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Unfolding over twelve nocturnal and nostalgic hours, Walk Don’t Run is a buddy-comedy-thriller chronicling the unraveling of a lifelong friendship one manic diner dash, hijacked Woodie Wagon, Big Dipper roller coaster ride, and 3AM surf sesh at a time. Soundtracked by demos culled from the Ry-Ko discard pile, Moody's instrumental shortcut is a snapshot of the mid-’60s surf music crash. In keeping with the film’s overnight theme, Walk Don’t Run trades in the loping, dreamy balladry of the era, shooting the echo-y curls of the private beach underground well after dark. If you want to stay friends—WALK DON'T RUN.

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)
During his time with the Yosuke Yamashita Trio, he poured his heart and soul into every single note. In the early 1970s, he wove flashes of inspiration and impulse into his melodies, blowing with powerful intensity. And now, on this album, Seiichi Nakamura undergoes yet another transformation. As he himself says, “It’s the feeling of sharing a space together and soaring freely like a bird. That’s the ideal,” the overlapping sounds and pauses richly expand the space, through which Nakamura’s saxophone dashes with exuberance. The expansive and exhilarating “Wolf’s Theme,” inspired by author Kazumasa Hirai’s “Wolf Guy” series, “Harappa,” where a nostalgic melody shines against a laid-back groove; “Body & Soul” and “I Can’t Get Started,” which weave together standards with care and elegance; and “Viva Giappone,” with its delightful sense of dynamism and openness—here, Nakamura’s ideal is magnificently realized. Featuring Toshiyuki Daitoku, Aki Takase, and Ryojiro Furusawa.
Gak Sato & Tadahiko Yokogawa — RENGA. Inspired by the Japanese poetic form of linked verses, this 10-track journey spans ambient, jazz, breakbeats, electronica, environmental music, techno, cinematic, library music, musique concrète and somewhere in between, with artwork by Aoi Huber Kono. Limited Edition.
Dog’s light, dog’s light… a product of the fog itself. Illuminated mists flicker in the fog, swallowed by bells, skin torsion and finger squeaks. Here, mud made a rhapsody of distortion and sand. Dunes, where raised magnets at the dusk hour, receive textures and hints of country melodies, melodies mostly generated by limbs. Anon mists form a curtain hovering above the suburb of sand.
At the end of June 2025, the Krakow-based label Instant Classic will release the album "Bura" by Raphael Rogiński and the group Ružičniak Tajni, which includes Serbian artists: Svetlana Spajić, Marina Džukljev and Tijana Golubović. The album also features guest appearances by Piotr Zabrodzki (LXMP, Mitch & Mitch) and Mila Gavrilovič. Ružičniak Tajni is a unique meeting of Polish and Serbian musical traditions, the result of cooperation between artists seeking new forms of expression based on the cultural heritage of Central and Eastern Europe. The initiator of the project is Raphael Rogiński - a Polish guitarist, composer and researcher, known for his experimental approach to traditional music and his love of improvisation. In the project, he is accompanied by three outstanding Serbian artists whose work is a conscious combination of local traditions and modern expression: Svetlana Spajić – a renowned ethnomusicologist and singer, specializing in old vocal techniques and archaic song forms. Her interpretations combine authenticity of message with sensitivity to the contemporary context. Marina Džukljev – a pianist moving in the area of improvised and experimental music, known for deconstructing harmonic and rhythmic structures. Tijana Golubović – a violinist and vocalist, drawing from folk performance practice, while simultaneously exploring new sonic narratives. Their collaboration resulted in the album “Bura”, recorded in Serbia in November 2024. The title refers to the characteristic wind from the northern Balkans, symbolizing both the forces of nature and the cultural tensions shaping the identity of the region. The album is a musical encounter of traditional Serbian songs – reconstructed on the basis of oral traditions and archival materials – with modern means of expression. Another key element are Raphael Rogiński’s original compositions, inspired by Sufi poetry, which was translated into Serbian in the 19th century. The sound layer of the project is based on the dynamic interaction of voice, stringed instruments and piano. Spajić brings the depth of archaic vocal techniques, Golubović combines the violin idiom with the vocal one, Džukljev creates complex harmonic structures, and Rogiński transforms the guitar tradition, enriching it with microtonality and modality. The Ružičniak Tajni concert tour will take place in May and June 2025, covering five Serbian cities. The inaugural concert is scheduled for May 16 in Belgrade. The project was created with the support of the Polish Institute in Belgrade. The concert tour is carried out in cooperation with the Adam Mickiewicz Institute as part of the cultural programme accompanying the Polish Presidency of the Council of the European Union in 2025.

