins, and they were as dark as the back of a stag-beetle. A greyish, wooly mantle she wore. Her lower hair used to reach as far as her knee. Her lips were on one side of her head. She came and put one of her shoulders against the door-post of the house, casting the evil eye on the king and the youths who surrounded him in the Hostel. He himself addressed her from within. "Well, O woman," says Conaire, "if thou art a wizard, what seest thou for us?” "Truly I see for thee," she answers, "that neither fell nor flesh of thine shall escape from the place into which thou hast come, save what birds will bear away in their claws.” "It was not an evil omen we foreboded, O woman," saith he: "it is not thou that always augurs for us. What is thy name, O woman?” "Calib," she answers. "That is not much of a name," says Conaire. "Lo, many are my names besides.” "Which be they?" asks Conaire. "Easy to say," quoth she. "Samon, Sinand, Seisclend, Sodb, Caill, Coll, Díchóem, Dichiúil, Díthím, Díchuimne, Dichruidne, Dairne, Dáríne, Déruaine, Egem, Agam, Ethamne, Gním, Cluiche, Cethardam, Níth, Némain, Nóennen, Badb, Blosc, B[l]oár, Huae, óe Aife la Sruth, Mache, Médé, Mod.” On one foot, and holding up one hand, and breathing one breath she sang all that to them from the door of the house.

"As expected, the set began with some brain-blasting brutal noise [...] Although Merzbow is known for his extreme electronics, he is much more diverse and creative than most give him credit for. The best part of the set was when both Merzbow and Mats [Gustafsson] worked more carefully with their electronics while Mr. Pándi played some cerebral, shifting currents on his drums [...] which brought this set to a grand climax [...]". » GALLANTER, Bruce. « Downtown Music Gallery », June 2018 "The festival concluded—climactically and cathartically—with a bracing wall of sound, noise and fury from the trio of Gustafsson, the mystical Japanese noise master Merzbow and impressive young Hungarian drummer Balázs Pándi.". » WOODARD, Josef. « DownBeat », May 27, 2018 "If you've seen Merzbow perform live, a question you probably wouldn't ask is, "How can we make that louder?" Well, the answer comes in the form of sax monster Mats Gustafsson and a relative newcomer, Hungarian drummer Balázs Pándi." » HILL, Eric. « Exclaim! », May 20, 2018

Inventor of the “infinite guitar,” Canadian musician Michael Brook’s 1992 4AD record Cobalt Blue is a timeless and quietly stunning collection of instrumental pieces and shimmering dreamscapes, featuring contributions from ambient music pioneer Brian Eno, composer & multi-instrumentalist Roger Eno, and Grammy-winning producer Daniel Lanois.

Recorded later that year, Live at the Aquarium captures Brook’s rare solo performance in London, highlighting the hypnotic sustain and atmosphere that define his work. Beyond his albums, Brook has scored acclaimed films including Into the Wild, Brooklyn, and An Inconvenient Truth.

Newly remastered by Rashad Becker and presented as a 2XCD and crystal clear 2LP with artwork by Alison Fielding based on the original v23 designs, this set marks the first vinyl reissue of Cobalt Blue and the vinyl debut of Live at the Aquarium — a long-overdue celebration of an underrated gem in the 4AD catalogue.

Brook is known as a pioneer in the ambient music movement and a highly sought-after producer, especially in the arena of world music, for Peter Gabriel’s Real World Records. He has worked with a vast range of important artists, including Cheb Khaled, U. Srinivas, Mary Margaret O’Hara, and the Pogues, and toured with David Sylvian and Robert Fripp and with John Cale.

Brook was nominated for a Grammy Award in 1996 for his album with Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Night Song, and for a Golden Globe in 2008 for the Into the Wild soundtrack. El Infierno won the 2011 Havana Film Festival award for best music. In 2024, Nusrat’s album Chain of Light, produced by Brook, was The Guardian’s World Music album of the year.

TMZ stood out as a fiercely unique presence on TRANSONIC COMPACT DISC 01 and 02, the compilation albums that marked the first standalone releases from the newly reborn TRANSONIC RECORDS. An existence that could well be called an out-of-place artifact in techno history, this debut album bridges the gap between a hidden past and the present.

