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On their most explicit venture into music for moving image, Miles Whittaker & Sean Canty rudely fracture piano and vocal recordings by US filmmaker-musician Kristen Pilon in a short-circuiting of style and pattern that arguably amounts to some of their best yet on DDS. Yup it’s uncanny dream-within-a-dream type gear, landing somewhere between their commissions for Gruppo Di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza and creeping classics by The Caretaker.
Shredding up definitions of electro-acoustic opera, spectralist chamber musique and concrète rave, Demdike hit square between the eyes/ears of film music vernaculars on a startlingly strong addition to their unique oeuvre, now in its 16th year of elusive psychoacoustic strafes and jump-cuts across putative borders. The 13-part, hour-long album dislodges source material made for the experimental film ‘To Cut and Shoot’, by Kristen Pilon, an NYC-based musician and filmmaker, to farther refract the film’s themes of serendipity and the nature of ghosts and dreams with a flickering flux of sound-imagery and aleatoric weirdness appropriate to her original meditations, but also freely messing with their forms.
Situated just a few miles north of Houston, Cut and Shoot is a relatively insignificant Texas town with an unforgettably bizarre name. Pilon grew up not far from Cut and Shoot, and it's there where she ran into 65-year-old machinist and motorcyclist Robert Lewis Stevenson, better known as Bobbo, who's pictured on the album's cover. The meeting occurred a few months after Pilon recorded her improvisations on piano, strings and voice in the basement cellar of the Halle in Manchester, with Bobbo providing the necessary narrative heft the trio needed to inspire an experimental film and its accompanying soundtrack.
Responding to Kristen’s initial piano and operatic vocal recordings, Demdike return a volley of discrete parts tilting from typically cantankerous mayhem to quieter, more clandestine buzzes sliced with crazed interstices of the imagination, all marbled with the plasmic contrails of the paranormal which have long been peculiar to their work. With a poetic flair reflecting Pilon’s own phrasing and melding of mediums, Demdike unfold and expand her melodic fragments into temporal mazes, variously resembling the most messed-up ends of The Caretaker in ‘A Grave Fall (January)’, but also liable to skew into buckshot club turbulence, as with ‘Belly Up’, or the bittersweet bruk contortions of ‘Twist’.
The storyline wickedly frays and loops into itself with a non-linearity that recalls the mid-to-latter stages of Lynch’s ‘Mulholland Drive’ or waking from a sweaty fever dream only to pitch back into its thorny bush of ghosts, often within the space of one track. It’s testament to the ever-tighter binds of Demdike’s symbiotic vision that the results nevertheless hold a thread of logic that weaves in everything from their Jon Collin jams to reams of mixes and Gruppo edits with an unresolved, open-ended quality that still keeps us on our toes, perhaps more so than ever here.
Pierre Bastien’s "Tools" pays tribute to the Meccano screwdriver, the origin of his mechanical instruments. Using self-made devices, Bastien explores sound’s raw materiality, embracing chance and discovery, and inviting listeners to experience new musical worlds.
“On my end, I had to sooner or later pay a similar tribute to the tool that allowed for the crafting of the Mecanium, from 1976 to this day. [...] Origin of origins, which even preceded the shaping of the sound-generating device, the Meccano screwdriver stands out from the regular screwdriver because of its singular shape: a simple metal rod flattened at one end, and rounded into an oblong loop at the other. [...] This all-new, streamlined, purposeful design helped me, once more, to compose the current record.” - Pierre Bastien
In Tools, Pierre Bastien explores his long-standing fascination with the concept of “elsewhere” from a new perspective. The title echoes an article by René Van Peer, which opens with this concise formula: “I compose with a screwdriver”. Bastien performs on instruments of his own making —mechanical assemblages built primarily from Meccano parts— which structure not only the music itself but also an image of music. Rather than seeking narrative or metaphor, let’s not imagine anything just yet, Bastien invites us first to observe the raw materiality of his mechanisms: the clash of gears, the hum of rotation, the tension between precision and accident.
The machine-instrument at the origin of this record was composed of a rhythm section, a harmonic section with six valves playing six major chords, a rotating nail violin, eight rotating flute mouthpieces, and an automated skeleton of a record player. The device holds its hidden secrets. What emerges, unplanned, carries the essence of discovery. The unexpected remains invisible until it materializes. To discover something is to understand that the world we knew has widened. As such, Bastien’s creative process is a precious reminder that “elsewhere” (and its multitude of worlds) is always lurking around us.