KAKUHAN haven't released much, but what's out there is some of the most astonishing hybrid electroacoustic music that's emerged in the last few years. Owing as much to Autechre as it does to Arthur Russell, it's dizzyingly psychedelic music that flits between wild free improvisation and obsessive, micro-edited precision, unclassifiable rhythmic and tonal experimentation that nods to the renaissance era and the contemporary dancefloor sometimes in the same breath. And in 2023, not long after the release of their now-classic debut album "Metal Zone", KAKUHAN were invited to perform live at Unsound in Kraków. The duo were offered the opportunity to collaborate with a local artist, so after serious consideration decided on percussionist and musicologist Adam Gołębiewski, a veteran improviser who's performed and recorded with everyone from Yoko Ono and Thurston Moore to Mats Gustafsson and Ken Vandermark.
Hino and Nakagawa were struck by Gołębiewski's unique tone and his very specific, immediately recognizable approach to drumming, realizing immediately that the collaboration would stretch their concept even further. "Personally, I was looking forward to hearing how Hino's rhythmic sequences and Adam's percussion would interact," says Nakagawa. But it's Gołębiewski's interaction with his cymbals particularly that bridges a gap in KAKUHAN's sound, existing in the space between Nakagawa's cello and Hino's stuttering samples. In fact, the performance was so successful that the trio headed to Kraków's KPD Studio shortly afterwards, dubbing an exclusive session with engineer Rafał Drewniany that would become "Repercussions". The session's vision is captured perfectly by the album cover, a painting from Polish artist Alicja Pakosz that shows a knife edge splitting a jet of water. It's the relative sharpness of Gołębiewski's sound that defines this project, cutting through Nakagawa and Hino's musical rituals and creating something new in the process.
Using a bow to extract eerie metallic resonances from his kit, Gołębiewski often sounds like another string player, punctuating Hino's exacting rolls and Nakagawa's blood-curdling pizzicato echoes with knife-edge squeals on opening track II. And when the flurries of beats vanish completely on VII, Gołębiewski and Nakagawa are left to create xenharmonic ambience with their scraped, atmospheric drones, letting Hino's low-end rumbles and boiled textures suggest a rhythm from the periphery. Nakagawa's cello practically sings on 'IV', sounding more like woodwind or bird calls than strings, and Gołębiewski acts as a cracked mirror, replying with uneasy scrapes and acrobatic rhythmic bursts that neatly augment Hino's complex electroid sequences. Not jazz exactly, it's hallucinatory expressionism that straddles the line between harmony and dissonance, control and chaos or human and computer.

Chanteur et musicien algérien, Lili Boniche est né le 14 mars 1921 à Alger et décédé le 6 mars 2008. Il était célèbre pour sa contribution à la musique judéo-arabe et particulièrement associé à la musique chaâbi, un genre musical populaire en Algérie qui mêle des influences arabes, berbères et françaises. Eliaou Élie Boniche, de son vrai nom, a grandi dans une famille juive séfarade et a commencé à s'intéresser à la musique dès son plus jeune âge. Sa carrière musicale a vraiment décollé dans les années 1940 et 1950, où il a enregistré de nombreux succès qui ont contribué à populariser le répertoire judéo-arabe. Son style unique mêlait des éléments de la musique arabe, du jazz et du tango, créant ainsi une fusion musicale captivante. Il est largement reconnu pour sa maîtrise du luth et sa voix distinctive. Les paroles de ses chansons étaient souvent poétiques et reflétaient la vie quotidienne, l'amour et la culture de son époque. Lili Boniche a laissé une empreinte indélébile sur la scène musicale d’Afrique du Nord. Son héritage perdure à travers ses enregistrements, qui continuent d'être écoutés et appréciés par les amateurs de musique du monde entier. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Algerian singer and musician Lili Boniche was born in Algiers on March 14, 1921, and died on March 6, 2008. He was famous for his contribution to Judeo-Arabic music, and particularly associated with chaâbi, a musical genre popular in Algeria that blends Arab, Berber and French influences. Born Eliaou Élie Boniche, and he grew up in a Sephardic Jewish family and became interested in music at an early age. His musical career really took off in the 1940s and 1950s, when he recorded numerous hits that helped popularize the Judeo-Arabic repertoire. His unique style blended elements of Arabic music, jazz and tango, creating a captivating musical fusion. He is widely recognized for his mastery of the lute and his distinctive voice. His lyrics were often poetic, reflecting the everyday life, love and culture of his time. Lili Boniche left an indelible mark on the North African music scene. His legacy lives on in his recordings, which continue to be listened to and enjoyed by music lovers the world over.

