PRE-ORDERS

One of the foundational records of the post-punk era Deceit is This Heat’s second and final studio album. With greater emphasis on drive and song structure than their debut and guided by their certainty that humanity was on a nuclear collision course with itself, Deceit is dense, damaged, furious and inspiring (technically, musically, perhaps even politically). This Heat developed new strange and volatile strains of avant-garde music that time has proved to be hugely influential, a blueprint for much that would follow: post-rock, math rock, homemade musique concrète, experimental electronica …..

One of the foundational records of the post-punk era Deceit is This Heat’s second and final studio album. With greater emphasis on drive and song structure than their debut and guided by their certainty that humanity was on a nuclear collision course with itself, Deceit is dense, damaged, furious and inspiring (technically, musically, perhaps even politically). This Heat developed new strange and volatile strains of avant-garde music that time has proved to be hugely influential, a blueprint for much that would follow: post-rock, math rock, homemade musique concrète, experimental electronica …..

Singer-songwriter Willis Alan Ramsey was 20 years old when he became the third signing to Leon Russell and Denny Cordell's Shelter Records – after Russell himself and the legendary J.J. Cale. The result was Ramsey's 1972 eponymous debut, a masterpiece of laid-back Texas country-rock, blues-inflected folk and outlaw ballads. As a child, Ramsey was an obsessive radio listener – from Elvis and the Beatles to Delta blues, country and even classical music. By middle school, he had formed his first garage band and started writing songs. After a brief stint at the University of Texas, he took to the burgeoning coffeehouse circuit where he toured alongside folks like Townes Van Zandt, Jerry Jeff Walker and Keith Sykes. It was during these shows that Ramsey developed much of the material for his LP, a diverse yet coherent mix that revealed his varied influences. Recorded in Memphis, Nashville and at Russell's home studio in the Hollywood Hills, the album features some of the era's greatest session musicians: Eddie Hinton on guitar, Red Rhodes on pedal steel and the rhythm section of Leland Sklar and Jim Keltner. A true songwriter's songwriter album, its tunes have been covered by Waylon Jennings ("Satin Sheets"), Jimmy Buffett ("The Ballad of Spider John") and, most famously, Captain & Tennille ("Muskrat Love"), but no cover can beat the originals from the wise-beyond-his-years Ramsey. Though Willis Alan Ramsey has continued to perform regularly and write new songs, a second album is yet to be released. For years, whenever someone asked about it, Ramsey was known to answer "What's wrong with the first one?" The answer is, of course, absolutely nothing. In fact, it's perfect. This first-time vinyl reissue reproduces the original lyric sheet. Includes new interview with Ramsey and liner notes by author Richie Unterberger.

OR (AKA John Talabot) is a Catalan producer, electronic musician & DJ residing in Barcelona. his 2012 debut album ƒIN received critical acclaim from The Guardian (5*), Anthony Fantano, Pitchfork (8.5 BNM) & DJ Mag. Highly anticipated, Talabot's first album in over a decade. A more left-field side of Talabot, with tangle of cartwheeling synth hooks, bursting with colour & looping electronics. RIYL Floating Points,Leon Vynehall,The Field

3TWI (عتوي) the name of Fatima Al Qadiri’s new EP, is Kuwaiti Arabic femme slang for dirty old man, literally meaning “male alley cat.” Over four regional club tracks, Al Qadiri explores the gaze of this sleazy yet pitiful background character with long-time friends and vocal collaborators Bobo Secret, Lama3an and Gumar. Conceptually, the EP follows Al Qadiri’s long-term pre-occupation with dance music, gender identity and performance in West Asia. Musically, the release is a homage and love letter to West Asian folk dance music. 3twi celebrates the ethnic diversity of the region and the shared love of musical traditions across borders, through a coy queer lens. Lyrically, the record is split between suggestive spoken word (ft Lama3an and Bobo Secret) and yearning anthems (ft Gumar), all queer in intention and meaning and largely improvised. The final track, ta3alay, samples acapella taken from the theme song of a Japanese cartoon, Tokimeki Tonight, translated for Arab audiences as Ranzy Almudhisha, originally sung by Lebanese singer Ihsan Sadek, and re-sung by Gumar to create a double vocal. All the songs are in Kuwaiti Arabic except ta3alay, sung in Classical Arabic, and zan kardeh yaw nah, which is in 3eemi (عيمي), a regional dialect of Farsi reflecting the Iranian heritage of Gumar and Al Qadiri. 7ilween loosely translates as “pretty young things”. The lyrics play out a shady encounter between the 3twi and his potential clients that fit the description. Zan kardeh ya nah is 3eemi for “did you get married or not?” and the answer is inferred as No – a defacto West Asian queer anthem. Zilim means “macho man” and is an ode to the region's butch femmes. The hook translates as “She, She’s the macho man, Her!” Ta3alay is a love song which means “Come here.” The lyrics profess, “Oh tone in the mind, and in the realm of imagination, oh beautiful picture, do not stay imaginary, come here.”

