NEW ARRIVALS

Otto A. Totland and Erik Skodvin turn the contrast down even further on their fourth album, journeying through nuanced shades with electroacoustic atmospheres that dilate time. RIYL Angelo Badalamenti, Laurel Halo, Biosphere, Richard Skelton. With each subsequent album, Deaf Center have chipped away at some of their signature sound's decorative elements, getting closer to the emotional and stylistic core each time. Since the beginning, they've been inspired by low-lit, noir-esque atmospheres, but where their earliest material hinged around distinct, memorable themes, usually played by Totland on piano, they've evolved to emphasise the mood itself. Indeed, Totland's playing is more languid and measured than ever here, creating a tidal ebb that laps against Skodvin's measured strings and subtle synth tones rather than a fulcrum for each track to pivot around. The two part title track is maybe the best example of their arc; the first part is remarkably gauzy, with each instrument used as ambiance. Pianos shimmer into darkness and oscillators whirr and feed back in the distance as if they're being pulled away by a malfunctioning tape echo. By the long second part, though, we've been transported back to the 'Pale Ravine' era - the moody electroacoustic textures are all but gone and Skodvin has traded his synths for cello, playing in short, sharp strokes against Totland's assertive notes. But even this is fleeting, before the track has finished, its instrumentation is drowned by dissonance and distortion that prepares the palate for 'I Myst', a glitchy, cinematic highlight that'll appeal to fans of Ryuichi Sakamoto's collaborations with Alva Noto. Stick around and you'll hear the duo's first track with a guest musician, too. On 'Further', they invite Berlin-based British composer and producer Simon Goff, who's worked with Hildur Guðnadóttir and Jóhann Jóhansson, among others, to play violin and viola over their frozen soundscapes.

Editions Mego welcomes KMRU back to the fold. Kin is Nairobi born, Berlin based, sonic wizard Joseph Kamaru’s second release on Editions Mego, following on from the classic 2020 release Peel. Since the release and subsequent praise for Peel, the artist has been a staple on the electronic scene performing on numerous stages and festivals worldwide in tandem with a flood of media recognition. Kin could be construed as the second child following Peel. The project came out of initial discussions with Peter Rehberg about what a Peel sequel would sound like. Kamaru is quick to clarify that Kin is not that record; “I'll know when that record will come and when I'll make it. It's already happening... or maybe it lives within both of these Mego records”.

It is this deft ambiguity and vague tiptoeing around the concrete that encapsulates the ambiguous sound world of Kamaru’s vision.

Kin was started early 2021 in Nairobi with Kamaru exploring his noisier palette of sounds encompassing distortions reminiscent of the sounds he would muster from in his youth when playing guitar. He paused making this record for a year as soon as Peter died, then slowly returned to it through 2022 resulting in the immense new work we have here.

The charms within Kin lay as Easter eggs revealing the true identity behind the colourful sonics only after multiple deep listens. With Trees Where We Can See sets the tone by way of a warm swaying melody inviting the listener in for further investigation. In 2022 KMRU and Mego stalwart Fennesz toured the USA together resulting in a strong friendship and also, the second track here, Blurred. A neat Mego/Editions Mego loop as such. Blurred arranges twangy guitar strums alongside glistening glaciers of shimmering drones. They Are Here represents a darker hue as melancholic clouds of shadowy noir tap directly into the listener's nerve stream. Maybe takes a detour into a bristling euphoric electronic storm whilst We Are screeches in a pattern formation not unlike a highly abstracted Aphex Twin forcing its way out of a hard drive. By Absence concludes proceedings, operating as both exit music and a portal to further sonic investigation with acoustic bellowing residing amongst a kaleidoscopic backdrop.

Kin is a trip that rewards close repeated listens as all the colours and textures, nuance and narratives unveil themselves. This isn’t a record to be glossed over, magic rewards concentration.

Kin is a record to be Played slow and LOUD.

For Pita.

3/3 (Sanbun-no-San) was Friction's "pre-punk" band, a name that shines brightly in the history of Japanese rock. This is a re-release on analog LP of their legendary album, of which only 10 handmade copies were produced in 1975! It's an exceptionally rare record in Japanese rock, and its miraculous CD release in 2007 unveiled its full scope, sending shockwaves through the history of 70s Japanese rock. The rock 'n' roll groove, supported by the tight and powerful backbeat of Rec, Chico Hige, and Higo Hiroshi, is truly nothing short of spectacular!

Released in 2001, *Drawn From Life* is a rare ambient instrumental project by Brian Eno and J. Peter Schwalm.