Japan’s electroacoustic vanguard reconvene for their second album proper, once again shining light on previously unoccupied space somewhere between Arthur Russell and Autechre. It’s supremely moody, impossibly innovative business, folding Yuki Nakagawa's no-wave'd cello vamps into Koshiro Hino (aka YPY)'s brittle electroid syncopations, absolutely essential listening if you’re into SND, Pan Sonic, DNA, Suicide.'KAK' - what a title - is the next stage of KAKUHAN’s evolution, seemingly self-titled but hiding plenty of clues if you understand Japanese. "KAK" can evoke a number of different characteristics: edge or angularity, core, expansion, agitation or absence. The duo meditate and refract these guiding principles over nine tracks (and a bonus digital addendum) with their usual focus on the interplay between man and machine - something Hino's been exploring for many years with both his solo work as YPY, and with his pioneering band, goat (JP). Working with electronics (drum machines, samplers, oscillators) Hino infuses weightless rhythms with rare fluidity, as if tracing an algorithm trained on Milford Graves. His rubbery, bio-mechanical outbursts are formed into jagged, continuum-confusing trajectories - prismatic spaces where grime intersects footwork and jersey club, and drill corkscrews thru gagaku and Americana.Yuki Nakagawa's emphatic improvisations are just as mind-altering. While he holds back at first, accenting Hino's rapid-fire sequences with hollow, resonant scrapes and junked Downtown distortions, he eventually edges further towards centre stage. Featherlight cello squeals are elongated, imagining a decelerated hoedown, angling folk-y, ecstatic shapes while Hino responds with drum machine prangs. Soon, the duo skewer nervy baroque ornamentation with clockwork whirrs that trip over themselves, the insectoid rhythmic fractals gradually scuttling around a droning cello. By the end of the album, the duo have somehow completely switched roles; Hino's grey boxes now sounding as if they've been excavated from ancient ground, while Nakagawa's strings throb with cybernetic energy, beamed in from a far dimension.
FUMU christens the promising new label Return To Zero (RTZ) with Funeral Rites on Planet Saturn, the surrendering sophomore album from Nigerian artist, self-described “negro-producer”, hedonist, and iconoclast LINTD. With production collaboration from Porter Brook and features from Samrai (Swing Ting), Porter Brook, Sam Scott Francis (GOMID), Rizmi, and Imani Jendai. LINTD’s work emerges as a call and response between the tender, dynamic sounds of Black music across history and the surreal reality of contemporary, vulnerable Black life – a haunting dialogue. These themes are catalysed in the Black Impossible LP Trilogy, reclaiming Black utopia through sound technologies via ‘Smooch Soundsystem [Live at The White Hotel]’ for Second Born (Kop-Z, Porter Brook), and ‘DOGTOOTH. And Other Such Tales of the Macabre’ on The White Hotel’s HEAD II outlet. While earlier works engaged with the mania, joy, and paranoia of this impossible experience, Funeral Rites on Planet Saturn arrives at a soulful conclusion, allowing grief to tell a truer story. In the vein of Sun Ra, Alice Coltrane, and Octavia Butler, LINTD introduces the speculative planet Saturn as a site where impossible Black being across the world can come and rest: a site for liberation and emancipation. “This one is an act of care towards myself, and hopefully others like me. I have proven everything I want to prove this year; this one is my elixir from all the lonely grief, a place of rest.” — LINTD “The results serve to consistently fuck with presumptions of Black music within a contemporary context that’s been prised open, upended by likes of Klein & Space Afrika in the modern field, and also tie back to historic, progressive Black music of Sun Ra and Alice Coltrane, and their shared extra-musical themes in the work of sci-fi writer Octavia Butler.” — Conor Thomas, Boomkat
MJ Guider returns to Modern Love’s fantasy jukebox series with a fog-bound piece of nu-gaze that blurs dream pop sweetness with rough-edged texture. New Orleans artist Melissa Guion builds the track from chugging, re-amped goth guitars, blown-out drums and suspended, diaphanous vocals, as if a classic shoegaze sound were viewed through thick frosted glass. The result echoes the blurred intensity of My Bloody Valentine, the sleek gloom of Curve, and the hazy atmospheres of Cocteau Twins, while retaining MJ Guider’s own nocturnal mood. The flip moves into more abstract territory: slow, humming waves of harmonic noise drift like a hymn before a powdery rhythm gradually unsettles the calm, hinting at the dub-tinged ambience of Bowery Electric.