As Eerie Enterprise, upsammy and Piezo have funnelled their singular styles into a classic-feeling but ultra-modern album of elegant, angular electronica. With a strong melodic sensibility and a highly developed palette of playful sound design in their toolkit, the unexpected pairing grew spontaneous jams into a considered collaboration, and Places Remember Events is the end result. Individually, Thessa Torsing and Luca Mucci have carved out strong identities within contemporary electronic music. As upsammy, Torsing has applied a delicate precision to ambient and uptempo approaches alike, building up a striking catalogue of releases including her 2020 LP for Dekmantel, Zoom. Meanwhile, Mucci has taken a wayward path through contemporary bass music and techno that matches edgy sound design with playful unpredictability. As Eerie Enterprise, both artists tap into their respective creative instincts while arriving at a unique sound with a nurturing quality they were both missing from modern dance music. Having appreciated each other's work for some years, in July 2024 Torsing and Mucci seized an opportunity to carve out two days in the studio. There was no expectation of an end product, but the sketches conceived during those open-ended, hardware-oriented sessions felt worthy of a deeper exploration developed and finalised over the following year-and-a-half. Places Remember Events has an unapologetically nostalgic streak, calling to mind the warm glow of melodically-charged, golden-era electronica. The twitchy rhythmic make-up of tracks like 'Decay + Collapse' and 'Folding Origin' speak to the duo's shared affinity for ravey energy, but even within faster frameworks they lean into half-time space to maintain a light-footed agility that allows the relatively busy arrangements to feel grounded and patient rather than frantic. There's an appreciation for mystery in the emotional make-up of many of the tracks, not least in the slithering textural exploration and spatial tension of 'Capsule', but elsewhere fragile melancholia guides the melody direction of 'Superradiance' and 'Things Fall Upwards'. The final impression is crisp and modern while delivering an accessible experience that seeks to soothe rather than shock when so much contemporary club music tips towards uneasy intensity. Finding malleable approaches to their chosen sonics and applying them to intentional song structures, Eerie Enterprise collectively land on a sound that promises a lasting reward for the repeat voyager — satisfying headphone gear in the grand tradition of introspective electronic music, but also with a physical immediacy that will manifest in the live set upsammy and Piezo have put together to perform later in the year.

Wherever people are, they dream of escape. Sometimes that means dramatic flights—jailbreaks, perilous voyages, disappearing acts—but more often it takes the shape of something deceptively ordinary. Trouble Mountain, the new album from Aesop Rock and Blockhead, explores that uneasy terrain through the lens of a fictional resort inspired by the Poconos getaway commercials that saturated their New York childhoods. Promising reinvention, the mountain instead becomes a surreal psychological landscape where everyday anxieties twist into something stranger, revealing that the places we flee to can be just as disorienting as the lives we’re trying to leave behind. Arriving as Aesop Rock’s 13th studio album and his sixth full-length release since 2020, Trouble Mountain finds one of hip-hop’s most inventive writers continuing to expand his craft. His flows are increasingly elastic, his observations sharper than ever, turning unlikely subjects into vivid meditations on identity, family, labor, memory, and the quiet absurdity of modern life. Whether imagining alternate paths for loved ones, finding profound emotional weight in unexpected places, or examining the invisible systems that shape our daily existence, Aes transforms the mundane into something surreal without ever losing sight of its humanity. Behind him, Blockhead delivers production that reconnects with the chemistry the pair have refined over nearly three decades while pushing it into new territory—lean, kinetic, and constantly evolving. Together, they revisit themes that have defined their collaborations since Labor Days: work, survival, alienation, and the persistent desire to outrun them. Yet Trouble Mountain never offers easy escape. Instead, it asks why we’re always searching for one in the first place, emerging as a poignant and imaginative portrait of life in a world where the ordinary has become increasingly impossible to navigate.

Alan Vega's Live at Max's Kansas City captures one of music's most fearless innovators and visionaries at full creative force, transforming this punk clubhouse, one of New York City's most iconic cultural landmarks into a theater of raw performance, sonic experimentation, and uncompromising artistic expression.  Recorded on July 18, 1980, just weeks before the release of his landmark self-titled solo debut, the performance finds Vega at a pivotal moment in his career, forging a singular artistic language where rockabilly, blues, electronic noise, and performance art converge with electrifying intensity. Across seven tracks, Vega is joined by young Texan guitarist Phil Hawk, whose razor-wire guitar work intertwines with Vega’s tape manipulation and experimental sound to amplify his uncompromising sonic vision. Driven by instinct rather than convention, the album captures the collision of rockabilly and blues with electronic experimentation, unrelenting energy, and the radical artistic freedom that defined Vega's career. Live at Max's Kansas City serves as a vivid document of Alan Vega standing on the precipice of his solo career with the vital commitment of his creative powers. Every scream, whistle, and eruption from the audience becomes part of the performance itself, preserving the volatile exchange between artist and crowd that defined Vega's singular presence on stage. Discovered by Liz Lamere and Jared Artaud in the Alan Vega archives, the Vega Vault, Live at Max's Kansas City was remastered by Josh Bonati from the original live recordings, with the tapes transferred by Ted Young. Revealing another previously unheard chapter from the Vega Vault, this historic performance is available on streaming platforms and vinyl for the first time.

Purple Pilgrims are a sister duo from New Zealand who make ethereal dream pop reminiscent of classic era 4AD artists. Their new album ‘Given to the Night’ is their first since 2019, their first for AD 93. NZ’s answer to Dead Can Dance/Cocteau Twins, the sisters make haze-pop that has been lauded by Pitchfork, Rolling Stone Australia + Best Fit. They have toured extensively with the likes of Aldous Harding, Weyes Blood, Ariel Pink, John Maus. Weaving their signature kaleidoscopic sound with telepathic sibling connection, the album centres around themes of finding light in shadows, and exploring the inbetweens. Inspired by an off grid retreat in which the album flowed through an intimate group of collaborators.