Andrea returns with Living Room, his third album and a refined exploration of space, texture, and rhythm. Drawing from ambient, dub techno, and broken beat, the record moves fluidly between grounded warmth and distant abstraction. Tracks unfold with a gentle patience, guiding listeners through shifting emotional and sonic landscapes. Released on Ilian Tape, it’s a quietly assured statement from a producer deepening his sound without losing its intimacy.
Keroxen’s Canary Isle missives hail native guitarist Paul Pèrrim’s lyrical fingerpicking style, rent with FX in captivating, hallucinatory geometries to recall a host of greats from Leo Kottke and Steffen Basho-Junghans to Sir Richard Bishop
“Itara is the debut solo album by Paul Pèrrim—guitarist, composer, and anthropologist—featuring a set of guitar-driven compositions that blend hallucinatory acid folk, abstract blues, mutant Eastern jazz, surreal ambient, and free improvisation into a vivid and distinctive sonic tapestry.
With a background in ethnomusicology and a degree in Music Education, Pèrrim’s work bridges popular and experimental music. He contrasts the acoustic guitar’s austerity with the expansive possibilities of the electric guitar, drawing from late ’60s folk traditions, contemporary fingerstyle, sound collage, drone, psychedelia, and improvisation.
A key figure in the Canary Islands’ experimental scene, he released two albums in the 2010s under The Transistor Arkestra, a Catalan collective merging free jazz and psychedelia. As Transistor Eye, his solo project, he merges analog electronics with guitar, using vintage synths and effects.
In 2022, Pèrrim gained wider recognition through his appearance on Manos Ocultas (Philatelia Records) and the international tribute Solstice: A Tribute to Steffen Basho-Junghans (Obsolete Recordings). That same year, he founded GUITARRACO, a contemporary guitar festival in Tarragona, where he has shared the stage with Joseba Irazoki, Buck Curran, and Raphael Roginski. Recorded and produced by Pèrrim, the album features liner notes by critic Bill Meyer, who writes:
“While it’s common to call music cinematic these days, Pèrrim goes split-screen. One might say he composes econo, jamming scenes and sounds to psychedelic effect. But economy does not equate with poverty. Pèrrim draws upon a rich bank of musical notions, all of which he makes his own through the alchemy of recombination and transmutation.”
Originally conceived as a compilation of outtakes and live recordings from The Shadow Ring’s 1995 stateside tour, Wax-Work Echoes takes its name from the first line of “Put the Music in Its Coffin,” the title track of the group’s breakthrough release. Lambkin abandons the bits-and-bobs approach, advancing the Shadow Ring concept with entirely original material that builds on the unit’s self-mythologizing lyrics, celebrates the clicking of horse hooves, ponders on the sociability of rats and mice, and warns of the dangers of poultry. The first Shadow Ring album to officially include Tim Goss in the main lineup, Wax-Work Echoes reveals the group in its final and lasting form, awash in the outer bounds of atmospheric exploration, with Lambkin’s familiar wry and morbid lyricism and the stripped-down angularity of amateurishly detuned guitars fully intact. While Klaus Canterbury and Tony Clark seem all but forgotten, and the shrugged off S. Fritz is listed on the liner notes as performing only “when required,” Lambkin did solicit contributions from outside the inner circle. A bit of “Mambo Twist,” lifted from a tape of unreleased Vitamin B12 material sent to Lambkin by Alasdair Willis, found its way into “V.E.R.M.I.N.,” while an extended epistle contribution from Richard Youngs (and, technically, Brian Lavelle) would be employed in the second half of “Catching Sight/Of Passing Things.”
Released on CD in 1996 for Bruce Russell’s newly minted Corpus Hermeticum, Wax-Work Echoes was recorded concurrently with intense rehearsal periods, in anticipation of the forthcoming “Rose Watson Tour,” and was supported by a celebratory fanzine media blitz. The album seemingly absorbs the frenetic excess of the band’s transatlantic travels; Wax-Work Echoes channels the trio’s wilder instincts into an unresolved catharsis, not yet free of frustration or restlessness. Out of print for almost three decades and available here for the first time ever on long-playing disc, Wax-Work Echoes is a classic from the outer eddies of The Shadow Ring’s sound, a must-have for any aficionado’s collection: “A window slides, glass slips from frame / And canvas carcass breathes again.”