New from Modern Love; diamond-cut club fancies x tripped-out energies from a longtime pal of the label, oiling the wheels before a full album drops later this year. Nothing But Fixes spans the A like some lost Gerald whitelabel; 12 minutes of expressive, golden era romance spiked with absolute delirium on the drums. On the flip, Carinho loosens the hips with the kinky swivel of his Lisbon locale, Dojo lifts a half-step fidget, and Echochrome cuts thru liquid Eski, spiked with expressive trills.
A dream-within-a-dream sequence of chopped & screwed cumbia that occupies a very specific spot on our shelves somewhere between The Caretaker and DJ Screw - Debit’s new album for Modern Love is a history lesson, hallucination and ghost-dance all in one, a vault of lost memories that’s intended neither for the club, nor as furniture music - but for full contemplative immersion.
Desaceleradas is Debit’s love-letter to the sounds of Rebajada - half speed cumbia pioneered by Sonido Dueñez in the early 1990’s and recently featured on a pair of first-time tape reissues. As the legend goes, Dueñez had been playing cumbia at a club in Monterrey when his turntable's motor overheated and slowed down to half-speed, turning the dance into slo-mo delirium which the crowd unexpectedly loved - cumbia rebajada was born.
Over the next few years, Dueñez dubbed a popular series of mixtapes, hawking them at the flea market on the dried-up Santa Catarina riverbed beneath El Puente del papa, the bridge that links downtown Monterrey with Independencia. These woozy archives became the stuff of legend, poetically but subconsciously shadowing DJ Screw's series of epochal cassettes that appeared over the border in Houston - and which have now inspired this latest concept-driven masterstroke from Delia Beatriz, who incidentally grew up in that same bustling city in the north of Mexico.
Beatriz uses Dueñez's first two tapes as the starting point for 'Desaceleradas', entering into a dialogue with time, culture and geography as she recalls the sonic ecosystem that surrounded her decades ago, long before she emigrated to the USA. If 2022's acclaimed 'The Long Count' was an attempt to recover concealed pre-Columbian history in the face of colonisation, 'Desaceleradas' jumps forward, figuring out how memory and shared celebration can resist a more contemporary form of cultural erasure.
In Beatriz's hands, cumbia rebejada is sculpted into a symphony of psychedelic breaths and dreamy gestures as the tapes are re-voiced with her ARP 2600 and re-played on her mother's accordion before being pulverised by her careful granular processes. "The goal was not to sample," she explains, "but to engage in conversation." And from track to track, the slowed down sonics, that follow the lead of scratchy sun-baked wax dragged across cheap hi-fi needles and stretched tape winding over busted heads, make salient connections to electronic music's tangled web of subgenres, from dub reggae in Jamaica to vaporwave and its TikTok-friendly "slowed + reverb" progeny.
On 'La ronda y el sonidero', cumbia's familiar syncopated 2/4 shuffle is ground down until its street corner sway becomes a cloud of ruptures and distortions. She pays respect to Monterrey's tape culture on 'bootlegs', introducing her impressionistic harmonies with crackle, and gives a nod to Monterrey's Cholombianos - groups of cumbia fans who dressed in brightly coloured baggy clothes, slathering their long sideburns with gel - on the wistful 'Cholombia, MTY'. By harnessing her memories and casting Sonido Dueñez's legacy in amber, Beatriz provides a space for listeners to hear history itself: to wander down 'El Puente del papa' and breathe in the atmosphere of Monterrey. It's an archive with a pulse.
Edition of 250. Deluxe edition + insert. For eighteen months, between 1984 and 1985, Patrick Lysaght played flute, strings, and percussion inside the Rainforest Birdhouse at the Rio Grande Zoo in Albuquerque, New Mexico. His audience and collaborators: 150 birds of 42 species.
The result is one of the earliest and most radical documents of interspecies improvisation. Predating the current wave of sound ecology by decades, For The Birds sits comfortably alongside the biophonic research of Bernie Krause, the ornithological field recordings of Jean C. Roché, the Deep Listening practice of Pauline Oliveros, and the interspecies experiments of Jim Nollman. A missing link unearthed.
Lysaght didn't record the birds. He played with them. On Downstream, the talking drum establishes a backdrop while the birds take the lead. On Mourning Music, a threnody for his father, the birds seemed to be respectfully listening. On Light Sensitive, delicate percussion triggers avian response. Complex clouds of point notes build to rich density, following what the original notes call "the excitement of chance and the probability of experience."
