Take a tabla player (Shawn Mativetsky), a santur player (Amir Amiri), and a harpist (Sarah Pagé), put them in a studio, have them encourage each other with experimentation and love of traditional Sufi, Persian, Indian, and classical music, and what do you get? Metamorphose – one of the loveliest albums of the year.
Opening track “Yavaran” is the only one with lyrics and those are from the Sufi devotional prayer of Yavaran Masem (“My friends, I am drunk.”). Amiri and Pagé’s vocals blend perfectly with the intoxicating sounds all three produce.
The title track hums and pulses like a happy cat stretching in a sunbeam upon waking, or someone who has just had an enlightening experience. Amiri’s santur is beautiful on the track.
“Quarter Tone Suite” is eleven-and-a-half minutes of trance-inducing bliss. Pagé’s harp leads the way, ushering us from our tent in the desert and into an oasis that you don’t remember seeing when you set up the tent the previous night. “Maktrismos” blends Amiri’s santur and Pagé’s harp so well together that you often can’t tell which is which.
Remember that desert oasis from earlier? You’re back in it (or did you ever leave?) on the final track, “Pathos,” which encourages you to let go of what’s troubling you, have a seat, a cup of tea, and just let things happen for almost thirteen minutes.
Again, this is one of the lushest, loveliest records you’ll hear this year. Let it change you.
Imarhan‘s new album, Essam, might be their best yet.
Essam continues Imarhan’s solid list of Tuareg desert rock and spiritual music, but now adds synthesizers and samples to the mix without them overpowering their hypnotic guitar and percussion. The end result is mesmerizing.
“Ahitmanin” adds female backing vocals to instantly transport you to a faraway land with endless stars above you. “Derhan N’Oulhine” fades out with a cool guitar solo, and “Tellat” fades in with classic Taureg rock guitar riffs, thumping bass, and invigorating handclaps and vocals. “Tamiditin” is simple acoustic guitar strumming mixed with sampled instruments put through a synthesizer, creating a dreamy atmosphere.
The vocals of “Okcheur” weave in and out of reverb-laden guitar chords and synths that glide like a hawk over sand dunes. “Azaman Amoutay” loops in synth-beats to get your feet tapping and your perception shifting. “Tin Arayth” hops back and forth between big, bumping beats and quieter (but no less impressive) guitar work before building back into a rousing chant.
“Tinfoussen” and “Adounia Tochai” once again mix male and female vocals to beautiful effect (especially on the latter). The album ends with “Assagasswar” – a nearly eight-minute trip across an Algerian landscape that you can almost feel and see. Your vision might not reflect reality, or does it? Perception is reality after all. Reality always is here and now, and the visions Essam brings forth are that reality for each of us.
One of the things I like best about dub music is that it’s the kind of music that always finds me when I need it. Sometimes I just need to chill out, or to take a breath, or to get laid, or remember to stop worrying about things out of my control. Dub music is perfect for all of that, and Nevaris has returned with another solid dub record for all of that – SoundSession.
The album consists of four tracks, all of them recorded in a single session in May 2023. They bring together Nevaris and his excellent hand percussion work with heavyweights like Peter Apfelbaum (saxophone, flute), Will Bernard (guitar), Matt Dickey (guitar), DJ Logic (turntables), Jojo Kuo (percussion), Bill Laswell (production), Lockatron (drums), Jonathon Maron (bass), and Angel Rodriguez (percussion).
“Ninth Sun” immediately hooks you from the first few notes and settles you into what you know is going to be a groovy, trippy time. Apfelbaum’s saxophone is practically incense smoke moving through the room. It’s jazzier on “Remedy,” with neat, stretched guitar sounds from Bernard and Dickey, and sizzling hand percussion and distorted synths that bring spaghetti westerns and back alley Negril bars to mind.
Lockatron is locked-in on “Document,” putting the whole band in his pocket and letting them know they can go bonkers and he’ll be the silver cord anchoring them to the material plane. DJ Logic’s scratches and long, almost droning guitar chords seem to extend the space around you. Apfelbaum’s saxophone solo on the track is high-class.