Throughout their legendary, decade-long run, The Shadow Ring were an enigmatic force on the international musical sub-underground. Before their disbandment in 2002, this shambolic rock outfit, formed by a group of rowdy teenagers in southeast England, left behind a mighty run of eight LPs, a handful of 7"s, and a spate of raucous live shows and cryptic zine appearances on both sides of the Atlantic, all which have bolstered their enduring word-of-mouth mystique. Beginning in 2023 with the first-ever vinyl pressing of the self-released pre–Shadow Ring tape The Cat & Bells Club (1992), Blank Forms Editions has been conducting a systematic retrospective of the storied group. Wax-Work Echoes and Hold Onto I.D. are the latest releases in a multiyear reissue effort that includes several LPs, a comprehensive CD box set, and a nearly five-hundred-page book.
Noisy, surreal and uncompromisingly idiosyncratic, The Shadow Ring's 1997-released 'Hold Onto I.D.' is a perennially misunderstood rust spot in their discography, marked by Graham Lambkin's choked free-form poetry and Tim Goss's eerie Radiophonic oscillations.
Squeezed between '96's 'Wax-Work Echoes', founder members Lambkin and Darren Harris's first album with keyboard player Goss, and '99's dark, concept-driven double album 'Lighthouse', it's easy to understand why 'Hold Onto I.D.' is one of The Shadow Ring's most overlooked full-lengths. Listening now, it falls perfectly into place; if they were playing fast and loose with the possibilities on 'Wax-Work...' and exploring new territory with 'Lighthouse', this is the point where Lambkin, Harris and Goss were able to take stock, augmenting the Bolan-goes-Jandek crankiness of 'City Lights' and its snotty follow-up 'Put the Music in its Coffin' with frazzled, hot-wired electronics and isolationist, paranoiac reflections. "You've got to learn the difference between sweat and dew," Harris deadpans on opener 'Watch the Water'. "You've got black lakes forming on your floor, and the dusty brown rug from decades or so ago becomes hot spot for shrimp and nautical foe."
Lambkin's muculent tales of small-town boredom ink a rough outline of Folkestone, the somnolent coastal town where the band lived, contrasting literal decay with asphyxiating cultural emptiness. On previous records, The Shadow Ring had sounded as if they were delivering their own discrete reading of British rock, but the music falls away from the figurative even further here. The gunky, detuned riffs are there just to prop up the stern, psycho-satirical lyrics (guitars would disappear completely by 'Lighthouse'), and any rhythms have become little more than side-room ambient clatter. It's Goss's piercing, terror-stricken monosynth keens that take pride of place, forming an uncomfortable bed of anxious electronics that buzzes beneath the entire record. Lambkin and Harris break and bend their acoustic instruments as if they're speaking to the synth sounds from a similar vantage points, like forgotten remnants of British folk history.
A disheveled piano is tapped at furtively on 'Wash What You Eat', and dissonant chords crack awkwardly from a cheap acoustic guitar; Goss's swirling, pitchy warbles sound as if they've been pulled from a Quatermass re-run and copy-pasted with cheap cassette. And it's the fact that we're served this inner vision of humdrum British surrealism - a no-hope fantasized hi-culture/lo-culture melt fueled by tapes, fanzines and overdue library books - that makes it so enduringly good. Lambkin, Harris and Goss weren't pretentiously trying to affix their images onto concepts earmarked for the elite, they were working in their own damp, festering cinematic universe and presenting it warts 'n all. It's fucking timeless.
Majestic Fantasies, debut album from the duo Space Ghost & Teddy Bryant, is the second release on Space Ghost’s new record label, Peace World Records. Produced by Space Ghost, with Teddy Bryant’s powerful vocals at the forefront, this new album sees the two artists effortlessly blend their shared influences from the late '80s and early '90s.