Originally released in 1985 on Frank Records, Santa Fe. Now reissued with mastering by Giuseppe Ielasi
The archive is not neutral. In 2019, Andrea Centazzo discovered unlabeled tape reels in his mother's attic in Udine - boxes assumed lost seven years earlier. What emerged from these deteriorating reels, transferred by engineer Sergio Tomasini during COVID lockdowns, was unexpected: unreleased recordings from the original Elektriktus sessions of 1973-76, alongside other archival materials including previously unknown collaborations with Steve Lacy and Evan Parker from the same period.Centazzo's solution was conceptually elegant: add contemporary digital electronics to the original analog Elektriktus recordings, creating temporal palimpsest in which the seventy-something composer engages in dialogue with his younger self. Crucially, his fundamental approach hasn't changed. "Making a 10-minute loop meant playing and overdubbing for 10 minutes!" This rejection of computer automation, this insistence on the hand-played and physically executed, links 2025 to 1975 through continuous methodology.Vol. 2 operates in complex register: contemporary electronics don't "update" the original recordings but exist in conversation with them. By overlaying 2025 digital work onto 1975 analog recordings, Centazzo creates proof that affinities between cosmic drift and percussive grounding were present in the original conception, waiting to be heard.The reborn Ictus label presents both volumes as complementary documents: Vol. 1 preserving the original artifact in its analog integrity, Vol. 2 revealing latent possibilities through temporal superimposition. Together, they map territory that standard histories have overlooked - the Italian synthesis of kosmische consciousness and Mediterranean sensibility.This temporal doubling produces music that is neither nostalgic recreation nor radical revision but something more complex - a conversation between past and present, between the composer who created these sounds in the mid-1970s and the artist who now understands their full implications. The phantom that PDU Records once denied a proper name finally speaks, twice, across fifty years.
In the summer of 1976, a peculiar album appeared in Italian record shops bearing no artist name - only the cryptic moniker Elektriktus. The music posed a question that wouldn't be answered for decades: who had created this hybrid of jazz sensibility and kosmische synthesis? The answer was hiding in plain sight. Andrea Centazzo - recognized figure in European free improvisation who had shared stages with Steve Lacy, Evan Parker, and Derek Bailey - had been leading a double life between touring with Giorgio Gaslini's quartet, conducting experiments with Minimoog, Davolisint, and the GEM Rodeo 49 synthesizer.
PDU Records - owned by pop icon Mina and Italy's primary distributor for German avant-garde labels including Brain, Kosmische Musik, and Pilz, making PDU the Italian gateway to Ash Ra Tempel, Popol Vuh, Cosmic Jokers, and the broader kosmische scene, often releasing these albums in prestigious Quadraphonic editions - recognized the value of what Centazzo had created but worried his jazz identity would confuse the cosmic electronics market. The solution: create Elektriktus as pseudonym, fusing "electronic" with "Ictus," the name Centazzo would give to his own label and percussion series.
Where German kosmische musik tended toward the infinite and abstract - Conrad Schnitzler's austere minimalism, Tangerine Dream's sequencer-driven expanses - Centazzo's electronic music retained tactile, physical quality. Franco Feruglio's upright bass walks and breathes, remembering northern Italian folk traditions. Centazzo's percussion maintains the rhythmic intelligence of jazz improvisation even when filtered through electronics. Electronic Mind Waves presents a heady dive into mystical electronics at the intersection of kosmische consciousness and jazz improvisation. Each of the eight tracks unfolds as its own sonic meditation, incorporating otherworldly themes through wild synth lines played against meandering bass patterns and Centazzo's driving yet nuanced percussion - pushing the listener into cosmic spaces while maintaining the tactile, almost physical quality that distinguishes Italian cosmic music from its German counterparts.
These eight synth-fueled tracks sound close to what kraut/cosmische heads were doing at the time - think Conrad Schnitzler, Deuter, or Cosmic Jokers, and also other European experimentalists like Richard Pinhas' Heldon, Spacecraft, Didier Bocquet, Seesselberg, F.G. Experimental Laboratory, Roberto Cacciapaglia, or Hydrus. Elektriktus represents the most adventurous experimental sounds under kosmische influence to emerge from Italy. What made Electronic Mind Waves significant wasn't imitation of German models, but transformation of them through Mediterranean sensibility and freeform jazz ethos.
The album's 1976 appearance came at a pivotal moment. Rock Progressivo Italiano - the movement that had produced the political complexity of Area, the folk-inflected experimentation of Stormy Six, the symphonic ambitions of Le Orme - was entering terminal crisis. Elektriktus arrived into this collapse: anonymous, difficult to market, structurally uncommercial. Poor distribution ensured its swift disappearance. But as often happens with prematurely buried artifacts, the album acquired an afterlife in collector circles, becoming whispered legend - a forgotten electronic gem that not only reflected the Italian craze for space synth, but looked north to the genius of electronic Krautrockers while maintaining distinctly Mediterranean character.