'My Piledriver Heart' from Superfan, the songwriting veil of Kali Priya Flanagan, the Brooklyn-based multi-instrumentalist and producer with string arrangements crafted in collaboration with cellist Omeed Almassi​. "MPDH marks the first release outside of the record deal Flanagan signed at age 14. The album finds Flanagan embracing a more expansive, experimental vision of indie rock - melding deeply tuned acoustic guitar, cello, and Eastern musical influences into what he calls his “Acousticello” sound. Recorded largely live with cellist Omeed Almassi and producer Hudson Pollock, the record explores heartbreak, independence, and hopeful melancholia. Kali says “This time around it was about being (myself) versus becoming myself. This album was made to acknowledge the ebbs and flows in chugging along with life and love, from a place of comfort within the self that opens you up to the beauty in everyday life.” He does so through intimate performances that blur the line between folk, chamber music, pop-rock ballads, and alternative rock."

Engineered by Patrick Flegel, aka Cindy Lee, WHIMM's latest album is the Toronto-based post-punk duo's most expansive statement, splicing noise jams with electro experiments, industrial tracks and minimalist curveballs. Mounir Al Shami and Andrew Matthews have been working under the WHIMM moniker for years at this stage. What was originally a project that materialized in fits and starts has evolved into a very serious outlet for the duo, who now use it to dump each and every one of their ideas and concepts. In the space of the first few tracks even, they hover from theme to theme without any care for proper coherence: opener 'Five in Decline' is a sludgy, basement punk freak-out, assisted by Flegel's oversaturated production, while 'Returnal' sounds like an off-cut from a Coil session, with the duo's haunted vocals harmonies set to acidic arpeggios. By the time we're at 'A Death Remembered', the fusion of dub techno, synthwave and sacred music hardly seems surprising - it just makes sense. And Matthews and Al Shami hardly take their foot off the gas. They integrate bolshy church organ into the playlist with 'After the Last Sky' and on the title track hint at Vangelis's late-period gear, setting their voices to droning analog tones and shimmering guitars. It's a lot to take in for a single sitting, but there's no doubting their voracious musical appetite - the finale 'After the Last Sky (Reprise)' even comes for The Caretaker's haunted bag.

From deep in the hard funk pocket, the Winston Brothers return to Colemine after four years with a second helping of sounds rooted in horn-heavy, 70s-style soul cinema, taking cues from the soundtrack work of Issac Hayes, Willie Hutch, Roy Ayers, and JJ Johnson. Helmed by multi-instrumentalist/producer Sebastian Nagel and longtime collaborator Lucas Kochbeck on drums, Sweets serves as a timely reminder of how Hamburg, Germany’s music scene helps shape and influence today’s soul sound.Ultimately, bringing musicians like Kimo Eiserbeck (sax and flute) and Hans Stephan (trumpet), alongside some additional drum contributions by Max Whitefield (née Weissenfeldt), demonstrates the close-knit nature of these musicians. From influential bands like Bacao Rhythm & Steel Band to Angels of Libra and the Mighty Mocambos, Hamburg’s deep groove scene has sired its share of worthy soul and funk acolytes. These musicians have shared stages and studios over the years, with various configurations finding their way in the aforementioned bands.“We started as a school project… we were just kids,” Sebastian recalls. “It’s a family thing, and we really know each other well.”Sweets is more than just another addition to this scene’s collective musical canon; it is a vibrant dispatch from funk’s leading edge.

"Here is a tender journey through loss and rebirth — a raw exploration of grief, heartbreak, and the emptiness that follows. It unfolds the fragile moments after losing a beloved friend, the fragile attempts to mend a fractured love, and the sudden rupture that shakes the soul to its core. Amidst the turmoil, anxiety pulses and the body aches with memories too heavy to hold. Yet, slowly, the darkness gives way to light. Breath returns. Support is found in unexpected places. Memories surface through hypnotic whispers, guiding the way back to softness and hope. This is not a story of instant healing, but a delicate awakening — a reckoning with old patterns, a reclaiming of the self, a learning to love differently. Intimate and universal, fragile yet fiercely alive."

My encounter with the Hoh Rain Forest, located inside Olympic National Park across the water from Seattle, felt like seeing a whole new world for the first time in my life. Long green fronds draped along the branches, like a scene in which fairies could be heard whispering to one another. But when you try to listen, no sound can be heard. Amidst the mysterious silence, in which no birds or insects make a sound, every living thing seemed to have stopped in its place, only to start dancing when some kind of spell is cast over them. -Hiroshi Yoshimura Originally issued on compact disc in 1996, Quiet Forest was Hiroshi Yoshimura’s last album-length work to be released before his passing in 2003. Largely inspired by his trip to the vast forests of the North American Pacific Northwest, the album is an aural reflection of the fantastical, surreal beauty he experienced as he walked through the otherworldly wilderness for the first time. The basic tracks were recorded in the fall of 1993. After numerous revisions to the song titles and a scrapped idea to overlay the tracks with nature field recordings, Hiroshi ultimately produced a latter-day masterwork that feels like the spiritual follow-up to Green, one of his defining works from a decade earlier.

A few years ago, the saxophonist, keyboardist, synthesist and musical polymath Josh Johnson was still a fairly well-kept secret in the music world. He was constantly showing up alongside Jeff Parker, Marquis Hill, Jamire Williams, Carlos Niño, Makaya McCraven and others, but often in the shadows, always supporting.

