Golden Teacher, Glasgow’s premier avant-punk-funk unit, herald a highly anticipated debut album No Luscious Life with the feel Kuti-meets-James Brownian funk motion and ESG-style disco jabs of Sauchiehall Withdrawal (Edit).
We’ve probably said it before, but this band only seem to get tighter, freakier with each new serving, with the party-heating Sauchiehall Withdrawal (Edit) massing some of their most devilish chops, bar none in their amazing discopgraphy.
With the genteel ambient folk-pop bumps of A Mineral Love in the rear-view, Bibio eazes off and dilates his focus to a wistful blend of new age ambient inflected with modern classical keys in Phantom Brickworks III
Rendered as an ethereal 9 minute segue between Eno-esque keys, Basinski crackle and TLO-style gauze in the original, and also reduced to a 3 minute vignette.
In series with the impressive 47010 session, Killawatt harnesses his bassbin daemons again for Tommy Four Seven’s label
Swerving from dungeon dank pressure in Psi to ‘floor nobbling techno on Post Numer and Crackerjack Cacophony, with a twist of ravenous futurism in the burned out gothic trance of Tranq’d, which kinda emulates a tramadol dream located on a treadmill in a wind tunnel.
Montreal’s Project Pablo pushes tuffer than usual with the elasticised bass jack and driving synth leads of Is It Dry?, but of course he pulls it back to more elegant style by the 2nd half with lush, floating pads to offset the tension.
Alden Tyrell, Mr. Pauli and Saša Rajković’s Sumerian Fleet cross time and space to deliver their 2nd LP payload of EBM and cold wave synth-pop on Dark Entries.
Pendulum continues in pursuit of the dark alleys stalked on Just Pressure  and a pair of cultish 12”s before it, but this time the song-writing is tighter, darkly romantic, and the production ever closer to the archetypes of Front 242, Nitzer Ebb, Ministry, Skinny Puppy.
First major retrospective of James Dean Brown’s legendary Hypnobeat in over 30 years!
For the uninitiated, Hypnobeat have been a dirty electronic concern since 1983, working with everyone from Tobias Freund to Helena Hauff in their time, and responsible for an endless slew of haywire, driving hardware improvisations comparable with proto-techno, EBM, electro and tribal psychedelia, but basically best referred to as Hypnobeat. Inside Prototech, you may well recognise Kilian from inclusion on a Light Sounds Dark compilation, but unless you’ve properly neeked out and collected their hard to find tapes, the rest will be new and very tasty to anyone who likes their jams live and dirty, a la Smersh, Frak, $hit & $hine, Not Waving. All tracks remastered by George Horn at Fantasy studios, Berkeley.
“Dark Entries and Serendip Lab have teamed up to release ‘Prototech’, the first vinyl retrospective by German electronic trio Hypnobeat, recorded 1984-86. James Dean Brown and Pietro Insipido formed Hypnobeat in 1983, but it was the addition of Victor Sol only a few months later that found the project reaching, as Brown puts it, “the desired level of technical sophistication.” In time, Tobias Freund also lent his talents (and equipment) to this loose-fit sonic scheme, where the protagonists sought a new, electronic manifestation of mankind’s tribal music roots. Two cassette releases surfaced – 1985’s “Huggables”, and “Specials/Spatials” the following year. By this point the Frankfurt-based group had already explored fiercely mechanical creative expression through various configurations of hardware and personnel, revolving around core ingredients such as the TR-808, TB-303 and MC-202. The project lived on in spirit as Brown activated Narcotic Syntax in the 90s. While a more modern, digital concern, rooted in the Perlon label family, NS still channeled the Hypnobeat concept of a “new tribalism”, not least on their “Provocative Percussion” double 12″ released in 2006.
For all the punky veneer, there are instances where these tracks reach staggering levels of sophistication, not least on “Slash! Buffalo Eats Brass” with its intricately programmed 303 lines and nimble beats that sound a far cry from most machine music made in 1986. Prescient “Can God Rewind?” is also dazzling in the complexity of its percussion and the richness of its synth lines in C as they throb out a bastardised version of acidic Disco straight out of the rhythm collider. Elsewhere, some tracks are more primal in their execution. Visceral opening track “The Arumbaya Fetish” was a cathartic venting of Brown’s least favourite sound on the 808, the iconic cowbell, while the astounding proto-Acid miniature “Moon Jump” places limber 303 lead lines in a hail of thunderstruck patterns. “Kilian” has a stripped down quality that speaks more to the industrial era that Hypnobeat was conceived in, and “Mission In Congo” is a raw, reverb-soaked drum workout that captures the percussive-obsessive nature of Hypnobeat perfectly. Six of the seven tracks selected on this collection were primarily powered by two 808s. “I am amazed that the release sounds like we really had a plan back then…” states Brown, but this accidental magic is in fact the raison d’etre of Hypnobeat. They weren’t the only ones prefiguring the next big revolutions in electronic music in the mid 80s, but there certainly weren’t many artists stumbling across modes of expression that sound so relevant today.”