Kevin Drumm’s The Mild Temper gathers over six hours of work shaped by gradual change, fine detail and sustained tones. Across six discs, he explores density, resonance and space through small, deliberate shifts rather than overt movement. Sounds emerge, recede and recombine, holding a careful balance between stillness and motion. There’s no narrative push here—just close attention to texture, duration and the physical presence of sound. The result is a cohesive, absorbing body of work that reflects the precision and focus of Drumm’s long-standing practice.

Blues in the Mississippi Night documents a remarkable 1947 session recorded by Alan Lomax in New York, shortly after performances at his Midnight Special concert series. Featuring Big Bill Broonzy, Memphis Slim and Sonny Boy Williamson—originally credited under pseudonyms for their safety—the recording pairs intimate performances with candid conversation. Prompted by Lomax, the musicians speak openly about racism, labour and life in the Jim Crow South, tracing the blues back to lived experience. The result is a powerful blend of music and testimony, grounded in the realities that shaped the form. Remastered from the original tapes by Lomax Archive, this edition restores the clarity and presence of the session. It stands as a vital historical document, capturing three defining voices in direct, unguarded form.

On revelations of divine love, jason calhoun’s fifth release for Dear Life Records, Calhoun has assembled an especially potent album of work that whirrs, hums, and glows. Unlike his recent output centered around extended, hypnotic compositions, the fourteen tracks here immediately request your attention and curiosity. Their concision only underscores one of his greatest strengths: the ability to capture an evaporating, fleeting moment, and hold it close. The title is a nod to British Anchoress Julian of Norwich, whose collected writing of the same title is the earliest of any woman written in English. Here it serves as a unifying theme for Calhoun's particular palette of restless textures and tentative melodies. This is personal music, to be sure, but it also feels tactile, almost taffy-like in its presentation—and with such a potent combination, it is hard to resist a smile while listening. Like when the insistent pulse grounding 'last one' suddenly changes color as yawning tones reveal themselves, or how 'eye dilation' tiptoes into the room with each note sounding like a carefully chosen step. Though never precious or fussy, the album remains resolutely intimate. Calhoun puts it plainly: “Julian of Norwich says “‘All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well’. These days, I’ve been having my doubts that this is true. As no solution to the issue at hand, I look for the revelations of divine love in my life, and I find them--in my partner asleep on the floor in our studio, my survival of a social interaction with a stranger, being bad at chess. Don't ask me what they mean-I'm still figuring that out myself. Maybe we can figure it out together.” It is from this place of doubt, searching, and openness that the album finds its footing. When asked about the origin of the album's cover art, Calhoun explained, "I see this spot all the time on my commute home from work". A true statement of how the mundane and meaningful are interwoven, from someone who celebrates that union better than most. Unlike Julian of Norwich, Calhoun is no hermetic mystic himself-but in his daily life he works at an oncology center, doing routine but necessary work to provide treatment for those in need of it. While he might resist any analogizing, it is sincerely easy to say that Calhoun's body of work, which is only fortified by revelations of divine love, also offers care and company.