Lately Johnson has been harder to miss. He has helped shape the sound of Parker’s renowned ETA IVtet; served as the producer of Meshell Ndegeocello’s Grammy-winning album, The Omnichord Real Book (2023); co-leads all-star creative ensembles like SML, the Openness Trio and a collective with Sam Wilkes and Gregory Uhlmann; and this year, as the producer of Flea’s Honora and the musical director of his band, appeared on The Tonight Show and NPR’s Tiny Desk. Still, Johnson has yet to bring his solo work fully into the spotlight.

On October 23, Animative, Johnson’s third album under his own name and his first for International Anthem/Nonesuch, arrives to turn up the wattage on his artistry. More than any release to date, Animative shows why musicians and a growing community of listeners know this Chicago native and longtime L.A. resident to be one of the most imaginative electroacoustic musicians today, not to mention one of the most stunningly versatile. On Animative, the harmonically rich, loops-inflected sound Johnson has been developing — first with a full band on 2020’s Freedom Exercise, then on 2024’s immersive solo album, Unusual Object — comes together in a life-affirming LP of lowkey improvised brilliance and technological ambition.

Animative erases any distinction between being a jazz record led by a saxophone player and an experimental electronics record by a solo artist. Effects and digital overlays are at work in more ways than the ear can track, even when what you hear first is an unaltered saxophone sound. Meanwhile, undiluted improvised brilliance on the saxophone seeps in at unexpected moments. Johnson puts sophisticated technologies to work on nearly every track, often using the saxophone to control a sampler or a drum machine, triggering changes in a loop or an effect. But it’s always in service of a feeling — working to escape the trap of mastery. “I'm looking to make it feel more human,” Johnson says.

When running his alto sax through a harmonizer, Johnson is often varying and altering the intervals as he goes, so that the harmonies don’t just move in parallel lines or a single key, but curl and swarm. He also sometimes adjusts the effects on individual notes within the harmonized sound. Listeners to the recent, effects-laden, overdubbed saxophone experiments of Sam Gendel, another Los Angeles saxophonist-producer (including with Wilkes), will note the distinctiveness of Johnson’s approach. Fans of Lea Bertucci, Travis Laplante, and other experimental reed players pushing the structures of solo work will find a similarly rich complement in Johnson’s blend of looping, effects and sax improvisation.

Johnson’s reserved and thoughtful nature made the album’s title something of a puzzler to his friends. “I said the name to a few people, and they were like, ‘Animated is not how I would describe you,’” he laughs. “But I'm really thinking about it from the perspective of causing animation, giving spirit, or connecting with spirit.” He thinks often of the lessons of Wayne Shorter, one of his teachers, who instilled in him a sense of reverence for the mystical, and emphasized the musician’s duty to “conjure and transport.” And as he put together Animative, Johnson also had in mind the West African philosopher Maladoma Somay’s writings, and the “non-Western ways of thinking about time and being” they propose. He was inspired too by Italo Calvino’s inventive, often-dreamlike short fiction. “The way he uses the vehicle of short story is so gorgeous,” Johnson said. “It influences the way I write.”

Animative’s first track, “Idiophone,” which he’d been workshopping through multiple versions in concerts leading up to the recording session, fundamentally reimagines the saxophone’s musical identity. “I’m really interested in putting the saxophone in a different role besides soloist,” Johnson says. “The saxophone is also the drum. ‘Idiophone’ is me wanting to access the feeling of a percussion ensemble.”

On “Aughts Hymnal,” he manipulates the horn to sound more like an organ. On “Strays,” extending the influence of Billy Strayhorn in a futuristic direction, he allows some of the harmonies felt by the listener to remain unplayed. “If you were to go in and analyze it, all those pieces aren’t fully there. But your ear is filling it in, because the feeling is there,” he says. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how, if I want them to be felt, that might mean making them less legible in a certain way, which actually puts the feeling first.”

While he has become deeply affiliated with the burgeoning L.A. jazz scene, Johnson still finds powerful inspiration in the legacy of his Chicago hometown. Of particular importance is the example set by Eddie Harris, who precedes him not only in the city’s saxophone lineage but also as a multi-instrumentalist, composer and 360-degree artistic thinker. “I’m inspired by him as a conceptualist, and somebody who navigates a lot of different spaces,” Johnson says. Among pianists, his pantheon is topped by another brilliant eccentric: Mal Waldron. “In music that is so often centering virtuosity,” Johnson says, Waldron demonstrated “a different way of existing.”

Like Harris, Johnson always leads with a strong musical concept, but he relies upon a collaborative community to execute it. The album’s personnel include Ben Lumsdaine on drums, Macie Stewart on violin, Marquis Hill on trumpet, and Paul Bryan on bass and co-producing the album with Johnson.

While working on “High Step,” a slightly churchy, slightly off-kilter groover, Johnson felt Meshell Ndegeocello’s bass would be a perfect fit. She performs as a guest on the track, occupying the bass chair — a supporting role she rarely plays.

“Mill” is a quieter tune that seems designed to warm up the memory banks—reminiscent of Aphex Twin or Joe Zawinul balladry, or more recently the work of Johnson’s frequent collaborator Jamire Williams—as a clean saxophone sound pairs with subtly processed lines in a mix of unison and harmony. Finally, the last note molders into silence.

/ / / /

Johnson spent his earliest years in Maryland before his family moved to the Chicago suburbs when he was young. He didn’t take to his piano lessons, finding that he was happier teaching himself. It was only after starting to play the saxophone at age eleven that he fell completely in love with music. Soon after, his parents bought him a stack of jazz records; the sound that caught his attention most was the saxophone of Lester Young.