In August 2022, Australia-based, French born fourth-world music legend Ariel Kalma was invited to participate in BBC Radio 3’s Late Junction series of special collaborations. The program pairs artists who have not previously worked together to create new music cooperatively. Kalma was quick to suggest working with two musicians whom he had never met – International Anthem recording artists Jeremiah Chiu & Marta Sofia Honer, whose critically-acclaimed duo debut 'Recordings from the Åland Islands' had been released just a few months earlier. An invitation was sent to Chiu and Honer, which was received with great enthusiasm, as Chiu had long been a fan of Kalma’s work, even citing him as a major influence on his approach to electronic music composition. The essential structure of the Late Junction collaboration was that the artists would work together to create around twenty minutes of music. They began passing music back and forth, some that Kalma had started, and some that Honer & Chiu had started, with each adding to or editing the track before returning it to the other. The music would only go back and forth a few times before being finalized. After meeting their twenty minute goal for the program (four pieces total), the three musicians were satisfied in what they would present and sent along their work to the producers of Late Junction. However, there was a nagging suspicion that this wasn’t the end of the story. There were several pieces that they had nearly completed but that weren’t sent for inclusion in the radio program, and there were many ideas for refining those pieces that had. With this in mind Kalma, Chiu and Honer agreed that they would continue to work together to try to push the music further. The freshly minted trio felt like there was much more to be said and more work to be done. The Late Junction program was broadcast in September of 2022. Simultaneously, Kalma, Chiu and Honer began expanding upon the music they had started for the purpose of the broadcast, working diligently on the music for several months. After meeting their twenty minute goal for the program (four pieces total), the three musicians were satisfied in what they would present and sent along their work to the producers of Late Junction. However, there was a nagging suspicion that this wasn’t the end of the story. There were several pieces that they had nearly completed but that weren’t sent for inclusion in the radio program, and there were many ideas for refining those pieces that had. With this in mind Kalma, Chiu and Honer agreed that they would continue to work together to try to push the music further. The freshly minted trio felt like there was much more to be said and more work to be done. The Late Junction program was broadcast in September of 2022. Simultaneously, Kalma, Chiu and Honer began expanding upon the music they had started for the purpose of the broadcast, working diligently on the music for several months. Their collective approach to this work was born in improvisation and realized via collage-based editing. The end result brings several distinct musical moments — recorded sometimes decades apart — into conversation with one another, forming new narratives from building blocks of old ones. There are snippets of improvised playing from each musician, edited together with recordings that Kalma had made in the 70s at GRM, and even moments of audio notes — like Kalma explaining his ideas — that would make it into the final mixes. Their collective approach to this work was born in improvisation and realized via collage-based editing. The end result brings several distinct musical moments — recorded sometimes decades apart — into conversation with one another, forming new narratives from building blocks of old ones. There are snippets of improvised playing from each musician, edited together with recordings that Kalma had made in the 70s at GRM, and even moments of audio notes — like Kalma explaining his ideas — that would make it into the final mixes. Ultimately, the collection of music highlights the work of all three musicians, intertwining the contextual immersion heard on Chiu & Honer’s 'Recordings from the Åland Islands' with an intergenerational reverence for (and the undeniable presence of) Kalma’s decades-spanning body of work. It is work that has definitively enshrined him as one of the true, transcendent pioneers and sages of new age and fourth-world music. That reverence is affirmed by the album title chosen by the group — "The Closest Thing to Silence" — which is taken from a quote by Kalma included in a documentary by RVNG Intl (as part of their release of the 2014 compendium/retrospective An Evolutionary Music). Perhaps coincidental, Kalma’s quote was a slight modulation of a legendary ECM Records motto, as he said: “Music is the closest thing to silence.” Ultimately, the collection of music highlights the work of all three musicians, intertwining the contextual immersion heard on Chiu & Honer’s 'Recordings from the Åland Islands' with an intergenerational reverence for (and the undeniable presence of) Kalma’s decades-spanning body of work. It is work that has definitively enshrined him as one of the true, transcendent pioneers and sages of new age and fourth-world music. That reverence is affirmed by the album title chosen by the group — "The Closest Thing to Silence" — which is taken from a quote by Kalma included in a documentary by RVNG Intl (as part of their release of the 2014 compendium/retrospective An Evolutionary Music). Perhaps coincidental, Kalma’s quote was a slight modulation of a legendary ECM Records motto, as he said: “Music is the closest thing to silence.” The Closest Thing To Silence is an album-length collaboration between fourth-world music icon Ariel Kalma and the recording duo Jeremiah Chiu and Marta Sofia Honer, which evolved from a twenty-minute selection pieces they recorded in 2022 for BBC Radio 3’s ‘Late Junction’ program as part of a scheme that places together artists who have never worked together before. Chiu and Honer, who both cite Kalma as a huge influence on their work, beautifully fit into Kalma’s vision.

Lamin Fofana takes inspiration from Aimé Césaire’s 1950 poetry collection Corps Perdu, translating its ideas into exploratory electronic music built from processed melodies, fragmented rhythms and sound. Developed through reading and listening sessions in Paris, Barcelona, Tunis and New York, the album forms part of Fofana’s wider engagement with Black Studies and writers including W.E.B. Du Bois, Sylvia Wynter, Édouard Glissant and Suzanne Césaire. Its ten pieces follow Césaire’s imagery of scattering, upheaval and metamorphosis, connecting literature, sound and performance.

Naya Beat’s second installment in the acclaimed series, Select Remixes and Reworks 2, digs into South Asian rare groove, disco, and new wave, reimagining them for contemporary dance‑music culture.