To be an attentive listener to the world as it stands is to be saturated with language. Speech resounds through nearly every space that features human beings, whether unwanted or desired, mundane or profound. Words sit on the page and in the ear, proliferating endlessly. This superabundance has long been a point of fascination for composer and musician Ben Vida, but over the past several years it has led to a new method of music making that simultaneously exalts and interrogates the primacy of language in our sonic and cultural environments. Gently, playfully, Vida breaks down language’s hierarchy of meaning and sound until they exist in egalitarian harmony. Oblivion Seekers is Vida’s newest album in this mode of composition, following 2023’s collaboration with new music ensemble Yarn/Wire The Beat My Head Hit. Like its predecessor, the music’s focus is on coordinated duets of spoken word in a neutral tone, the variable cadences of the words in motion creating complex internal rhythmic structures. He is joined by the voices of Nina Dante, Christina Vantzou, John Also Bennett, and Félicia Atkinson, creating a singular tone that is neither theirs nor his, fluid in its gender presentation, accent, and diction. The instrumental compositions that form the album’s understory have the casual flow of dialogue, conversational but subdued, rarely the agent of change. Here, Vida likewise called upon an accomplished community of players to accompany him: Dante on harp, Bennett on bass flute, Matt Bauder and Will Epstein on saxophones, Henry Fraser on bass, Cleek Schrey on violin, and Booker Stardrum on percussion. These elements form lattice-like structures that the text darts in and around, often adhering to downbeats but otherwise moving freely within each lilting phrase. A tranquil, focused temperament persists, enhanced by the reserved cadence of the voices that makes it feel as if the music is one long mantra that never quite reaches back to its genesis point. The effect is entrancing, equally soporific and gripping, implying repetition without ever moving exactly the same way twice. The instrumentation on each of the album’s four pieces varies; “Be Yr Own Abyss” is defined by the wave-like counterpoint of saxophones, while the ambiguous chime of vibraphone floats over “Oblivion Seekers” and Fraser’s swelling bass provides the album’s sole dramatic entrance. The music shifts in the ear as the text constantly redefines and recontextualizes the composition’s form and movement, even as it remains consistent in its otherworldly glow. The text is often drawn from snippets of language that Vida encountered throughout his life as he was composing: overheard mumblings from the supermarket line, impactful phrases from a novel he was reading, impressions of the music that wouldn’t leave his turntable. Small details, otherwise insignificant, accumulate not to form a narrative, but an impression of the complex meaning-making process that happens as one lives day to day. Characters and scenes flicker in and out of the frame, and phrases that beg to be unpacked are allowed to glide by. In “Be Yr Own Abyss” something like a thesis appears without fanfare: “Her tongue was out to kill her / all hail this mental space / constructing ambiguity / and the endless stream.” On two separate occasions the listener is told that waves are heading our way. There are many predecessors to these types of novel confluences of music and speech. Vida’s love of Robert Ashley is well documented, but perhaps even more significant are Mark E. Smith and The Fall, Neil Tennant and the Pet Shop Boys’ spoken verses, the entire history of hip hop, Meredith Monk. The way the words are delivered matters just as much as the words themselves, revealing an intentionality and directness that Vida highlights and subverts with the text’s abstract construction patterns. On Oblivion Seekers, the omnidirectional din is the marble Vida chips away at to illuminate the way we process the vast strangeness of the world. Its triumph is that we lose none of the beautiful mystery of how these signs bridge our external and internal worlds.

If you were to ask Joey Quiñones where he found inspiration for his music, you wouldn't have to look far from where the East LA son grew up. Listen to his work, and you're transported to a two-block radius of his neighborhood—from the liquor store to Sign of Music record store on Whittier Boulevard and back to a homie's house. In those two blocks, you hear cumbia blaring from the stores, punk rehearsals from a garage, oldies drifting from a neighbor's yard—a sensory overload that follows you home, all those genres singing in your head at once. This isn't a revelation to longtime fans of Quiñones' music. He has established himself as a premier interpreter of his generation, dedicating his career to offering his unique perspective on the Chicano soul songbook. But before Thee Sinseers, before the lush orchestrations and pitch-perfect harmonies that became his signature, Quiñones cut his teeth leading various backing bands for visiting Jamaican ska and dancehall acts touring Southern California. He describes those years as reggae college, getting yelled at by every Jamaican artist who had a record out. Those years of apprenticeship in rock steady and roots reggae would inform everything that followed—and on his new solo record Inna Soul Steady Situation, Quiñones finally showcases those influences front and center. That quintessential blending of styles rings out immediately on the opening track "Soul Steady Situation"—Quiñones's vocals enter like a selector toasting over the riddim, an alarm call announcing his intentions with an urgency that feels club-ready and immediate. Then comes the classic drum fill, dropping into a rock steady groove that establishes the vibe: this is dancehall-infused soul meant for movement, not just contemplation. It's a deliberate departure from Thee Sinseers' lush orchestrations, stripped down to showcase the Jamaican foundations that have always lived beneath Quiñones's work. Before you know it, you've taken off on a sonic soul spaceship with Quiñones at the helm, supported by his two-person crew: Eric Johnson from Thee Sinseers on saxophone and Eleazar from the Brown Boyz on piano, as you cruise across silver-lined clouds and dip your toes into dreamy moonlit grooves found on "Don't Let Go," "Driftin'" and "One More Night." What Quiñones manages to do on this record—with the full support of Colemine Records, the defining label for contemporary soul music happening right now—is prove time and time again that he is an artist willing to take risks and continue to show his prowess when it comes to experimenting with different styles, while still being able to authentically express himself. It's a partnership built on trust: Colemine has established itself as the premier destination for modern soul artists pushing the genre forward, recognizing that genre-blurring isn't a gimmick but the natural evolution of soul music itself. With that authentic self-expression, Quiñones and his crew manage to squeeze in some lighthearted fun as well, establishing a sense of equilibrium to counteract the heavier emotional overtones found on previous Sinseers efforts. A perfect example is "Bolsita," a tongue-in-cheek party song paying homage to iconic anthems like "Tequila" by The Champs and "Tighten Up" by Archie Bell & the Drells. But Quiñones doesn't stop there—he folds in electric boogaloo, early Ray Charles big band energy, and the Latin soul flourishes of Joe Cuba and Willie Colón, creating something that feels both nostalgic and fresh. Eric Johnson's saxophone takes center stage, adding playful solos that widen the sonic spectrum. The term "bolsita," which translates to "little bag," serves as the lingua franca for "let's get the party started"—it's admittedly corny, Quiñones will tell you, but it's the kind of song where everybody's going to shout along whether they like it or not. And that's precisely the point. By the time you reach the end of the record, having followed Quiñones across various genres and eras, you realize you've witnessed an artist in his prime doing what the best always do: capturing something deeply specific—Chicano identity, East LA's sonic DNA—and in that specificity, revealing something universal. It's music that transcends age, race, geography, and class precisely because it refuses to sand down its edges. Cross-generational talent building timeless appeal, one genre-blurring groove at a time.