“I was like, ‘This dude is talking to me,’” Johnson says. “That's what it felt like.” He was as fascinated by the intellect and swagger he heard inside Young’s playing as he was by the “vocal qualities” of the saxophone. “It can whisper, it can scream, it can be really textured. I was still playing piano and keyboards, but the saxophone was what captured me,” he says.

Johnson went on to earn a bachelor’s in music from Indiana University, making the nearly eight-hour round trip from Bloomington to Chicago on weekends to participate in his hometown jazz scene. After graduating, he spent a couple of years living and working in Chicago before attending grad school at the Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz (now the Herbie Hancock Institute) in Los Angeles, studying under Shorter and Hancock.

He found himself surrounded by an L.A. jazz scene that was in bloom creatively and culturally. While Kamasi Washington and Terrace Martin’s careers filled the foreground, a vast network of musicians was intermingling jazz, ambient, dance music, hip-hop, minimalism, and more at venues around town. Before long, Johnson was near the center of nearly all of it. He was energized by the exchange between different music scenes and artistic disciplines in those years, particularly on gigs he played with Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, Mark de Clive-Lowe, and Jamire Williams.

“There was a lot going on, and a lot of places to play, and a lot of cross-pollination all coming about very organically,” he remembered. “I think that really encouraged me, because there were all these people just finding different ways to combine a lot of their interests. There was room to make a path.” Originally expecting to return to Chicago or head to New York after the Monk Institute, Johnson chose to stay put. “Part of what kept me in L.A. is that I felt like, ‘I'm interested in all these different things. If I was to move to New York right now, I might need to spend a long time just following this one path of the saxophone lineage.’”

One of L.A.’s headiest spaces in those years was ETA, the Highland Park bar where Jeff Parker’s ETA IVtet—which includes Johnson, bassist Anna Butterss, and drummer Jay Bellerose—played weekly. “I guess it's like any sort of long-running gig in that it sort of takes on a life of its own,” Johnson says. “In those early days, there were a lot of different people who would come in there: other musicians, but also visual artists and painters, dancers, skateboarders from the various tributaries of Jeff’s world, stuff like that. There was this beautiful kind of overlap.”

In the past decade-plus, Johnson has become an essential collaborator to Carlos Niño, Nate Mercereau, Louis Cole, aja monet, Gregory Uhlmann, Anna Butterss, Matthew Stevens, and Sam Wilkes, among others.

When not playing in a group led by someone else, Johnson has often gravitated toward co-led ensembles like SML (with Butterss, Uhlmann, Jeremiah Chiu, and Booker Stardrum), the Openness Trio (with Mercereau and Niño), or his collaborative trio with Uhlmann and Wilkes.

Meanwhile, he also maintains a connection to the leading Chicago musicians of his generation, continuing to play in bands led by Marquis Hill, Makaya McCraven, and Joel Ross.

In addition to his jazz bona fides, Johnson’s musical versatility has been informed by an impressive resume of pop music work, including with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Harry Styles, Miley Cyrus, Chris Cohen, and Ezra Furman. Johnson served as musical director for Leon Bridges from 2018 to 2022, in which time he directed a performance with London’s Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, for which he arranged fourteen of Bridges’ songs.

For Johnson, every collaboration is a chance to connect and extend his practice. Much of the spirit of Animative has been informed by lessons he gleaned from recent work with Ndegeocello in particular. “We all have certain assumptions that we come into writing or making music with. Working with her, some of those things were broken down for me immediately,” Johnson says. “It opened me up to not just consider more of what’s coming in externally, but to also let more of the variety that's inside of me come out.”

A few years ago, the saxophonist, keyboardist, synthesist and musical polymath Josh Johnson was still a fairly well-kept secret in the music world. He was constantly showing up alongside Jeff Parker, Marquis Hill, Jamire Williams, Carlos Niño, Makaya McCraven and others, but often in the shadows, always supporting.

Lately Johnson has been harder to miss. He has helped shape the sound of Parker’s renowned ETA IVtet; served as the producer of Meshell Ndegeocello’s Grammy-winning album, The Omnichord Real Book (2023); co-leads all-star creative ensembles like SML, the Openness Trio and a collective with Sam Wilkes and Gregory Uhlmann; and this year, as the producer of Flea’s Honora and the musical director of his band, appeared on The Tonight Show and NPR’s Tiny Desk. Still, Johnson has yet to bring his solo work fully into the spotlight.

On October 23, Animative, Johnson’s third album under his own name and his first for International Anthem/Nonesuch, arrives to turn up the wattage on his artistry. More than any release to date, Animative shows why musicians and a growing community of listeners know this Chicago native and longtime L.A. resident to be one of the most imaginative electroacoustic musicians today, not to mention one of the most stunningly versatile. On Animative, the harmonically rich, loops-inflected sound Johnson has been developing — first with a full band on 2020’s Freedom Exercise, then on 2024’s immersive solo album, Unusual Object — comes together in a life-affirming LP of lowkey improvised brilliance and technological ambition.

Animative erases any distinction between being a jazz record led by a saxophone player and an experimental electronics record by a solo artist. Effects and digital overlays are at work in more ways than the ear can track, even when what you hear first is an unaltered saxophone sound. Meanwhile, undiluted improvised brilliance on the saxophone seeps in at unexpected moments. Johnson puts sophisticated technologies to work on nearly every track, often using the saxophone to control a sampler or a drum machine, triggering changes in a loop or an effect. But it’s always in service of a feeling — working to escape the trap of mastery. “I'm looking to make it feel more human,” Johnson says.