Liminal space – We all know it, a familiar friend. The haze we slip into on our way to sleep. That warmth on your eyelids you feel when you turn your face to the sun and drift out of time for a few minutes. Those moments of stillness that belong to you in the sacred minutes before the alarm goes off, before you are fully able to acknowledge the outside world that waits on you like some hungry panther, eyeing you from strange trees. Inhabiting this zone is a luxury, but the best sort of liminality lives in a very specific dream space, one we spend the rest of our lives chasing: The deep sleep that most children know. Somewhere between familiar household sounds and being carried to your own bed, there’s the quiet that only belongs to you and some dream self – someone that you haven’t met yet, but that you make future plans for and secret promises to. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, feels exactly like exploring this space and pushing forward, slipping out of time and waking up someplace new, a place that’s barely familiar enough to feel like home but somehow already wholly personal and meant for you alone. June grew up in a Jamaican household in South Florida, an existence built of strong extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and student of sound all his own, built his own speakers and maintained no less than three sound systems across as many rooms. The bass from his solitary DJ sets would sneak its way through her bedroom floor, making itself at home like some wayward cat as she listened to folk records, finding harmonies that were new and special to her. On the edge of the Florida Everglades, two musics in one room, meshing into something indescribable. Lushness as past and premonition. The low end of where she comes from, and the high, gentle harmony of what she would eventually seek out, sharing the same humid air. She would find folk music on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel’s contributions to The Graduate, all the while nobody around her listening to it and her parents referring to it as “that sleepy music.” She did not mind being the only one; the solitude afforded her the opportunity to fall in love with harmony first, before words, before anything else. Harmony is the thing that reaches her, and now it is the thing she effortlessly reaches for. You will hear it all over this album, with chords opening up to greet you before you have any idea what she’s singing about. Yet and still, an elder also traveled a similar path: Her grandfather, Colin Smith, was a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar, built his own rumba boxes and worked hard to keep Jamaica’s oldest form of rural acoustic folk music and storytelling alive. Mento is the genre at the root of all of it – we have the form to thank for ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything that came after, and he is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own. For years, this was just the sound of her family, a comfort and constant companion that did not yet feel as if it also belonged to her. It took going out into the world, living, loving, learning and coming back home, to find that she had earnestly built a full life of her own – and that there was a sound to meet it. She put on an Alton Ellis record one day and realized the soundshe had been seeking had been there her whole life, a steady groove meant to hold anyone with ears and heart enough to listen. She set out to create and ended up making music that held space for all of the sounds and feelings that she loved. Not a reggae or dub record, not a folk record, but the harmony of one laid over the rhythm of the other. Sonic liminality, echoed out into the cosmos in some places. She and her longtime partner, Evan Wright, created the songs slowly, by hand. Songcraft for the pair meant stacking parts over time, chasing texture, exercising restraint in their explorations, keeping things minimal on purpose. Nearly every one began as just her voice and a guitar before the two of them fleshed it out, Evan playing most of the instruments while June layered in the vocal harmonies she so loves to arrange. They opened the record by cutting live drums with Victor Axelrod, the producer who records as Ticklah, down in his Sunset Park basement, then carried the songs home and built the rest themselves across long days in the studio they keep at home, tracking to tape and digital both, even hauling out to a friend’s house for the harp. Dub and Wall of Sound influencing the low end, with echoes of Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washy, stellar guitars of Cocteau Twins’ Victorialand haunting the outer edges of what her sound would shapeshift into. Angelic heroics, and nothing less. It was not easy, by any stretch. A casual listener won’t know that she spent twelve hours a day mixing because she wanted perfection, or that she started the process over when, on a Christmas visit, her parents told her that they couldn’t hear enough of her vocals. “Without You,” the album’s lead single, carries the fingerprints of that patience: it began with live drums running straight through and slowly became something else entirely, the deeper she steeped it in Cocteau Twins, until a dub bassline and a shoegaze shimmer met in the middle, in the last place you would think to look for either one. That was the standard she wanted to meet and surpass – but you, listener, will only hear a record that could have gone overboard but didn’t. Generous in its way, it invites you in as an active participant on the path, leaving room for you instead of telling you how to feel. At the heart, the core of all of this, is June’s grandmother Aggie. She formed the center, both in family and in this recording – a guide for June in moments of stillness, in moments of uncertainty, and at the edges that she wants to keep close. Indeed, the song “Memory” was written with her in mind. That is the light making its way through the pinhole in this camera of the mind, the guide that helps June to focus, to see and to step forward confidently. People who love you showing the way, their energy still present and shining even when their form has moved on. There’s a harder, quieter undercurrent that moves through this album – one that June explores in “Outside the Window.” There are so many different iterations of a self, all belonging to so many different sets of people and realities. What obligation do you have to them, and can you meet all of the promises that you made to yourself in those sleepy, hazy moments when you pretended you weren’t a kid anymore? What is authenticity? Who defines that? Who do you owe it to? What do you owe yourself? These are questions that prowl around the corners of the overthinking artist’s mind when creating an album this intimate, this exacting, this personal. You’re learning how to be a person in public while keeping a degree of interiority all of your own, trying to make sure that you don’t let your life pass you by as you’re trying to meet your own standards. Future You is an ancestor that your current self gets to meet. As June layers these songs, she is figuring out who she is in real time. The album holds that answer, and offers it to you, the listener, as well. It knows that none of us are just one person, but a multitude of people we’ve had to let go of, kill off, commit to meeting at a future date and time. A continuum: There’s an entire lineage of selves that we all carry with us each day, and others that we will eventually meet. We are reaching back to those people and waving hello to them at the same time, along with the lineages of people who helped to shape us and get us here. A collection of people and things that don’t seem to go together, but we let them in anyway. Dark. Light. Equals. Opposites. All there in sound, in spirit, in daily action. We turn into the light when things feel dark. We get used to feeling around for it if we can’t see it. We let the warmth of it hit our faces and slowly open eyes to see.