Over three years in the making, in Majestic Fantasies Space Ghost & Teddy Bryant look to the past for inspiration as they explore genres, techniques, and moods. Across the record, Bryant’s vocals shine as he demonstrates a strong ability to create memorable nostalgic hooks and catchy backing harmonies. Similarly, Ghost displays his knack for dissecting vintage production tropes and breathing life into them in a modern context.
Filled with underground, soulful gems, Majestic Fantasies draws deeply from the duo's passion for R&B, UK Street Soul, New Jack Swing, House, and G-Funk. Their 10-track LP freely blends these genres, paying homage to song writers like Teddy Riley, Jam & Lewis, Carl McIntosh, and DeVante Swing. On the album you’ll find tracks like “Some Things Last Forever” which explore New Jack Swing drum patterns and vocal hooks. Additionally the record holds dancefloor-ready House tracks including “Majestic Fantasies”’ and “Unconditional” which sit side by side with heartfelt ballads such as “Cheer Me Up,” and “Ultimate Love.”
Although the two have never met in person, Space Ghost and Teddy Bryant still find a way to connect through their music. Throughout the album, they demonstrate a mutual understanding of the sound they like to produce together: tasteful and playful love songs that feel positive and optimistic, bringing classic songwriting styles from the past into the modern music landscape.
Originally it came out on UpTop Entertainment in 1998 on CD
Detroit based hip hop group Da'Enna C aka Da Enna Cirkle formed in 1991 consisted of P. Gruv, Sleeepy D aka 3E, Boog Woog and DJ Dez (Andres) the group has released 6 12" EP's, 1 Maxi Cassette (1994) and 1 full length CD.
Da' Enna C is known for being the first group to release a Dilla production the song was "Now" included on the You Can't Use My Pen EP (1994) released on the UpTop Entertainment Record Label. In 1999 the group went into hiatus, focusing more on production for other artist an entities, producing a string of beat records for Hipnotech which included releasing three Enna C songs on the Beats & Rhyme 12 inch Series and another previously unreleased song recorded in 1994 - True to Rap produced by J Dilla and DJ Dez HR-018 (2010).
We have the attached ACTRESS TRANZKRIPT 1 release on Modern Obscure Music available in a CRYSTAL CLEAR vinyl edition, exclusively for Japan, limited to 100.
How do I know if my cat likes me? is the first offering from organists Ellen Arkbro and Hampus Lindwall with visual artist Hanne Lippard, an existential meditation on the empty expanses of our automated everyday. First developed during Arkbro and Lippard’s 2023 residency at La Becque in La Tour-de-Peilz, Switzerland, the album satirizes, in prim deadpan, the stultifying aesthetics of corporate life, from hold music to online banking. How do I know if my cat likes me? extends the lineage of Roberts Ashley and Barry’s droll concept poetry, hammering at the sounds of language until they dislodge all signifieds through pleasurably numbing repetition. Listening to the record is like doing a Captcha over and over until all the characters fuzz to hieroglyphs, or finding yourself mired in a tautological customer-service argument—except that, after you dead-end at nonsense, you stumble into an unexpectedly transcendent beauty, where language flips from pure function to pure aesthetic, shimmering with possibility.
Even subtle ruptures in lyrical or musical patterns can trigger a fundamental shift in the world of the song. Throughout the record, strict formalism and minimalism beget narrative. “The long goodbye” imagines an excruciating dialogue between acquaintances who can’t politely disengage: “It’s my pleasure!” deadpans Lippard, who replies to herself, “Pleasure is all mine! / See you soon! / See you next time! / See you then!” Though the lines recycle the same few parting words, a mysterious causality accumulates in the minute variations, creating a narrative arc less for the characters of the song than for the listener, who might confront despair, nihilistic humor, or profound gratitude at the capacity of art to encompass any of this—not necessarily in that order. Elsewhere, as “Modern Spanking” free-associates its way from the phrase “online banking” toward “breathing down your neck banking” and “sexy but bankrupt banking,” a whole world of perfunctory pleasures comes into focus. While minimalist movements in music and visual art foster a certain situatedness of the view, “Modern Spanking” evokes the slick, frictionless minimalism of an upscale mall: a crowd of desultory passersby drifting between sex and money, fantasy and reality, scattered attention and intense distraction. In a world like this, the distinction between banking and spanking becomes negligible.