Originally self-released in 2007 in a limited edition CDR handmade package. Remastered from the original tapes by Stephan Mathieu, artwork by Mathieu Ruhlmann and David Ruhlmann. Note: Some skips, noise, clipping, or other artefacts may occur as they have been preserved from the original recordings. Please support artists by purchasing the digital album, not streaming in excess. Thank you.

It's time for the 5th album of the Long Trax series, featuring six new tracks produced in an A/B style, cut onto 3 vinyl records and compiled onto a single CD. Staying all-hardware, with drooping synth pads and Rhodes piano, rhythm machines, space echo and spring reverb, and featuring 3 new narrators here to put us in our place. Stay independent, and anti-AI. All music by Will Long Artwork by Tsuji Aiko Mastered by Stephan Mathieu A Long Trax Productions release

Cult digidub mutators Froid Dub slow their steez to deeply knackered, ghostly levels on a follow-up to joints with Krikor and Ransom Note. Back with Parisian patrons Delodio, the pair bring a deep studio knowledge earned since the ‘90s (and their days together as Bosco) to a half hour of purposefully sluggish pressure slanted at the earliest or latest hours of the night/day. With Black Roots Players’ ‘Slow Tempo’ riddim possibly in the back of their mind, they keep it all heavily downbeat and rent with a psychoacoustic nous that draws lines between The Black Ark, GRM, and DJ Screw. ‘Deep’ feels like the onset of a space cake, all super blunted vox and wiggy synths, and ‘The Swap’ snaps tightly to slowed digidub templates, next to echoes of ’Slow Tempo’ in the cranky chords of the title tune. They really let the bass flare in acres of space on the spangled zingers ‘Too Digital’ and an acidic ‘Love’, whilst crossing lines with Full Circle’s proto-goa trance in ‘Diggin’’ and the swampy motion of ‘No Sense’.

Jon Savage's SF Sike 1966-72 charts the evolution of San Francisco's psychedelic underground through 18 essential recordings from the era. Spanning 1966 to 1972, the compilation brings together key tracks by The Beau Brummels, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Moby Grape, Skip Spence, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Grace Slick & Paul Kantner, Country Joe & The Fish, Santana, Sly & The Family Stone, The Grateful Dead and more. Inspired by Savage's exploration of the city's countercultural explosion, SF Sike 1966-72 captures the adventurous spirit and musical freedom that made San Francisco one of the defining centres of late-'60s psychedelia.