When running his alto sax through a harmonizer, Johnson is often varying and altering the intervals as he goes, so that the harmonies don’t just move in parallel lines or a single key, but curl and swarm. He also sometimes adjusts the effects on individual notes within the harmonized sound. Listeners to the recent, effects-laden, overdubbed saxophone experiments of Sam Gendel, another Los Angeles saxophonist-producer (including with Wilkes), will note the distinctiveness of Johnson’s approach. Fans of Lea Bertucci, Travis Laplante, and other experimental reed players pushing the structures of solo work will find a similarly rich complement in Johnson’s blend of looping, effects and sax improvisation.

Johnson’s reserved and thoughtful nature made the album’s title something of a puzzler to his friends. “I said the name to a few people, and they were like, ‘Animated is not how I would describe you,’” he laughs. “But I'm really thinking about it from the perspective of causing animation, giving spirit, or connecting with spirit.” He thinks often of the lessons of Wayne Shorter, one of his teachers, who instilled in him a sense of reverence for the mystical, and emphasized the musician’s duty to “conjure and transport.” And as he put together Animative, Johnson also had in mind the West African philosopher Maladoma Somay’s writings, and the “non-Western ways of thinking about time and being” they propose. He was inspired too by Italo Calvino’s inventive, often-dreamlike short fiction. “The way he uses the vehicle of short story is so gorgeous,” Johnson said. “It influences the way I write.”

Animative’s first track, “Idiophone,” which he’d been workshopping through multiple versions in concerts leading up to the recording session, fundamentally reimagines the saxophone’s musical identity. “I’m really interested in putting the saxophone in a different role besides soloist,” Johnson says. “The saxophone is also the drum. ‘Idiophone’ is me wanting to access the feeling of a percussion ensemble.”

On “Aughts Hymnal,” he manipulates the horn to sound more like an organ. On “Strays,” extending the influence of Billy Strayhorn in a futuristic direction, he allows some of the harmonies felt by the listener to remain unplayed. “If you were to go in and analyze it, all those pieces aren’t fully there. But your ear is filling it in, because the feeling is there,” he says. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how, if I want them to be felt, that might mean making them less legible in a certain way, which actually puts the feeling first.”

While he has become deeply affiliated with the burgeoning L.A. jazz scene, Johnson still finds powerful inspiration in the legacy of his Chicago hometown. Of particular importance is the example set by Eddie Harris, who precedes him not only in the city’s saxophone lineage but also as a multi-instrumentalist, composer and 360-degree artistic thinker. “I’m inspired by him as a conceptualist, and somebody who navigates a lot of different spaces,” Johnson says. Among pianists, his pantheon is topped by another brilliant eccentric: Mal Waldron. “In music that is so often centering virtuosity,” Johnson says, Waldron demonstrated “a different way of existing.”

Like Harris, Johnson always leads with a strong musical concept, but he relies upon a collaborative community to execute it. The album’s personnel include Ben Lumsdaine on drums, Macie Stewart on violin, Marquis Hill on trumpet, and Paul Bryan on bass and co-producing the album with Johnson.

While working on “High Step,” a slightly churchy, slightly off-kilter groover, Johnson felt Meshell Ndegeocello’s bass would be a perfect fit. She performs as a guest on the track, occupying the bass chair — a supporting role she rarely plays.

“Mill” is a quieter tune that seems designed to warm up the memory banks—reminiscent of Aphex Twin or Joe Zawinul balladry, or more recently the work of Johnson’s frequent collaborator Jamire Williams—as a clean saxophone sound pairs with subtly processed lines in a mix of unison and harmony. Finally, the last note molders into silence.

/ / / /

Johnson spent his earliest years in Maryland before his family moved to the Chicago suburbs when he was young. He didn’t take to his piano lessons, finding that he was happier teaching himself. It was only after starting to play the saxophone at age eleven that he fell completely in love with music. Soon after, his parents bought him a stack of jazz records; the sound that caught his attention most was the saxophone of Lester Young.

“I was like, ‘This dude is talking to me,’” Johnson says. “That's what it felt like.” He was as fascinated by the intellect and swagger he heard inside Young’s playing as he was by the “vocal qualities” of the saxophone. “It can whisper, it can scream, it can be really textured. I was still playing piano and keyboards, but the saxophone was what captured me,” he says.

Johnson went on to earn a bachelor’s in music from Indiana University, making the nearly eight-hour round trip from Bloomington to Chicago on weekends to participate in his hometown jazz scene. After graduating, he spent a couple of years living and working in Chicago before attending grad school at the Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz (now the Herbie Hancock Institute) in Los Angeles, studying under Shorter and Hancock.

He found himself surrounded by an L.A. jazz scene that was in bloom creatively and culturally. While Kamasi Washington and Terrace Martin’s careers filled the foreground, a vast network of musicians was intermingling jazz, ambient, dance music, hip-hop, minimalism, and more at venues around town. Before long, Johnson was near the center of nearly all of it. He was energized by the exchange between different music scenes and artistic disciplines in those years, particularly on gigs he played with Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, Mark de Clive-Lowe, and Jamire Williams.