RIYL: Jacqueline Humbert and David Rosenboom, Robert Ashley, Robert Wyatt.
The term “private” is used quite liberally in the promotion of rare groove compilations these days. The team at Tramp Records tends to be rather defensive when it comes to such terms. Although, and this should not be misunderstood as arrogance, label boss Tobias Kirmayer & his crew have been doing nothing else for 22 years, strictly speaking. Every compilation series from the Upper Bavarian label, be it the “Movements,” “Feeling Nice,” “Praise Poems,” or “Can You Feel It” series, specializes in independently produced music from the 1960s, 70s, and 80s released on small private labels. This means extremely time-consuming work to track down the musicians, write down their stories, and, last but not least, invest a high four-digit amount to release such compilation projects as deluxe (double) LPs and CDs.
The industrious creators of the label have already released seven volumes in the Peace Chant series. Parts 1 to 6 were single LPs with predominantly American tracks. Part 7 was the first to be dedicated to purely German productions. Furthermore, the decision was made to release a double LP with a gatefold cover, not least to accommodate the extremely comprehensive accompanying text and images.
The 8th edition once again focuses on German productions. It includes rare (Fences), unreleased (Music Community), but also the odd €10 record. The mere fact that a record is rare/expensive doesn't make it interesting for Tobias Kirmayer and his team. They are primarily interested in the music. And if a song convinces them, it makes it onto the shortlist. In fact, many established reissue labels too often ignore records or individual songs and don't re-release them simply because they are not sought after by collectors. Kirmayer and his fellow campaigners have made it their mission to combat this injustice. A good example of this would be Sabanone, a title by Büdi Siebert's formation with the wonderful name HerrGottSax. The original LP costs around €15.
In addition to presenting the music in combination with detailed information about the artists, the label has another concern close to its heart. For the sake of the environment (short delivery routes) and to support the domestic economy, the CDs and vinyl LPs are manufactured in Germany”. And the record was pressed on BIO🌿VINYL in the most environmentally friendly way possible. But enough talking. Have fun exploring!
Artist, composer and producer James William Blades’ score Pare De Sufrir will be released via AD 93 on the 4th of October.
Pare De Sufrir (translating to ‘End of Suffering’) is the official soundtrack to A.G Rojas’ film of the same title.
Spanish-born, Southern California-raised filmmaker AG Rojas is known for creating videos and working with the likes of Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron, Kamasi Washington, Spiritualized and Mitski. Rojas’ sensitive eye and subjectivity has brought him from the world of music videos to creating his first independent film: a 48-minute featurette following three people as they navigate the liminal space between life and the afterlife in an attempt to heal themselves and each other. Rojas’ film is a fragile, wordless meditation on grief and how it can transform and baptise the body and spirit.
The almost silent film is a testament to Rojas’ trust in Blades’ composition to express the director’s voice and emotions. Rojas reached out to Blades after coming across his score for Keeping Time (dir. Darol Olu Kae). An intimate and unusual process unfolded. Rojas explained to Blades the personal narrative of the film, the two sharing unfurling conversations on the nature of loss and the human spirit. But Blades did not watch the film and instead worked on instinct to build out a concept of how the score would unfold, shaping its operatic, textural and granular tone. Blades went on to record the score in full, with orchestra and choir, without going back to Rojas for feedback, aware that he was taking a complete risk. “It was definitely something I felt had a gravitational pull,” says Blades of the decision. The score’s pull is reflective of the process of grief itself, how its moods and memories oscillate up and down into the past and lost futures, Blades hitting all those spaces with diverse and stretching notes.
The piano holds the memories of Blades and Rojas’ grandmothers, who both had out-of-tune pianos sitting in an empty room. The Silogo-De-Oro choir sing throughout, reminiscent of the broken phonetics of grief, the build up and release of tension and the inability to articulate complete sound or words. The harmony stabilises and then becomes distant, taking the griever away from the lushness of life and into the realms of loss, death and dream-like realities, as mirrored in Rojas’ layered vignettes. As the score closes, the harmonies become richer and fuller, marking a return to life. Understanding the power of sound to both respond to and drive narrative, Blades’ score weaves together field recordings, half-remembered conversations, choral movements, string arrangements and electronic fragments into a nuanced and evocative whole.
