NEW ARRIVALS

Dance Till You Die is more than just a track title—it’s a loud and clear order, a warning, and a timeless statement from one of the most uncompromising Japanese post-punk outfits of the early 1980s. Emerging from Japan’s underground scene, Daisuck & Prostitute forged a raw yet magnetic sound that blended the abrasive edges of No Wave with an almost ritualistic sense of groove. Dance Till You Die stands as a rare testament to their uncompromising vision: esoteric and challenging, yet undeniably contagious on the dance floor. This newly unearthed gem brings sharp, jagged rhythms, dissonant textures, and a feverish punk urgency together in a way that feels both deeply of its time and eerily timeless. For No Wave obsessives, post-punk devotees, and seekers of obscure underground treasures, Dance Till You Die reaffirms the visceral spirit of a band that refused to compromise or cater to convention. With its intensity undiminished decades later, Dance Till You Die resonates as both an invitation and a provocation: keep moving until the last beat, keep resisting, and keep challenging the boundaries of sound. This release celebrates the survival of radical creativity and provides a crucial document of Japan’s contribution to the explosive worldwide post-punk movement.

Formed in Antwerp in 1966, Orange rose from the city’s fertile art and music scene to become one of Belgium’s most compelling underground rock bands. After several lineup changes, the group solidified its identity in 1969, making a national television debut and honing a sound rooted in psychedelia and melodic rock. Later that year, with Hugo Van Camp joining Marc Van Geystelen (lead guitar), Norbert De Lange (guitar/vocals) and Swa De Houwer (bass), the band recorded their debut single, ‘The Sun’ b/w ‘Wait Until Sunrise’, at Decca Studios in Brussels. Dark and brooding, ‘The Sun’ remains a striking artefact of Belgium’s late-’60s underground and has since earned lasting cult status.

SCULPTURES is composer and pianist Derek Hunter Wilson’s third solo album, an ode to the ancient and contested shorelines of the Pacific Northwest. Deeply embedded in place, the six longform pieces that make up the album reflect the artist’s journey through grief (including losing his father) and the passage of time, each one built upon loops created from extended sessions with harpist Joshua Ward. Like the foggy, moss-encrusted locations that inspired the album, Sculptures has a timeless feel to it, shadowed by the rumblings of a colonial system in decay. Award-winning poet Mathias Svalina composed a poem in honor of the album, entitled “A Dream for Sculptures”: "The roof of the church collapsed long ago. Vines cover the stone walls, thick, old columns of rough, dark bark & new shoots so thin & so green they almost seem, when the breeze shakes them, to be more light than plant. Tall grasses & thorny things twist through the weather-warped pews, the air thick with plant-wet breath. Each architectural feature of the church has been smoothed & vagued by growth, all but the altar, which sits on a square slab of white marble. You walk to the altar, stepping through the tangles of scrub & burr as smoothly as crossing a salt flat. You rise onto the slab of marble. The air thinner & dry. And from here you can hear it, the insistent creeping & creaking of never-ending growth, wordless with want. A small gold bowl has been left on the altar. In the bowl sits three blue flowers. The petals have been tied back with thin silver, each petal tightly overlapping another, the bloomed flowers have been forced back to buds. You lift one blue flower to your nose. It smells of old coins, shiny from centuries of fingers, of corroded batteries. Vibration rises through your feet. And again. And again. There is something beneath the altar, trying to get out. You press your shoulder into the altar & push with all your might. Your every tendon & muscle strain. Your lungs burn. Sweat streams from your face. And finally, the altar moves, only a touch & then it grinds forward, revealing a hole. Beneath the altar the cold seas splashes, wave after wave of icy saltwater churning up. You take a deep breath. You close your eyes. You dive in."

Living in the present is an album built around the work of American minimalist poet, Robert Lax (1915-2000) who is widely praised for his artistic concept of reduction, in which a pause becomes as important as the things said.

The album brings together the sound of Robert Lax reading his poetry, narrative field recordings by Nicolas Humbert and subtle yet imaginative timbres by Carina Khorkhordina (trumpet) and Miki Yui (electronics) who is also behind the final mixing of the album.

Living in the present is drawing from an archive of audio recordings originally made by film maker Nicolas Humbert while shooting a film on Robert Lax entitled Why Should I Buy A Bed When All That I Want Is Sleep?, ( Nicolas Humbert and Werner Penzel, Germany, 1999) The film was made on the Greek island of Patmos where Lax has lived withdrawn for 3 decades.

More than 25 years after the premiere of Why Should I Buy A Bed When All That I Want Is Sleep?, Humbert, Khorkhordina and Yui are revisiting the original audio material and patiently open worlds within worlds, pointing to new harmonic textures and isolating timbres, synchronizing different layers of time and traces of various locations into a new composition in its own right.

In some ways this album feels like an expansion of the work Humbert and Penzel did with Lax across six years, between 1993 and 1999, where they developed a unique intimacy in their textual-visual collaboration. On two long pieces, for each side of the album, “Where do i begin” and “One moment passes, another comes on” respectively – Yui’s electronics and Khorkhordina’s trumpet interweave beautifully with Humbert’s field recordings, in a manner that shadows the reflective reduction of Lax’s poetry. Indeed, it's no surprise that Lax’s poetry draws musicians into its orbit; it offers the curious a welcoming reduction in which only individual words and syllables represent the essence of language.

Lax’s poetry is notable for its qualities of near-stillness and its capacity to pause the reader’s thought, asking them to hold the sensuality of language for an extended, quietly revelatory moment. His readings on this album share a similar cadence, interested in settling with syllables, with single or several words, for an extended time.

Ultimately, Living in the present unfolds with unforced grace and poetics – one moment passes, then another comes on. (Jon Dale)

In conjunction with the 2025 re-pressing of the Nora Guthrie "Emily's Illness/Home Before Dark” 7-inch single, we have here, in the same format, a lovely cover of the latter tune, performed by Eddie Marcon, a band based in Himeji, Japan. The band’s vocalist Eddie Corman and musician/producer Shintaro Sakamoto wrote the Japanese lyrics for this gorgeous version, recorded in 2024 and originally unintended for public release; however, this slice of sweetness, delivered by the full band comprising guitar, keyboards, bass, percussion and wistful winds is now available to the lucky listener. The flipside, recorded in 2025, is an intriguingly ghostly recomposed version for cello and flute by TORSO, a Tokyo instrumental duo, who used the basic tracks from the Eddie Marcon version of “Home Before Dark" as a ‘guide’ before finally deleting the basic tracks.

Takao‘s new album is a rare attempt to recreate a previously released album. He has re-recorded his debut album "Stealth" and presents it here as a completely new work. This is a 50-minute full-length album with two new tracks, "Moon" and "Seven Sands". This new "Stealth" is subtitled 'Gold Edition'. 

=From the 2018 album commentary= 
“Stealth” is the aptly-titled debut album from Tokyo-based composer/producer Takao. Gliding in under the radar with thirteen slyly sweet and subtle miniatures, these pieces are refreshing light-explosions of gentle harmony and modestly grand melodies. Fans of New Age and tonal minimalism will enjoy this music, but its brevity reveals a pop-influenced aesthetic as well, and the level of care and detail in the arrangements and recording evinces a nuanced, surprisingly mature sensibility. There’s a blossoming brightness and elegant simplicity that even calls to mind gentle ghosts of Satie and Debussy.