“There was a lot going on, and a lot of places to play, and a lot of cross-pollination all coming about very organically,” he remembered. “I think that really encouraged me, because there were all these people just finding different ways to combine a lot of their interests. There was room to make a path.” Originally expecting to return to Chicago or head to New York after the Monk Institute, Johnson chose to stay put. “Part of what kept me in L.A. is that I felt like, ‘I'm interested in all these different things. If I was to move to New York right now, I might need to spend a long time just following this one path of the saxophone lineage.’”

One of L.A.’s headiest spaces in those years was ETA, the Highland Park bar where Jeff Parker’s ETA IVtet—which includes Johnson, bassist Anna Butterss, and drummer Jay Bellerose—played weekly. “I guess it's like any sort of long-running gig in that it sort of takes on a life of its own,” Johnson says. “In those early days, there were a lot of different people who would come in there: other musicians, but also visual artists and painters, dancers, skateboarders from the various tributaries of Jeff’s world, stuff like that. There was this beautiful kind of overlap.”

In the past decade-plus, Johnson has become an essential collaborator to Carlos Niño, Nate Mercereau, Louis Cole, aja monet, Gregory Uhlmann, Anna Butterss, Matthew Stevens, and Sam Wilkes, among others.

When not playing in a group led by someone else, Johnson has often gravitated toward co-led ensembles like SML (with Butterss, Uhlmann, Jeremiah Chiu, and Booker Stardrum), the Openness Trio (with Mercereau and Niño), or his collaborative trio with Uhlmann and Wilkes.

Meanwhile, he also maintains a connection to the leading Chicago musicians of his generation, continuing to play in bands led by Marquis Hill, Makaya McCraven, and Joel Ross.

In addition to his jazz bona fides, Johnson’s musical versatility has been informed by an impressive resume of pop music work, including with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Harry Styles, Miley Cyrus, Chris Cohen, and Ezra Furman. Johnson served as musical director for Leon Bridges from 2018 to 2022, in which time he directed a performance with London’s Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, for which he arranged fourteen of Bridges’ songs.

For Johnson, every collaboration is a chance to connect and extend his practice. Much of the spirit of Animative has been informed by lessons he gleaned from recent work with Ndegeocello in particular. “We all have certain assumptions that we come into writing or making music with. Working with her, some of those things were broken down for me immediately,” Johnson says. “It opened me up to not just consider more of what’s coming in externally, but to also let more of the variety that's inside of me come out.”

"Röntgen" is Ø's (aka Mika Vainio) subliminal, minimal techno classic, and was featured on the first Sähkö Recordings release in 1993. Spatial, silvery-sharp, and reduced yet frenetic, it's a blueprint of drum machine and synth work that helped redefine an era in techno. This special-edition 12" also features a full-side cut of a previously unreleased Ø track from 1995. The untitled B-side carries the same approach as the title track—minimal TR-808 and acidic synthesis—but in contrast to the hard-edged A-side, this track features a subtle, warm melody towards the end, a melodic approach also heard on later Ø productions.

*200 copies limited edition* The music on ‘Remanens’ is the result of a commission by Art Cinema OFF off and B.A.A.D.M to score the short silent film ‘Positano’ made by french actor and filmmaker Pierre Clémenti in 1969. The film itself is an ever-shifting series of glimpses, without much context, of a family vacation to the island Positano. The short cuts are similar to a dream or obscured, residual memories where chronology has fallen apart. The score was reworked into album format on ‘Remanens’, the title being the Swedish word for remanence. The word has several meanings, most commonly residual magnetism left behind in a material. It is consequently used when referring to residue on magnetic tape, as well as data remanence, which is the residual digital data that remains even after attempts have been made to erase a hard drive. The music was reworked with remnant traces of memory in mind, of the film, but also of how glimpses of memories from another life, when the future was undecided, can make a person feel – and how it can unveil one’s own traces of what the future felt like. Linus Hillborg (b. 1989) is a Swedish composer, musician and multidisciplinary artist based in Stockholm. His diverse creative practice spans experimental music across both electronic and acoustic realms, as well as compositions for film, theatre, and interactive installations. In 2021 he released his acclaimed solo-debut 'Magelungsverket' through Moloton, derived from the installation 'Orphan Works' which he built with an obsolete computer game engine. In 2023 he released 'Four Works' through Kali Malone and Maria W Horn’s label XKatedral, which featured a series of instrumental works by himself and Theodor Kentros.

Berlin-based Dutch-Italian composer Grand River (Aimée Portioli) presents Temporary, an album written in the aftermath of personal grief and loss. Released through Editions Mego, it combines resonant guitar, modular synthesis, deep low-end electronics, acoustic passages and heavy percussion, moving between brooding intensity and spacious ambience. Tracks such as 'The crossing of the body, the crossing of the mind' and 'Maybe I am dead and this is paradise' bring guitars into dramatic collision with electronics, while gentler passages introduce harp and acoustic guitar. Its interconnected titles form a meditation on mortality, transience and the heightened value of fleeting experience.

My encounter with the Hoh Rain Forest, located inside Olympic National Park across the water from Seattle, felt like seeing a whole new world for the first time in my life. Long green fronds draped along the branches, like a scene in which fairies could be heard whispering to one another. But when you try to listen, no sound can be heard. Amidst the mysterious silence, in which no birds or insects make a sound, every living thing seemed to have stopped in its place, only to start dancing when some kind of spell is cast over them. -Hiroshi Yoshimura Originally issued on compact disc in 1996, Quiet Forest was Hiroshi Yoshimura’s last album-length work to be released before his passing in 2003. Largely inspired by his trip to the vast forests of the North American Pacific Northwest, the album is an aural reflection of the fantastical, surreal beauty he experienced as he walked through the otherworldly wilderness for the first time. The basic tracks were recorded in the fall of 1993. After numerous revisions to the song titles and a scrapped idea to overlay the tracks with nature field recordings, Hiroshi ultimately produced a latter-day masterwork that feels like the spiritual follow-up to Green, one of his defining works from a decade earlier.