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James William Blades is a British composer and producer based in New York, whose work dissolves the boundaries between scores, sound design and music. Rooted in a meticulous sensitivity to melody and structure, he creates sonic landscapes that have the potential to refract meaning and tell new stories in the process.
It is through his multidisciplinary experience working with visual artists, directors, musicians and fashion designers that Blades has developed the unique musical aesthetic he is now bringing to the world of cinema. Blades began by collaborating with fashion designer Grace Wales Bonner, artist Theaster Gates, and film-maker Kahlil Joseph. Exploring the expressive possibilities of composition, his atmospheric sound collages for Joseph’s 2017 film Fly Paper and short film Process for the British music artist Sampha, subsequently led Blades to work with Beyoncé on Black is King for Disney in 2020, and more recently Renaissance, Beyonce’s self-directed documentary concert film.
Learning from visual artists, themselves reframing the relationship between music, sound and image, Blades has created a singular sonic language he describes in terms of landscape painting. “I like conveying a non-linear sense of sonics, playing around with combinations, depths, tempos, and making it feel like you’re in a moment surrounded. It’s visceral,” he explains. In each case, his approach involves periods of contextual and multi- instrumental research, working closely with directors to understand how best to support the specific emotions, moods and textures of the project at hand. “Thinking about the painting of a score is something that I'm trying to translate over a longer scale.”
This capacity to work on a variety of long-form projects is evident, whether in the scores he has had exhibited in a gallery context (Venice Biennale, Serpentine Gallery, 180 The Strand, Palais De Tokyo), or in the debut solo productions he is readying for release.
Other composer credits include Tendaberry, Hayley Elizabeth Anderson’s critically lauded debut feature film which premiered at Sundance 2024, the Showtime documentary NYC Point Gods produced by Coodie and Chike and Kevin Durant and Kiin a three part companion film directed by Fenn O’Meally and written by Letitia Wright and Tamara Lawrance.
A storyteller in the broadest sense of the word, Blades’ extensive inter-disciplinary experience marks him out as an artist in his own right, bringing an exciting and fresh approach to feature film composition.
Poole’s new album Ben Beinn follows 2024’s In a River Shadow, further exploring an electronic folkway composed of environment and abstraction. If the previous record moved with flowing water and submerged folk song, Ben Beinn climbs into elemental instability: passing storms, coded skies, and sodden ground.
Across the album, Poole creates a phantasmic Celtic New Age sound world that’s marked by microtonal harmony, and swelling dissonance. Voices in Gaelic, Norwegian, and English surface and dissolve, stretched beyond recognition — more weather than word.
The ten song cycle opens with 1000, bagpipes and strings emerge from mountain icicles and frozen streams. Leaf is the centre point, the skittering squelches of moss, mud and grass, form a slippery rhythmic track. The album closes with 365 Days of Rain, a year’s rainfall data becoming a rhythmic lattice that slips from metrical order into converging motifs.
Recorded in Scotland between 2024–2025, Ben Beinn is a located listen, shaped by recordings of frozen hill passes, storms, and granite using contact mics and hydrophones. Rather than simply reflecting place, these recordings press against it — layering the sonic materiality of landscape with synthesis and song. An inflection point between fabrication — folk music as performed identity, a carrier of story — and its obfuscation through digital networks, where tradition is refracted into plural forms.
Reference points include the emotionally saturated textures of Inoyama Land and the folk-electronic hybrids of Eli Storbekken. There’s a tuning of biophony with the hyperrealist processes of Noah Creshevsky, owing as much to Galen Tipton’s adventures than the disquieting sonic simulations of James Ferraro.
Ben Beinn continues Poole’s excavation of environmental and folk material through contemporary methods. Shaped by the slow pressures of land and sky — a music of erosion, recurrence, and elemental presence.
“Labège, released on Good Morning Tapes, emerged from a residency in the town of the same name in Occitanie, where NEXCYIA, mu tate, and Exzald S lived and worked under one roof. Immersed in the slow rhythms of southern French life, the trio embraced live improvisation, intuitive sampling, and a freeform process shaped by their domestic surroundings. The result is a collection of gentle, drifting compositions—sonic postcards capturing a fleeting moment in time.