Liminal space – We all know it, a familiar friend. The haze we slip into on our way to sleep. That warmth on your eyelids you feel when you turn your face to the sun and drift out of time for a few minutes. Those moments of stillness that belong to you in the sacred minutes before the alarm goes off, before you are fully able to acknowledge the outside world that waits on you like some hungry panther, eyeing you from strange trees. Inhabiting this zone is a luxury, but the best sort of liminality lives in a very specific dream space, one we spend the rest of our lives chasing: The deep sleep that most children know. Somewhere between familiar household sounds and being carried to your own bed, there’s the quiet that only belongs to you and some dream self – someone that you haven’t met yet, but that you make future plans for and secret promises to. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, feels exactly like exploring this space and pushing forward, slipping out of time and waking up someplace new, a place that’s barely familiar enough to feel like home but somehow already wholly personal and meant for you alone. June grew up in a Jamaican household in South Florida, an existence built of strong extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and student of sound all his own, built his own speakers and maintained no less than three sound systems across as many rooms. The bass from his solitary DJ sets would sneak its way through her bedroom floor, making itself at home like some wayward cat as she listened to folk records, finding harmonies that were new and special to her. On the edge of the Florida Everglades, two musics in one room, meshing into something indescribable. Lushness as past and premonition. The low end of where she comes from, and the high, gentle harmony of what she would eventually seek out, sharing the same humid air. She would find folk music on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel’s contributions to The Graduate, all the while nobody around her listening to it and her parents referring to it as “that sleepy music.” She did not mind being the only one; the solitude afforded her the opportunity to fall in love with harmony first, before words, before anything else. Harmony is the thing that reaches her, and now it is the thing she effortlessly reaches for. You will hear it all over this album, with chords opening up to greet you before you have any idea what she’s singing about. Yet and still, an elder also traveled a similar path: Her grandfather, Colin Smith, was a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar, built his own rumba boxes and worked hard to keep Jamaica’s oldest form of rural acoustic folk music and storytelling alive. Mento is the genre at the root of all of it – we have the form to thank for ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything that came after, and he is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own. For years, this was just the sound of her family, a comfort and constant companion that did not yet feel as if it also belonged to her. It took going out into the world, living, loving, learning and coming back home, to find that she had earnestly built a full life of her own – and that there was a sound to meet it. She put on an Alton Ellis record one day and realized the soundshe had been seeking had been there her whole life, a steady groove meant to hold anyone with ears and heart enough to listen. She set out to create and ended up making music that held space for all of the sounds and feelings that she loved. Not a reggae or dub record, not a folk record, but the harmony of one laid over the rhythm of the other. Sonic liminality, echoed out into the cosmos in some places. She and her longtime partner, Evan Wright, created the songs slowly, by hand. Songcraft for the pair meant stacking parts over time, chasing texture, exercising restraint in their explorations, keeping things minimal on purpose. Nearly every one began as just her voice and a guitar before the two of them fleshed it out, Evan playing most of the instruments while June layered in the vocal harmonies she so loves to arrange. They opened the record by cutting live drums with Victor Axelrod, the producer who records as Ticklah, down in his Sunset Park basement, then carried the songs home and built the rest themselves across long days in the studio they keep at home, tracking to tape and digital both, even hauling out to a friend’s house for the harp. Dub and Wall of Sound influencing the low end, with echoes of Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washy, stellar guitars of Cocteau Twins’ Victorialand haunting the outer edges of what her sound would shapeshift into. Angelic heroics, and nothing less. It was not easy, by any stretch. A casual listener won’t know that she spent twelve hours a day mixing because she wanted perfection, or that she started the process over when, on a Christmas visit, her parents told her that they couldn’t hear enough of her vocals. “Without You,” the album’s lead single, carries the fingerprints of that patience: it began with live drums running straight through and slowly became something else entirely, the deeper she steeped it in Cocteau Twins, until a dub bassline and a shoegaze shimmer met in the middle, in the last place you would think to look for either one. That was the standard she wanted to meet and surpass – but you, listener, will only hear a record that could have gone overboard but didn’t. Generous in its way, it invites you in as an active participant on the path, leaving room for you instead of telling you how to feel. At the heart, the core of all of this, is June’s grandmother Aggie. She formed the center, both in family and in this recording – a guide for June in moments of stillness, in moments of uncertainty, and at the edges that she wants to keep close. Indeed, the song “Memory” was written with her in mind. That is the light making its way through the pinhole in this camera of the mind, the guide that helps June to focus, to see and to step forward confidently. People who love you showing the way, their energy still present and shining even when their form has moved on. There’s a harder, quieter undercurrent that moves through this album – one that June explores in “Outside the Window.” There are so many different iterations of a self, all belonging to so many different sets of people and realities. What obligation do you have to them, and can you meet all of the promises that you made to yourself in those sleepy, hazy moments when you pretended you weren’t a kid anymore? What is authenticity? Who defines that? Who do you owe it to? What do you owe yourself? These are questions that prowl around the corners of the overthinking artist’s mind when creating an album this intimate, this exacting, this personal. You’re learning how to be a person in public while keeping a degree of interiority all of your own, trying to make sure that you don’t let your life pass you by as you’re trying to meet your own standards. Future You is an ancestor that your current self gets to meet. As June layers these songs, she is figuring out who she is in real time. The album holds that answer, and offers it to you, the listener, as well. It knows that none of us are just one person, but a multitude of people we’ve had to let go of, kill off, commit to meeting at a future date and time. A continuum: There’s an entire lineage of selves that we all carry with us each day, and others that we will eventually meet. We are reaching back to those people and waving hello to them at the same time, along with the lineages of people who helped to shape us and get us here. A collection of people and things that don’t seem to go together, but we let them in anyway. Dark. Light. Equals. Opposites. All there in sound, in spirit, in daily action. We turn into the light when things feel dark. We get used to feeling around for it if we can’t see it. We let the warmth of it hit our faces and slowly open eyes to see.