Dark Entries present this massively expanded edition of Severed Heads’ pivotal album Come Visit The Big Bigot  in the wake of its 30th anniversary. Basically there’s a lot of industrial reissues in circulation right now, but this one blows most of ‘em out out of the water!
Originally realised some seven years into Severed Heads’ lifespan, …Bigot finds the endlessly innovative Tom Ellard at the peak of his inventive powers, blending synth-pop with industrial/post-punk disciplines and rogue concrète chicanery in a way that laid the ground for so much other music to come; from AFX to Hot Chip, Coil and Powell.
Everything in Come Visit The Big Bigot is layered, kerned, pinched and manipulated to painstaking degrees, yet all done at the service of the ’floor and sparking dancing bodies, minds in a classic sense which has fed forward into IDM, braindance and even the biggest stadium EDM and dance-pop, in its own way.
Adding seven tracks to the original LP’s twelve, Dark Entries offer a definitive survey of Severed Heads in their fecund prime, at a crucial time when industrial dance music was spanning the globe, during the same year in which they toured with Skinny Puppy and the 1st time they released a record simultaneously in EU, USA, and their native Oz.
Just hold up any of these productions to almost anything else from 1986 and the difference between SH’s crystalline density and clinical execution in shots such as the delirious Propellor or the warped pop of Phantasized Persecutory Beast speak volumes to their pioneering thrust. Likewise the extra tracks, mostly taken from B-sides and remixes, give more room to marvel at Ellard’s ingenuity, as in wayward highlights heard on the unhinged jack of George The Animal, and the staggering detail of Nature 10, which arguably sounds more futuristic than anything else from the last 30 years.
An acrid taste of what to expect from Sharp Veins’ Bleed Colours Into Pools EP for UNO, the Alabama-based producer really lets it all fly with the rare intensity of Learn Boxing Miami’s sparring grime and noise clash.
One of the psychedelically sprawling and rolling highlights of James Holden and co’s album, The Animal Spirits gives a potent taste of what to expect
Flaring Moogs, swelling Junos and diaphanous guitars harnessed from floating into the cosmos by loose but spiky drums - all very Silver Apples.
Addison Groove’s new disco-house voodoo sound, remixed in techno-house, tribal, Gqom and rolling bass music styles.
Nan Kole wins outright with a dark, acidic re-swang and reduction of Shango in key with brutalist Gqom vibes; Amit steers that voodoo onto a lugubrious D&B halfstep ; Ejeca goes all Sasha at Shelleys 1990; Subp tucks into deep into the bassbin for UK crowds, and anyone else who likes X amounta sub, for that matter.
The influential Janus Berlin incubator gives up the debut LP collaboration between Backtearer and Why Be.
Presented in the form of an oneiric ‘mixtape’ suite recorded in Copenhagen, Hong Kong and Berlin, dc keens through a series of beatless, vignette-like snapshots that blossom from the duo’s collaborative track found on Backterarer’s Swear tape for YYAA into passages of far eastern strings, etheric voices and ambient etudes, covering vast conceptual distance within a relatively short space of time.
Remember The Sun Can’t Compare? Course you do. Well, Larry Heard gets it damn right with Mr White again, curling up the Afro-cubist electro-house hustle of Virtual Emotion, and the slunky darkroom cruise of Supernova.
On Virtual Emotion he comes buoys Mr White on a burning bass tug and pensile woodblock claves holding the lip-biting sensuality with masterful skill, also available in a starry-eyed dub.
Supernova is more blunt about it; with Mr. White riding a cantering monotone bass and hoofed percussion in protein-guzzled, processed vox, likewise included as a dub to expose the groove’s gritty depth.
Avian’s most enigmatic avatar commits their 2nd batch of cryptic electronic patterns, following the primitive, hypnotic pulses of 19805. -_ 19905, with a sparser, pensive and menacing suite that feels out space between Black Mecha and SAW II-era AFX.
Opening with a death knell carillon right out of a Clive Brker flick, the session keens on from charred rhythmic electronics to passages of exquisite, nerve-dancing dissonance, impish folk-techno and the sort of mechanical melodies you’d hear at a fairground run by The Chapman Brothers, before finally shuddering with kidney stone piss shivers and ending up with you prepped for the sacrificial slap if you’ve come this far.