The trio brings a distinct yet complementary voice. Working with abstraction, sound mangling tools, field recordings, and fragmented rhythms to sculpt tactile, evolving environments. All leaning into softness and restraint, weaving filtered harmonics and spacious reverb into floating atmospheres anchored by deep sub-bass and hushed vocals.
Their methods intertwine seamlessly, allowing improvisation and chance to guide the music’s form. The result is both expansive and intimate—suspended somewhere between memory and the present.”
Flutter Ridder is the duo of Norwegian multidisciplinary artists Espen Friberg and Jenny Berger Myhre, both of whom play important roles in Oslo’s contemporary art and music underground. The pair first collaborated during the production of Friberg’s debut solo record, “Sun Soon” (Hubro, 2022), quickly recognizing in one another a creative kinship rooted in a playful, intentionally naive approach towards making art. In November of 2023, the pair decamped to the coastal town of Hvisten in southeastern Norway to record what would become this debut, self-titled album in an ancient wooden church. Drawing from a palette of Friberg’s idiosyncratic Serge modular system and the church’s resident pipe organ and intoxicating acoustic reverb, they began recording and sculpting music informed by the notion that air and electricity share a common flow, a continuous current that can be directed through valves and potentiometers. The pair came to think of the Serge and pipe organ as sibling instruments, the former yielding characteristically unpredictable and complex timbres that complement the wooly, reedy drones and strange, microtonal overtones of the latter. At once sublime, liturgical, and whimsical, Flutter Ridder offers its listener a series of moving, cinematic natural landscapes, affirming the sensibilities of its makers and the indelible influence of the environment in which it was produced.
Glimmers of a missing link in the connective tissue between the hardcore continuum and Dub-Spectrum arts. A tome all its own, as if one is sifting through an archeological dig in aural form, hearing layers of the past, present, and future.
In 2023, k.d.b lived in a crumbling farmhouse on the edge of the River Maas. Each morning, he’d wake at 6:00 and walk along the river’s bank with his dogfriend Miemel, pausing at sunrise for a cup of coffee.
It’s 6:34, and a thick rug of mist rolls out across the river. It’s so dense that k.d.b can’t see the water beneath it. Then comes the sun: a single ray cutting through the mist like a tube of light, landing on Miemel’s face. In her mouth is a CD she’s picked up, and on the CD is the title Instrumental Romance.
'What is Instrumental Romance?' thinks k.d.b. 'Romantic instrumentals? Or a romance used instrumentally? As in, a romance used to get something—like love?'
Miemel drops the CD and turns her attention to a stray purple grape on the path. Grapes are poisonous to dogs, and as she bends toward it, k.d.b. shouts, “NO!” At that precise moment, a large fish rises from the mist. It launches into the air, mouth wide open, and hangs there above the clouds. His shout, having traveled across the river, bounces back towards k.d.b with a “NO,” and in perfect synchrony, it appears the fish is also shouting at Miemel. The timing is so perfect, they can’t be sure it isn’t.
The fish falls back down, entering its watery world with an eerie, splashless silence, leaving k.d.b and Miemel standing open-mouthed on the bank. Before they can register the perfection of this duet, another fish (or maybe the same one again) rises from the mist in the exact same spot and launches into the air. Without thinking, k.d.b shouts again. The word “ROMANCE” comes out. This time, however, he is slightly too late, and the word is too long, so “ROMANCE” lingers on after the fish has already fallen back down.
'What even is romance?' thinks k.d.b. 'The construction of mystery or excitement with dead red flowers and timing?'
A foghorn sounds behind him, and k.d.b turns 180 degrees to see a boat moving freight, right to left, along the River Maas. 'That’s strange', he thinks. 'If the river is there, then what’s that behind me, below the mist?'
Staring at the boat and its shipping containers as they float out of sight, k.d.b imagines a man. The man is standing at the bottom of a small valley, holding a fish. 'Who is this man, and what does he want?'
- Jacob Dwyer
Wally Badarou is a synth pioneer and musical polymath. But rarely does he sing over his sumptuous tracks. The 6 songs that comprise new record Simple Things finally realise Wally's vision for select backing tracks from his beloved Colors Of Silence.
The tracks were originally developed back in 2001 for the release of the original CD; here, Wally has “simply" added overdubs and vocals to their mastered mixes with some discerning edits.