"The constant and destructive waves of noise make this decisively a Merzbow record, but its cosmic mood and rhythms prove that Sun Ra lives in its DNA... Many of the strengths Akita has developed over roughly four decades of noise devotion are put to use here. He creates relentlessly forward-moving music with so much going on that it feels three-dimensional... You could call Strange City a Merzbow victory, but it couldn’t have happened without Sun Ra on his team." (Pitchfork) "Strange City is a transformative, cyclical work that rewards repeated listens. As Sun Ra’s dextrous compositions shift and flex somewhere beneath Merzbow’s thick clumps of abrasion, like muscles encased in steel wool, the effect is somewhat unsettling... a remarkable, difficult and disquieting record" (The Line Of Best Fit) "Strange City” gives me the impression of sonic lava, which is progressively covering your imagination with images of terror. The totally transformed jazz elements are a rather weird, but exciting aspect of the work... I can imagine noise freaks will fully enjoy this opus while jazz lovers will maybe experience this work as pure blasphemy." (Side-Line) "Recorded music is able to generate a fistful of dreams and this is one of them... Instead of being a noise release using the name of Sun Ra as smoke and mirrors, it tries to fuse the two language and it's a reminder about some jazz purists called free jazz as noise". (4/5, Chain D.L.K.) "By balancing out [Merzbow's] chaos with Sun Ra’s sense of exploratory wonder, the songs possess much of Sun Ra’s original intention and spirit... Over the course of each piece Merzbow tries to ensure that the original piece remains in awe of its incredible journey and masterful blend of styles." (The Beach Sloth) "Purely a labor of love and a must-have for fans of both artists... Noise and avant-garde jazz have long shared common sensibilities. While this certainly isn't the first such undertaking, it's certainly one of the best" (Big Takeover) "The overall achievement is the strange sense of balance Strange City radiates with. While Merzbow's sonic razors are sharp and appear to be all over the spectrum, the presence of Sun Ra lies in the core of this work. Despite its disfigurement and tempering, it dictates the progression of the record, through modes of granular synthesis or extravagant processing... the explosiveness of Merzbow in its purest form, while the underlying structures of Sun Ra provides the lucidity to this chaotic narrative" (Scene Point Blank) "Given the influence and massive oeuvre of both artists, it stands to reason that two of the giants of noise would come together, even across time and space... Merzbow’s noise seems well-tuned and finely placed – at times obscuring the action, but more often than not, complementing Sun Ra’s intergalactic explorations"

At the beginning of the 1960s, at the Berklee College of Music, Byard Lancaster met some feisty friends: Sonny Sharrock, Dave Burrell and Ted Daniel. It is easy to see why he rapidly became involved in free jazz. Once he was settled in New York, he appeared on Sunny Murray Quintet, recorded under the leadership of the drum crazy colleague of Albert Ayler. In 1968, the saxophonist and flutist recorded his first album under his own name: It’s Not Up To Us. The following year he came to Paris in the wake of… Sunny Murray. He would come back to France in 1971 (again with Murray) and in 1973 (without Murray for a change). This is when he met Jef Gilson, the pianist and producer who encouraged him to record under his own name again. On Palm Records (Gilson’s label), he would release four albums: Us, Mother Africa, Exactement and Funny Funky Rib Crib. The recording of “Exactement” required two sessions in the studio: February 1st and May 18th 1974 – in between the two dates, Lancaster recorded, alongside Clint Jackson, the excellent “Mother Africa”. Two names appear on the cover of “Exactement”: Lancaster (Byard) and Speller (Keno). Byard Lancaster wanted to be precise, moving regularly from one instrument to another: first on piano, which was the first instrument he learned. On “Sweet Evil Miss Kisianga”, his inspiration is first and foremost Coltrane (even if leaning more towards Alice than John), this announces the storm to follow. It is Lancaster’s horn-playing which really stands out: on alto (the sound of which is transformed by an octavoice on one track, "Dr. Oliver W. Lancaster") or soprano saxophones, as well as on flute or bass clarinet, the musician walks a tightrope making the most of all the risks he takes. Using the full register of his instruments, he has fun with the possibilities. Then, Lancaster invokes or evokes Ornette Coleman, Eric Dolphy and even Prokofiev, before going into a danse alongside Keno Speller on percussion. Above all, he has a unique sound. Byard Lancaster, on whatever instrument he plays and by continually seeking, always ends up hitting the right note… ends up by playing exactement the note he had to play.

Light in the Attic is honored to announce the long-awaited reissue of Synthesizing: Ten Ragas to a Disco Beat, the revolutionary 1982 album from composer and musician Charanjit Singh. Pairing Indian classical ragas with then-state-of-the-art Roland synthesizers and drum machines, Singh created an electronic masterpiece that was far ahead of its time.