The album’s final track is its biggest. “Dub Orchestra” clocks in at nearly eighteen minutes with Logic’s scratches sounding like a mystical crow or raven chattering away as it leads you down a winding path. Apfelbaum’s flute is something on the wind you hear as you walk, and the percussion from Nevaris, Kuo, Lockatron, and Rodriguez is a treat. All four improvise with each other with no one overpowering the other. It’s a long, cool trip and worth the drive.
The record is just what you need, whether you know it or not.
As a graduate of the esteemed Rhythmic Music Conservatory, Melodi Ghazal is intrinsic to Copenhagen’s storied indie scene. Her full-length debut, Idol Melodies, is out March 6, 2026 via Anyines, blending ’80s pop and Iranian folk traditions. Today, Ghazal shares the second single, “Higher.” Moody riffs and jagged verses culminate in a slow jam chorus. Touching on dissolution of the self, “Higher” imbues nostalgia with complexity.
On the single, Ghazal shares:“This is a song I personally needed, perhaps as a form of manifestation. I sing about the dissolution of the self. About those moments where you can suddenly shift perspective – and really feel the shift – from the shutting-down, everyday trip, to the big, opening image of love and connection. It sounds a bit New Age in such a short description, but that is nevertheless the theme of the song. I sampled my friend Peter’s guitar recording and chopped it up, perhaps with indirect inspiration from the chopped, country-sounding guitar in Madonna’s ‘Tell Me,’ which I think is a fantastic track. The form was meant to be simple and repetitive, because I wanted it to feel like the repeated caress of warm skin. And I also think that at times I noticed myself having the Spice Girls’ ‘Viva Forever’ as a reference somewhere in my head during the process. Maybe it’s because of the comforting effect of nostalgia, that I have some clear references when listening to this song and remembering how it came to life – because this song I just wanted to be comforting to me.”
Melodi Ghazal’s output is reflective. The Copenhagen native was raised by Iranian parents, and an interest in music was nurtured at cultural gatherings. As a child, she delved into pre-revolutionary Iranian hits and the Los Angeles pop that emerged in the 1980s and ‘90s. Later, she discovered hitmakers including Dido and Celine Dion on VH1 and MTV. At her mother’s encouragement, she took up piano lessons.
Ghazal fell into stasis for almost a decade. “I stopped quite abruptly with the occurrence of my self-consciousness, especially about otherness in a very white context,” she remembers. “I felt a need to be anonymous.” She enrolled in university, but grew depressed working a day job. During one down swing, she felt the desire to write songs again and started an adult education program. Two years later, she was accepted at the groundbreaking Rhythmic Music Conservatory — a school that counts ML Buch, Astrid Sonne, and Clarissa Connelly as alumni.
Ghazal’s full-length debut, Idol Melodies, is titled in reference to spiritual symbolism and a yearning to dissolve oneself. The album materialized gradually, with initial daf frame drum ideas sparking as part of her thesis at RMC. Allowing intuition to guide, tracks began with elements ranging from riffs to synthesizer presets. On a trip to London, she collaborated with Anyines label founder Villads Klint (Minais B) and NTS resident Coby Sey. Peter Bruhn Rasmussen contributed electric guitar, while Albert Hertz played acoustic. Rising Danish songwriter Fine Glindvad was a consultant in the final stages. “In the process of writing songs, I am always navigating a feeling of longing that appears when the melody is right,” she says. The end result is spry and mercurial, echoing keyboards and downtempo grooves cloaked in fuzz.
Idol Melodies is catchy and eclectic, inspired by Sufi dervishes, Madonna’s conversion to Kabbalah, and Googoosh’s displacement. “I have paraphrased Hafez in several places throughout the album and worked with circular movements in the productions,” Ghazal shares. On “Destinies and Melodies,” she sings of surrendering to inexplicable forces that yield creativity. Atop the silvery strums of “Numb,” she decompresses from a challenging period in which loved ones were hurt. “In My Room” is the tenderest moment, using adolescent introversion to probe a relationship with newly immigrated parents. The whole record is sonically direct, yet emotionally textured.