Gorgeous new album from Teresa Winter, an uncanny collection of ambient / dream pop / entheogenic reveries that comes highly recommended if you're into anything from Grouper to F Ingers to Leyland Kirby to Delia Derbyshire to early AFX.
Teresa Winter’s LP debut Untitled Death is a hallucinogenic wormhole of sensuously ambiguous pop and electronic experiments primed for the after-after party and altered states of reception. Realised thru a mesh of strategies from live, lo-fi tape recordings of synths, samplers and vocals to nascent experiments with algorithmic software, it's both a divine revelation of new aspects to Teresa’s sound and and expansion of The Death of Rave’s as-yet-unidentified aesthetic, which should come as a very welcome surprise to anyone who fell for her remarkable post-rave reverie, Oh Tina, No Tina, released on tape by Reckno in early 2015 to cult acclaim.
Where the artwork and collaged sound of Oh Tina, No Tina signified a serotonin-soaked pastoralism and MDMA thizziness, Teresa’s zoomed photos of magic mushrooms spattered in popping fluorescent oils which adorn the cover hint at her change of focus to a more personalised, entheogenic insight and psychoactivity, or basically a proper, lush trippiness. And just like the putative psilocybic experience, Untitled Death naturally comes on in waves of synaesthically-heightened sensuality, from strangely libidinous stirrings to utter, eat-your-heart-out euphoria with a spectrum of hard-to-explain and unexpected sensations in between.
We can hardly recall a more seductive album opener than oh, which blossoms from plaintive drum machine and chiming pads to a half- or mis-heard beckon “I really like it / when you let yourself go / I really want you inside me / I want to make you my own”, before curdling into bittersweet partials and deliquescent hooks as earworming as anything from AFX’s SAW 85-92 classic. It’s devastating in its simplicity and almost blush-worthy in effect, and is soon enough lopped curtly into the soundtrack-like enchantment of Untitled Death, which could almost be a cue from some '60 Polish or Czech art-house film, serving to neatly set up the prickling, windswept scene of romantic introspection and dereliction in Pain Of Outside - perhaps Teresa’s most accomplished and affective pop turn to date; think Maria Minerva awkwardly blissing out at 9am in the corner of a successful sesh/campsite/free party.
From that perfectly damaged side closer, the instrumental นรก and earth opens the B-side to a different sort of spine-freezing beauty and sense of abandonment with plangent, dissonant harmonics describing rugged Yorkshire wolds and coast as much as a radiant lightshow on the back of flickering eyelids. She then calmly follows the lie of the land into the uncanny valley of anatomie de l’enfer, where her signature coos and French whispers are swept in updrafts of distant, processed orchestral strings that come alive with staggering effect in her parting missive, สวรรค์ and earth, whose scale and impact appears like a vertiginous but digitally crumbling sky city fata morgana over the North Sea, possibly projected by some mad Dutch pharmacist-cum-holography genius, or just her own imagination.
In fidelity and emotive pull, Untitled Death is a properly amazing, ambiguous and spirit-beguiling record; one which treads the finest line between anxiety-inducing tristesse, lushly uncomfortable introspection, and life-affirming oddness. Play it to a garden of turnt gurners or a bedroom of quiet souls and its effects will only become magnified, more wondrous.
Yasuaki Shimizu’s Music For Commercials  is here given a much needed first ever reissue some 30 years since it appeared on Crammed's Made To Measure library music series, which also included editions by Tuxedomoon and Hctor Zazou. Very safe to say that if you were enchanted by Visible Cloaks’ Reassemblage LP or their Fairlights, Mallets & Bamboo mixes, this one is a must!
In 24 parts Shimizu unfolds a tightly packed lattice of crystalline gems and vignettes crafted for TV commercials, plus the 15 minute Ka-Cho-Fu-Getsu piece for a Computer Animation Video which is practically worth the price of entry alone.
Presumably titled after the corporations who employed him, you’ll find stacks of super sweet, pastoral 4th world emulations patched from keys, sax, gamelan, drum machines and electronics for the likes of Seiko, Ricoh, Sharp, Honda, Knorr and Bridgestone, each as exactingly cute and piquant as the last.
Known for his numerous albums, soundtracks, and collaborations including with the likes of Ryuichi Sakamoto and Bjork, this is perhaps Shimizu's most sought-after and influential work and one that perfectly encapsulates our collective yearning for peace and quiet in an increasingly commercialised, chaotic world.