Strongly recommended to fans of minimal electronic music, kosmische sounds and ambient soundscapes.

Edition of 300. Includes 8-page booklet. In 1969, while American minimalism was consolidating into its most recognizable forms, Charlemagne Palestine was conducting solitary experiments with oscillators and sine waves that only now reveal their visionary scope. This was the New York of lofts and abandoned industrial spaces, of artists pushing sound toward its physical limits -- a city where the boundaries between music, performance art, and bodily endurance were dissolving. Battling the Invisible unearths two electronic studies from that crucial year, paired with rare 1972 Bösendorfer sessions -- a document that illuminates the passage from pure electronics to the keyboard as an instrument of prolonged ecstasy. "Low Sounds 3" opens the record with fifteen minutes of low frequencies that seem to emerge from the very foundations of the sonic edifice. There is no development in the traditional sense, but a static presence that gradually colonizes the listening space. Think Eliane Radigue's meditative drone work filtered through a raw, almost brutalist sensibility. "Sine Tone Study" on Side B extends this practice for nearly nineteen minutes -- sine waves overlapping, creating beating patterns, zones of interference explored with the patience of an entomologist. The two 1972 Bösendorfer fragments function as bridges toward the Palestine the world knows better -- the strumming ecstasies, the hypnotic accumulation of overtones, the piano as a vehicle for transcendence. Here the physical approach to the keyboard is already evident -- what he would describe as a "battle." This release is part of Alga Marghen's The Golden Research series -- a concept devised by Palestine himself around the idea of "perfect sound." The series focuses exclusively on completely unreleased archival materials, bringing to light legendary recordings that have never been heard before. The LP includes a 8-page interview conducted by Sumner Crane and Rudolph Grey in January 1979 at Palestine's NYC loft, with Arto Lindsay present, later redacted by Alan Licht. The insert is an anastatic reproduction of the original 12-page typescript. Unfiltered, explosive -- Palestine on violence, on the body as battleground, on his Brooklyn childhood. Essential reading.

First published in 1978 by Cetra, in this work Antonio Infantino continues to express his ritualistic and shamanic relationship with the musical traditions of Southern Italy. The recordings focus on the mystery of death and the sacraments, the light of the spirit and the divine that descends and conquers souls. The phenomenon of Tarantism is still strong, the power of dance as a symbol of transformation and revolt, a therapeutic process of final healing. Folk music celebrates a deep sense of community, the memory of a peasant world that no longer exists but is still alive in the collective memory. Behind the tight and insistent rhythm of the percussion, the voices of the people, the colours of the squares and the scratchy string arrangements always emerge. The magical sound of the bagpipes is lost in the alleys of the villages. Infantino sings of minor cultures, the poor and oppressed classes, who share joys and sorrows, dance and music as secular forms of liberation.
Compiling freshly unearthed, previously unreleased 1967 recordings from Fred Beckerlee's The Contemporary Jazz Quintet, 'Action A B C E' is another eye-opening free jazz set from Alga Marghen's new sub-label FormalIbera. RIYL Noah Howard's 'The Black Ark' or Peter Brötzmann's 'Machine Gun'. The Contemporary Jazz Quintet aren't exactly obscure - they were one of Denmark's first avant-garde jazz groups - but they still deserve more attention than they've historically received. Long-time favorites of the beardiest Discogs beards (1969's 'T.C.J.Q.' has been known to hit almost 2000 bones), the five piece made some significant technical leaps, pioneering electric jazz a year before Miles Davis. It was this revelation in fact that led sax player Beckerlee and his band - bassist Steffen Andersen, drummer Bo Thrige Andersen, trumpet player Hugh Steinmetz and multi-instrumentalist Niels Harrit - to scrap the 1967 studio recordings that were initially planned as a follow-up to their debut album 'Action'. These long-lost sessions have finally been dug up, and it provides a crucial bridge between their energetic earlier material and the fusion-tipped, studio-polished 'T.C.J.Q.'. Harrit plays musical saw on the opening jam, warbling next to Steffen Andersen's fictile bass prangs and Beckerlee's weeping horns. Bo Thrige Andersen's percussion is gentle at first, but he leads the charge in the second half, splattering unhinged rhythms that the rest of the players inevitably follow - even Harrit, who matches Beckerlee's manic blasts with sci-fi quivers. And on the flip, the five-piece take a more textural approach, mimicking tidal patterns with their non-hierarchal movements wherein the instruments swell and eddy rather than grandstanding. It's revelatory gear for fans of space-y second gen free jazz and another fine archeological excavation from FormalIbera.