Weaving Middle Eastern percussion and English-Persian vocals, Ghazal cultivates protectivity. Associative streams impact a journey of self-dissolution and connection. “Something had been simmering in me, and it came out in the underlying melancholy and searching,” she muses. A current of change steers Idol Melodies, which ruminates on a breakup, personal crisis, and ensuing transformation. Flowering between stretches of malaise, Idol Melodies shrouds storminess in magic.
arantisT is calling on artists, creators, and cultural voices around the world to stand with the Iranian people, to speak for those who have been silenced, and to help ensure that the suffering of an entire nation is seen, heard, and never ignored.
Iran is currently facing an unprecedented humanitarian catastrophe. What began as peaceful civilian protests against the occupying terrorist regime has escalated into a nationwide massacre, with the regime deploying heavy and military-grade weapons into city streets and brutally killing more than 30,000 people, including children, women, elders, and unarmed civilians. Families are denied the return of their loved ones’ bodies or are extorted for outrageous sums, while reports describe piles of corpses and streets running with blood. In an attempt to conceal the scale of these crimes, the regime has imposed a total digital blackout—shutting down the internet and phone networks across the country—cutting off all communication between Iran and the outside world, and leaving the true depth of the atrocities unknown. Despite this, the Iranian people remain united, calling collectively for Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi and demanding an end to the regime’s occupation. Artists and musicians across Iran and the diaspora stand in solidarity with the people; among them, the Iranian rock band TarantisT, which continues to release protest music and material in support of the movement. Their latest release, “Freedom”, incorporates real footage from the current events in Iran, merged with digital technology, amplifying the voices of a nation silenced but unbroken.
Relentless and prolific, TarantisT will be releasing a new single next week titled
Formed in 2000 by a group of young underground metal heads, TarantisT originated in the basement alternative rock and heavy metal scenes in their native Tehran, Iran. Having to perform secretly but loudly often proved to be difficult, but after sparking a following via word of mouth in the underground, the band soon began to garner international recognition. Within just a few years, international media correspondents inspired by their story (including BBC, SKY, CNN, NPR, Metal Hammer and Kerrang) started visiting Tehran to meet and talk with TarantisT. These news reports and articles aided TarantisT in cultivating a worldwide following – motivating the band to relocate to the United States Los Angeles in 2008.
Iranian metal band TarantisT have been active with their social-political content and music during all these years, dropping tracks like “Revolution” in 2022. “This is not a protest, this is a Revolution”. TarantisT continues to march towards this Revolution with all Iranians seeking freedom and liberty for their country with the main slogan of “Women, Life, Freedom”.
Instagram, TikTok and some other social medias have put limitation and restrictions to TarantisT’s accounts due to posting images and footages of the protest, violence of the Islamic Republic authorities and due to the use of social-political hashtags.
Since their inception, TarantisT has been invited to play several festivals like SXSW, CMJ, Canadian Music Week and Intergalactic Fest. TarantisT quickly added to their touring repertoire, performing on the same stages as Metallica, Motörhead, Stone Temple Pilots, Muse, Cheap Trick, Voivod, Sum 41, My Ruin, Ben Harper and many more.
Goat‘s Seu Sangue EP is a collection of four remixes from their Oh Death album and one new track. It came about after the surprise release of Oh Death, which reminded everyone of how good Goat is and had producers and DJ clamoring to remix several (if not all) tracks from it.
Seu Sangue is the result, starting with the funky and snappy 12″ Extended Dance Mix of “Under No Nation” by John Mark Lapham. The “Shit & Shine Rework” of “Do the Dance” is jagged and weird, and Sonic Boom‘s Party Mix of “Soon You Die” somehow makes the song even fuzzier and grimier. I wish it were double the length – just under three minutes isn’t enough for this much madness.
Marlene Ribeiro remixes “Remind Yourself” with extra hand percussion for a funky instrumental. The new track is the title track, mixing acoustic guitar and what sounds like a Mellotron with seagull cries and reverb-loaded vocals for a meditative experience that is perfect for a sunset or when you’re about to make a potentially life-changing decision (and, really, aren’t all of them life-changing?).
Mdou Moctar‘s most recent album, Funeral for Justice, was recorded after two years of touring with his band, hearing music from all over the world, and seeing injustices across the world. This all lit a fire under the band, resulting in a record that’s a mixture of Tuareg rock, psychedelia, and punk rage.