Recording live at Mumbai’s HMV studios, Singh married the past to the future—blending the ancient Indian tradition of ragas (a melodic framework, similar to a scale, from which musicians can improvise or compose) with pulsating, electronic dance beats. Released without fanfare, it faded into obscurity and Singh retired from recording to focus on private concerts, but that’s where the story begins…

Released in cooperation with Singh’s estate, Synthesizing: Ten Ragas to a Disco Beat arrives on June 26th. The 10-track album was remastered by Johanz Westerman at Ballyhoo Studio Mastering and stretched across 2-LPs for the highest quality listening experience. The vinyl was pressed at Optimal Media and housed in a gatefold jacket that replicates the original artwork.

An accompanying 16-page LP booklet features previously-unreleased photos and two new essays: the first from Arshia Fatima Haq and Jeremy Loudenback of Discostan—a multimedia collective and record label focusing on music from South West Asia and North Africa—while the other comes from filmmaker and writer Rana Ghose of event and film production entity REProduce Artists, who managed Singh in his final years and documented his triumphant return to the stage. Additionally, fans can find a limited-edition pressing of Synthesizing: Ten Ragas to a Disco Beat on ‘Pearlescent Transcendent Future’ Color Wax, while the album will also be reissued on CD with a 32-page booklet containing all of the above.

More on Synthesizing: Ten Ragas to a Disco Beat:

Indian multi-instrumentalist and composer Charanjit Singh (1940–2015) never intended to be an electronic dance music pioneer when he recorded 1982’s Synthesizing: Ten Ragas to a Disco Beat. Yet three decades later, his inventive use of state-of-the-art synthesizers and drum machines would prompt some to crown him the “Godfather of Acid House.” The real story, however, runs much deeper.

A native of Mumbai, Singh spent much of his career as a Bollywood session musician, collaborating with renowned composers like RD Burman and Shankar–Jaikishan, and appearing on some of the most iconic Hindi film hits of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Outside of the film industry, Singh recorded several of his own albums and toured the world alongside the era’s biggest stars—an opportunity which allowed him to collect new instruments, including synthesizers and other electronic devices. As psychedelia and disco wove their way into Bollywood scores, Singh was at the forefront, integrating a host of electronic textures into his work (his hypnotic Transicord introduction on “Dum Maro Dum” from 1971’s Hare Rama Hare Krishna is among his most recognizable performances).

By the turn of the ‘80s, however, Singh was disenchanted by the creative limitations of session work and embarked on a solo career. Not long after, on tour in Singapore, he discovered three Roland devices that had just hit the market: the TR-808 drum machine (released 1980), the TB-303 bass synthesizer (released 1981), and the Jupiter 8 synthesizer (released 1981). While this trio would fuel early electronic dance music in the coming years, Singh was among the first known artists to pair them on record when he was inspired to create his next album, Synthesizing: Ten Ragas to a Disco Beat.

Using only the three devices and recording live at Mumbai’s HMV studios, Singh married the past to the future—blending the ancient Indian tradition of ragas (a melodic framework, similar to a scale, from which musicians can improvise or compose) with pulsating, electronic dance beats, while programming the TB-303 to follow classical Hindustani scales. From the hypnotic drones of “Raga Bhairavi” to the uplifting jams of “Raga Bairagi” the album proved perhaps to be a bit too visionary for its time. Released without fanfare, it faded into obscurity and Singh retired from recording to focus on private concerts.

Two decades later, Dutch DJ and record collector Edo Bouman was in New Delhi when he came across an old copy of Ten Ragas. Bouman was astounded by what he heard—electronic music that had all the hallmarks of acid house, recorded five years before Chicago DJs coined the term. Bouman spent the next few years tracking down Singh and, in 2010, reissued the album on his label, Bombay Connection.

Soon, Ten Ragas became a viral sensation, sparking disbelief and debates about the origins of acid house. But, as Haq and Loudenback explain, those in the conversation “Had little frame of reference for [Singh’s] music outside of the parameters of western club music.” Viewed through the lens of the Hindi film industry, they argue, the album’s through-line comes into focus. In the ‘60s, when Western artists were looking to India for inspiration, Bollywood was “A laboratory for discovering sounds, and for harnessing every new technology that could be found or repurposed…. Singh’s album is more fittingly placed within the framework of the expansion of Bollywood’s experiments in disco, rather than that of acid house.”