My encounter with the Hoh Rain Forest, located inside Olympic National Park across the water from Seattle, felt like seeing a whole new world for the first time in my life. Long green fronds draped along the branches, like a scene in which fairies could be heard whispering to one another. But when you try to listen, no sound can be heard. Amidst the mysterious silence, in which no birds or insects make a sound, every living thing seemed to have stopped in its place, only to start dancing when some kind of spell is cast over them. -Hiroshi Yoshimura Originally issued on compact disc in 1996, Quiet Forest was Hiroshi Yoshimura’s last album-length work to be released before his passing in 2003. Largely inspired by his trip to the vast forests of the North American Pacific Northwest, the album is an aural reflection of the fantastical, surreal beauty he experienced as he walked through the otherworldly wilderness for the first time. The basic tracks were recorded in the fall of 1993. After numerous revisions to the song titles and a scrapped idea to overlay the tracks with nature field recordings, Hiroshi ultimately produced a latter-day masterwork that feels like the spiritual follow-up to Green, one of his defining works from a decade earlier.

My encounter with the Hoh Rain Forest, located inside Olympic National Park across the water from Seattle, felt like seeing a whole new world for the first time in my life. Long green fronds draped along the branches, like a scene in which fairies could be heard whispering to one another. But when you try to listen, no sound can be heard. Amidst the mysterious silence, in which no birds or insects make a sound, every living thing seemed to have stopped in its place, only to start dancing when some kind of spell is cast over them. -Hiroshi Yoshimura Originally issued on compact disc in 1996, Quiet Forest was Hiroshi Yoshimura’s last album-length work to be released before his passing in 2003. Largely inspired by his trip to the vast forests of the North American Pacific Northwest, the album is an aural reflection of the fantastical, surreal beauty he experienced as he walked through the otherworldly wilderness for the first time. The basic tracks were recorded in the fall of 1993. After numerous revisions to the song titles and a scrapped idea to overlay the tracks with nature field recordings, Hiroshi ultimately produced a latter-day masterwork that feels like the spiritual follow-up to Green, one of his defining works from a decade earlier.

In ancient times, when mist closed around a ship, the only way forward was to slow down and listen. Birds, breaking waves, fog bells, gongs, and horns became the new language of navigation, alongside depth soundings that sampled the seabed with a lead line and revealed its hidden shape. Technology has largely rendered those methods obsolete, but there is still something compelling about trading sight for sound and touch. That shift is at the heart of AEAEA's - the new duo of Patrick Higgins & Nicolás Jaar - debut album, Mist, an album that asks: how do you find your bearings when the world around you goes into a blur? The duo's genesis goes back to the 2019 Le Guess Who? festival, for which Higgins served as artist curator. Named after the hazy mythical terrain of oak and beech woodlands, the island and its encircling stories became a source of inspiration for both musicians, who have long favoured mixtures of ancient harmony and electronic experimentation. The album emerges from the pair's exploration of a new shared language, in which Higgins's guitar and percussion are routed live through Jaar's real-time effects chains, rendering sampling, dubbing and processing as musical instruments in their own right. Recorded over three years between Berlin and Higgins's studio in upstate New York, Mist folds the hazy, intuitive logic of processing chains and improvisation into the core of the composition. The record develops a series of melodic themes that emerge from Higgins's guitar and refract into a sea of electronics, percussion, and eventually a fuller ensemble of keyboards, organs, drums, and the cello improvisations of composer Judith Hamann. Acting as a grammar of suspended time, of harmonies that seem to drift in from adjacent rooms, of rhythms that establish themselves only to dissolve into texture, with the main melody that surfaces by the end of 'Respire' a recurring motif throughout the album. Mist's soundscapes are mournful, and slow, with notes often encircled in a blue-grey vapor. At times we perceive rays of distant light piercing through the blur but mostly, we hear echoes of distant shores whose rhythms might allow us to see without vision.

A driving Edo highlife masterpiece from Benin City, Nigeria! Prince Omo Lawal-Osula and his family band layer hypnotic polyrhythms, cosmic guitar tones, and joyous call-and-response vocals across side-length medleys. An Apala chief from Edo state, Prince Osula-Lawal drew from a musical lineage stretching back to at least the 12th century. He made dozens of records, many on his own Arala label, and almost always backed by his expansive family under various aliases - His Royal Music Messengers of Africa, His Ebonoto Sound, His Alubogie Sex Bombers. Oru Ye Ye Ye stands out in this brilliant discography. Recorded and mixed by Sir Victor Uwaifo at Joromi Studio, Benin City’s response to the Black Ark, the record is electrified by a spirit of experimentation. Heavily reverbed electric guitar rakes cut through booming walls of drums, Prince Osula’s gruff voice calling out the changes and the band responding in an instant. The album’s massive drum breaks have traveled beyond Nigeria, prized by Colombian pico sound systems along the Barranquilla coast, where one break from the A side is known as La Pipona Mafiosa. Originally released on Prince Osula's Arala label and licensed directly from his family, remastered by Osiris Studio, pressed loud at Smashed Plastic in Chicago, featuring liner notes by DJ and archivist Dare Balogun.