Mekong Shellac is an extremely rare collection of classical and popular styles of Khmer music from the 1930s to the 1950s. Restored from the few original remaining copies, this compilation reveals a remarkable world of early 20th-century Cambodian folk music previously lost in time through war, cultural shifts, and modernization. These recordings were selected for their distinctive musical qualities, the physical condition of the 78 rpm records from which they were sourced, and the circumstances of their survival. The selections span a range of Khmer musical forms, including Chapey, Romvong, Lakon Basak, Pleng Khmer, Ayai, and Ayai Reung, as well as classical and court-derived traditions such as Pinpeat and Mahori, alongside popular and regional styles including Lamleav and Pleng Ka. It's a miracle these discs have survived at all throughout the past century. Restoration of these 78-rpm artifacts was a challenge, but considering that, of most songs appearing on the album, less than 5 copies are known to exist worldwide today - with only two known copies of three tracks presented here, the songs survive magnificently. Produced by Adam Fargason with the critical assistance of Sam Touch and Mai Viết Cường, this limited-edition vinyl pressing comes with a deluxe 16-page booklet insert including highly detailed liner notes, essays and historical information about the recordings, and a selection of vintage photographs.

This is raw, unfiltered ceremonial gong ensemble music recorded on location by Laurent Jeanneau in Ratanakiri, Cambodia’s northeastern province, bordering Laos and Vietnam. Along with Mondolkiri to the south, it was once home to many of the country’s ethnic minority communities. During the colonial period, the French failed to establish full control over the region. After independence, the Khmer state also struggled to govern it, while Khmer Rouge rebels hid in its forests in the 1960s amid the wider conflict between communist Vietnam and the United States. The Khmer Rouge takeover in 1975 and the subsequent Vietnamese occupation, which lasted until 1991, could have devastated the traditions of northeastern Cambodia’s ethnic minorities. Yet during the 1980s and 1990s, Indigenous communities revived swidden agriculture, also known as slash-and-burn farming, and resumed gong playing, preserving their animist ceremonies and beliefs. Only in the 21st century have rubber plantations and corporate development, driven largely by dominant Khmer, Vietnamese, and Chinese interests, become a serious threat to the ways of life of these marginalized communities. This album features various gong ensembles being played during animist rituals and for drinking the fermented rice alcohol called Tavei. Instrumentation includes Nipple and flat gongs, bamboo tubes, male and female vocals, and drums. (Limited edition of 500 vinyl copies with a 2-page insert featuring detailed liner notes by Laurent Jeanneau and additional photos of the musicians).

Teal return with Love Comes Thru, the trio's nine-track debut album. Expanding their emotionally resonant blend of downtempo trip-pop, the record reaches into street soul, dub, and experimental grooves, marking a confident new chapter for the group. At its core, Love Comes Thru is a reflection on the quiet strength of love -- not through grand gestures, but through the steady presence that carries listeners through uncertainty, change, and connection. Written over the course of a year of bi-coastal collaboration, the album became a testament to the bond Teal share as artists, friends, and family. From the lush synth landscapes of "Aries Moon" to the footwork-inspired pulse of "Time Is Blind," the album explores themes of patience, vulnerability, longing, and intimacy. Standout singles "Kissing in a Dream" and the title track lean into left-field street soul, while stripped-back, 808-driven tracks like "Change Your Mind" and "Anomaly" demonstrate the power of restraint without sacrificing momentum. Building on the group's love of ambient improvisation, Love Comes Thru also features instrumental pieces with percussion by Brandon Valdivia (Mas Aya/Lido Pimienta). The album closes with the sensual "Bubbling," bringing the journey full circle with a reminder that love ultimately comes through in its most embodied, physical form. Love Comes Thru is presented in a deluxe, limited-edition matte-finish, double-embossed jacket with a printed inner sleeve. Track Listing: Disc 1 01. Aries Moon 00:40 listen 02. Time Is Blind 00:43 listen 03. Kissing In A Dream 00:33 listen 04. Change Your Mind 00:40 listen 05. Frog's Hollow 00:36 listen 06. Anomaly 01:01 listen 07. Slip Into Stillness 00:40 listen 08. Love Comes Thru 01:25 listen 09. Bubbling 01:00 listen - Teal return with Love Comes Thru, the trio's nine-track debut album. - Expanding their emotionally resonant blend of downtempo trip-pop, the record reaches into street soul, dub, and experimental grooves, marking a confident new chapter for the group. - Love Comes Thru is presented in a deluxe, limited-edition matte-finish, double-embossed jacket with a printed inner sleeve.