- Track 1 presents the soundtrack of the 4.1-channel sound installation "Waterforest," unveiled in Kamimura’s solo exhibition at Hakari Contemporary, Kyoto, in the summer of 2025. Woven from sounds of water and ice, together with the natural environments that surround them, the work gathers voices of landscapes recorded across the world. Tracks 2–6 offer a series of unadorned field recordings selected and finely shaped from "Waterforest." - Exhibition Statement Hakari Contemporary is pleased to present "Waterforest," a solo exhibition by Yoichi Kamimura. Kamimura explores ways of perceiving landscapes through vision and hearing, combining environmental field recordings with visual elements such as drawings, text, and light. He creates sound installations, paintings, video works, and performances that have been presented in Japan as well as internationally. This exhibition focuses on soundscapes constructed mainly from field recordings Kamimura makes around the world during his residencies and travels. Key works include sound installations based on his experience of Shiretoko’s drift ice, Icelandic glaciers, the Amazon rainforest, Iguaçu (the world’s largest waterfall), springs in the Swiss Alps, the Lake Biwa Canal that flows beneath Kyoto, and ocean sounds recorded across the globe on nights that full and new moons occur. Alongside a low-frequency soundscape of flowing water that resonates throughout the space, a forest-like installation of images related to water—captured in the course of Kamimura’s journeys—is also presented. The exhibition is inspired by a sea of clouds Kamimura saw from a boat on the Amazon River. Known as the “Flying River,” this natural phenomenon occurs when large amounts of moisture evaporate from the rainforest, rise into the sky, form enormous clouds, and return as rain, symbolizing the Amazon’s ecological cycle. At the same time, this cycle of ‘water’ and ‘forest’ represents a natural process that effortlessly crosses the many boundaries created by human beings. In recent years, Kamimura has traveled through regions experiencing war and conflict, and has witnessed first-hand the escalation of violence and tensions arising from opposing opinions and emotions. Even when people appear to share an ‘anti-war’ stance, differences in individual backgrounds often lead to subtle divisions that are hard to reconcile. As a metaphor for overcoming such disconnection, Kamimura returns to the image of the majestic “Flying River” he saw in the Amazon. By linking the meanings of ‘water’ and ‘forest’ together in the title Waterforest, he seeks to express not opposition or division but connectivity and circulation, through the universal sensory awareness he has cultivated in different natural environments. Joining the exhibition as guest curator is Seiha Kurosawa, who previously co-organized the 2021 exhibition "Floating Between Tropical and Glacial Zones" with Kamimura—an exhibition that linked field research in the Brazilian Amazon and Shiretoko, Hokkaido, to explore new perspectives regarding the environment. Over several years, Kamimura and Kurosawa have continued a dialogue about emerging ecological thought which is also reflected in this exhibition. We hope you will take this opportunity to experience Kamimura’s latest work, which moves fluidly while aspiring towards a more universal and planetary perspective. - Drawing chiefly upon his field recordings, Yoichi Kamimura experiments with methods that draw upon sight, hearing, and other senses to perceive different scenes. His extensive body of work includes sound installations, paintings, video works, sound performances, and audio works - unveiled in venues both within Japan and abroad. With his field recording practice, Kamimura acts as an observer to the amorphous relationship between humankind and nature. Kamimura composes his sound installations by creating highly-immersive soundscapes, many of which draw upon our own biology to create unique sensory experiences. www.yoichikamimura.com

In evolutionary biology, the term spandrel refers to the features of an organism that aren't developments for survival, and seemingly possess no obvious purpose. The word is taken from an architectural label for the triangular spaces in the corner of an arch: small aesthetic elements that provide symmetry and demarcate boundaries. Musician and vocalist Evita Manji asks an opaque question on their debut album, wondering in the face of immense loss what elements of ourselves might be for endurance, and what might just be decoration. Their tracks, pieced together from the vapors of contemporary club music, baroque pop, and experimental sound design, are a way for Manji to examine their relationship with the world at large and within, disassembling systems of control and highlighting interconnectedness.