Simply put, Simple Things is another slice of simply stunning Wally Badarou genius.
CEM has gained international notoriety over the past years for bewitching club and festival audiences alike with his feverish, polymorphic and richly referential DJ sets. For his debut full-length album, FORMA, the Berlin-based Herrensauna founder momentarily departs the dancefl oor, instead contributing a refl ective and at times menacing compositional study on terror and temporal anachronism for our perplexing times. All six pieces were originally commissioned to accompany Portuguese artist Mauro Ventura’s performative installation of the same name, shown fi rst at the Volksbühne in 2022; the work engaged notions of labor and repetition through a multiplicity of gestural and corporeal interventions. Featured prominently on FORMA are the sound of bells—doorbells, meditative bowls, farm cowbells, Shinto bells—a motif CEM distills repeatedly onto the record to presage and work through both the violent specter of order and discipline, as well as the reparative qualities of harmony and retreat.
Opening the album with poignant synths, granulated bell hits, and double bass string drones is “The Calling”, which summons listeners into a rattling and twisting soundscape that dichotomously channels alertness and serenity at once. “Bells Corrupt”, in turn, transforms the comforting chime of bells into an alarming and insistent pattern as it evolves in pitch and form, recalling the anxious fi lm grammar of Italian giallo legends Lucio Fulci and Dario Argento or Czech animator Jan Švankmajer. “An Industrial Satire” is conceived as an homage to experimentalist Limpe Fuchs, known for her Dadaist use of self-made, metallic instruments and strings. The second part of the piece takes a staggering turn with the addition of ghaita—a Northern Moroccan double reed horn with a series of holes—sampled from the Master Musicians of Joujouka’s collaborative 1971 album with Brian Jones and layered alongside CEM’s own percussion work. The horn elements—linked to the ancient fertility rites of Pan—here culminate in a melodic embodiment of panic and celebration. “Statue Garden” is a minimalist organ drone piece interlaced with fi eld recordings accumulated through the musician’s recent travels across East Asia. Its dexterous balance of stillness and depth provides a contemplative interlude amidst the album’s vigour. The album closes on a provocative note with “The Sincerity Test” that features Berlin-based Lithuanian performance artist Gertrūda Gilytė, whose wry spoken-word intervention mirrors the kind of grotesque, deluded ‘positive affirmations’ that abounds on social media, suggesting a relatedness between narcissistic online speak and the rise of reactionary politics.
CEM is no stranger to the ever-threatening past and present of fascism, having been raised in Vienna within a Turkish-Kurdish immigrant household. FORMA thus emerges as a militant sonic offering and, through its razor-sharp interweaving of atmosphere and texture, conjures a fractured, albeit elegiac, space of possibility wherein time is out of joint and the circular motion of history with a capital H is dizzyingly thrown into disarray. As our world rushes forward into the past, casting dissonant spells might turn out to be our last rempart.
claire rousay's 'sentiment' gets the remix treatment from Maral, more eaze, Patrick Shiroishi, M Sage, Andrew Weathers, AMULETS and Gretchen Korsmo.
Texas-based mainstay Andrew Weathers is first up, his rework glues all the vocals on the entire 'sentiment' album into a robotic gurgle - it's the most off-track version of the set and immediately stands out. Maral's take on 'ily2' is more restrained, adding a beat and neatly psychedelic back half, while sound artist Gretchen Korsmo turns 'asking for it' into a whisper of the original as if she's turned it inside out, leaving rousay's vocals to harmonize with her tempered drones. AMULETS' rework of 'head' sounds more in-line with the 'sentiment' mood; the Portland-based A/V artist swells rousay's fizzing emo-folk into tape-fucked shoegaze, and it works very well.
Eight years removed from his celebrated self-titled debut album, Motion Graphics (a.k.a. NYC electronic artist Joe Williams) has returned with a brand-new release, Glossolalia. A transcontinental collaboration with Japanese artist Utena Kobayashi, the record—which also features remixes from Portland ambient/new age duo Visible Cloaks and Japanese electronic music veteran Kuniyuki Takahashi—explores a delicate strain of ambient pop, its nuanced contours reflecting Williams’ unique ability to wield production technology in a way that feels not just poignant, but deeply human.