The opening title track wastes no time, bringing in Thin Lizzy-heavy riffs and then snappy, sizzling drums. “Imouhar” crushes on all levels. Moctar’s guitar burns hotter than the fires on the album’s cover, and his three-piece band is so locked in that even the Incredible Hulk couldn’t shake them loose. “Takoba” is excellent Tuareg desert-psych with percussion made for long walks across hot dunes.
Speaking of hot things, the opening guitar on “Sousoume Tamacheq” is like a flare going off to signal danger ahead. “Imajighen” pumps the brakes a bit, but still keeps you rolling at a smooth pace as a warm breeze moves over you. The vocals on “Tchinta,” particularly on the chorus, seem like praise, but might be cries of injustice (considering the theme of the album). Moctar’s closing solo on it is stunning.
“Oh France” has some of the wildest drumming on the record. It sounds like it’s being played by two people in a giant cavern with a secret temple in it. The album ends with the mind-altering “Modern Slaves,” a song about how slavery, somehow, still exists in this world and how many of us willingly become slaves to multiple masters.
Funeral for Justice feels like Moctar’s fiercest album to date. Use with caution. It might set your house on fire.
If that cover alone doesn’t make you want to buy this album, I’m not sure what will.
Bombay 2: Electric Vindaloo is the sequel to the wild, weird, and wonderful Bombay the Hard Way: Guns, Cars and Sitars collection. Both feature Bollywood film music by the composer duo of Kalyanji Virji Shah and Anandji Virji Shah and remixed by multiple DJs and producers. The first collection featured 1970s James Bond-riffing film music and Bombay 2: Electric Vindaloo focuses on Bollywood in the 1980s, with all the glitz, glamour, and garishness of that decade. Imagine Miami Vice filmed in New Delhi and you’ll get the idea.
Urusula 1000‘s “Ram Balram” would fit into any techno set even today. DJ Me DJ You‘s “Bionic Kahaan” is layered with weird, warped sounds of calling geese, horror movie film synths, strange vocal samples, and gloopy, oozy bass. “Theme from Twin Sheiks” is a delightful minute and eight seconds of Bollywood bliss.
Kid Koala and Dynomite D‘s “Third World Lover” is a grand mix of sweeping strings, traditional Indian instruments, and hip hop beats. “Rah-Keet” has this cool mix of synthwave and stuff that sounds like opening credits music you’d hear on an obscure VHS tape you found at a Goodwill store. Mixmaster Mike‘s “Hydrolik Carpet Ride” features his trademark turntablism that will leave you dumbfounded. “Bollywood B-Boy Battle” is as intense and fun as you hope it will be.
DJ Me DJ You return for “Mr. Natwarlal,” which has great dub bass and synth effects in it to further confound your brain. Dynomite D then returns for “Basmati Beatdown” – a track that almost sounds like it’s playing backwards and somehow keeps a wicked groove throughout it. “T.J. Hookah” is ready for action (or video games, your choice). DJ Me DJ You takes us on a third trip with the horn and turntable-led “Disco Raj.”
“Sexy Mother Fakir” drifts into Spic-Beatz and Pak-Man‘s “Inspector Jay’s Big Score,” which is practically space age bachelor pad music and practically gives you an entire spy film’s plot in under six minutes. Steinkski‘s scratch-a-licious “Electric Vindaloo” is a stunning display of his skill on the decks.
“Dil Street Blues” is a fun riff on the famous Hill Street Blues theme, and I love how the album ends with an almost traditional-sounding track, “Chakra Khan,” complete with male-female duo vocals but fat disco bass and swanky horns added to the mix.
I don’t know if a third collection of this stuff will ever appear, but I hope so. Everyone needs more stuff like this. Something might be wrong with you if you don’t find at least a bit of enjoyment out of it.
It’s always good news when Goat decides to release a new album, and their self-titled album from October 2024 is full of their characteristic voodoo-psych sound with complex guitars, hand percussion, dual female vocals, and themes of death, rebirth, and how our spirits are never-ending.
The opening track is even called “One More Death.” It’s a song about reincarnation and how death isn’t anything we haven’t already experienced. The drums and percussion on it grab you straight away and you’re encouraged to cast away fear and step forward on the new journey…and, good heavens, when the guitar solo kicks in it almost shoves you into the astral plane.