After All Hands Bury The Cliffs At Sea (IMPREC 503LP, 2023) and Black Clouds Above The Bows (IMPREC 507CD, 2022), Amsterdam-based collective Wanderwelle presents the final entry of their album trilogy for Important Records. Conceived as a sonic reflection on the climate crisis and its devastating impact on coastal ecosystems, Ghosts Beneath The Brine addresses the mass deaths of fish, seabirds, crustaceans and countless other creatures that call these seas home, now rapidly being overfished, warming and acidifying. Where antique cavalry trumpets played a central role on Black Clouds Above The Bows and a dying church organ shaped All Hands Bury The Cliffs At Sea, cymbals form the core of Ghosts Beneath The Brine. The instruments were submerged in seawater for extended periods of time and played with a bow at various stages of corrosion. As the bronze alloy gradually reacted with the saltwater, their sound transformed, becoming darker, more fragile and unstable. Over time, the metal began to sing in ghostly overtones, as if haunted by the waters that shaped it. Much like large groups of fish shimmering beneath the surface, the cymbals slowly lost their shine, both sonically and physically, as salt and time took hold. Alongside its environmental narrative, the album draws from maritime mythology. Echoes of the sea bishop, the kraken, devil whales and sea serpents emerge throughout its soundscape. Once feared and revered, these creatures now exist only in the liminal space between folklore and memory, haunting the collective imagination like omens from a forgotten age. Through immersive textures and submerged harmonies, Wanderwelle intertwines myth and mourning, inviting listeners to drift between the real and the spectral. If humanity continues on its current course, familiar species such as sharks, oysters and even gulls may soon share the same fate as their legendary predecessors, becoming ghosts beneath the brine. Cymbals (submerged, corroded, played with bow and mallet), cello, voice, bowed guitar, Osmose synthesizer, modular synthesizer, field recordings. Track Listing: Disc 1 A 01. At Cape Lonesome 03:52 listen 02. Dissolving Souls 04:20 listen 03. Men Dragging Carcasses 04:08 listen 04. Empty Nets 03:27 listen B 05. The Sea Bishop's Sermon 05:12 listen 06. A Special Albatross 03:00 listen 07. Littered With Bones 05:26 listen 08. To Become A Ghost 04:44 listen - Amsterdam-based collective Wanderwelle presents the final entry of their album trilogy for Important Records. - Where antique cavalry trumpets played a central role on Black Clouds Above The Bows and a dying church organ shaped All Hands Bury The Cliffs At Sea, cymbals form the core of Ghosts Beneath The Brine. - The instruments were submerged in seawater for extended periods of time and played with a bow at various stages of corrosion. As the bronze alloy gradually reacted with the saltwater, their sound transformed, becoming darker, more fragile and unstable.

"Horace Andy started his career when he was 16 years old with his first hit 'Black Man Country.' His music was produced by many, including Studio One, Clocktower Records, and many others. Songs that became some of his best hits were 'Skylarking,' 'You Are My Angel,' 'Love of a Woman' and many others. Now in 2026 here comes Horace Andy with great new songs such as 'Agony Shame' and 'Scandal Herb Stock' with his producer Nkrumah Jah Thomas, so once again let's enjoy this great new LP and dance till you drop. Because music is life." -- Alfred Newman Track Listing: A1. Herb Stock A2. Women, See Them And Live With Them 2 Different Things A3. Give Me Your Loving A4. Sweet Reggae Music A5. Love You Pretty Baby B1. Shame And Scandel B2. Bad Woman B3. Agony B4. Baby Tell Me Why Do You Want To Leave B5. To Long To Come - Horace Andy coming with great new songs such as 'Agony Shame' and 'Scandal Herb Stock' with his producer Nkrumah Jah Thomas. - Horace Andy started his career when he was 16 years old with his first hit 'Black Man Country.' His music was produced by many, including Studio One, Clocktower Records, and many others.

Fugazi's debut 7 song EP, originally released in 1988. Printed inner sleeve with lyrics. "This 12" EP was recut from the Silver Sonya masters in 2008 at Chicago Mastering Service."

"K&L for KL" and "BLK+LND" bring together two of Phill Niblock's final compositions, conceived by Niblock as companion works and intended to travel together. Released by Sub Rosa, the record preserves a pairing that Niblock himself wanted heard as a whole. In 2022, Niblock asked bass clarinetists Katie Porter, based in New York, and Lucio Capece, based in Berlin, to record "K&L for KL," a work for two bass clarinets and electronic playback dedicated to his partner Katherine Liberovskaya. Porter and Capece perform together as Phase to Phase, a duo whose own music often explores the fragile, complex world of soft multiphonics. Niblock's music occupies another scale entirely: massive, sustained walls of sound in which individual tones accumulate into dense, physical fields. The recording took place on December 1, 2022, at Johan Vandermaelen's studio in Aaigem, Brussels. Porter and Capece had arrived to work with Niblock, but he had contracted COVID and joined the session via Zoom. Under Vandermaelen's direction, they spent the day recording the extensive material Niblock required, documenting the two bass clarinets in different iterations and across every octave specified for the work. Niblock later worked with Davide Capobianco in Pro Tools to construct the composition from these recordings. "K&L for KL" was premiered by Porter and Capece in Berlin in April 2023, with Niblock present and performing his films live alongside the music. They performed the work again in September 2023 at Niblock's 90th-birthday celebration at Silent Green in Berlin, again with Niblock performing his films live. The companion work, "BLK+LND," for acoustic bass, bass clarinet, and electronic playback, grew from recordings made in 2021 by bassist Robert Black and bass clarinetist Neil Leonard under Niblock's direction. Commissioned by Black, the work was constructed in Pro Tools by Niblock with assistance from Davide Capobianco and completed in late November 2023. Black, whom Niblock greatly admired, had died in the summer of 2023, making "BLK+LND" a posthumous collaboration with one of the musicians for whom it was conceived. The final chapter of these works unfolded in the last days of Niblock's life. On January 6, 2024, two days before his death, Niblock called Neil Leonard and Katie Porter from the hospital. He spoke with Leonard about plans for the premiere and tour of "BLK+LND," entrusting him with carrying the project forward. Niblock had wanted "K&L for KL" and "BLK+LND" to mirror one another and to be presented together on tour. Their pairing here fulfills that intention: two immense works for low-pitched instruments, built from the particular physicality of bass, bass clarinet, and electronic sound, and shaped through Niblock's singular process of accumulation and transformation. For Sub Rosa, this release is not simply an archival document. It realizes Niblock's final wish for these works to be heard together, bringing together two of his final compositions and preserving the musical relationships and collaborations at the heart of their creation.