“Perhaps this is yet another example of how a public engages with those who are ahead of their time,” adds Rana Ghose. “This record is a direct consequence of a centuries-old classical music form, rendered through the lens of a visionary who used the vanguard of technology at the time to recast it, resulting in an artefact that, almost 40 years later, is finding entirely new audiences in an era marked by a changing and uncertain global landscape of soft-power assertion. Considering this reassessment is as exciting as it is fascinating. Much like this record.”

While Ten Ragas sparked plenty of conversations within the electronic music community, it also gave a bemused Singh a surge of newfound fame during the final years of his life, allowing him to play with his live collaborator Johanz Westerman (Thee J Johanz) to thousands of fans at packed club shows and festivals in Europe, the U.S., and India. Among those fans are Australian duo Glass Beams (who covered “Raga Bhairav”), German electronic duo Modeselektor, and Thom Yorke, who ranked “Raga Lalit” as one of his “6 Tracks You Need to Hear” via the BBC.

Most importantly, however, Ten Ragas resonated deeply with South Asian artists, who saw electronic music from India being recognized with new reverence. In the words of Vish Matre (of the UK DJ duo Dar Disku), “This record will be remembered for, not being the predecessor to another genre, but being a precursor to a lot of new music from the diaspora that relied on it as inspiration.”

Adrian Sherwood teams up with Speakers Corner Quartet and African Head Charge for new four track EP Barbican Heights, a project which traverses the musical worlds of dub, jazz, electronic, afrobeat, and beyond. Barbican Heights is born out of a spirit of collaboration, bringing together one of the UKs most innovative and influential producers, Adrian Sherwood; one of the longest serving and most iconic members of the On-U Sound family, African Head Charge; together with Speakers Corner Quartet, a rising force whose influence is integral to the sound of the contemporary UK jazz scene. Recorded during a singular day of creative spontaneity at Wicker Studios, the three acts, alongside Alex White of Primal Scream and Fat White Family, combined for semi-improvised reworkings of classic African Head Charge composition “Wicked Kingdom Of This Earth”, Speakers Corner Quartet’s own “Topanga”, as well as two new tracks constructed from scratch during the session

The album is built on a singular concept: every sound is produced from a single cello. While effects pedals are used to extend and amplify the instrument, no other instruments or field recordings are involved. What remains is the act of performance itself—an ongoing exchange between body and instrument, where sound emerges as voice. Yet the resulting sonic landscape resists any sense of limitation. Layered textures of percussive gestures, micro-noise generated by a self-made bow, and sustained drones unfold into a complex, immersive environment.

Artur Strekalov, aka mu tate, joins the OST roster with another set of dreamtime snapshots that he collages into a plunderphonic scrapbook of new age-y samples, dialog snippets and squirly, bass-heavy rhythms. One for fans of Oneohtrix Point Never, Special Guest DJ, Space Afrika and Ludwig Wandinger, then. Last spotted breaking bread with Nexciya and Exzald S on 2025's 'Labège', Strekalov has become a reliable presence on the dubwise ambient fringe, spreading his influence across imprints like Warm Winters, Experiences and Alex Egan's Utter. He joins New York's OST, home of Organ Tapes, DJ Pitch and shineteac, among others, with 'life of mu', an album that moves beyond the gauzy, downtempo hum of his last solo joint, 2024's 'wanting less'. This one, as the title suggests, traces a more sturdy narrative, avoiding the overtly nostalgic bass-heavy ambiance that rooted its predecessors and emphasising more suggestive soundscapes that Strekalov peppers with movie samples. Opener 'world has ended for me many times...' cuts fluttering, 'Incunabula'-alike synth vamps into radio interferences and a woman's exasperated monologue that's spirals into distortion. It's remarkably open, too - Strekalov doesn't overload us with ideas, letting his story emerge slowly from the pregnant pauses and negative space. A song almost coalesces on 'low desire society' from whirring electronics and wily oscillations, and the IDM influences that emerged on the opener crystallize properly on 'world of'. But as soon as the album takes a more corporeal form, it inevitably turns to gas: 'lost in translation' is a selection of synthetic belches and cinematic cues and 'heavyweight' is anything but, an oozing, tempo-fluxed chug that's latched to its own druggy logic. Ben Bondy shows up on 'memory of a memory' as the track stumbles from warm, Toytronic-era electronix into crunchy emo-rock in the second half, and Yves B. Golden, who helped zhuzh up Ludwig Wandinger's excellent 'Is Peace Wild', adds her side to the atmospheric 'Yves's Story'.