It wouldn’t be a Goat album without a song with “goat” in the title, and this time it’s “Goatbrain” – a song about, among other things, “vibrations made by love, moments on Earth.” It has this cool rhythm to it that only Goat see able to create. The flute of the instrumental “Fool’s Journey” seems to come to you from the other side of a valley you’ve only seen in meditations.
“Dollar Bill” is a gritty, great takedown of upper crust rich and the illusion of wealth (“Everyone is going mad. Dollar bills inside your head.”). “Zombie” brings in hip hop beats and loops and is an absolute jaw-dropper. You’ll want this booming out of your car windows. If this doesn’t get you dancing, then “Frisco Beaver” certainly will with its themes of giving up worry (“Do what you like.”) and fear (“Don’t be afraid.”). The guitar riffs sizzle across the whole track. “Look and you will find light of the fire,” they say, and you believe them.
“The All Is One” is another guitar-rich meditative track that weaves back and forth from psychedelia to desert rock. The addition of birdsong in it gives you a contented smile when you hear it. The album ends (Or does it?) with “Ouroboros” – a song named after the symbolic snake eating its tail. Dance beats mix with echoing vocals that remind you that “God lives in every part of you.” The bass kicks in and you’re dancing all over the place, happy to know that all is endless and death and rebirth is not to be feared (and don’t miss the epic saxophone solo!).
It’s one of Goat’s best albums, and that’s saying something since they’ve yet to make a bad record. They’re somehow still one of the best kept secrets out there.
Keep your mind open.
[You’ll be the GOAT in my brain if you subscribe.]
New Zealand singer-songwriter Marlon Williams announces his first Māori language album, Te Whare Tīwekaweka, out April 4th, and releases the lead single, “Aua Atu Rā,” alongside a self-directed video. Additionally, he announces special release shows will take place in Los Angeles, New York City and London in April.
“Ko te reo Māori, he matapihi ki te ao Māori” goes the Māori whakatauki (proverb) that has guided Te Whare Tīwekaweka. Translated to “The Māori language is a window to the Māori world,” it expresses Marlon’s motivation behind this album. He comments, “Through the process of constructing these songs, I’ve found a means of expressing my joys, sorrows and humour in a way that feels both distinctly new, yet also connects me to my tīpuna (ancestors) and my whenua (land, home).”
Throughout the five years Marlon spent creating the album, he reconnected to family, friends and his home town of Lyttelton after a globe-trotting decade establishing his career. His journey developing his ancestral tongue unlocked both a newfound lyrical honesty and a grand sonic vision. Supported by long-time touring band The Yarra Benders, co-producer Mark Perkins, the He Waka Kōtuia singers and featuring a collaboration with Lorde, the album is a collection at once contemporary and timeless, traversing Marlon’s familiar folk-country-bluegrass territory, while continuing his exploration of poppier waters and the inherent rhythms of Māori music.
Inspired by 60s Māori showbands, the album’s lead single, “Aua Atu Rā,” is a mournful lament on isolation featuring lyrics co-written by Marlon and Lyttelton-based rapper Kommi. Responding to a famous Māori proverb expressing communal solidarity “he waka eke noa,” meaning “we’re all in this boat together,” Marlon sings “I am alone / in this boat / on the ocean / There is not a trace of wind / No, none at all.”
In Williams’ words, “‘Aua Atu Rā’ has existed as a song since May 2019. My stumbling around in flawed, simple Māori in my Lyttelton bedroom studio, spurned on by the thought of writing a depressively isolationist rebuttal to the above whakatauki, was the moment that kickstarted the record. It speaks to something universal, but especially pertinent to Te Ao Māori’s collectivist culture, that I’ve always found difficult to square. We ARE all in the same boat, and as the British literary pundit GK Chesterton added to the picture, ‘we owe each other a terrible loyalty,’ and yet are at once utterly alone.
“As a songwriter, I cherish simplicity, but as a speaker of Māori, I had a bucketload of whakamā (self-doubt) to push through before I could even approach my friend Kommi about helping me write songs in Māori. We took this song out on the road with us five years ago and it just felt so damn good to play. I’m proud of it for reasons deeper than I’ve felt as a songwriter before. This song acted as a guiding light for the rest of the album to follow.”