"Black Editions Archives presents Live at the KiMo Theater Albuquerque 1979, a major new archival work by the late Cecil Taylor (1929-2018). Pianist, composer and bandleader Cecil Taylor's capacious and audacious originality reshaped twentieth-century music. In an astounding act of artistic forbearance spanning sixty years of performing and recording, Taylor didn't win over so much as wear down the jazz establishment through the force and brilliant execution of his ideas. His methodologies and language, if studied at all, remain unassimilated by the twenty-first century jazz mainstream and its institutions. Lincoln Center turned the house lights on during Taylor's first performance there (2007), a stark reminder that in spite of Guggenheim and MacArthur Fellowships and increased respect among some of his tradition-minded peers, the shock of his music had not diminished and he was still an outlier, if not an outlaw, presence. Live at the KiMo Theater Albuquerque 1979 captures Taylor on November 20, 1979, during a rare tour of the American West with a then newly reconstituted quintet formation of his Unit. An ensemble in regular flux from the mid-1970s onward, only two members of Taylor's 1978 Unit, violinist Ramsey Ameen (1945-2019) and alto saxophonist Jimmy Lyons (1931-1986) -- the bel canto voice of every Cecil Taylor band since 1961-- made the trip with Taylor to Albuquerque. Re-entering the fold on bass and cello after a decade-long absence was prime mover extraordinaire Alan Silva (1939-), with drummer Jerome Cooper (1946-2015) making his Cecil Taylor Unit performance debut. Each historical incarnation of the Cecil Taylor Unit emphasized the musicians' freedom to infuse the architectures of Taylor's music with their own personalities. Together with the Maestro in Albuquerque, this novel formation played a concert as unique and fascinating as its line-up and instrumentation suggests, with dynamics, textures and interactions that are quite different from the often in-the-red, sometimes gladiatorial 1978 Taylor bands. The addition of Sunny Murray to this ensemble in February 1980 for the recording of It Is In The Brewing Luminous (HatHut) would transform the music yet again. KUNM and New Mexico Symphony recording engineer Mike Wolff created a custom bandshell for the ensemble on the stage of the historic KiMo Theater, utilizing direct and indirect symphonic miking to capture the music for NPR's Jazz Alive program. Jazz Alive never broadcast the recording, and the tapes lay dormant for 40 years, until Tom Guralnick -- producer of the 1979 concert and director of the Outpost Performance Space (Albuquerque) -- brought the recording to the attention of Black Editions Archive. Released in direct cooperation with Guralnick, with the permission of the musicians of the 1979 Cecil Taylor Unit and their heirs, Live at the KiMo Theater Albuquerque 1979 is presented in a x2LP heavy tip-on gatefold jacket featuring ink pigment and metallic foil stamping as well as an illuminating and historically detailed 12-page listening guide by Taylor scholar Ben Young. Kevin Gray at Cohearent Audio cut the lacquers and Fidelity Record Pressing struck the audiophile-quality vinyl. This stellar production chain in combination with Wolff's symphonic recording approach has resulted in the most dynamic and natural sounding live recording in Cecil Taylor's discography. Listening to the music of Cecil Taylor is perhaps an even more radical act in 2026 than at any other time in the last half century. With Live at the KiMo Theater Albuquerque 1979, Black Editions Archive proudly puts its shoulder into growing and enhancing Taylor's legacy." --Michael Ehlers

Originally released in 2009. "Back to music after three years of silence... On the suggestion of Robert Ashley, Douglas Dunn commissioned this piece from Éliane Radigue for choreography. Only the first part of Triptych was staged at the premiere at the Dancehall/Theatre of Nancy on February 27 1978. Recorded in the composer's studio in Paris. After the premiere of Adnos I (IMPREC 028CD) in San Francisco in 1974, a group of French students introduced Éliane Radigue to Tibetan Buddhism. When she returned to Paris, she began to explore this spirituality in depth, which slowed her musical production up until 1978. Triptych marks her return to composition, and draws its inspiration from 'the spirit of the fundamental elements,' water, air, fire, earth... Éliane Radigue likes to add that this has often been useful to her in her moments of research and transitions. This three-part composition, with its great humility and contemplative simplicity, heralded a new period of work and was the first in a series of masterpieces inspired by Tibetan Buddhism: Adnos II (1980); Adnos III (1981) [both included on IMPREC 028CD]; Songs of Milarepa (1983), with the voices of Lama Kunga Rinpoche and Robert Ashley; Jetsun Mila (1986); as well as the Triologie de la Mort (XI 119CD): Kyema (1988), Kailasha (1991), and Koumé (1993). Archival images included in the accompanying booklet." --Manu Holterbach

There are fewer great guitar trio records than you'd suspect. Guitar duo sessions are far more abundant, and these three players have all done their share of those. But the dynamics of a trio are more fickle. And when creating collaborative non-hierarchical music, maintaining a balance between three distinct voices is not easy. It requires rapt attention, a fearless approach to entering the unknown, and very good ears to do it successfully. Clearly, Connors, Vallera and Sharp display mastery of all of these conditions and then some. Recorded live at P.I.T. (Property Is Theft) in Brooklyn, When the Moon Is New documents the first meeting for the trio. Loren and Elliott, two of the best known experimenting guitarists on the planet, have a long shared history, dating back to the days of the legendary Chapel Arts Center in New Haven. Elliott appeared there regularly and often did some jamming with Loren on those occasions. Michael Vallera is from a different generation and came of age in a world where players like Loren, Ellliot, Keith Rowe and Derek Bailey had already blown apart any and all notions of the guitar's limitations. His work explores textures, colors and possibilities born from the knowledge that there are no limits to the guitar's sonic possibilities. Together, the three create a beautifully layered universe of sound, as wide open and cosmic as recent images from the Webb Space Telescope. Occasionally I think I can ID some complex pluckery as Sharp's, some blues-canted shimmer as Connor's or some mutli-valent sound sheet as Vallera's, but in truth, this is a excellent example of “fourth mind” creation in the Burroughsian sense. The individual parts played by each of artists combine themselves into something much larger than three commingled streams. There's a gigantic heft to the collective sound that will bowl you over in the best possible way. A truly magnificent record, When the Moon Is New, is an immersive and joyful example of experimental music at its most inviting and evocative. If it doesn't thrill you, I don't know what would. -Byron Coley, 2026