Manji has been an ethereal presence on the scene for the last few years, collaborating with numerous artists as both a sound artist and a creative director. Last year, they launched their own platform myxoxym, where they debuted two singles from "Spandrel?" and assembled an ambitious fundraiser compilation featuring Rainy Miller, Palmistry, Cecile Believe and others, raising money for Greek wildlife fund ANIMA. Performing across the world at festivals such as Unsound, Lunchmeat, and Rhizom, Manji has also appeared at clubs in Berlin and London, and was picked to represent the Shape+ platform in 2022. These experiences teem through "Spandrel?", helping them weave a complex artistic tapestry that seeks to look far beneath the surface of existence, attempting to balance the doom of global climate meltdown with themes of self-actualization, love, and bodily autonomy.
The album opens on the title track, an introductory précis that prepares listeners for what they're about to hear. Manji's vocals hum with a plugged-in sense of cybernetic melancholia, filtering the world's barrage of rhythms and harmonic themes into lithe, clubwise pop that's buoyed by their advanced sonics. From there, we're wrenched into the sadness of atmospheric lament 'Pitch Black', a meditation on death that submerges deep bass beneath layers of choral bliss, evoking the church and the dancefloor without sacrificing the power of each polar element. Their darkness is pushed from the inside to the outside on 'Oil/Too Much’, a commentary on the oil industry from the perspective of the animal kingdom that doubles as a neon-hued expression of contemporary depression. But it's on 'Body/Prison’ where Manji sounds most naked, speaking honestly about their life's darkest moments and confessing their deepest feelings over searing trance-inspired synths and grotesque percussion.
"Spandrel?" is an album that takes time to unravel, and Manji's themes resonate through history that's older than pop music. It's tragic, romantic, and poetic, and resolutely refuses to turn away from the era's most urgent concerns.

At a recent DREAM_MEGA performance, Joel Kyack stood alone on stage, directing a lava flow of sound at the audience. Overwhelmed by the haunted-house frequencies, the invasive rhythms, the untethered, untuned vocals, one attendee bent against another to whisper, “I think this guy’s channeling demons.” Whether spoken in terror or esteem, this accusation is useful in the face of DREAM_MEGA’s second LP, ‘Control / You Are Not the Center.’ The record is laced with menace. You hear it in the mutant war marches, in the dancehall reflux, in the tolling bass. You hear it in the crystalline melodies and the yearning ascensions. You even hear it in the Guided by Voices cover. Joel’s relationship with unsettling sound—demon channeling—is now decades long. His long-standing service in Landed, the band he co-founded in 1997, runs parallel to Joel's contributions to Six Finger Satellite, Men’s Recovery Project, Megafuckers, Dos Mega, and Street Buddy. This relentless dedication points a straight line to the feverish decay of his present day work, but Dream Mega stands distinct. Borne out of Joel’s near-death experience in 2020—a debilitated week spent isolated in Thailand, coughing blood and drenching bedsheets—DREAM_MEGA commandeers a unique space at the overlap of confrontation and abandon. Drawing on his own experiences at both hardcore shows and at street performances, Joel pushes DREAM_MEGA into an antipodal state where hyper-awareness and liberatory transcendence coexist. The songs on ‘Control / You Are Not the Center’ stare unblinking at our dumb, dangerous world the same way a Dropdead song might, but they simultaneously lift the burden of this disaster, pushing toward airy respite. Some of this is Joel’s compositional approach, setting ancient woodwinds against digital synthesizers, crossing unnatural circuitry with human breath. But the heart of it is Joel’s dire, middle-of-the-night need to address his fear and sadness and glimmers of hope and twist it into something that might keep his heart beating, despite. It is an act of clarity and self-preservation so skillfully wrought that every listener is able to feel the demons at work on their own heart. ‘Control / You are Not The Center’ features sonic contributions from Ryan Weinstein (Coffin Prick), Cordey Lopez, and Lisa Anne Auerbach. It is recommended for fans of Hassell & Eno’s ‘Fourth World, Vol.1: Possible Musics’, Houston’s chopped and screwed scene, and Captain Beefheart.

John McGuire's Double String Trios presents three major late works for two string trios, composed between 2012 and 2021. His musical roots lie in the electronic studios of postwar Cologne, shaped through studies with Karlheinz Stockhausen and Krzysztof Penderecki, and grounded in the traditions of European serialism. Working with synthesizers capable of generating up to 1,800 pulses per second, McGuire developed a beautifully harmonious, crystalline music, shaped by the ear into a world of flowing continuities between one point and the next. Transferred to stringed instruments, that world becomes infinitely more complex-suffused with the richness and impurities of human players and their acoustic technologies. Conceived as two facing string trios in antiphonal dialogue, the music links studio spatial thinking with older split-ensemble traditions, unfolding through Fibonacci proportions, rotating tempi, shifting meters, and continual harmonic transposition.