Legendary Sun Ra-bassist Ronnie Boykins stepped out on his own for his first and only release as a leader on, "The Will Come, Is Now". He was invited by ESP in 1964 to record his own album, and in February 1974, he told ESP that he was finally ready, and the session took place later that month. This recording not only features Boykins' solid abilities as a bassist, including his marvelous arco work, but also his talents as a composer and arranger. In addition, one is treated to an all-natural bass sound, a rare sound during this particular era of jazz history. In septet format, Boykins' six originals create a variety of moods and textures that not only evokes the music of Sun Ra but also reflects Boykins' own sensibilities as an artist.

2026 restock. "Stunning, heavy requiem for ten electric guitars." Recorded in 1994, with the following guitarists: Steven Antonelli (alto guitar), Eric Hubel (tenor guitar), Brannon Hungness (soprano & octave guitars), Phil Kline (tenor guitar), Carolyn Master (alto guitar), John Myers (soprano guitar), Dave Reid (bass & octave guitars), Ellen Watkins (soprano & octave guitars). Minimal and massive, for fans of Sonic Youth, Black Lips, etc. "Subtitled 'The Mystery' and 'The Mystery Pt. 2,' these two symphonies concern themselves with the two big questions: Life and Death. They are both scored for eight guitars, two basses, keyboard, drums, vocal and two conductors. Symphony No. 8 has two movements: 'The Passion' and 'Spiritual Anarchy' that both build upon sustained tones that create a counterpoint by means of delays in scale and other patterns and micro tunings. There are also two movements in Symphony No. 10: 'The Final Problem' and 'The Horror.' These are built in a similar manner to the techniques in No. 8 but the tuning and scales employed are different, creating another sensation yet still as intense and continuous in rhythm as No. 8." -- "Blue" Gene Tyranny, All Music Guide

A new LP by JJ Whitefield (Poets of Rhythm, Whitefield Brothers etc) and Gonçalo Mortágua. file under: spiritual jazz

Two side-long improvisations recorded in a spring evening beneath a 1908 shot tower. That is the whole record, and it is enough. Fysiikka ja Kemia - Physics and Chemistry - surfaced in late 2025 with Biologia, a debut LP on Tampere's Ultraääni Records that the label summed up in a single line: rural psych-jazz improvisations by the Finnish bastard sons of Arbete & Fritid. Three hundred copies, each sleeve screen-printed by hand by the band, gone quickly. We Jazz picked a track for their Friends & Neighbors compilation. Beyond that, almost nothing in print. No interviews, no biography, no real trail. The music has had to speak for itself, which is exactly how the group seems to want it. Haulitorni is the second chapter and a different kind of object. Recorded live on 25 April 2026 at Pispala Jazz, the small spring festival held at the Haulitehdas, the old shot factory that sits at the foot of Pispala's steel lattice tower above Tampere, it drops the six-track sequencing of the debut in favour of two long pieces, one per side. Verkkokalastuksen alkeet - the rudiments of net fishing. Kevätmuutto - the spring migration. Titles that read like chapter headings from a school primer, which is very much the point. The group has always named things this way, borrowing the flat vocabulary of Finnish natural science and rural life and letting the music undercut it. The Arbete & Fritid reference is not idle. Like the Swedish collective in the early 1970s, Fysiikka ja Kemia work a seam where free improvisation, folk memory and a loose psychedelic rock pulse run into one another without any one of them taking charge. On Biologia that produced pieces that could open with a fragment of something like a fiddle tune and end somewhere else entirely, ten minutes later, without a visible seam. Here, with the whole of a side to fill and a room full of people, the pacing stretches. Ideas are allowed to sit. The group's patience is its most distinctive quality - a willingness to stay inside a texture until it changes on its own rather than forcing the turn. A live document, then, from a scene that rarely gets documented: the Pispala hillside and its DIY venues, the Tampere orbit that gave Finland Kemialliset Ystävät and a long line of players working at the edge of jazz and folk without asking permission from either. Released on the same night the group shares a Tampere stage with Samla Mammas Manna, which places the lineage about as clearly as it can be placed.

An album consisting of four magically shimmering instrumental works. Moreover, both the album and its sleeve are more or less transparent—in other words, the especially perceptive music lover can truly see the light through the sound. AO is still a well-kept secret from Gothenburg: a new name from the Swedish underground, yet with long tentacles reaching back through the ages. AO creates an intelligently playful and playful music, with many dizzying points of entry, winding rooms, and smiling exits. AO is a rough diamond in the shadows. The album Stiltje began as a pile of collected sounds, intended to drown out the traffic outside the window of the condemned buildings on Fabriksgatan in Gothenburg. Sounds that could create calm while the road outside could be erased—or transformed into gentler waves. AO has created a form of spiritual embalming on vinyl; thus, we will all move toward a brighter, more sonorous future! Regardless of state, color, shape, or planet, AO’s music moves into your room, communicates, bounces around, and spreads its warm, tranquil glow.